A Quiet Street in El Paso

by Jim Daddio

  “I wanted to make you happy.”

  “I’m not buying it. You got a bad feeling, don’t you?”

  “Let’s just say a little backup wouldn’t hurt, just in case things go haywire.”

  “You’re contradicting yourself…and that worries me.”

  The afternoon dragged on. The SWAT team was getting edgy. They expected action. Sitting around was not their strong point. Mat dozed, and Betty stayed focused on the vans. It was close to five when the two men walked into the parking area. Betty grabbed Mat’s arm. “Mat, two men. Wake up.”

  Mat snapped to attention. He wiped his hands across his face, opened the door and slid out. Betty got out of the car on the other side. Mat watched as the two men approached the van. He called out, “Let’s go.”

  Betty followed him as he ran toward the two men. One of the men started to open the van door when Mat yelled loudly, “Hey, you there. I need to talk to you for a minute.”

  The man turned toward Mat. The other man stopped and turned toward him. Mat and Betty came closer. Mat identified himself, “Mat Watkins, El Paso Police. This is…”

  Before he could finish, both men turned and began running down the street. Mat didn’t hesitate and took off after them. Betty wasn’t sure what to do. She turned toward the officer in charge of the SWAT team and motioned for them to disperse.

  Mat watched as one of the men turned and sprinted between the apartment buildings. The other man dove over a row of hedges and came up running through an open field. Mat motioned for Betty to follow the man who had run between the buildings. Mat charged after the other. He turned to see several members of the SWAT team racing toward him. He pointed them in the direction of Betty.

  Mat continued to run onto the open field. For a second, he lost sight of the man. Then out from behind a large bush the man appeared and before Mat could react, the man was pointing a handgun in his direction. Mat heard gunfire and instinctively dove to the ground and rolled several times.

  Mat called out, “What the hell? What are you doing? I just want to talk to you and…”

  Another bullet whizzed past him. Mat located a small tree and crawled behind it. He looked up to see several members of the SWAT team racing toward the man. Mat figured they had heard the shot.

  That was exactly what Mat didn’t want…a public shootout. He knew for sure some bystander had heard the shots and had already called 911. Which of course meant the media. With all the danger and excitement going on about him, all he could think of was the media attention and explaining all this to his boss. Not to mention the paperwork he would have to fill out.

  As soon as the man spotted the SWAT team, he threw his weapon in the air and raised his hands high above his head. Mat ran toward him. He called out, “What the hell was that for? Jesus, you shot at me. What a jerk.”

  A member of the SWAT team instructed the man to lie flat on the ground. He thrust his hands behind his back and wrapped handcuffs around the man’s wrist. Mat asked, “What is your name?”

  The replied quickly, “Henry Woods.”

  “Well, Henry, you are under arrest for many things. But mainly for shooting at a police officer. I’m going to read you your rights. Even though you lost them when you shot…never mind.”

  Mat read him the Miranda Act Rights while the other officer pulled the man to his feet. When he was finished, he said to him. “See, I don’t get this. You and your brother smuggle illegal immigrants, that would be Mexicans, into the States. Big deal. All you had to do when I approached you was stand still, let me talk, lie to me and when I was finished, ask to see your attorney. Now, you’re fucked. Smuggling is the least of your worries.”

  The man remained silent. Mat drew closer to him and said, “Aren’t you going to say anything?”

  “My attorney will talk for me.”

  “Cool. And after the CSI unit goes over the two vans and finds enough evidence about…”

  Betty came running up. She heard Mat ramble on. She stepped in front of him and looked at Woods. “He’s babbling. He does that when he gets shot at.”

  Mat said, “You get the other man?”

  “He’s already in the vehicle.”

  “It go down easy?”

  “He kind of was trapped in front of a wall. I was about to fire a round over his head when he turned, saw my weapon and fell to the ground.”

  “He have a weapon on him?”

  “No.”

  “Now why didn’t I chase after the one with the weapon? I don’t like being shot at.”

  “And of course, you didn’t have your weapon on you. Yeah, mister-every-arrest-I-make-goes-down-easy. Better wake up, solider, and carry your weapon. You may have to protect yourself…again.”

  They watched as the officer pushed the man toward the vehicle. They looked up to see two black and white police cars approaching. Mat said, “As I figured, someone called nine-nine-one and, oh look, here comes the news crew from one of the TV stations.”

  Betty laughed and said, “Looks like it’s going to be another media circus.”

  “Hey, I got a great idea. You handle this. You know, Homeland Security tracks down and captures two human traffickers. You’ll look great and you’ll be on TV and all that good stuff.”

  Before she could react, Mat headed for the SWAT vehicle. He pounded on the door and when it opened, jumped in. He couldn’t hear Betty screaming obscenities at him. She then turned toward the TV crew as they moved closer. For a second, she thought to herself, this could be cool.

  Nineteen

  It had been a few months since Fat Baby had his first meeting with the Mexican drug cartel. He continued to have several meetings with them, and the transition was going smoothly. As far as he was concerned, he was impressed with their energy, knowledge and the fact he actually was making more money.

  The cartel brought in more of the new drug and there were buyers everywhere. It was an open market and the money was pouring in. Whatever the drug was, Fat Baby didn’t know about or care to learn about it. His meth business was slowing down, but he wasn’t concerned.

  Even though he was making more money, he was concerned about the two million promised to him. He had hesitated to mention it because it would make him sound cheap.

  Fat Baby stood on his patio and watched as the clear dark sky flickered with a million stars. He took a long drink of his single malt scotch, swirled it around in his mouth and then swallowed slowly. One of his several cell phones rang. He reached for it, touched the answer button and announced, “Talk.”

  The voice on the other said, “It has been arranged. The money will be delivered by one of your men. Someone we have learned has proven to be very trustworthy. You know him as Hector. The money will be delivered next Tuesday. Where do you want the money delivered?”

  Fat Baby thought for a second. He wanted to make sure if something happened the money in no way would be tied to him. He quickly came up with a plan. He would have the money delivered to his accountant, a man he knew as Charlie.

  He fumbled through some of the papers on his desk. He found Charlie’s address, 11646 El Camino Real and pressed the red button on his phone. At the other end, the phone went dead.

  ~ * ~

  Mat was drunk and feeling depressed. He had gotten himself into a situation he didn’t care for. Never in his wildest dreams could he have imagined when he made a deal with Fat Baby it would turn out this way.

  Fat Baby was abusing the deal they made. He had begun asking Mat to do odd jobs for him. At first they were small chores; like watching a deal that was going down or riding by a few meth houses to check on them. All this for a grand, sometimes more.

  Mat wanted to stop the deal, but he knew he was in too deep. The money was making him crazy. He was drinking, partying and gambling at a furious pace.

  The only thing keeping him going was he could continue to do his work. He had gained Betty’s trust and together they were able to make several large arrests. She began to like the publicity an
d notoriety the press was giving her. Betty had become somewhat of a celebrity.

  Mat sat at an outside table on a warm evening having dinner with Betty. She said, “I think I’ll write a book about my…our successes.”

  “Don’t use my real name.”

  Betty laughed. “I’ll call you Preston Parker…cool, huh?”

  “Sounds like you’ve already started it.”

  “I was a journalism major in college, you know. My first job was with the Miami Herald. But a law enforcement career came calling.”

  “Sounds like you’re kind of liking the media attention.”

  Betty laughed again. “Hardly. Hey, you could get in on this action, you know.”

  “No way. Not going to happen. I love the fact Homeland Security is getting all the attention. That lets me do my job and stay in the background. You go, girl.”

  “But Mat, we’re a team. And you’re the team leader. You’re missing all good stuff.”

  “Just call me Preston.”

  Betty threw her head back and laughed out loud. She could hardly catch her breath. She leaned over and whispered, “And you’re missing something else.”

  “And that would be?”

  “Me.”

  Mat was caught totally off guard. His fork slipped out of his hand. He looked up to see a smile on her face like he’d never seen. He motioned with his hand and said, “Me and you…you and me. A young beautiful woman and a washed up old drunk. Are you drunk?”

  “It’s time, Mat. Pay the check and let’s get out of here.”

  “Waiter!”

  ~ * ~

  “You slept with her, didn’t you? You slept with that lady cop. I know it. I can tell by looking at you. Goddamn you, Mat.”

  “We were both drunk. She was all over me. I got caught up in the moment.”

  “Jesus, I knew you would. I saw her. She’s young and hot.”

  “Not as young and hot as you.”

  “What the hell does is that supposed to mean?”

  “Hell, I don’t know. Listen, just listen,” Mat took a deep breath. “It is not going to happen again. It was awkward at best.”

  Sue sat quietly, pouting. She closed her eyes and shook her head. “You know I get asked a hundred times a night. But I won’t do it because it will come down to money…and I ain’t no whore. I’m a dancer. An entertainer. But damn, you said when you were with one girl you wouldn’t…”

  “I know. I know what I said. It’s still me and you. It wasn’t that good anyway. Like I said, it won’t happen again. I can assure you of that. I fucked up, but I don’t want to lose you. Okay?”

  Sue looked over at him. “You got anything left in that tank to prove it?”

  “Get in the shower and I’ll show you.”

  Sue walked toward the bathroom. “What is it with you and the shower?” She turned around. “You do it with her in the shower?”

  “On the floor. Now move it. I’m getting a boner already.”

  Twenty

  As far as Mat was concerned, everything was a bunch of bullshit. First off, he loved his job and had done it well for years. Then along came a new group of bureaucrats from the Immigration and Naturalization office. They came aboard and started making changes and driving him crazy. Then the FBI showed up. He never understood what they were doing. When he finally made it a point to teach the new officers the right way to handle the illegal parade of people crossing the border, in came Homeland Security with their rules and procedures.

  In his mind, nobody knew who was in charge of what. What had bothered him most of all was the fact they didn’t treat the Mexican police and border patrol with much respect. They believed all of them were taking bribes and turning their heads instead of making arrests. Mat knew that wasn’t true. It had taken him years to build up a good working relationship with the Mexican teams. They wanted to control the flow of illegal immigrants as badly as his team.

  Mat walked toward his favorite bar on the U.S. side of the border outside of mid-town El Paso. He had made several Mexican friends over the years and was always welcome there. He entered the bar and nodded to the bartender. The man smiled and poured him a shot of tequila. He watched as Mat gulped it down and waited for him to slam the glass on the table. He refilled it quickly.

  The bartender pointed to a man sitting alone at a corner table. He whispered, “Good timing, my friend, this man has asked for you several times.”

  Mat didn’t turn to look at him. He asked, “Do you know him?”

  “No, señor. He is new around here. He is Mexican.”

  “And do you have any idea why he asks for me?”

  “Again, no.”

  “Thanks.”

  Mat grabbed the bottle and a glass and headed toward the man. He stood there looking down at him. He was short, with long black hair and a full mustache. He wore a ball cap.

  “I am Mat. You have asked around about me.”

  The man pointed to a chair. Mat sat down, poured the man a shot and one for himself. They both drank at the same time. The man said in poor English, “I have asked for you because I have heard you’re an honorable man. A policeman, but a man who can be trusted.”

  Mat didn’t reply. He waited for the man to continue. “I have information I want to give you. I will not tell you my name or how I got this information. I will remain, as you would say, anonymous.”

  “No argument from me. Continue.”

  “I have information that comes from my heart. I have been saddened by the death of my granddaughter. She has died trying to come to this country. Your country. She died in the collapse of a tunnel. A very secret tunnel.”

  “I’m sorry for your loss.” Mat poured two more shots. Again, the men drank together.

  The man continued. “It is very hard for me. I love my Mexico and have done well but I understand why so many people want to come to the States. I know by telling you this I will kill the dreams of so many people. But I also have to do my part to stop this insanity.”

  Mat noticed even though the man’s English at times was very broken, his choice of words established him as being very educated. Mat was also impressed with his poise.

  “I understand,” Mat said. “I, too, wish I could do more.”

  “I will take you to the tunnel. I cannot tell you when. But it will be soon.”

  “Okay.”

  “How will you handle this?”

  “I have a few questions to ask. The tunnel will be heavily guarded. Will we be able to get close?”

  “I have been lucky to find the end of the tunnel on this side.”

  “Very good.”

  “I must tell you that I am surprised the tunnel has been in operation for some time and the authorities have not found it. It is a very sophisticated tunnel. It is well lit with air ducts and is well fortified. There is a track with wheeled carriers to bring the drugs in. Now they are using it to bring in people. There was a collapse. Some blame it on a small tremor. Or maybe a poorly constructed area. That is not important. Your people must be blind…and my people, too.”

  “You asked how I will handle it. I want to see it first. Then I should contact my authorities and they will decide what to do.”

  “I see. Then it is settled. Please contact the bartender by the end of the week. He will have information on when and where we will meet.”

  The man stood and walked slowly out the door. Mat sat for a while, drank a few more shots and headed to The Pink Lady. It was payoff time and he was to meet the new man who would deliver the money. He knew it wouldn’t be Jamar. He had not been seen or heard from Jamar all week. Mat knew Fat Baby had taken care of him. How? He didn’t care.

  Twenty-one

  Betty returned to El Paso after a week-long meeting and briefing in Washington. She had given her superiors a favorable report on Mat. She was pleased with his efforts, procedures and work habits. She told them at times his methods were unconventional, but he always got the job done.

  She arrived at her ap
artment and immediately called Mat. He answered on the first ring. “Mat, I’m back from D.C. What’s going on?”

  “Welcome back. And good timing. I have a lead on a tunnel.”

  Betty jumped to attention. “That’s terrific. Where? When are we going?”

  “Whoa. Slow down. This must be done a certain way. My source is very nervous about this. He is taking us to the end of the tunnel here in El Paso. And please do not tell anybody from your team. Let’s check it out first.”

  “Mat you know I can’t do that. I have—”

  Mat cut her off. “Never mind. I’ll take this one alone.”

  Betty frowned. “You’re killing me…you know.”

  “It has to be checked out first. You must trust me on this. The information is too sketchy.”

  She gave in. “When?”

  “Be ready in an hour. I’ll pick you up and brief you then.”

  Betty walked in circles in front of her apartment waiting for Mat. This was the biggest opportunity she’d had since joining the team. If they pulled this off, she would be in line for a citation and maybe a promotion.

  She jumped and looked at every car that passed by. She was excited and nervous at the same time. She called out softly, “Come on. Where are you, Mat?”

  Mat pulled into the parking lot. Betty waved and jogged toward the car. Mat had to slam on the brakes to avoid hitting her. She opened the door and bounced into the seat. “A little excited, are we?” Mat asked.

  “I’m been waiting out here for an hour.”

  “I said four. It’s ten till.”

  “I know, I know. I was itchy, so I came outside. So enlighten me.”

  “First, as you know, this type of operation is important to me. I’ve been on several wild goose chases looking for tunnels. A few years ago, one of our men found one and was killed. And since I did get the tip, I want us to check it out first before we start running around telling everybody about it.”

  “How did you hear about it?”

  “There is a little bar downtown where the patrons are mostly Mexicans. I know the people who own it, and everyone knows me.”