Betrayed

by Sam Morton

  The pair looked over at the commotion, but kept walking. The young drunk saw their gaze, put his fingers in his mouth, let out a shrill wolf whistle, and said, "Like what you see, baby?" He rocked unsteadily. "You want some of this?" He grabbed his crotch and the other men with him whooped.

  Rico could see the steam rising in his cousin's face. "Let it go and keep walking," he whispered through gritted teeth. He knew those were words wasted. Veronica didn't let anything go. She flipped the guy her bird finger and walked on. The men on the cantina's patio nearly fell over laughing at their red faced co-worker.

  "Perra arrogante," he shouted. Arrogant bitch. This time Veronica ignored him.

  Thank God. The last thing he wanted was to get in a fight with six drunken construction workers. If he were honest, he didn't want to see Veronica kicking more butt than he could.

  They reached the Internet café and Rico signed on. Luckily, Austin was already on instant messaging.

  Rico413: 'Sup?

  AP316: Hey…nuttin' much. You?

  Rico413: Roni and I are here and we have a question.

  AP316: Shoot. Hey to Roni.

  Rico looked at his cousin and showed her the message. She rolled her eyes as if this were a silly boy's game and waste of time.

  Rico413: There's a guy down here that's gone missing. Any way you or your dad could check 4 us?

  AP316: Hmmm…don't know. I'll ask. What's his name?

  Rico began typing "Viktor" when Veronica grabbed his arm.

  "Do not give him his name," she said, her eyes set, crinkled, and firm.

  "How is he supposed to check if I don't give him a name?" Rico asked.

  Veronica studied on that a moment and finally said, "I still think this is a bad idea, but if you trust the guy, just give him the first name. No last name.

  This time Rico was the one who rolled his eyes and let out an exasperated sigh. He began typing.

  Rico413: First name is Viktor. That's all I know.

  AP316: last name??

  Rico413: It's complicated.

  AP316: How long has he been missing?

  Rico413: Not sure of the day, but he's been gone about two weeks.

  AP316: So…u want me to ask my dad to find out if the brdr ptrol has picked up anybody named Viktor trying to cross 1200 mi of the Mexican border any time in last 14 days? Wld u like fries with that order? Or maybe while I'm at it just crap you out a convertible Mustang? ;)

  Veronica pursed her lips and squinted in anger. She twisted her head to the side until she popped the tension out in a noise that sounded like a hammer hitting a nail. "Tell him to forget it. I'll figure it out. I don't need his help."

  "Don't be like this. It's just his way. He jokes around, but he can help us," Rico pleaded with his cousin. She crossed her arms and stared at him.

  AP316: Look…if it's too complicated to tell me here, just explain it to me when I get there. plane gets in at 2:15 nxt Wed..

  Veronica visibly rocked back on her heels. Her arms fell to her side. "He's coming here? Here as in Carranza?"

  Rico nodded his head. Veronica said something in rapid fire Spanish he barely understood, but he knew enough to know she was cursing him for all he was worth. She raised her hands, then lowered them, then balled her fist, then pointed her finger in his face. He wasn't entirely clear on what she said, but he felt sure it would've made the drunken construction workers at the cantina blush. She shook her head side to side and without another word left Rico standing in the café.

  Rico413: Good idea. I'll explain it to you then. BTW, Roni says she can't wait to meet you.

  Rico signed off of IM. A conspiratorial smile came to his lips. Watching these two go at it is going to be the most fun I've had in months, he thought. He left the café and looked in every direction. Veronica was nowhere in sight.

  Chapter 21

  Columbia, South Carolina

  The day had finally arrived. Three weeks had passed between his parents' offer to let him go to Mexico and today–Tuesday–his last afternoon at the office before flying out. Austin practically flitted through the warehouse, loading tray after tray. Before he knew it, five o'clock arrived. Instead of going into the office and taking a chance on getting stuck while his dad made "just one more call," he walked through the flower bed outside William's office window, tapped on the pane, and mouthed "I'll be in the car," while pointing toward the parking lot.

  Even in the late afternoon, he could see heat waves shimmering off the pavement. A bead of sweat rolled down his cheek from his sideburn, and he had to put on his sunglasses to fight off the glare. Austin propped his right foot on the SUV's bumper, crossed his arms, and leaned his back against the cargo door. He tapped his foot, waiting, and made mental notes of the things he had yet to pack.

  A small hatchback glided into the space next to the SUV. Austin heard the engine shut off and the ratcheting of the car's handbrake before he looked over and discovered it was Konstantine, the Ukrainian engineer.

  "Getting some sun, young Mr. Pierce?" he asked. He offered a business card.

  "You gave me one already," Austin said.

  "Take another. I got five thousand for $49.95 with coupon at Staples."

  Austin stared at the card, shrugged, and then slipped it in his shirt pocket.

  Konstantine squinted at the sun, low and fiery orange in the western sky. "It's very hot out today."

  "I know, but I'm waiting on my dad. I figure he'll hurry up if he thinks I'm out here roasting." He pulled his forearm across his brow wiping away beads of sweat.

  "Are you ready for your trip?"

  Austin stopped tapping his foot and cocked his head in Konstantine's direction. He hadn't seen the man since the bogus federal "raid" a few weeks ago, so he couldn't have told him about the trip. Austin hadn't known about it then. Still, he guessed his dad could have told him.

  "Just about. Still have to finish packing. Today's my last day at work. I'm pretty psyched." Austin looked at his watch. "I wish Dad would come on. I'm ready for the fun to begin."

  Konstantine's smile disappeared in a gentle fade. He crinkled his brow and cleared his throat. "I know something of foreign countries, Austin. May I offer you some advice?"

  Austin took his foot down from the bumper and leaned in toward the man. "Sure."

  "You will have fun visiting your friend. Good friendships last across years and miles. But remember, in two weeks, you will come home to this," Konstantine gestured around the parking lot, "to your father's business, to your home, your shopping centers, and fast food restaurants. And your friend will be left behind in a place he does not wish to be."

  Austin considered the man's words and almost felt guilty. He heard his heartbeat in his ears. Then Konstantine put his trademark smile back on and slapped Austin on the shoulder.

  "Just bear this in mind, young Mr. Pierce," he said as he turned to walk toward the warehouse, his clipboard in hand. "Go. Have an awe-filled time."

  "You mean awesome."

  "Da. Awesome."

  Chapter 22

  Fuente, Mexico

  At 16,000 feet wedged in between a fat, sweating man and the window of the Canada Air turbo-prop he had boarded in Houston, Austin could barely hear the first officer above the buzz of the plane's intercom and the noise of the engines. The plane pitched like a boat in high seas. The cans in the drink carts clanged and rattled as the aircraft rose and then dropped six or eight feet in an instant.

  "Ladies and gentlemen, from the flight deck, the captain has turned on the fasten seat belt sign. We're hitting some pretty rough turbulence as we make our way through this storm system."

  Austin saw the man's face beside him go white and he thought the guy was going to puke.

  "Normally we'd climb altitude to get above it, but we've begun our descent into Fuente. We ask for your cooperation to stay seated for the remainder of the flight. We'll also ask the flight attendant to secure the cabin and get belted in as well. We should be on the ground momentar
ily." There was a loud incessant buzz behind the captain's voice that almost made his words impossible to hear, but Austin didn't need to. The pitch and yaw of the airplane, flapping first left, then right, told him this would be a rough landing.

  The man beside Austin groaned audibly, leaned over, and put his face in his hands. Ten minutes later, as suddenly as the rising and plunging had begun, it stopped. The plane broke through the clouds into an overcast afternoon, but it was clear enough to see the runways below. A few minutes after that, the pilots pulled off a perfect landing with a small jolt, the full-throated rumble of reversed engines, and a brief taxi to the jet way.

  Austin smiled as he got to the bottom of the escalator that led to baggage claim. Rico, Carla, and Armando stood there waiting for him. Armando shook his hand and welcomed him to Mexico.

  Carla hugged him tight. "We are so happy to see you! It's just been a few weeks, but I swear you look like you've grown three inches," she said holding him out at arm's length and then hugging him close again.

  Rico beamed. "'Sup bro?" he said. They linked hands and pulled toward each other, not a hug, but a very macho, very short chest bump.

  They made their way to baggage claim and waited until luggage began thumping off the conveyor belt onto the metal merry-go-round. People bunched and crowded around it, but Austin shouldered his way through and got his bag, an oversize rolling suitcase with two week's worth of clothes that Karen had meticulously folded and packed.

  As Armando drove toward Carranza, Carla twisted to talk to the boys in the back seat. "So your flight was okay, Austin?"

  "Yes, ma'am. But I had to run to make my connection in Houston."

  "Well, you're here now and that's all that matters." She shifted her eyes to her son. "Rico, you could take Austin on a tour of the town today. Maybe Monday or Tuesday we could go over to Parras to the amusement park. Oh, and tomorrow night we're having a block party," Carla said, the excitement pouring out in her voice.

  "Wow, all that sounds great, but you don't have to go to a bunch of trouble," Austin said. "I'm okay just hanging out with Rico." He gave Rico a playful backhanded slap to the shoulder. "And I wanna meet this cousin, Veronica, I keep hearing so much about."

  Though it was barely perceptible, Austin saw Carla's wide smile twitch at one corner, then it slowly faded from her face. He wondered if he'd said something wrong, but Carla seemed to recover her upbeat mood after a few seconds.

  "That will be nice," she said, "but I'm sure you don't want a girl messing up all your plans together." Carla twisted further in her seat to face Rico who was sitting directly behind her. She raised her eyebrows just a bit, some kind of body language Austin didn't fully understand, but he knew it meant something. "She'll be at the block party if you don't see her before then." Carla turned back forward. Armando drove on in silence, and Rico looked out his window at the billboards and road signs whooshing past.

  Don't know what that was all about. But if one mention of her name can make an entire family wig out, he couldn't wait to meet her.

  Chapter 23

  Russell Senate Office Building

  Washington, D.C.

  He sat staring at the computer screen waiting for the words to come. Illegal immigration was the biggest issue of the campaign. It was about more than wages and refusing to learn English. It was about national security. It was about gangs and terrorists sneaking across the border. Hell, the average American couldn't look at a man with brown skin and black hair and tell if he was from Mexico, the Middle East, or some reservation in Montana.

  This can't be just another speech, or just a good speech. It has to be the defining speech on illegal immigration, he thought. He began tapping the keys.

  We have said for the past eight years that an unsecured southern border left us vulnerable as a nation. And the liberals mocked us. We've said for years that unchecked illegal immigration at the border and unenforced immigration laws once illegal aliens were here would cripple our economy. And the liberals threw their heads back and laughed. They called us ignorant, hateful, and biased.

  He was on a roll. His fingers flew over the keyboard.

  My friends, no one is laughing now. Our economy is in a shambles. More than one million Americans are behind in paying their mortgages. Layoffs, at an all time high. Unemployment, nearing record levels. Our education system is in decline.

  Am I blaming illegals for all of these problems? Absolutely not. But 12 million undocumented workers who pay no taxes, who funnel their money back to Mexico, and who benefit from the taxes you and I pay represent a major factor in this equation. This is not immigration. It is an invasion! And today, as your senator, I stand before you and declare war on…

  Just then the phone rang and crashed his train of thought. "Ahhhh," he groaned glaring at the phone. But he recognized the number on caller ID and immediately reached for it and leaned back, creaking the plush, burgundy leather chair. "Yes," he said.

  "I have good news, sir." It was Omaga.

  "The property?"

  "Yes. It is ours, and development can begin quite soon."

  "So the owners finally sold?" the man in Washington asked.

  "Ah, no. They, shall we say, gifted it to us."

  The man winced at Omaga's words. He knew the man's cruelty, but politics is politics and business is business, and both are contact sports. He didn't dare ask what Omaga had done to earn the "gift" of Pietro Sanchez's mineral rich property. His stomach tightened just thinking about it. Some things are best left unknown. Besides his hands were dirty enough, and if he intended to make it through this election, he couldn't get them any dirtier. But General Omaga wasn't going to make it easy.

  "You are pleased?"

  "Quite," the man said.

  "Good, because there is one more matter I wish to discuss. Your percentages, they are at acceptable levels now?" Omaga asked.

  The man remembered their previous conversation about reducing illegal immigration by sixty percent for the November election. He recalled looking at the numbers in his state earlier in the week. Omaga had kept up his end of the bargain. He wondered how many had to die so that the general could make his numbers. That was yet another thing he didn't want to ask, but whatever remnant of decency remained in him after so many years in Washington compelled him to ask.

  "Yes, the percentages are good. Were all the leaks eliminated or merely patched?" The man pinched the top of his eyebrows together, half afraid of the answer.

  "We eliminated some, but we were able to reroute most," Omaga said, a hint of amusement in his voice as if he knew the man in Washington sat squirming in his chair.

  The man caught the code word "reroute" meaning Omaga had these people in secret prisons. The conditions they lived in must be horrible, but at least they were alive.

  Omaga interrupted his thoughts. "You will certainly want me to keep those percentages. Correct?"

  The man's skin began to tingle. What was Omaga up to?

  "I mean," Omaga said, "November is still months away. In order to maintain this standard, I will require additional funds."

  "You're going to extort money from me?" The man screamed into the phone and then spun around in his chair to make sure his door was closed so that none of the staffers could hear his conversation.

  "Extortion is such a strong word. Let's call it a bonus."

  "Listen, general," the man said through gritted teeth. "I've provided all the capital for both of our projects. Every damn penny! When the pharmaceutical operation is up and running we'll both be billionaires. So why get greedy on me now? Don't think I can't replace you."

  "No, S…"

  "Don't say my name!"

  "I was about to say 'señior.' But it is wise to be cautious, and I am a cautious man. Some might even say paranoid. The bonus is my insurance that you will indeed not replace me once our venture becomes operational."

  The man breathed hard into the phone. "How do you figure that?"

  Omaga hesitated for a momen
t. "You are going to deliver it in person next week after the speech in Eagle Pass." The man plunged forward in the chair and clicked off the line.

  Agent Harvey Gillem had been standing behind the surveillance tech listening to the wire tap. "Pretty long conversation for those two this time," Gillem said.The tech lifted one side of his oversize headphones off his ear. "Yes sir, it was. A hair over eight minutes this time."

  "Did you hear Omaga? He nearly called Stevens by name."

  The tech chuckled. "I wish he had. We could go ahead and bust him."

  Gillem gave the tech a loud pat square on his shoulders. "All in good time. We're fishing with a net, not a pole. We want to scoop us as many of these guys as we can, and we've only got one shot to do it."

  Chapter 24

  Carranza, Mexico

  When they arrived at Rico's house, one much like the Alvarez's had rented in the States, Carla showed Austin to his room, while Armando disappeared into his office.

  "Are you all set, then?" she asked Austin.