MIGUEL TREVIÑO HAD LOST THE RANCH IN OKLAHOMA AND HIS BROTHER was in jail, but four months after the raid, he’d finally reached the pinnacle of his power. In October 2012, Heriberto Lazcano, the leader of the Zetas, had been gunned down by soldiers in the small town of Progreso, Coahuila, eighty miles south of Nuevo Laredo.
The death of the Executioner made Miguel the sole leader of the Zetas and Omar his second in command. The brothers now controlled half of Mexico. But Miguel’s brutal ascension had fostered more enemies than allies. The cartel, now the second largest in the country after the Sinaloa Cartel, was beginning to fracture. After Lazcano’s death a banner was hung in Nuevo Laredo denouncing Miguel as a traitor who had tipped off the military to Lazcano’s location and helped authorities capture Mamito and “El Taliban,” another Zeta leader, so he could gain greater power. Some viewed Miguel’s siphoning of Zeta funds into the horse ranch and the buying of flashy racehorses in America as reckless and indulgent. The banner, hung in Miguel’s hometown, announced that the new splinter group of the Zetas, called Los Legionarios, would kill Miguel and his followers. “An eye for an eye,” the banner said.
Now the brothers would not only have to fight the Sinaloa Cartel and elements of the Mexican military, they would also have to battle defectors from within their own organization.
ON THE FIRST DAY of November 2012, Heritage Place held the most unusual and most talked-about auction in its history. Thousands showed up, hoping to buy from some of racing’s finest bloodlines put up for auction by the U.S. Department of the Treasury. Having read about José Treviño and the Zetas, many of the auctiongoers were also there just to gawk at the more than three hundred horses up for sale, with names like Big Daddy Cartel, Break Out the Bullets, and Cartel Syndicate.
Perez had dusted off her cowboy boots for the auction, and Lawson wore his customary boots and jeans. Both of them wore concealed holsters under their jackets. As the auctioneer rattled off the bids, the two agents scanned the crowd for anything or anyone that looked suspicious. Pennington and his task force circulated through the stables and around the sales arena. Steve Junker had come along too, since he had pledged to help Pennington with surveillance and security whenever they needed him.
The agents hadn’t received any direct threats since the auction had been announced, but with Miguel Treviño now the leader of the Zetas they knew he could give the order at any time to have them or their sources killed in retribution. Or he might set up a new web of straw buyers to repurchase his most valuable horses at the auction. To prevent this from happening, Pennington and his team would do an extensive background check on each buyer before the sale would be approved.
As Lawson moved in closer to the sales ring, he noticed a heavyset Mexican man filming bidders with an iPad, and he nudged Perez, then motioned with his chin to draw her attention.
She glanced over at the large man with the iPad, then nodded at Lawson, letting him know she thought he looked suspicious too.
They moved away from the crowd. “What do you think?” Lawson asked her.
“He could work for Miguel,” Perez said, speaking softly so that no one else could overhear them. “He’d want to know who was bidding on his horses. There could be other cartels here, trying to buy them. And he could get his revenge later.”
Lawson sent a text to Pennington and the task force, so they’d know to look out for the heavyset man with the iPad. When Junker got the text and read the description, he realized he was standing right behind him. With his cell phone he pretended to snap a photo of the horse being led around the sales ring, and got a photo of their suspect in profile. “You mean this guy?” he wrote back to them in a text with the photo.
Lawson forwarded the photo to a Mexican source to see whether he could identify him as someone who worked for Miguel. The source texted a few minutes later: “It looks like one of Miguel’s sicarios, a guy they call ‘El H,’” he wrote.
“Shit,” Lawson said under his breath and showed the text to Perez. Now they were both becoming more alarmed. Reporters had turned out to cover the auction and there were thousands of spectators milling around the massive auction house and walking up and down the long rows of stalls to check out the Zetas’ horses. Numerous vendors from jewelry makers to livestock insurance companies had set up booths to cater to the throng of spectators. Heritage Place was the size of a small village. If there was a shootout among the cartels, or a kidnapping, it would be a front-page disaster.
“Are you sure?” Lawson wrote back.
“No,” the informant wrote.
“He’s not sure,” Lawson said with annoyance to Perez, who was keeping an eye on the man, while Lawson tried to confirm whether he worked for Miguel or not. Lawson sent the photo to two other sources, but no one could agree if it was “El H” or not.
“Well,” he texted to the rest of the team. “He may be a sicario but I can’t confirm it.”
“Helpful,” Pennington wrote back.
Lawson and Perez kept watch over their maybe-or-maybe-not sicario, who was taking great interest, along with many others, as the bidding started for a horse called Dash of Sweet Heat. The filly—like Tempting Dash—was the progeny of First Down Dash, one of Miguel’s favorite bloodlines.
The filly’s previous owner, Julianna Hawn Holt, a co-owner of the San Antonio Spurs, had sold Dash of Sweat Heat at an auction-topping sum of $650,000 the year before in Ruidoso, to Carlos Nayen. A dedicated horsewoman and a mainstay in quarter horse racing, Holt had been shocked to learn she’d sold her horse to the Zetas. After the raid hit the news, she’d contacted the IRS, offering to buy the filly back. But she was told she’d have to bid for it at auction just like everyone else.
A trusted envoy of Holt’s stood near the sales ring with express instructions to buy Dash of Sweet Heat no matter the price. The bidding was fierce and Lawson and Perez found it hard to identify the bidders in the crowd. The man with the iPad kept filming, but never raised his hand to bid. They’d already heard about Holt’s quest to get her filly back, and expected it would go for a meteoric price. Eventually, Holt’s representative prevailed, paying $1 million for a horse Holt had sold the year before for far less. By the end of the three-day auction, the IRS had netted $9 million.
It was a relief to have the auction over with. Even better, there had been no violence, despite the sighting of the alleged sicario. With most of José’s horses sold off, now the agents could put all of their energy into preparing for the upcoming trial in April.
Steve Pennington could no longer put off his knee surgery. Afterward, he was ordered by his doctor to stay home and convalesce. Sidelined at home, Pennington had taken to pacing around his yard with his cane, when he should have been in bed recuperating. In his view it was the worst kind of timing, considering he’d just arrested the brother of a drug kingpin and then sold off his prized horses. All he wanted to do was to get back to work in Austin.