WHEN ALFONSO DEL RAYO HAD WATCHED CARLOS NAYEN WALK AWAY AT Retama Park, he’d hoped it would be for the last time. He’d done what he’d asked and paid the $310,000 to Heritage Place. But a few months after the auction, Nayen called him again. Things are bad, he told del Rayo. I need 10 million pesos, fast.
“I don’t have that kind of money. I need time,” del Rayo protested. Apparently this wasn’t what Nayen had wanted to hear. The next day, a stranger phoned him and said that if he didn’t come up with the money soon, he and his family would be killed.
Del Rayo phoned Nayen to complain about the anonymous threat. “I’m working on getting the money,” he said.
“Don’t worry,” Nayen said calmly. “Nothing is going to happen to you as long as you get me the money. I need it in cash.”
What del Rayo didn’t know was that José had amassed a $670,000 bill at Graham’s Southwest Stallion Station. Graham was losing patience and had told Nayen and José that he needed something, anything to go toward what had become a “monstrous” bill at his ranch.
On paper del Rayo was wealthy, but he had very little cash on hand. He certainly didn’t have 10 million pesos, about $700,000 in U.S. dollars. He put two of his properties up for sale at a reduced price in hopes they would move quickly. Meanwhile, strangers kept calling, threatening to kill him if he didn’t come up with the money.
After a week of running all over hot and humid Veracruz, del Rayo gathered the 10 million pesos. The whole time he was hustling, he thought of nothing but the torture he’d endured in Capitán Muñeco’s safe house and what the Zetas would do to his wife and kids if he didn’t give Nayen the money. At the bank he asked for the 10 million in cash and the bank teller gave him a surprised look. “Are you sure?” she asked.
“Yes.” He nodded. “Put it in these.” He handed over three large duffel bags.
He took the duffel bags stuffed full of cash to his office and shoved them under his desk, then quickly phoned Nayen.
“I’ve got the money,” he said.
“We don’t need it anymore,” Nayen told him.
“What?” Del Rayo said, feeling his stomach churn. He’d just spent the last week running around Veracruz, feeling like the devil was at his heels.
“Put it back in the bank,” Nayen instructed. “We’re going to need you to wire the money to someone in Texas. We’ll tell you where to send it.”
Del Rayo felt he was being pulled further into something he wanted no part of, and there was no way out. He’d seen the reach of the Zetas in Veracruz. They controlled everything from the governor’s mansion down to the local police. To escape them he would have to leave Mexico. But how could he leave his home?
IN MID-JULY, GRAHAM BROUGHT up the money again with Garcia. “Y’all are getting me in a jam with José,” he complained. “Just pay the bill and I’ll give him his stud fees.”
“We will soon,” promised Garcia. But ten more days passed and they still hadn’t paid. Garcia called Graham again.
“Did Victor tell you they were sending the money today?” Garcia asked, hopeful.
“Yeah, supposedly they’re doing it through Alfonso del Rayo. It’s been kind of a clusterfuck, so I don’t know. I hope they figure it out today . . . they’ve wired money to the ranch’s account I don’t know how many times. I don’t know what’s so confusing this time.”
In Veracruz, del Rayo was under intense pressure to wire the money to Graham, but it wasn’t easy to wire such large amounts. There were forms to fill out, restrictions, and expensive peso-to-dollar conversion fees. On July 28, he was finally able to wire $250,000 through a Chase bank account to the Southwest Stallion Station. He sent another $300,000 less than two weeks later. All the while, he kept receiving death threats. He imagined Capitán Muñeco and his hefty lieutenant arriving any day at his home with a convoy of SUVs filled with sicarios.
Del Rayo was down to the last $150,000, but then his bank in Mexico flagged the wire transaction for further scrutiny, saying it looked suspicious. He explained his predicament to Nayen over the phone, but Nayen seemed not to believe him. Del Rayo promised to figure out another way to get the $150,000 to Tyler Graham. He knew he needed to work fast.
BACK IN LAREDO, LAWSON had been listening to the recorded phone calls between del Rayo and Graham with growing interest. He had imagined del Rayo was just another wealthy businessman, like Francisco Colorado, who had willingly gone into business with the cartel. But something was different about del Rayo. For one thing, in his phone calls he sounded scared, and Graham had told him about his battered appearance at Heritage Place, which del Rayo had blamed on a golfing accident. He wondered whether del Rayo wasn’t such a willing player in the conspiracy after all.
In the first week of August 2011, del Rayo flew to San Antonio. Once the plane touched down, he phoned Tyler Graham to set up a meeting so he could deliver the money in person.
Graham answered the phone right away. “Hey Alfonso, what’s going on?”
“I want to explain to you. I need to give you three checks. The three of them are for 50 [$50,000] each, but you’re only going to be able to cash one or deposit one this week, and one the next week . . .”
“Okay,” Graham said.
“I just want to make you feel comfortable and secure about the checks,” del Rayo said, sounding stressed. “And I want people in Mexico to also feel comfortable and not to be worried about it.”
“Well, if you want me to, I can come down there this afternoon if that makes it easier on you,” Graham offered. He’d waited long enough. The two men agreed to meet at del Rayo’s home in San Antonio later in the afternoon. Graham didn’t have the same concern about driving to San Antonio as he did about Laredo, which was too close to Miguel Treviño for his comfort.