"How much money will you make writing this article? I answer that when I do journalism, I take no payment. I consider offering to accompany them, though the circumstances would certainly prove any protective action futile. Despite that, I'm feeling frustrated at having to wait eight days to get him in a corner – to ask everything I think the world wants to know. So I only ask questions one couldn't forget the answers to. We escape its subtle brume, and I join my colleagues inside the bungalow.I could see that, to him, the idea of doing any kind of work without payment is a fool's game. Before my adrenal rush of paranoia can inspire insult or injury, Chapo has returned. With Kate tucked cozily into bed, his crew and he are fast and furious into body armor, strapping long-barrel weapons and hip-clipped grenades. There are two beds and one couch a short distance from where Kate can be seen sleeping on a third bed behind a privacy divider.

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Disclosure: Some names have had to be changed, locations not named, and an understanding was brokered with the subject that this piece would be submitted for the subject’s approval before publication. Espinoza and I leave the room to get outside the hotel, breathe in the fall air and walk the five blocks to a Japanese restaurant, where we'll meet up with our colleague El Alto Garcia.

He cites (but asks me not to name in print) a host of corrupt major corporations, both within Mexico and abroad. " Smiling, he shakes his head and says an unequivocal "None." There is no politician who could answer the same question so clearly or successfully, but then again, the challenges are quite different for a global power broker who simply removes any obstacle to "difficulties." Having explained my intention, I ask if he would grant two days for a formal interview. As Espinoza returns from his slumber, Kate, succumbing to the exhausting day's journey and the solace of a few tequilas, accepts the escort of El Chapo to her sleeping quarters. He walks us back toward the same bungalow where he had earlier escorted Kate.

He notes with delighted disdain several through which his money has been laundered, and who take their own cynical slice of the narco pie. My colleagues would be leaving in the morning but I offer to stay behind to record our conversations. As he walks her alone toward the dimly lit bungalow, I can't help but have a primal moment of concern. We ask lighthearted questions, though the environment has gotten far less lighthearted. In a narrow, dark passage between ours and an adjacent bungalow, Chapo puts his arm over my shoulder and renews his request that I see him in eight days. At this moment, I expel a minor traveler's flatulence (sorry), and with it, I experience the same chivalry he'd offered when putting Kate to bed, as he pretends not to notice.

He shops and ships by some estimates more than half of all the cocaine, heroin, methamphetamine and marijuana that come into the United States. Beneath his smile, there is a doubtlessness to his facial expression. He suggests to us that we consider switching our career paths to the oil business. " I'm curious, in the current pandemonium of the Middle East, what impact those frenzied opiate economies may have on his business. I explain that, for authentication purposes, it would be best if we are shaking hands, looking into the camera, but not smiling. As thoughts of surveillance drones and military raids come back into my head, I re-engage the tequila and scan 360 degrees for where I and my colleagues may lay flat and find cover should we have been followed and a raid initiated. I hoped we would meet at my ranch and you could meet my mother. But something came up and we had to change the plan." I assume he was insinuating inside information that the ranch had again come under observation by authorities. We follow him to where the family who had cooked our dinner stands dutifully behind a serving table.

He says he would aspire to the energy sector, but that his funds, being illicit, restrict his investment opportunities. I ask him, "Of all the countries and cultures with whom you do business, which is the most difficult? In the darkness, it was difficult to imagine a safe place, and El Chapo's world is anything but. It has been several hours, and El Alto and I share a nod indicating our mutual sense: the core of soldiers around El Chapo are getting fidgety. He takes each of them by the hand graciously; giving them thanks, and with a look, he invites us to do the same.The subject did not ask for any changes.t's September 28th, 2015. The streets are abuzz with the lights and sirens of diplomatic movement, heads of state, U. As we exit onto 55th Street, the sidewalk is lined with the armored SUVs that will transport the president of Mexico to the General Assembly.My head is swimming, labeling Trac Phones (burners), one per contact, one per day, destroy, burn, buy, balancing levels of encryption, mirroring through Blackphones, anonymous e-mail addresses, unsent messages accessed in draft form. Paradoxical indeed, as one among his detail asks if I will take a selfie with him.Our mission was to do the impossible: to develop a chat solution that could drive 3x more chat conversions.To us, this meant thinking about live chat more than just messaging.El Alto, who'd spent his two hours' sleep the night before on a firm couch a full foot shorter than he, then waterlogged himself in the flatbed, elects to stay behind in the comfort of the hotel bed for the night and leave the following day. From the time the military and the DEA moved in on them, the reports of what happened are conflicted.