As targets go, the Cali cartel was as big as a barn and easy to hit–once Colombia found the will to hit it. Although the government mounted a massive manhunt last year, the top ranks were protected by their vast, high-tech intelligence network, and the millions of dollars in bribes they routinely paid to police, judges, journalists, legislators and government officials. But on June 9, the titans started to fall when the government could no longer ignore the cartel’s immense power nor resist U.S. pressure to fight it. First police found Gilberto Rodriguez Orejuela cowering in a secret closet in a Cali apartment. Four other bosses surrendered or were caught in the following weeks, and on Aug. 6, police nabbed Miguel Rodriguez Orejuela, Gilberto’s brother and No. 2 in the cartel. But now that the Cali hierarchy has been torn down, the targets are harder to see, let alone hit. Throughout Colombia, agile and savage baby cartels have sprung up, eager to move into the breach opened by the capture of the Calicapos. And political turmoil, as President Ernesto Samper battles allegations that Cali cartel money fueled his campaign last year, may give them the breathing room they need to grow.
For now, Colombia’s aspiring kingpins lack the cartel’s political influence, global connections and elaborate money-laundering systems. But the new groups have other advantages. In many cases, police do not even know who they are. Because their organizations are small, it is harder for drug agents to penetrate them. Deputy police director Luis Enrique Montenegro Rinco says police have set their sights on five of the new cartels and identified 14 traffickers they consider key. But no one doubts there are hundreds–maybe thousands – at work.
Some traffickers are already in Cali or nearby and have worked in the Rodriguez Orejuela network. Cousins Raul and Luis Grajales, who figure on the police list, are famous in Colombia for their fruit exports and wineries. They claim to be legitimate businessmen. But police say the firm’s fruit shipments have been found packed with cocaine. Another kingpin wanna-be identified by police, Arcangel de Jesus Henao, allegedly has a paramilitary army and a high-tech communications apparatus. Others own fleets of trucks and aircraft, or control vast tracts of land, including thousands of acres planted with poppy and coca plants. Many already know how to play politics: a former justice minister and a federal senator face scrutiny.
The kingpins of tomorrow are not just Colombian. Mexican cartels have grown in recent years, developing a $30 billion-a-year industry. They began as mules for the Colombians but have been flexing their own muscles. As much as three quarters of the cocaine that enters the United States goes through Mexico, the unforeseen consequence of a successful U.S. drive to close off other routes in the 1980s. “If this isn’t checked soon,” says James Jones, U.S. ambassador to Mexico, “I’m afraid Mexico will eventually become the hemisphere’s next drug headquarters.”
Officials in both countries insist they want to move hard and fast against the baby cartels. They had better. Once drug organizations sink their roots, pulling them out later is by far harder work. Bonnie Tischler, U.S. Customs Service chief agent in South Florida, knows from experience. “We thought everything would be better when the Medellin cartel went down in flames,” she recalls. And then the Cali cartel emerged from the ashes.
