by Blake Banner
“Is he? Did I get him? Is he dead…?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know. I think so.”
She pushed me, with both hands, back toward the Jag. “We have to go and see. We have to see…”
I gripped her shoulders and shook her. “Stop it, Sole! Stop! Are you hurt? Are you OK?”
She frowned, like I was speaking Greek to her. “Hurt?” She shook her head. “Stop wasting time. We have to go back, check, confirm the kill…”
Confirm the kill.
I helped her to the Jag and we climbed in and drove slowly back down the track, toward the spot where Mendez had gone over. We arrived after a couple of minutes. I nosed over the edge so the lights were shining down into the narrow ravine. There, a black shadow among the gnarled, broken trees, I could see the mangled wreck of his car. I killed the engine, but left the lights on and climbed out. Sole climbed out with me.
We slid and scrambled down the bank, slipping on the loose earth and rocks, and clutching at the small, woody bushes that dotted the dry land. Finally, at the bottom, we came to where his saloon was lying, smoldering, on its roof.
Sole ran ahead of me on unsteady feet, crying, “Is he in there? Is he dead?”
I leaned down and peered inside. I pulled out my cell and switched on the flashlight, playing it all over the inside. Then I stood and made a systematic search of the whole area. All the while, Sole stood staring at the car like she was in a trance.
Finally, I returned to her and gripped her shoulders. “Look at me.” She stared at my chest. “Sole, look at me. Look into my eyes.”
She slowly raised them until they locked onto mine.
“He survived. He got away. He could be anywhere and we haven’t got the resources to look for him. We will find him, but for that, we need to get back to the USA. I need you with me and focused, can you do that?”
She nodded. “Yes, Captain. I can do that.”
Nineteen
We drove in silence through the night, through deserted fields and smallholdings, searching for the road that led from Bahia de Kino to Hermosillo. The theory was that if we kept the ocean on our left and headed north, sooner or later we would stumble on the road. That turned out to be true after an hour and a half of weaving back and forth along a grid system of fields and canals that seemed to stretch on forever.
Finally, close to eleven o’clock, a long snake of blacktop emerged ahead of us, faintly reflecting the light of the rising moon. We made the intersection and turned east. Logic dictated that that road would take us, eventually, to Hermosillo, and from there to Nogales and the border with Arizona.
The theory was right, but the unknown quantity was Mendez.
Sole had not spoken since we’d gotten in the car. Now, as we accelerated east, she said, “We should have hunted him down and killed him.”
I nodded. “I can’t argue with that. That would probably have been the best thing to do, but I’m in no state.”
I touched the field bandage she had improvised for my shoulder. She glanced at it, then at my face, and finally looked back at the black windshield.
“And besides,” I went on. “He had a large area in which to hide. We didn’t have the resources to cover it. Sometimes you have to make a tactical retreat so you can strike again later, more effectively.”
Her reply was sullen. “I know.” We were silent for a while, with only the growl of the huge V12 in the night. Sole sighed and thrust her hands between her knees. “So, what is the plan?”
“The plan? Get to Heroic Nogales without getting stopped by Mendez’s friends, and persuade Border Control that we were mugged and our passports were stolen.”
She shook her head. “We won’t make it.”
Her voice was flat and made me glance at her. “What makes you so sure?”
She turned away from me, as though she was talking to her own reflection in the window. “Two things: first, Mendez will have called for help by now. They will have sent a car to get him and they will also be searching the area for a classic, V12 XJS. But more important than that, his cartel owns people at the border crossings and at the airports all over this area. They’ll be looking for us, and we are not hard to spot, even without this car. We stand out like a fluorescent dildo at a vicar’s tea party.”
I didn’t answer for a moment, then I turned and considered her. She looked tired and mad more than scared.
“I don’t know what your local vicar was like, but ours always had several fluorescent dildos around the vicarage. He said that all things bright and beautiful, the Lord had made them all.”
Her expression didn’t change, but she turned away from the window and studied my face, like she was seeing me for the first time.
“I didn’t know you were funny. You’re funny. I didn’t know that.”
I looked back to the road. It rolled toward me, black, steady, straight and seemingly endless, its end lost in blackness. “I didn’t know either.”
She drew breath. “The second thing. Why didn’t Mendez do this to us in New Mexico? Why did he go to the trouble and expense of flying us—separately—all the way to Baja?”
I shrugged. “He doesn’t know who I am. He believes I am the Verdugo…”
“You are.”
I glanced at her. She was staring down at the backs of her hands.
I went on, “Yeah, I know. But he thinks I’m attached to some government agency which is out to assassinate the operative heads of the cartels along the border, and perhaps in Mexico, too. He wanted to interrogate us both outside of US jurisdiction.”
She shook her head. “I don’t believe that. I know Mendez very well. He could and would have taken us to an abandoned warehouse somewhere and tortured us until we told all, then he would have buried us in the desert. He’s done it to plenty of cops and maybe even a couple of Feds.”
“Then?”
“He had a delivery scheduled for last night at the RV park. But you spooked him. He brought us in and was intending to kill us both once he got the information out of you, right there, at the same time as the delivery. It was remote, convenient, and law enforcement had been instructed to stay away. It was an ideal setup. But what you said…” She shook her head. “You knew what you were talking about. It sounded credible. It had the ring of truth. But then you came out with that crazy statement about Paul O’Brien. Everybody knows he is dead and that he was assassinated. That made him curious, and more determined than ever to find out who the hell you are.”
“That makes sense, but it doesn’t explain why he took us to Mexico, especially if he was expecting a delivery.”
“That’s exactly why. You scared him. He didn’t know who you were, who you were working for, or why you were so damned weird. So he redirected the delivery and withdrew to safe ground.”
I frowned. “Redirected…?”
“To the house where he was trying to interrogate me. He was going to receive the delivery there and then fly it in to his ranch in his own plane, after he’d dealt with us and extracted the information he needed.”
“So what happened to the delivery?”
“You killed everybody before it arrived.”
I was aware of slowing the car. “That makes sense.”
“Of course it makes sense. He redirected the delivery to his house here, where the police don’t dare touch him, and brought us here so he could conduct his interrogation undisturbed.”
I stared at her indistinct form in the dark car as I brought the Jag to a halt. “What you were telling him about the evidence you had accumulated…”
She nodded. “It’s all true, except that I haven’t got it set to auto deliver to the FBI if something happens to me. That was a bluff, but, yeah, I can bring him down several times over.”
I dismissed that with a single shake of my head. “Nobody is bringing Mendez down. I am going to kill him.” I studied her. Apart from a single blink, she didn’t react. I spun the wheel and turned the car around.
She said, �
��What are you doing?”
“We’re going back. We’re going to finish this tonight.”
It took me almost two hours to make our way back to the villa on the beach. We wound down the track out of the hills, past the spot where Mendez had been driven off the road, and, having killed the lights, crept forward until, by the light of the moon, now approaching the mid-heavens in a turquoise sky, we could make out the parking lot and the dunes to the right, beyond which was the villa.
I killed the big V12, we climbed out and began a careful approach among the dunes. I felt a hot knot and a twist in my gut. It was part fear—not for me, but for Sole—and part an unadulterated, primal need to kill my enemy. My shoulder throbbed, my legs were weak and my head had half a dozen blunt axes buried in it. But I didn’t care. I knew Mendez was within range, and I wanted to kill him.
We lay on our bellies at the top of a dune, concealed by a couple of pine trees, and looked down into the parking lot. There were a couple of dark, luxury saloons that looked like Audis and/or BMWs. There was also a military Land Rover and a couple of army Jeeps. There was a sixth car, a dark SUV, with what looked like diplomatic plates.
I turned to Sole. “You should stay here. I can do this and I don’t need to be babysitting you. Besides, we need you in a fit condition to drive when we make our getaway.”
Again, there was no expression on her face. She just blinked and said, “OK.”
I left her at the parking lot and made my way, seeking the shadows and the cover of the trees, back toward the front of the house where Sole had so recently been prisoner. As I approached the porch at the back, I could hear voices. I felt the hair on the back of my neck prickle. Mendez was shouting sporadically, and his hollering was interspersed with other murmured voices. I lay on my belly and, staying in the shadows of the trees and bushes, dragged myself in among the trees, with a view of the porch, and peered over.
The bodies were gone. I could see a tall man with gray hair in the uniform of a colonel in the Mexican army. He was standing in the middle of the floor. Hunter and Lovejoy were there too, sitting on the sofa, looking unhappily at Mendez, who was striding up and down the room. There were a couple of boys in suits standing by the door.
Outside, there were a couple of soldiers with assault rifles, smoking and looking bored. I crawled closer, keeping in the shadows. Mendez’s voice came to me in snatches, hollering inside the house.
“You are fockin’ Military Intelligence! What fockin’ use are you to me, in Military Intelligence, if you can’t get me classified fockin’ intelligence when I fockin’ need it? Who is this guy? Who is this fockin’ guy?”
Soft murmurs as Hunter explained something to him. Mendez strode around the room, raising his eyes to heaven.
“Am I goin’ crazy? Am I the only one here goin’ fockin’ crazy? Can somebody fockin’ explain to me? Did I fockin’ ask for an explanation? Did I? Did I fockin’ ask for the cont to explain somethin’ to me?” He went and stood over Hunter. “What? Do I look stupid? Do I look stupid to you? You think you need to fockin’ explain things to me because I don’t fockin’ understand?”
“No.”
Mendez screamed like a hysterical woman. “Who is he? Who is heeee?”
“We have tried all sources. It is classified top secret. He has been deleted from all databases…”
The colonel spoke, but I couldn’t make out what was being said.
Mendez paced the room a couple of times, then stopped dead and gesticulated violently toward the sliding doors. “We got fifty million bucks’ worth of dope! Fifty million bucks! Movin’ around the fockin’ country, because of this son of a bitch! And you are tellin’ me what, exactly, Colonel? That I should forget him? Ignore him? And get on with the delivery? Like this son of a bitch who just killed seven of my men, four Chupacabras, Ivan Ivanovitch and Ivory, is not a problem. This son of a fockin’ bitch is El Verdugo! He is workin’ for a fockin’ agency and I know it! And he is waiting for this fockin’ delivery to happen! He is out there!”
I had dragged myself as close as I dared and could now just make out the colonel’s quiet, gravelly voice.
“The gringo is your problem, Mendez. I don’t come to you crying about the problems I have with cultivation and production. We have a deal, an agreement, and we each have to honor that agreement. We have been patient with you, but our patience is not infinite. You make this delivery tonight, or we will have a problem. Where is the cargo now?”
Mendez sighed. “It is in a seaplane. The pilot is waiting for instructions to deliver it here. When he does, I will take it to Dell City.”
I heard the colonel’s voice. “Do it.”
“He’s out there! I am telling you, he is out there! Waiting!”
Hunter’s voice cut in. “Come on! You’re acting crazy! That creep is hit and he’s either bleeding out in some desert motel or he is running for Heroic Nogales. Either way, he won’t last the night. He’s done. What the hell is that?”
This last referred to a commotion deep in the house. The colonel snapped, “My men! They have an intruder!”
Mendez barked gleefully, “I told you!”
I swore violently under my breath as I watched the living room door burst open and a sergeant and a grunt drag Sole in, kicking and screaming. She saw Mendez and burst into tears.
“Eulogio! Please! I had to come back! Please, please forgive me! He forced me! He made me do it!”
I heard the crack of a slap as he backhanded her. She cried out and he snapped, “Suéltenla!” They let her go and she fell to her knees, sobbing. “Where did you find her?”
The sergeant answered. “She was walking on the road, crying and calling your name.”
She clutched at his trousers, begging him. “Please, Eulogio! I have done nothing to you! I have been a good girl! I have done everything you asked me! I will tell you everything about him! I know where he is and what he is planning. Please take me back, amor! Please! I can’t live without you! Please take me back! Please!”
“You know where this hijo de perra is?”
“Si, amor. Si…”
“Where is he?”
“Here! He is here!”
“Here? Where? Where?”
“I don’t know! He left me! He said he was coming back to kill you, Eulogio. I came to warn you! I couldn’t bear to think… He is in the house! Somewhere in the house! He is crazy! He is dangerous!”
He turned away from her and she clung to his leg, screaming his name. He roared, “Search the house! Every room! Search the garden and the woods! Search everywhere! Find him!”
The colonel strode forward and grabbed Mendez by his collar. “Shut up, Eulogio! There are not enough men! We must think strategically! If he is here…”
Mendez thrust him away, screaming like a banshee. “Search for him! Find that son of a bitch! I am going to pull his guts out and lynch him with his own intestines! Find him.”
There was a mad panic. The colonel called his four men to order and posted them around the house. Hunter and Lovejoy stayed in the living room and poured themselves a drink while Mendez’s men, whom I estimated at four, scattered around the house and in the garden and grounds.
I wasn’t concerned about them. I was watching Sole, who was still clutching at Eulogio’s leg and weeping. She was sobbing and repeating, over and over, “I will tell you everything about him. I know everything. I will tell you everything…”
Now he stopped and turned to her.
“You know everything about him?”
She was on her knees, staring up into his face, clutching fervently at his hands. “Everything, amor, everything.”
“How do you know so much?”
“Because we served together, amor. I know everything. Hold me. Abrázame! Hold me in your arms! Tell me you love me and I will tell you everything…”
“You served together?” He pulled her gently to her feet. They smiled at each other with adoring eyes. Her cheeks were wet with tears.
She said, “I love you, amor. You are my world, my universe. I need you. I love you…”
Twenty
I suddenly understood what was about to happen.
I stood and pulled the Glock from my waistband. I took aim and shot the two soldiers on the porch. The pain in my shoulder was like a hot poker, but I had no choice but to ignore it. I ran like I had all the demons of hell descending on me, toward the sliding glass doors, bellowing at Mendez, the colonel, Hunter and anyone else that would listen, “Don’t let him hold her! Keep them apart! Pull her away from him!”
I burst through the open door for the second time that night, but this time it was to a scene of absolute pandemonium and confusion. Sole was clawing at Mendez, who was struggling to pull free from her, reaching for his piece under his arm. The colonel was shouting for his men, bellowing at them to come to the room, Hunter and Lovejoy were on their feet, their weapons drawn, training them on me. And above us and throughout the house, there were the sounds of running, tramping boots and shouting voices.
I didn’t pause. I stormed on. Nobody fired a shot. I leapt, wrapped my arms around Mendez’s waist in a flying tackle, pinning his arm and his weapon to his body, and carried him crashing to the floor, sending Sole flying backward across a lamp table, smashing both the lamp and the table in the process.
I heard Mendez grunt as we hit the floor and knew he was winded. I reached in under his silk jacket and slipped out the pistol that was lying in his limp hand as he retched and wheezed for breath.
I stood and dragged him to his feet in front of me, shoving the weapon into the back of his head, noting absently it was the Sig Sauer P226, and bellowing at them all at the same time.
“Colonel! Have your men seize that girl! She has a concealed weapon on her and she intended to kill this man when he embraced her!”
Sole was lying in a heap among broken splinters of wood and shards of shattered porcelain. She was screaming at the top of her lungs, a wild, inarticulate, maniacal scream. Her face was flushed red and her fists were clenched into balls.