Previously on La Plata: Vice, Ángel Bastardo achieved The American Dream.

‘Welcome to the 2022 Miami Class 1 Powerboat Race’ read the huge inflatable floating arc that towered over the thirty or so powerboats awaiting Miami’s climatic powerboat race. Ángel Bastardo’s boats, having dominated the previous two tournaments, were the clear favourites to win once again. However, Bastardo knew for certain that they would not.

He oversaw the race alongside his assistant Carlos Valderrama, from their club level waterside ‘box’: a secluded spot above the main stands that hosted the Miami public. Attendance had quadrupled over the years, with ‘The Bastardo Effect’ often cited as the reason for the growing popularity of Miami sporting events. If they thought 2020 and 2021 were exciting, they were in for a bigger treat on this sunny but breezy afternoon.

The boats’ expected top speed was 160 mph, but Bastardo’s fleet would barely make 80 mph that day. With every gram meticulously calibrated in cutting-edge laboratories to max out the efficiency, nobody would ever think of checking a powerboat for contraband, moments before a race. That is, until after that day.

Every last inch of the boats’ hulls was kitted out with 800 million dollars of laundered money, belonging to the Ojeda-Barranquilla Cartel. Two years of money laundering in the US was to come to a stunning climax on the shores of Miami. 

Bastardo looked across the shoreline to see Ruslan Chepiga and Ms. Natasha Sibiski standing next to the race’s starting point. Their American lawyer, Natasha, had been tasked by Bastardo to disenfranchise the Mexican Cartels. Those Mexicans whom Hugo Ojeda had once controlled with an iron fist wanted independence, and the shipment of money that was now heading to Barranquilla was meant to placate them, whilst Ojeda uncharacteristically continued with his newfound strategy of diplomacy. That was Ojeda’s plan, but this was Bastardo’s World.

The boats began to warm up and the deafening sound of engines drowned out the choruses of the Caribbean steel band who had been playing for hours. The regular pulsating beat of the drums were replaced with the sound of powerboat drivers priming their engines, for the first few crucial seconds at the beginning of the race. 3, 2, 1… the boats lifted off, creating their own tidal systems in their wake, as a result of their sheer velocities.

It was a terrible start for the Bastardo fleet however and they were some 20 to 30 meters off the pace within the first few seconds, as they turned to the vast seas ahead, cutting round the first bend, going off-course immediately. The crowds began to gasp and jeer, and Bastardo knew that it was time for the showpiece finale, as he made the call to Chepiga.

In the brief exchange that transpired, Bastardo only had to utter one word to Chepiga: “Execute”, before Chepiga reached for the pulsating red jewel that sat coiled around his index finger. It was never a simple ring and instead, it contained a transmitter that relayed the command to ‘execute’ the secret explosives that were placed within the boats that belonged to Bastardo’s fleet. The long-range ping worked immediately, as the powerboats exploded high into the air, 200 meters or so from the race boundary. The shockwaves startled everybody in the crowd, and many swiftly headed for the exits. The other boats in the race continued on in the meantime, oblivious to the fire erupting from out the sea.

However, some people in the audience were slow to move…their appearances and sidearms becoming clearer as the crowds thinned in the stands. It was Ojeda’s men and before Bastardo could reach for his holstered gun he was quickly sent crashing to the ground by an onrushing Valderrama.

“Down Patron, we need to leave” screamed the Colombian, as his countrymen opened fire on the executive boxes.

There was no time for checking whether Chepiga and Natasha had been taken out by the gunfire, as Bastardo was swiftly moved out of the open-air box and into the corridor of stairs leading away from the waterside stand. Gunfire could be heard all around the waterside complex and two onrushing Colombians were mopped up by bullets from Bastardo’s henchmen, as Bastardo, Valderrama and their group of loyal men headed through the car park, into a waiting blacked-out SUV, its engine running and ready to drive out of Miami and into hiding.

A henchman opened the door and shoved Bastardo in towards relative safety, but Valderrama didn’t follow suit and instead, he stepped back hesitantly. His voice was emotional and sombre.

“I am sorry Amigo, there is no libertad” …

Bastardo looked up as the car’s door closed between him and his assistant. A gun was planted on the back of his head and Bastardo gasped, realising the betrayal that he had been subject to.

“There’s $50m dollars in a safehouse, get me there and you can take it”, he desperately pleaded to his masked abductors.

The reply, as the car sped off out of the parking lot, was instant. “He pays more than you ever would, Don Bastardo. You’re headed to Colombia” said the henchman, who quickly disarmed the weary Bastardo and plunged a syringe into his neck.

Ángel Bastardo slid down on the leather seat, fervently wishing that the surroundings would eat him up, as his thoughts slowly turned to Natasha, who he hoped had got out. She was the future worth fighting for, and that future may now never exist. He would never be able to say goodbye, or tell her what she deserved to know. The reflection hurt, as his eyes grew weary and heavy and he continued to sink further into the dark leather seat. Operation Isb…

Bastardo’s mind fell silent.

Notes from the Editor

The powerboats were introduced early on in La Plata: Vice, and I am delighted I’ve finally put them to good use. The boats go bang, and Ángel loses his freedom. My story now becomes intimate between Hugo Ojeda and Ángel Bastardo in Colombia. I’m hoping a sequel to ‘Boats’ gets penned by Chris (FM Eadster), as I’d like to know if/how Ruslan Chepiga and Natasha Sibiski get out alive.

Remember: there is no libertad.

Tony / FM Grasshopper