“Rogoff. El Molokan. It’s just gotta be,” I said. “Good work.” This time I meant it.
She continued. “There was a diaspora and most of the original Molokans resettled in Southern California, but evidently some Rogoffs stayed here.”
Jan, who was following both the conversation and reading the article Rhonda found said, “I’m almost afraid to ask. What is a diaspora?”
“Mostly it is a capitalized noun referencing the dispersion of Jews, but it is also used to describe a group of originally centralized people who disperse to other places.”
“Thank you for that, Teach.”
She didn’t take my smart remark as an insult, but instead beamed at me, making me feel like a heel.
Jan shot me a look I deserved and asked Rhonda, “So, if this guy is El Jefe, he’s like some kind of agricultural kingpin?”
“I’d say so. Juan Cortés, tomatoes.”
“His last name is Tomatoes?’
“Ha! Nope, that’s what he grows. Actually, it looks like he owns half of the produce grown in the Baja, but started with tomatoes. And he’s politically connected, but just how is a little fuzzy. Google him yourself.”
Jan was already on it, and after just minutes she declared. “You were right, Hetta, our boss’s mother, Doña Maria Cortés, and her family claim a direct line of pure Castilians right back to Hernan Cortez himself. The spelling got a little tweaked over time. He was probably rolling in his grave when Maria ups and marries a Russian from the cristianos espirituales saltadores, or ‘Spiritual Christian Jumpers.’ Says here they were called that by the Mexicans because their vociferous manner of shouting prayers and throwing themselves on the floor was similar to what my mother called Holy Rollers.”
“What’s that?” Rhonda asked.
“Pentecostal Church,” I answered. “My dad said there was one near their ranch in the Texas hill country. My granddad raised redbone hounds, and when the churchgoers got wound up during their prayer meetings, the dogs, all twenty of them, would set up deafening howls in response. My grandmother said it was about time someone in the family got religion.”
“Obviously wasn’t you.”
I had no snappy riposte to Jan’s smart-assed remark, so we all took the man’s name and ran with it. In no time, we had a pretty good idea who we were working for, and why he chose to keep things quiet; he was under investigation by the Mexican government for suspected ties to the Russian Mafia.
“Jeez, why is it,” I asked “ ‘the Russians did it’ all of a sudden? I mean, for years every movie’s bad guys were Russians, then we had glasnost, and it was someone else. However, in this case, we know we’re dealing with Russians, and I do wonder if grandpa is more afraid of his alleged friends in the Russian Mafia or the amount of publicity that the granddaughter’s disappearance would bring on the family if her kidnapping gets out in the press.”
“Oh, come on,” Rhonda said, “surely you don’t think he’s more worried about the media than getting Juanita back.”
Jan added, “Or maybe the Russians snatched her to keep him quiet about their relationship?”
I shrugged. “Politics and business make for poor relations all the time. But if Juanita has dual citizenship, why hasn’t the family stepped up to the plate and sicced the FBI or someone like that on the case?”
“Cuz grandpappy holds the purse strings? Who knows?” Jan said. “Looks to me like the grandfather doesn’t trust anyone, and if he does have a Russian connection, he sure as hell doesn’t want the American feds snooping around. So, he puts his own team together. Could be he’s being blackmailed. Maybe the girl is just being held hostage for ransom, and he’s afraid to call in the feds from any country.”
“Murky, me thinks. We have to know more, and I seriously doubt I’ll get a damned thing out of my gigolo.” I had to giggle at the ‘my gigolo’ thing, as did Jan and Rhonda. “Anyhow, what was Juanita doing over here, anyhow? She’s awfully young to be traveling alone, if you ask me. Wonder if there’s a boyfriend involved? We’re flying blind, so tomorrow we gotta bug the boat.”
Rhonda was at first stunned, and then gleeful, at the idea of spying on our keepers. “Yippee. One thing we really need to know is just who told the family the girl was last seen boarding a large yacht. If there’s a witness, why don’t they have more info?”
“Good point. Let’s make a list,” I said, grabbing my tablet.
Rhonda suddenly sat up straight and said, “I just remembered something. I know Nacho said we aren't supposed to get involved, but—”
“Fat chance of that ever happening. Whatcha got?”
“Well, it might be nothing, but Rousel, before he got thrown into a French jail for terrorism, sorta mentioned he'd been to parties—he hinted at naughty ones—on a big yacht in Cannes.”
“So?” I said.
“Well, if he was involved in finding vulnerable women, like me, maybe they'd take them to this kind of party to drug them?”
“I don't wish to insult you, Rhonda, but I think we're talking much younger women here.”
Rhonda didn't seem to take my statement as a slight. She grinned. “Oh, he had a use for me, but I don't fit the white slavery profile.”
Jan eyes widened. “Wow, that's quite a leap. You think Rousel, or men like him, might be complicit in snatching young girls here in Cannes, and luring them into the trade?”
Rhonda shrugged, “Just sayin’.”
“Let's run with it. Key words: girls, yachts, Cannes,” I said.
We all went to work on our keyboards and after a little time Jan whooped, “Whoa, Nellie.” She grabbed her wine glass and took a sip. “Wait’ll you hear this.” She started reading from an article she’d found. “ ‘Cannes is a hotbed of thieves, prostitutes, and Eurotrash, some of whom operate from large yachts in the harbor. Young women are lured, drugged, and put into service by the likes of Middle Eastern billionaires. During the Cannes Film Festival, it is not unusual for men to pay forty-thousand dollars a night to “party” on these yachts.’ ”
“Ha! So, if our job is to be part of the local flavor, are we supposed to be thieves, prostitutes, or Eurotrash?” I said, not entirely in jest.
“More like Texas trailer trash,” Jan said. “We’ll fit right in.”
“I resent that remark. My family was partial to doublewides, but I’m too tired to snatch out a plug of your blonde hair, so let’s turn in. Tomorrow we strike. How many bugs do we have, Miz Jan?”
“Only three, plus the canine cam. We’ll have to put Agent Thang on the job when an opportunity arises. So, Nacho’s cabin for sure, and the chef’s, since we’re pretty sure his cousin is the victim.”
“What if they do everything via emails?” Rhonda asked.
“Normally we’d have our favorite little cyber rat, Rosario, hack into Nacho’s laptop. But right now, according to Nacho, Rosario is on his team, so that’s out. If we ask Rosario to do something like that he might snitch.”
“I’ll try to plant a video camera somewhere so we can see Nacho’s monitor and keyboard. Maybe we can suss out his password. I have to think about it.”
Po Thang had put his head on my lap like he always does when I’m trying to work. “Dawg sitter.”
“What?” Rhonda asked.
Jan already picked up on my idea. “We rig the critter cam and ask Nacho to dawg sit. If I can aim the camera just right, maybe we can see his keyboard. Let’s try it out here tomorrow morning. Right now I’m headed for a nice, soft bed.”
“Okay, we meet here after breakfast. Meanwhile, make notes and we’ll compare thoughts and come up with a plan.”
“This is the most exciting thing I’ve ever done,” Rhonda gushed.
“Oh, just wait for even more excitement. This whole thing is bound to end badly if Hetta has anything to do with it.”
After a breakfast of refried beans, tortillas, and huevos a la Mexicana, we headed to my cabin to strategize and burp chili peppers.
We fitted Po Thang with h
is critter cam and experimented with what we could see when he put his head on my leg, which he did as soon as I sat down.
“Good dawg,” Jan said, looking at her screen, “but all I see is Hetta’s crotch. I’d much rather look at Nacho’s crotch.”
I pushed Po Thang away for Jan to adjust his harness and camera. Once again, I sat down, but this time Po Thang just sat and stared at me. Jan handed me a bag of expensive French dog treats, and he quickly plunked his head on my lap again.
After several tries, we had what we wanted. The minute I sat, Po Thang plunked, and we had a view of my fingers moving on the keyboard, and the wide angle lens also picked up the screen.
I turned off the computer, walked away, and we prepared for a last training session. Sitting back down, I turned on the computer, Po Thang rested his head on my leg, and when my password prompt popped up, I put mine in. Jan knows my password, so we had Rhonda watch what the camera showed on Jan’s computer, to see if she could figure out what I typed in.
“It was seven characters. But I couldn’t see which keys you hit. Do it again and this time I’ll watch closer. Too bad the camera is so low.”
“Let me try something,” said Jan. “Po Thang, come here sweetheart.” She changed the camera to just in front of his right ear, and this time we had more luck.
Rhonda watched the video five times before she said, “Pothang.” My dog trotted to her, and she giggled. “I wasn’t calling you, Sweetie. Your mommy’s password is pothang.”
“Dang, now we’ll have to kill you, and just when you were being so useful,” Jan said.
Chapter Thirteen
Nacho called a meeting for eleven, giving everyone time to plan their day. Well, for the men to plan; he didn’t want us planning anything. Silly boy.
“I’ve been busy discussing the situation with everyone on the team, and we are ready to make a move,” our fearless leader said.
Everyone on the team? He had obviously overlooked my team. Oh, wait, he doesn’t know we have one.
Nacho continued, not realizing his gaffe. “Jan, you and Rhonda will cruise the beach cafés and bars, making yourselves available for pickup by locals, and gossiping with anyone willing to do so. Make it obvious you are without men.”
“Aye, aye, mon capitán,” Jan said with a sharp salute.
“I am no longer the captain. Fabio now wears that hat, and he will mingle with crews from other boats at the dock, getting an idea of just who is here, who was here, and when. Chef Robert—he pronounced it Rowbear, like the French do—will mingle with the kitchen crews from other yachts by asking them about where to find the best produce available, and the like.”
“Gee, what will Roberto do all day?” I cracked.
Nacho had the good grace to look sheepish with the affectation of Roberto’s name, but said, “And that brings us to you, Hetta. You will spend the afternoon shopping for expensive clothes and jewelry for your boyfriend here,” nodding toward our giant mystery man, “and getting noticed. We think the new guy will grab the attention of the local lover boys. We are told they keep an eye on any unwanted competition.”
I liked the plan. “So, we spend the afternoon smoking out rats. What are you gonna do while we’re gone?”
“I will stay on the boat, coordinating information as it comes in. I doubt I will often be able to go ashore.”
“Perfecto! You can dawg sit.”
“I would be delighted.”
“And so,” I chirped, “will Po Thang. I’ll drop him and his treats off when we leave.”
Lieutenant Martinez cleared his throat. “How about me?”
“Well dang, Marty,” I chirped, “I’m fresh out of retired cop treats.”
Nacho gave me the look, and said to Marty, “You will shadow Hetta and Cholo, just in case one of the local lotharios decides to get rough with the non-local rivalry.”
“Are you kidding me?” I asked, “Have you really looked at Cholo?”
“I meant, I don’t want Cholo removing someone’s head in public, so if trouble starts, Martinez will intervene.”
So, I was saddled with a pit bull and an aging gumshoe for the afternoon?
After receiving our ‘orders’ from Nacho, us women had an hour or so to put our heads together to decide on our way of doing things.
“Alrighty,” Jan said, “we’ll go along with Nacho’s idea for today. Of course, in our own way. But it’s obvious we have to move fast to get that girl back, so think outside the box.”
“You know,” I said, “something Nacho said is really bugging me. That girl has been gone an entire week? For something like this don’t they say after the first forty-eight hours the likelihood of finding the victim alive is greatly diminished?”
Rhonda evidently agreed, judging by her head bob. “Absolutely. I watch all those true crime television shows. Her grandfather waiting this long is sheer lunacy. Unless, of course, he knows who has her.”
“Then why would he send in a team to find her? This doesn’t make sense.”
“Or,” Jan says, “he knows she won’t be hurt if he goes along with the program. Maybe he’s already been contacted?”
“A lot doesn’t add up, but we gotta do what we can.”
Jan handed me a tiny listening device. “This one is for darling Nacho. Maybe you can plant it under his desk or somewhere when you drop off Agent Dawg before taking your pretty boy off shopping. I just saw Chef Row-bear leave the boat, so I’m headed to his digs to plant one, since he’s a family member. That leaves one left. Where should we use it?”
“Nacho said they had a meeting without us this morning, which of course will just not do. I’d dearly love to bug him in case he rudely overlooks our precious selves for the next dudefest.”
Jan shook her head indignantly. “The nerve. Let’s plant one on the SOB. But how and where?”
“I can think of a couple of places to stick it, but they aren’t practical. Or sanitary.”
After we stopped laughing, Rhonda said, “I noticed he keeps a pen in his pocket...kinda nerdy for a guy like him.”
“Yes, he does. Even when he’s fishing. Okay, then, you go see him for some reason and get a photo of that ballpoint. Or better yet, steal the pen itself, and we’ll see if we can insert a GPS tracker and a bug in it.”
Rhonda suddenly froze, looking like the proverbial deer in the headlights. I snapped my fingers in front of her face. “Hello? Anyone there?”
She blinked. “I’m scared.”
“Perfect, tell Nacho that. Good excuse to see him, play the damsel in danger card, and how you want to help that poor missing girl but are not used to this kind of thing. You can do it.”
“I...I’ll try.”
“That’s all we ask. I want him to trust you, cuz he sure as hell doesn’t trust me.”
“I sure do,” Rhonda said as she left my cabin on her first mission.
“What a moron,” Jan said after she was gone.
“Jan, that is totally harsh. Rhonda is a very nice person. In her own annoying way.”
“Yep, she’s nice alright, but if she trusts you she’s a stone moron.”
Rhonda surprised us by quickly returning with Nacho’s pen in hand. “How’d ya do it?” Jan asked. “If you had to screw him, that shore was quick.”
Rhonda’s eyes grew large and her cheeks turned bright red. “No! I mean, I wouldn’t know how. Oh, never mind that. I simply asked to borrow his pen for a couple of minutes and that I’d send it back with you and Po Thang.”
Jan and I exchanged astonished looks. “That’s it? You just asked to borrow it and he handed it right over?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t like it,” I said. “Too easy. He must smell a rat.”
“I agree,” Jan said. “We’ll have to figure out some other way to bug him.”
Rhonda was crestfallen. “So, I screwed up?” Realizing what she’d said, she blushed even redder. “Not literally, of course.”
“No, no, you did fine, Rhonda
. You made us proud. Matter of fact, when I return the un-messed with pen, it’ll throw him off.”
“I swear, I don’t understand how you two think.”
“If you figure it out, please let us know,” Jan said with a grin. “Cuz we sure as hell don’t.”
We were herded separately into Jan’s cabin to get fixed up, as she called it, after she informed Nacho that there was no way Cholo would pass for a gigolo with “those nails.” And, she added, “Hetta needs work as well.”
Three hours later my hair was bordering on fuchsia, as were my nails and lips, so I was prepped for late afternoon “tea” at a waterfront hotel, where those of our ilk who had finally managed to climb from their silk sheets hang out. I was decked out in what someone must have deemed “Cannes après-midi chic,” as was Cholo, whose clean and buffed nails were indeed resplendent.
Surrounded by Christmas season over-the-top décor that only the French seem to pull off without looking gaudy, I think we would have been properly dazzled were we both not ill at ease with our parts in this ruse to smoke out the bad guys.
Taking a handsome young man, my kept young man, out on the town was something I never envisioned happening in my life, and the idea that anyone might think I was old and ugly enough to have a paid boy toy didn’t sit all that well.
And, my boy toy’s Hispanic alpha male pride was obviously taking a blow. He was surly and barely civil toward me, which was hardly going to win him an award as gigolo of the year at the Cannes film festival.
So, in order to break the tension, I ordered champagne.
Chapter Fourteen
By the time our afternoon “tea” of caviar and champagne was complete, both Cholo and I were more relaxed. I’d made him smile a few times by making snide comments about people at the other tables, like Jan and I do, and that was a bit of an ice breaker. Cholo especially liked me making fun of our glum bodyguard seated four tables away.
Just Follow the Money Page 8