“If anyone escapes like the young couple with the baby I’m going to castrate the bastard guarding them. You hear me I’ll whack your damn balls off. There will be no more escapes. You hear me? No more!” he said as his voice bellowed in anger throughout the shack.
“Pedro you and Jorge are in charge of this run. “Give them the address of the drop-house in Coopersville. He ordered one of his servants. “There’s a green van parked in the usual location.” He said tossing Pedro the keys. “I don’t want any ’screw’ ups. You hear me or you will be dinner for the buzzards. And you aint gonna like them pecking your eyes out.”
“Keep these ‘sons a bitches’ in the drop-house until you hear from Manuel. When you hear we have the ransom money take them to the desert an blow their ‘friggin’ heads off.”
“You have your orders. Anyone under the sound of my voice. Don’t mess with me, you hear me? I will cut your woman’s head off and use if for a post ornament.”
He stood up dropped his cigar on the floor placed his white shiny shoe over it and twisted his foot and walked back the same way he walked in arrogantly with his eyes staring straight ahead. He and his mob of body guards stepped in the helicopter and it ascended into the clouds.
Pedro and Jorge took the winding dirt road to the location of the green van. They caught a few winks of sleep and were ready to haul ass across the deserts dirt road. If the van were to break down or any other problem to keep them from moving through the desert it would lead to sure death. The Border Patrol never checks this part of the Mexico desert. The runners chance the run time and time again for a lucrative payday.
The ten Mexicans showed up ahead of time and they were off. They had the clothes on their backs and a bag of what was probably food land water. That is unless they have the brains of a turnip. It’s not the responsibility of the runners to supply food or water for the men they bring across the desert. Their mission is to deliver them to a farm, so the escaping Mexicans think. Some are taken to the farmers truck but most are taken to the drop-house where they are held until their family pays the ransom. And usually after they receive the ransom they are taken to the desert. They are usually found with a bullet to their back or between their eyes laying in a shallow grave in the hot desert.
Pedro and Jorge share the driving. They have shielded the front of the van from the back. The air conditioning will only cool the front of the van. The Mexicans are cramped in the back of the van setting on a hard metal floor. Heat from the triple digit desert temperature and the van is burning anything it touches. There isn’t room to stretch out and the air is thin.
“I am very sick.” A Mexican man says to his friend. “Very sick my friend, I think I am going to die.”
“You’ll be okay just try to think about the good life ahead of us. I can not help you.” the friend said.
“I know.” He said in a weak inaudible voice as he slumping forward. His friend shook him and tried to arouse him. He was dead just like that dead.
“What ‘the hell we gonna do with a dead body in the van he’s gonna stink up this hell box we are riding in.” A Mexican man blurted out.
Pedro heard the commotion and asked, “What the hell going on?”
“It’s our friend he died.” A Mexican answered.
“Pull the sorry bastard to the back door.” Pedro ordered.
The men struggled with the dead weight of the body until it lay against the back door.
“Open the door and kick the ‘son of a bitch’ out.” Pedro ordered as he looked to the back of the van.
“What!” His friend yelled.
“You heard me you ‘asshole’ open the door and kick him out or I will kick your ‘sorry ass’ out and leave you and your buddy for the vultures to feast on. This ride is no picnic and what ever happens, happens.” Pedro said as he turned away from the men and looked ahead at the long desert road ahead of them.
The men slowly opened the back door and let their friend fall to the ground. Many crossed their chest as the door opened. Giving his body to the vultures was a hard thing to do but they didn’t have a choice. The men knew it was up to each to survive this journey.
“Boss man is gonna be mad. He could have probably got a lot of money for him from his family.’ Jorge said pounding on the steering wheel knowing it was his and Pedro’s responsibility to get the Mexicans to the drop-house alive.
“Shush.” Pedro said. “They might over hear you.”
“They don’t speak enough English to understand.” Pedro said.
“You’re right, I didn’t think of that.” Jorge said.
But one young man, Carlos overheard. He knew he and the other men were on the road to bondage and sure death. He didn’t know what to do. He wanted to warn the others.
But who could he trust? He made his way to the back of the van and struck up a
Conversation with another young man. Before the first day ended they were pretty good friends. Carlos felt he could trust him.
About two hundred miles into the trip the men could hear the rotary of a helicopter. They thought for sure it was the border Patrol and they had been caught. The helicopter hovered over the van for a short time. Pedro continued to drive the van up the road. Suddenly the van stopped Pedro and Jorge jumped from the van. On the side of the road was a thirty gallon can of gasoline. Pedro and Jorge lifted it to the side of the van and slowly poured gasoline into the vans gasoline tank. They jumped back in the van as fast as they jumped out and again we are on our way to freedom or will it be bondage. Carlos thought to himself.
From the back window Carlos could see the helicopter hovering over the barrel, a man dropped from the side of the helicopter hanging on a cable attached the empty barrel with a cable and hoisted it to the helicopter and he hung on the side of the barrel.
There were two makeshift fueling stations in the desert. Everything went off with a hitch. There was no doubt this run had been made over and over again. And again. Everything went like clock work. The burning sun dropped behind the horizon just as quickly the van stopped.
“You have ten minutes to take a crap or whatever and we won’t stop again until morning.
“Get your sorry asses out of the van.” He ordered.
The men crawled from the van trying to work the circulation back in their numb legs. They all realized they were at the mercy of two mean men.
Carlos quietly called to his new friend. “Come over here.”
“What do you want?” He asked.
Listen and don’t say anything. I overheard them discussing their plans for us. Their boss is going to hold us hostage until our family pays up. I’ve heard of this before. They don’t know I speak English.” Carlos told his friend.
“What are we going to do?” He asked.
“First we are not going to tell anyone. We don’t know who we can trust. I hope you are to be trusted.” Carlos said.
“You don’t have to worry about me. I want to make it to the states alive.” H assured him.
“Okay, just do a s I say or do. Just follow my lead.” Carlos told his new friend.
“Ten minutes is up, get back in the van we are hauling ass outta here.” Pedro yelled to the men.
They crawled back into their hell hole trying to sleep but it was almost impossible. A new day was born in the east and the sun was shining through the side window as the men began to rouse up. Some digging into their brown bags in search of food and water. Some of the men rationed the water but others didn’t and were thirsty. The goodness of the men came through. They shared their food and water with each other. Days in the filthy hot van brought them together as comrades.
Okay, we will be hitting the main road in a short time. This is your last break.” he told them.
“After we are on the main highway we will stop for fuel but you will not get out of the van for any reason.” Pedro told the men. “So get your sorry asses out of the van and do your thing.” He ordered.
Carlos and Luis watered a couple of Saguaro�
�s and walked around exchanging words as they stretched their arms and legs. Carlos told Luis about a secondhand store in Coopersville. He heard people back in Mexico talking about this nice couple helping the Mexicans that were trying to escape from the ‘Coyotes’.
“When we get near Coopersville. I plan to jump from the back of the van and run like the devil. You, if you want to save your hide follow me. Run away from the van in the direction I run. If I remember correctly the store is on the corner of Main Street and I think they said First Street. If we loose each other meet me there. I’ll wait for you.”
Carlos assured Luis patting him on the back.
Luis was a few years younger than Carlos. He reminded Carlos of his little timid brother back I Mexico. He wondered why he was trying to escape from Mexico at such a young age. Carlos would do everything in his power to help Luis his new young friend.
The ride across Arizona and into California was hotter than hell. The smell of body odor and vomit permeated the van. The men were almost dead from exhaustion, some throwing up, passing out, some soaked in their own vomit, all were dehydrated. They rubbed their faces with sweat soaked shirts trying to cool themselves. The conditions in the back of the van were sickening. A pig going to slaughter would have been treated with more respect than the Mexican men were treated on their journey to a new country.
The big yellow ball of fire slowly descended behind the mountains. As if from an artist brush colors of red, purple, golden yellow streaked across the western sky. As the light of day dimmed the desert nights air began to cool the oven they had been in for days.
Carlos overheard the ‘keepers’ talk about Coopersville being near. Carlos positioned themselves at the back door of the van craning his neck to see through the front windshield looking for any sign of light from Coopersville. He stood at the door rocking back and forth with the movement of the van. His hand on the door handle. He nudged Luis, slowly opened the door, both men jumped and rolled into the night. Carlos looked up to see the van door close.
“What the hell was that?” Pedro asked. The Mexicans were so out of it they didn’t know anything had taken place. Pedro drove on into the desert heading for the drop house.
Carlos and Luis ran as fast as they could though the brush. Cutting themselves on the cactus as they crisscrossed the desert. Keeping their eye on the light they ran like a hungry fox. They stopped just short of the town. Catching their breath they looked into the distance and didn’t see the secondhand store. The sidewalks were rolled up. The town as quiet as a church mouse. The street lights were far apart hiding the two in the dark. All the stores were dark except for the store at the corner of First and Main Street.
Carlos whispered to Luis. “I don’t see the secondhand store. Let’s look in the window of the store with the light.”
As they started to dart across the street the green van came roaring down Main Street. Carlos pulled Luis back just in the nick of time.
“They are looking for us.” Carlos told Luis.
Again they made a dash for the store with the light calling them.
THIRTEEN
Agent Parker pulled up in front of the shop, stepped from his unmarked car. He walked straight to the shop swung open the door and asked for Ron Mills. Ron looked puzzled. He wondered what the man wanted to talk with him about.
“I’m Ron Mills can I help you?” Ron asked walking toward the man.
Agent Parker pulled his jacket to the side and a great big bright star flickered as it caught the light.
“I need to talk to you.” He said as he dropped his jacket. Agent Parkers jacket lacked a few inches covering his bulging stomach.
“Please excuse me.” Ron said to the crew walking out the door and into the big black sedan.
Agent Parker drove Ron to the FBI office. He showed Ron to a table with a couple chairs in a small room. The walls were blank and cold, stale cigarette smoke permeated the room.
“We have run a check on you and your wife. It puzzles us as to why you are here working in the flower shop. Why you rented the house on Fifth Street and only living there a short time but continuing to pay the rent.” Agent Parker said to Ron as he pushed the back of his chair up to the table straddling it.
“We need some answers. The house you rented was raided a couple weeks ago. You were holding illegal Mexican men in the house.”
Ron looked up shaking his head. “Oh, no sir, we were not.”
“Do you realize you are responsible for the goings on in the house as long as your name is on the rental agreement
Ron shook his head. With his elbows on the table he placed his forehead in his cupped hands. “Sir, I must tell you our story.” Ron said.
“You are not under arrest but you can have an attorney present before you begin if you choose.” Agent Parker advised Ron.
“No, I don’t need an attorney.” Ron said. “My brother, Paul Mill’s and his wife, Nellie lived in this town and owned a secondhand store. We kept close contact and then one day they didn’t answer their phone. We were unable to contact them. We sent letters and continued to call. After a couple months the phone was disconnected. We checked with the phone company and the phone had been disconnected due to an unpaid bill. We knew this was not like Paul and Nellie.
“You’re telling me Paul and Nellie is missing persons.” Agent Parker questioned.
“Yes,” he continued on. “When we got to town we went to the store and it was closed. We looked through the window and the store was empty. We met with Sheriff Brady and he told us they left in the middle of the night. We didn’t have a clue on where to start looking for them. We are hoping something will come up here that might lead us to them. The Sheriff hasn’t located their van.”
“Now, I have some questions and you better have some good answers.” Agent Parker said. “Why did you continue to pay rent and utilities on the house on Fifth Street while living in an apartment?” He asked.
“We couldn’t find work here and our savings dwindled to almost nothing. I was over at the truck stop looking for work and struck up a conversation with a man and shared my problem of being without work and wouldn’t be able to pay my rent the following month. This man told me he didn’t have good credit, couldn’t find anyone that would rent to him and needed a home for his family. He would pay the rent and utilities if I would move to an apartment and he would pay the rent on my apartment. Every month without fail I received a money order for the rent for each and a money order for the utilities. I guess he called the utility companies for the amount owed each month.” Ron told Agent Parker.
“Mr. Mills I believe you. What I have to figure out is how to find your brother and his wife. I’ll run this across my boss and go from there. Meanwhile, you continue on living just as you are.” Agent Parker said.
“Okay, you will be able to find me at the new flower shop. I’m the new delivery person.” Ron said with a smile.
Agent Parker turned all this mind boggling information over to Agent Bill Harris. They wondered why there wasn’t a missing persons report from the local Sheriff’s office. If the Mills had been reported missing the FBI would have been notified. They knew they could not let Sheriff Brady or anyone know of this new information.
Agent Parker and Harris was certain this was tied into their investigation of the body smuggling ring. Why the Mill’s disappeared would be handled through the FBI since Sheriff Brady didn’t make a missing person report he couldn’t be trusted.
The next day they brought Ron Mills back into the office and talked with him hoping to get more information.
“We would be surprised if your brother and sister-in-law didn’t meet foul play. There are things I can’t not share with you. But you need to be open with us. If there is anything you haven’t shared with us please tell us. Was Paul and Nellie doing anything illegal? Such as selling drugs.” Agent Parker asked.
“Oh no, they would never deal in drugs. They loved to help people and were totally against drugs.” Ron assured Agent
Parker.
Sheriff Brady needs to be investigated. The agents ran a check on him and he had been in law enforcement for over thirty years. He didn’t have any black marks on his record. Could he be turning his head letting this body smuggling go on in his town?
“Let’s put an agent on the sheriff twenty four seven.” Agent Harris ordered.
They know the sheriff will be careful in his moves but if he’s into something illegal he will slip up.
Ella wondered why the FBI agent showed up and took Ron away but she didn’t want to ask Ron and Susan. When and if they wanted to share it was up to them.
Ella made a drawing of the new sign she planned to have put on the store front. She made a call to the local sign company. They can have the sign ready and installed by Friday if she can get the plans in tomorrow.
The clerk at Coopersville City Hall ‘Building and Inspection’ department looked at the plan raised her eyebrow pushing the plans back across the counter. “This will need to be signed and stamped by a licensed engineer before we can issue a permit.
“What, for a sign! Excuse me, I don’t understand.” Gathering up the plan.
“The city has a sign ordinance. All signs must be approved by the city building
department.” The clerk told Ella.
“Then I will need a copy of the rules for the sign.” She told the clerk.
The clerked made copies of the rules and handed them to Ella. Ella made her way back to the shop. She tossed her purse on the counter.
“I need an architect to draw up my sign and an engineer to sign off on it. I guess this means I will drive to Baker and hire an architect to draw it up and an engineer to sign off on it. What a pain.” Ella said in disgust.
THE BLUE STALKER Page 10