by Sam Morton
The men walked to the opening of the cave and stopped. Austin checked the split screen. Perfect angles, Austin thought. If they stay right there, we'll get everything we need.
"You brought the cash, my bonus?" Omaga asked. Steele blanched, looking around out of instinct or paranoia.
"Don't worry," Omaga said, gesturing about. "We have no need for code words or caution here. It's just us, my men, and the scorpions and bats in the abandoned mines." He gave a mocking smile.
Steele was quiet for a moment as if composing himself. "Yes, I brought it. It's in the trunk. I'll go get it."
Omaga put an arm out to stop him. "Give the keys to Enrique. He will get the money."
This time Steele smiled as he fished his keys out of his pocket and tossed them to the guard. "What's the matter, General? Don't trust me?"
"In this business, I find people to be rather mercenary. No one really wants to be a team player where large sums of money are concerned." Omaga nodded to his man to go to the car.
As the guard walked toward the Taurus, Austin moved his camera lens to follow him. He checked the split screen again. Everything worked properly. Rico and Veronica's camera remained focused on the men.
"While he retrieves the money, I want to give you an update," Omaga said. "In the past eleven weeks on your orders, we have captured and detained sixty-three people trying to illegally cross the border into the United States. We have secured the property where the caves are. We have imprisoned that stupid farmer and his family, and as soon as the election is over and your Senator Stevens wins, we are going to kill them. All of them. One by one. The Carranza will run red with their blood."
Steele put his hand out to pause the general. "I don't need to know this."
"Yes, you do," Omaga hissed. "You are going to hear every little detail. As I said, today is my insurance that you do not–how do you say it in the States–throw me under the bus."
"I wouldn't do that to you, General. We're business partners…equals."
"I'm certain you wouldn't, Mr. Steele. So tell me how much blood have you gotten on your hands while you've been giving orders to me from Washington, hmm? Today I am going to smear some of that on you, partner, to make us truly equal." Omaga spit out the "P" in "partner" to make his point clear.
Austin couldn't believe their good fortune. Everything was falling into place just as they had planned it. He watched as the guard retrieved a briefcase from the trunk of the Taurus, closed the trunk lid, shouldered his rifle, and trudged back through the dust to the mine entrance. Austin turned back to the computer screen to view the other camera angle and he saw the man put the case on an overturned cable spool that served nicely as a table.
"Open it," Omaga ordered.
Steele tilted the case up and thumbed the combination. With two clicks, the latches sprung open and he pulled open the top. Inside, covering the bottom of the case, lay bundled hundred dollar bills. Austin zoomed in to make sure he captured the image. Steele backed away.
"There's your money. Now I have private jet to catch." Steele said. "Stevens thinks I'm meeting with some potential donors, one of those border security groups."
Omaga leaned his head back and laughed. "He is half right."
"Still, if I'm late getting back…" Steele let his voice trail off.
Omaga shooed him toward his car. "Go then. When it's time to start the killing, we will call you. Perhaps you will find the guts to shoot one yourself, a child maybe."
Austin zoomed in on Steele's face. He'd gone white and swallowed convulsively, as if trying not to puke as he hurried back to his car.
Chapter 37
Austin, Veronica, and Rico waited for an hour after General Omaga and his men left the coal mine. Darkness had fallen and nothing moved in the dry sand except for the bugs biting at Austin's skin. Austin pressed his earpiece again and signaled the "all clear" to his friends. They emerged from the entrance to the cave stretching their arms and rubbing the blood back into their knees.
Silently, they packed up their equipment and headed back to their campsite. They had been operating on pure adrenaline all day. As it settled down and left their bodies, they drooped with exhaustion.
Only when they reached Olecia did they dare celebrate. Veronica was the first one to say anything. She grabbed Austin with one hand and Rico with the other, and jumped up and down. "We did it! Ha, haa! We did it." All of them hugged and high-fived each other. Austin whooped and Rico laughed.
Austin went to the edge of the river and retrieved three orange Jarritos they had left to cool in the swirling water. He walked back to the site, twisted off the caps, and handed both his friends a bottle.
"A toast to us," he said.
The three smiled, clinked their sodas, and in unison took long hearty drinks. For the next hour, they sat by their tents, recalling–sometimes in disbelief–what they had seen and heard at the mines.
He booted up the laptop and fast-forwarded to the close up of Steele's face just before he fled in the car.
"Look at the expression on his face. Oh my God," Veronica said.
"That would be O-M-G in America," Austin said. "You'd know that if you had ever broken the law and crossed over." He smiled and elbowed her playfully.
"You be quiet." She returned his gesture with a light slap on the back of his arm.
Rico looked at Veronica and Austin. "We ought to get some sleep while we can. As good as our evidence is, I have a feeling our troubles may just be getting started rather than at an end."
"Yes. You're right," she said.
The three of them settled into their tents, but only Austin and Veronica closed their eyes. Rico stared at the creased apex of the tent roof, his heart growing heavier with each passing moment. He wanted to bolt now; just get it over with. But he knew he had to wait. The timing had to be right.
Two hours later, Rico slipped from his sleeping bag and inched passed a snoring Austin. He looked at Veronica's tent, began to wake her, but then decided against it. He knew what he had to do. It was approaching midnight as the Café El Dorado came into sight. Rico's stomach lurched, and not for the fist time on his journey from the campsite, he stopped to retch. But this time nothing came up. He was so nervous, he had the dry heaves.
He reached for the door handle and stopped to take a deep breath. His heart thudded against his chest wall. He walked to a table in the darkened back of the smoky café and stared at a man with swollen cheeks and bloodshot eyes ringed underneath with bruises. He sat with his leg propped up.
"Gerard Espinoza?" he said, his voice surprisingly strong.
He saw the man instantly recognized him from the Sanchez farm. Espinoza slid from the booth, the seat's leatherette cover creaking with his movement. He winced as he placed weight on his injured leg. "You," he hissed as he grabbed Rico by the front of his collar.
Rico threw his hands up in defense. "Wait, wait! I know where you can find Veronica, the Ghost, and the guy who hit you in the alley." He felt Espinoza's grip loosen, but the man still looked at him with squinted suspicion.
"What's more, they've got a video of General Omaga taking a bribe from the gringo today."
The interest in Espinoza's eyes was barely perceptible. Still, Rico saw it spark. He processed Rico's words and appeared to realize their mutual benefit. "Now that is good information, my friend," Espinoza said. He cuffed the back of Rico's head and then straightened his collar where it was wrinkled. "That will get me back in my superiors' good graces."
He motioned with his chin for some of his friends, many still dressed in their combat fatigues from work. They felt little need to hide the fact they were employed by one of the most ruthless killers in the country. The men gathered in a semi-circle behind Gerard. He sneered. "Take us to them."
Chapter 38
Olecia Campsite
Carranza, Mexico
Austin was awake and sitting up inside his tent when he heard the rustle of a large group making its way through the bush. He yelled to Veron
ica to wake up.
"I hear them," she said.
Austin grabbed his cell phone and flipped its cover open, checking the strength of his signal. It was at full strength. He punched a speed-dial number. His call went straight to voicemail. "Konstantine. Veronica and I are about to get captured by General Omaga's men. Track us by the GPS chips, but find Rico first. Please, get to Rico first." He pressed the key to end the call, turned his phone on silent, and slipped it in his pocket.
As soon as he did, he heard Veronica scream. He broke for the tent flap, but a booted foot met him, catching him square in the jaw. He flew backward and rocked onto his butt and back, striking his head on the ground, the blow thankfully cushioned by his sleeping bag. He tried to right himself, but a huge bear paw of a hand grabbed him by his arm and dragged him outside.
He saw Veronica struggling, her arms pinned behind her back. Gerard and Rico stood in front of her and two other men, rifles slung over their shoulders, advanced on the tents.
"Where is the video camera?" Gerard asked.
Rico pointed to the tent he had shared with Austin.
Veronica lunged at her cousin and shrieked at him. "Rico! How could you?"
"Because you are a criminal! You break laws. You disrespect the natural order of things. I am doing what is right," he yelled. "What I have to do."
Veronica kicked her feet in his direction, but her captor held her in place. "You bastard! You don't know what you've done." She spit at him.
One of the guards emerged from Austin's tent holding a video camera. He brought it to Gerard who opened the view screen, powered the unit up, and pressed play. Austin immediately heard the audio they'd recorded. He saw Gerard's wicked smile in the light from the screen reflecting on the men's faces. Veronica's shoulders sagged. She closed her eyes and shook her head slowly.
The other guard ransacked her tent and finished searching the boys'. Austin held his breath when one of them came within mere feet of where he had hidden the other camera and laptop.
Satisfied with his capture and what it yielded, Gerard ordered his guards to bind Veronica's and Austin's wrists with plastic cuffs.
As the men began marching them toward the Sanchez property, Rico put out his arm to halt them. "As you said, Gerard, bringing in the Ghost should get you back into Omaga's good graces. Am I not entitled to a reward?" He flipped his hand over to open his palm.
Gerard slapped it away. "Your reward is you get to live…today."
Then group began walking again. "Where will you take them?" Rico asked.
Gerard's voice trailed behind him. "It's not your concern, amigo. But stop me again and I'll put a bullet in your head and dump you in the Carranza."
As Austin was marched passed Rico, he glared at his friend, hoping the hateful expression on his face convinced his captors because he really didn't feel it. For all of their skepticism and worry, both Rico and Veronica played their parts perfectly. It was all a set up and Gerard was too stupid or drunk–Austin didn't care which–to get it. He and his friends were marching them straight into the belly of the beast.
Everything was going according to plan.
Chapter 39
El Potrero, Mexico
Austin and Veronica had been awake nearly all night. Gerard and his men led them through the Sanchez corn fields. The night was starry, but moonless. Austin knew they had left the corn and entered a patch of the sticky jatropha plants when his pants quit making the swush, swush noise and felt like they were being pulled off his legs.
The men took them to what Austin assumed was the Sanchez residence. To say Omaga's troops had converted it into a military command post would be too generous. The home looked like it had been vandalized by a group of fraternity boys. Fast food wrappers, pizza boxes, and drink cans piled up in little heaps like sand dunes swept up by the winds of corruption and violence.
When they entered the house, the man who looked like he was in charge blew out a plume of smoke, crushed a cigarette into the top of a beer can, and eyed Gerard with suspicion. Two guards held Veronica and Austin in the kitchen by their bound wrists. Austin could hear Gerard's conversation. Though it was in Spanish, he didn't need to understand to read the value of Veronica's capture in the commander's eyes.
They had been in the house less than five minutes when the commander appeared to place someone in charge of the house. He retrieved his cap from the kitchen counter and said in a loud voice as he passed the prisoners, "Vayamos." Let's go.
The jeep bumped and bucked like a bronco all the way to the schoolhouse that Omaga now used as a prison. Gerard drove one vehicle with the commander and their captives. Two guards followed behind them in a trail of dust. The ride had taken almost an hour-and-a-half.
Upon their arrival, the guards took Austin and Veronica to the school's cafeteria where another guard cut off their plastic cuffs. They both immediately began rubbing their wrists to restore circulation into hands that were numb and nearly purple. The commander asked a question of another guard, looked in the direction the man pointed and then walked that way. The men who had escorted the teenagers all night withdrew to the kitchen for coffee leaving the pair standing alone.
As soon as the military men turned away, Viktor Larnas ran over, his eyes wide with concern.
Veronica's smile widened and tears pooled in her eyes. "Uncle Viktor," she said, breathlessly, wrapping her arms around his neck. She squeezed until Austin thought the man's head would pop.
When she released her hold, Viktor held her at arm's length and examined her from her toes to her head, as if he couldn't believe what he saw. Others began gathering around the trio. "Veronica, what…what are you doing here? Are you safe?" He furrowed his brow. "Did these men hurt you?"
"I'm fine, Uncle Viktor, except for being awake all night with my hands tied behind me." She nodded at Austin. "This is my friend, Austin."
The man stepped forward, nodded, and shook Austin's hand with iron strength.
Veronica leaned in where only her uncle could hear. "We let ourselves get captured. We–Austin, I should say–has a plan."
Her uncle looked thoroughly confused.
Just then, the door leading from the converted classrooms to the cafeteria burst open. Austin looked over and what he saw frightened him almost as much as it had the day before–the stocky, commanding frame of General Hugo Omaga. Someone had obviously roused the general from sleep. He barreled into the room still buttoning his drab olive tunic, his hair, and beard uncombed and unkempt. He approached the group as he fastened his last button.
"So," he said walking around Veronica, sizing her up. Viktor pulled her close under his arm. "You are the famous ghost, la fantasma, huh? A little girl! You know, I had hoped to capture you sooner." He drew his lips into a snarl. "I would have sent your head on a platter back to your village" All the prisoners and guards in the room had gathered around them now, and even the men in the group drew back and gasped when Omaga said this. "Had I done so," he said gesturing around the room, "perhaps it would have been warning enough, and it would not have been necessary for me to pay to house and feed all these swine," he yelled.
He transferred his gaze to Austin. "And you must be the young American, the young pesky troublemaker I have heard about."
Austin stepped forward and extended his hand. "My name is Austin Pierce, and I can't say it's all that great to make your acquaintance."
Omaga slapped his hand away. "Who do you think you are, you little pissant?"
Gerard stepped forward, stood at stiff attention, and clicked his heels making a sharp sound. "Generalissimo, according to the informant who turned them in, the boy is the son of an American politician." All eyes in the room became glued on Austin who, because Gerard's words were in Spanish, did not understand. Viktor, speaking in hushed tones translated for him.
Austin smiled. "Oh, my dad's not a politician. He's more important than that. He's a political consultant. He helps the politicians get into office. I guess you could say he's sort o
f a kingmaker." He could see fire smoldering behind Omaga's eyes.
Though they were close together anyway, Veronica stepped out from under Viktor's arm closer to Austin. "Be careful. He's no one to toy with," she said.
Omaga took a few deep breaths. "I just saw the footage you shot yesterday outside the coal mines. You both will make great Hollywood producers, if only you live." He snarled. "Just what were you planning to do with this tape?" He held up the video camera.
"Not were planning. Are planning."
Omaga's brow pinched together. He was perplexed.
"You see. This whole thing was a set up. Gerard…poor Gerard, so eager to redeem himself in your eyes, believed everything our friend had to say. He captured us, brought us here with all your other prisoners, and never once thought to ask if we made a duplicate of that video." Austin smiled again.
The rage boiled over in Omaga. He turned and screamed something in Spanish at Gerard who cowered and withdrew. A higher-ranking man chewed his ear as they departed the cafeteria. Omaga, crimson-faced and veins bulging, turned his attention back to Austin. "You will tell me where this duplicate is immediately or I will kill you right here."
Austin shrugged. "Our friend who turned us in has it. Right about now he should be in Eagle Pass either at a post office or one of those overnight mail places–we left it up to him so we wouldn't know–waiting to drop the duplicate tape in the mail to the FBI. Or he may just decide to go straight to the immigration office. Or maybe a television station. We're not really sure. The only thing we are sure of is that if he doesn't get a phone call from me by noon today, that tape goes public."