Blue Coyote Motel

by Dianne Harman

  Jeffrey was pleased that he'd thought to install a false bottom in his carry-on luggage so he could conceal the cash he'd need in Mexico. He knew he could get through the metal scanner at security with a large amount of cash, but Customs could pose a problem. Jeffrey had been to Mexico enough times to know that the searches they conducted upon arriving in Mexico were nothing like the ones conducted in the U.S. But even so, he thought, I better be prepared in case I am searched. He smiled, thinking of everything he had accomplished.

  He parked his car at Sky Harbor airport and after clearing security, boarded the Aeromexico Airlines plane for Guadalajara. Jeffrey had read that the airline was having financial troubles, but you'd never know it from the completely full flight. In addition to the Mexicans returning to their homeland, there were a number of American women. Many of them looked like they might be candidates for cosmetic surgery at the American hospital in Guadalajara. Cosmetic surgery was a lot cheaper in Mexico than it was in the United States. One could get a nurse, a margarita, and luxurious accommodations while recuperating from cosmetic surgery, all at a quarter of the U.S. costs. Many American women had their "work" done in Mexico.

  It was a smooth flight and Jeffrey was glad that over the years he had kept up his fluency in Spanish. He easily conversed with his seatmates and the flight attendant. Being able to speak Spanish, rather than having to use an interpreter, was going to make it a lot easier to deal directly with the supplier with whom he would soon be doing business.

  As he stood in the Customs line, he felt himself beginning to perspire. He could feel the moisture under his arms and on his face. He hoped it didn’t show. Even though it had seemed like such a good idea back in his lab, now that the line was moving, he was increasingly nervous about the false bottom in his carry-on. Then he realized he was going to be lucky. The Customs official was only searching every fourth person and so far, he, Jeffrey, wouldn’t be that person. The searches being made were just as he remembered from earlier trips to Mexico—they were poorly done, lazy searches. The BIENVENIDOS sign on the wall caught his attention, reminding him he was in Mexico. The Customs official waved him through as the red light turned to green.

  Jeffrey casually strolled out of the airport and made his way to the taxi stand. In smooth Spanish, he told the driver to take him to the Hilton Hotel in the city, about a thirty minute drive. He checked in and took the elevator to his room, which overlooked the hotel's pool and the brilliantly colored tropical plants in the garden. The pool was empty. It was still late winter in Guadalajara.

  Jeffrey recalled the name of the drug distributor he would need and placed a call to Hernandez Compania. It wasn't a large company and he was able to make an appointment with the general manager for the next day.

  Next, he called Maria and told her he had arrived, had been able to make an appointment with the man he needed to see, and expected to return home the next night. He unpacked his carry-on bag, hanging up the shirt he planned to wear in the morning. Mexican men did not dress casually when they conducted business. Jeffrey had worn a sport coat on the plane, which he would wear over the dress shirt with one of the few ties Maria had not donated to the church. He was ready for his meeting and was hopeful it would be productive.

  Traveling was tiring. There was no way around it. Hurry up and wait. Hurry up and wait. The luxury of arriving at the last minute for a flight was no longer an option. A long line in security could easily result in a missed flight. He went to the Vinifera lounge in the hotel, sat down at the bar, and ordered a margarita, some chips, and a couple of tacos. By now it was 8:00 p.m. and he knew tomorrow was going to be a long day. Even though Guadalajara was two hours ahead in time and his body didn't feel that tired, he decided to go back to the room. After a good night's sleep he would be fresh for tomorrow's meeting.

  The next morning, he showered, shaved, and as he got ready to put on his shirt, he discovered that one side of it was badly wrinkled. He needed to conduct this meeting from a position of power and a wrinkled shirt was not an option. Jeffrey quickly pressed the shirt, finished dressing, and rode the elevator down to the hotel dining room. After a breakfast of huevo chorizo scramble and jalapeno corn cakes, he walked a few blocks to the offices of the Hernandez Compania. Nothing had changed since the last time he had been in Mexico. There were unfinished buildings with exposed steel rebar, the constant sound of blaring horns, and streets filthy with litter, excrement, and mud. Young children were still on every corner begging for money and selling Chiclets.

  Hernandez Compania was located on Rincon de Las Praderas. When he entered the low-lying industrial building, he told the receptionist that he had an appointment with Señor Jose Perez. A few minutes later, a door leading from the reception area opened and a handsome older man walked over to Jeffrey, introduced himself, and shook his hand. Sr. Perez was an elegant looking man with a mane of white hair surrounding his dark brown face. To Jeffrey, he looked to be part Mexican, part Indian. Although he wasn't very tall, he had the powerful build of someone who had spent a lot of time working out.

  Sr. Perez asked Jeffrey to follow him. They walked down several long, narrow halls, finally entering a large office tastefully decorated with plush carpeting, Mexican artifacts, and the usual picture of a wife and children displayed prominently on the desk.

  He told Sr. Perez that he was a scientist who was starting a company and would like to purchase some items from his company. He explained that he had applied to the US government for the necessary permits, but that it often took a long time to receive them and he was anxious to get started right away. He told Sr. Perez he could give him a large cash retainer today to apply as a draw against future purchases. Jeffrey said after he had spent the initial amount, he would again travel to Mexico and give Sr. Perez another cash payment to cover any future purchases.

  Jeffrey knew that he couldn't ship or carry the items he needed into the United States. It would be illegal for them to be in his possession. Sr. Perez assured him that the items could be sent to his company’s distribution center in California and then shipped to him. The drug companies were a powerful lobby in Washington D.C. and the agreement between Mexico and the United States, which had been made several years earlier, allowed the drugs to be shipped from Mexico to the various distribution points without any questions or inspections.

  He took out a typed list of what he wanted. He had gone over it several times to make sure that everything he needed for the anti-aging hormone and other experiments would be included as well as several substitutes in case the experiments didn't go exactly as planned. Sr. Perez looked at the list and assured Jeffrey that the items would be delivered to him within a week to ten days.

  Sr. Perez said the cost of the items on the list would be $45,000. Jeffrey opened his briefcase which contained bundles of bills. Each bundle contained $5,000. He carefully counted out nine bundles, $45,000. He deliberately let Sr. Perez glance inside the briefcase bottom to see that there was plenty of cash left after he extracted the $45,000. He wanted Sr. Perez to think he was a rich American with plenty of cash and would be back. Jeffrey told him no receipt would be necessary. He doubted the money would ever see the bookkeeping office of Hernandez Compania, but as long as he got what he wanted, he didn't care.

  Before closing his briefcase, Jeffrey took out another $10,000 and handed it to Sr. Perez, saying, "When the shipment is delivered to me in the United States, I don't want any record made of the materials on the list or that they were delivered to me."

  Sr. Perez smiled ever so slightly and said, "No problem, Sr. Brooks. We do this all the time." Just as Jeffrey thought, corruption was still alive and well in Mexico. That's how things got done here. I didn't make the rules but I sure can play by them. He knew the carrot insuring delivery would be the next $45,000 he would bring when he made his next trip to Mexico to get a resupply of the ingredients he needed for his experiments.

  When he got back to his hotel, Jeffrey asked the concierge to make a reservation for
him on the first flight back to Phoenix. He went up to his room and packed. The concierge had been able to book a direct flight from Guadalajara to Phoenix, which was leaving in three hours. He had time to get to the airport, check in, and get something to eat. He missed Maria and couldn't wait to get back to her and his lab. His meeting with Sr. Perez had gone well, even better than he had hoped. He had a secure source for the ingredients he would need and felt confident that he would succeed with his dream of producing an earth changing drug. Freedom was going to be made. He knew it would work. He couldn't wait until his shipment of requested materials arrived and he could get started.

  CHAPTER 24

  Jeffrey returned from Mexico eager to begin his experiments. However, there was no doubt in Maria's mind that being fired from Moore Labs had taken a toll on him. He had always struggled with feelings of being different from other people and some people thought he was slightly crazy, but those feelings seemed to have intensified in the last couple of months. He was having spurts of extremely long hours of work followed by overly long hours of sleep. He had always been meticulous in his grooming, but now it no longer seemed to be important to him. When they would talk, she noticed that his speech and thought processes seemed to be jumbled, and at times, incomprehensible.

  Jeffrey had been taking medication for his manic-depressive condition for many years and he began to wonder if it was losing its potency. He was aware that he was alternating long hours of work with long hours of sleep. He was also aware that his personal grooming was becoming less important than his work in the lab.

  "What's going on?" Maria asked one day. "Something is wrong. I know how difficult the Moore situation was for you, but you seem to have changed. I'm also worried about your sleeping. It seems like every time I wake up in the middle of the night, you're not there. I didn't know you before you started your medication, but I've read that people in manic states often don't sleep for days. I've also noticed that when you do sleep, it's sometimes for hours and hours.”

  "Maria, I was called 'Crazy Boy' when I was growing up. For some reason, all those god-awful childhood memories have been coming back to me. Maybe it's just a delayed reaction to the stress of being fired by Moore Labs," Jeffrey said. "As for not sleeping, I've had so much on my mind with building the lab, going to Mexico, and getting ready to conduct the experiments, sometimes I just can't seem to make myself sleep. When I do sleep, I want to get as much as I can so I'll be clearheaded when I conduct the experiments. Don't worry, I'll be fine once I get started on all the things I'm planning to do. Actually, I'm very excited. This is a transitional time for me." Secretly, he hoped that Freedom would help him as well.

  Maria didn't have a good feeling after their conversation. She felt Jeffrey was beginning to spin out of control. Yet, maybe what he had told her was true. It couldn't have been easy to have everyone think you were crazy when you were a kid. And certainly there had been a lot of work and planning to do in the last couple of months. Maybe it was just a reaction to the stress he had been under. She decided to let it go for now and accept that this was just a temporary situation.

  The complete shipment of drugs and supplies from the distribution center in California arrived as promised. Sidney had been true to his word. Two million dollars had been placed in Jeffrey's bank account the day after Jeffrey was fired. That money had become essential in view of the costs of remodeling the motel, building the lab, and buying the supplies he needed.

  The laboratory was complete and was a dream which had come true. Jeffrey would often stand in the middle of the laboratory and marvel at what had been done. Shining metal counters gleamed under recessed overhead lights that could be dimmed or brightly lit by a touch of the switch. The walls had been soundproofed. Security doors and new stairs had been installed. One set led to the front of the motel, the other leading to the rear of the motel. He didn't want to encounter motel guests each time he went in and out of the lab. He looked around at the results of his elaborate planning and design, thinking of the cost overruns, but he just didn't care what it had cost. It was a state-of-the-art laboratory and he couldn't help but smile with satisfaction at what he had created and accomplished.

  While Jeffrey was busy finishing up the lab, Maria was putting the final touches on the motel. The plumbing had been replaced, furniture delivered, and fresh white linens were on each neatly made bed with colorful Southwest style bedspreads. The bathrooms had been tiled and new fixtures installed. The small kitchen adjacent to the office and the one in their house had new appliances, cookware, ceramics, and glassware. The motel had been freshly painted, inside and out. A landscape nursery in Blythe had delivered and planted the succulents and cacti, which surrounded the motel, softening the harsh, desolate landscape. The motel was as attractive as any motel could be in that remote area.

  Now that they were close to opening the motel, Jeffrey was anxious to experiment with the new drug, Freedom, before it opened. “Maria,” Jeffrey said one night at dinner after he had received the shipment from the California distribution center, "I really think the Navajo rugs you told me about would look great in the guest rooms. They'd be perfect on the tile floors. Why don't you go back to that gallery in Phoenix that you liked so much and get them? Spend the night and see if you find anything else we need. You've been working so hard. You could use a day of shopping, which I know you enjoy.”

  "Thank you. I know you're going to love the rugs. They are so beautiful and really would finish off the rooms. I also need to get a couple of other things while I'm there. I'll go day after tomorrow. Is that OK with you?"

  "I could use a few things as well. Let me make a list. I'll stay here at the motel and finish up what needs to be done before we open. We should be able to turn the highway sign on next week."

  Jeffrey got his pen and paper and began making a list. Secretly, he was looking forward to Maria being gone so he could perform his first test of Freedom. He was pretty sure the test he was planning would work. He had been over and over it in his mind, tweaking the ingredients and adding and deleting various materials. He had an uncanny ability to mentally put different compounds together and envision the finished experiment in his mind before it had ever been tested. It was one of his strong suits as a scientist. He felt confident that the experiment he was contemplating would work, but you never knew until it was tested.

  Two days later, Jeffrey kissed Maria good-bye and told her to drive safely. As the dust kicked up by Maria's van faded into the distance, he quickly went down to the lab, assembled the materials he'd need, and began his work. It took many long hours to get the right combination of different ingredients. Jeffrey worked late into the day, but finally, the time had come to test Freedom. Would it work?

  He slowly opened the valve on the compressed gas container and heard the low, familiar hiss of gas being released from the container. The container looked like a green oxygen tank, similar to the type commonly seen in hospitals and used to dispense oxygen to a patient. It was four feet high and constructed of round, heavy gauge steel. The regulator mechanism to release the gas at the selected rate was located on the top.

  When he was building the laboratory, Jeffrey had purchased fifty of the tanks from a Los Angeles medical recycling company and had them shipped to his laboratory. The gas being released from the container was his own invention and design. He had attached a small hose to the regulator located on top of the compressed gas cylinder. The hose was connected to the air-conditioning duct that led to all the motel rooms, the office, and their home. The Freedom gas itself was colorless and odorless; however, Jeffery had added a slight amount of sandalwood scent to give the gas a distinctive, yet pleasant, aroma.

  A powerful fan pushed the gas through the air-conditioning ducts. The jerry-rigged system of hoses, vents, and fans looked as if it was working perfectly. He was pleased that his invention seemed to be performing just as he had anticipated. His months of careful planning were taking shape. The Freedom drug was on its way to its first
test site. Now it was up to him to see if it would work on a human being as he had planned.

  He ran up the steps from the basement and made his way to the Blue Coyote office. There was a slight scent of sandalwood in the room. He stood quietly for a few minutes, breathing in the scented air that was coming out of a vent high on the wall behind the reception desk. Jeffrey didn't notice any side effects. He didn’t feel dizzy or sick to his stomach. Actually, he felt pretty good.

  Jeffrey left the motel office and walked into the courtyard outside the office. He let himself into the empty motel room located across from the office. He didn't detect any sandalwood, which meant there was no seepage from one room to another. The air-conditioning system had been designed by Jeffery so that the flow of Freedom's air could be manipulated from room to room by the controls he had installed in the lab.

  He went back to his lab and turned the control valve so the Freedom mixture would enter the motel room he had just been in, but not the others. After he walked back up the stairs, he entered the room and now detected the scent. He walked into the room next to it, detecting no odor. The pipes and vents were working perfectly.

  Next, he needed to see if the dosage level of the mixture would produce the "good feeling" he was hoping for. He poured himself a cup of coffee, got his latest copy of Scientific American, and sat down on the leather couch in the office. An hour later he felt better than he had ever felt in his life.

  Jeffrey dialed Maria's cell phone. She answered on the first ring. "Maria, is there any way you could come back this evening instead of tomorrow? Nothing is wrong, but my experiment, the one I briefly told you about, the "feel-good" one, seems to be working out better than I had expected. I can't wait to see what you think and how it makes you feel.”