by Sam Hawken
The words were slow in coming. Gonzalo could see Jack struggle with them and Jack’s face grew redder and redder. ‘I’ve got to tell you something,’ he said finally.
‘What?’
‘I’m carrying a gun.’
‘Get out,’ Gonzalo said.
‘Wait, listen, I—’
‘Get out of the car now before someone sees you,’ Gonzalo said sharply. ‘Walk back the way we came. Go until you can find somewhere to sit down and stay there until I can come back around. Call me.’
‘I’m sorry, I thought—’
‘No, no more talking. Get out of the car.’
Jack paused as if he wanted to say something more, but then he unfastened his seatbelt and bailed out of the car onto the street. He slammed the door and headed for the sidewalk, turning away from the roadblock and not looking back. Gonzalo watched until he was completely out of sight.
‘Jesús Cristo,’ Gonzalo breathed. His heart was beating fast. He brought out his phone and laid it on the seat where Jack had sat. Already he was wondering whether someone had made a note of Jack fleeing and whether they would say anything to the men at the roadblock. He was sweating now himself.
It was fifteen minutes before his phone rang, and by then he had only gone a short distance. He could see the corner of a parked army truck now, half up on the sidewalk. ‘I’m in a taquería about two blocks down,’ Jack told him.
‘You should have told me before this, Jack.’
‘What good would it have done?’
‘It would have given me a chance to convince you not to bring it. For God’s sake, Jack, do you know what could happen to you if the army found your gun? You would get years, Jack. Years.’
‘I needed some insurance.’
Gonzalo shook his head though Jack could not see him. The line of cars crept up a little. ‘What good do you think your gun is going to do against all the guns of Los Zetas?’
‘What do you mean, Los Zetas?’
‘Who do you think we were going to be talking with? The Zetas and the Golfos own this city. They touch everything, control everyone. Aarón, Ramiro Veloz… they are the lowest rung in the Zetas ladder.’
‘And these people will talk to you?’
‘They talk to me because they know I can’t hurt them,’ Gonzalo said. He was close enough now to see the soldiers with their weapons pull someone from their car for a search. If that had been Jack, it all would have gone to pieces. ‘Even if I had a badge, they are small fish. Everyone lets the small fish swim.’
‘To catch bigger fish,’ Jack said.
‘You understand now. I believe Guadalupe knows much more than he admits,’ Gonzalo said. He did not press on to describe the narco with the gold watch he’d seen in La Zona. Jack did not need to know such things yet. They would only frighten him.
Only two cars were ahead of Gonzalo now and as he watched the first was waved through with just a glance. The driver in front of him handed his ID card out the window to the soldier in charge. ‘I have to go.’
‘I’ll be waiting.’
Gonzalo put his phone away in his pocket. Now he eased up to the roadblock formed by two trucks parked nose-in across the street, providing only a small passage for traffic. ‘Hola,’ he said to the soldiers.
‘Identification.’
Gonzalo presented his badge and his ID. ‘I’m one of the good guys,’ he said.
The soldier looked at the picture on the ID and compared it to Gonzalo’s face. ‘Are you so sure about that? The last time I looked, we were doing your job for you.’
‘Only temporarily.’
‘From your lips to God’s ear,’ the soldier said, and he handed back Gonzalo’s things. ‘Do you have anything in the car?’
‘Nothing except myself.’
‘All right, move on.’
‘Gracias. Buena suerte,’ Gonzalo said, but the soldier was already looking to the next car. The other soldiers with him stared down from the backs of the trucks, their weapons ready. At a signal they would tear a vehicle apart. Gonzalo was glad to get out from under their gaze.
He drove to the end of the block and turned twice to head back the way he’d come. It took a few minutes to find the little taquería, tucked in as it was between a shuttered storefront and a dress shop. Gonzalo idled at the curb until Jack came out.
‘I’m sorry,’ Jack said when he got in.
‘There’s no need to talk about it. You’re renting a room? I’ll take you there and you can leave the gun.’
‘How will we protect ourselves?’ Jack asked.
‘The same way everyone else does,’ Gonzalo replied. ‘With a prayer.’
TEN
BERNARDO PARKED HIS CAR AT THE dance hall where the concert was held and took his flyers with him. Little Bernardo went with him, carrying still more of the flyers, though Bernardo held the staple gun. At the first telephone pole they reached, they put up a flyer on both sides, coming and going. Every ten or fifteen meters there was another pole. They would walk the line papering each one.
They had been working for the better part of two hours before Bernardo realized he wasn’t sure where they were any longer. A turn here and there to a new street had led them inexorably away from the dance hall into a section of the city that was completely unfamiliar. He could navigate by the sun and eventually work his way back, but for now he was lost, and every time a strange car passed on the street he tensed a little, not knowing who was behind the wheel.
‘We should start heading back,’ Bernardo told his son.
‘But we have lots more to put up!’ Little Bernardo protested. ‘A few more blocks, Papá, please.’
‘Wouldn’t you like something to drink? We can go somewhere and get ices.’
‘When we’re done.’
‘All right,’ Bernardo said, and he tousled the boy’s hair. ‘You are more dedicated than I am.’
‘It’s the only way we’ll find Patricia.’
Bernardo looked up the block at the poles still left bare. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I think so.’
The neighborhood they were in had given way from commercial to residential. Little houses were planted on small lots with scrub grass around their front walks, and there were apartment blocks here and there, as well. A bodega allowed them to put up several flyers in their windows and even lent them the tape. A liquor store chased them off, but there was a telephone pole less than a meter from their door and they put the papers up anyway.
He almost missed the woman in the glare of a passing car’s windshield, but then she came closer to them and raised a hand in greeting. Bernardo stopped and let her come on, seeing her gray hair and thick middle, the colorful splash of her blouse and her clean, white pants. She must have been in her seventies and she walked carefully, as if she was afraid of falling.
‘Hola,’ the woman said to them when she was close.
‘Hola,’ Bernardo returned.
‘You are putting up those things?’
‘Yes, I am,’ Bernardo said, and he held out one for the woman to take. ‘My daughter is missing from around here. Have you seen her?’
The woman studied the flyer carefully. Bernardo saw her lips moving slightly as she read the text. Finally she shook her head and offered it back to him. ‘No,’ she said. ‘They are not familiar to me.’
‘Thank you anyway,’ Bernardo said.
‘This is your son?’ the woman asked.
‘Yes. Say hello, Bernardino.’
‘Hola.’
‘Very handsome. And your daughter is pretty. Which one is she?’
‘This one here. Are you sure you haven’t seen her?’
‘I’m sure. I would have remembered.’
Bernardo tried not to show his disappointment. He began to turn away, but he saw in the woman’s face that she had more to say and he paused. ‘Is there something else?’ he asked.
‘Only that I wonder if it’s such a good idea to leave those everywhere,’ the woman said.
&nbs
p; ‘My daughter was last seen not far from here,’ Bernardo told the woman. ‘I have to do everything I can to help find her.’
‘It’s just that you don’t know who might see them.’
‘What do you mean?’
The woman fretted, biting her lip for a long moment before she spoke again. ‘You know the types. You know. Pandillas. Narcos. They are in our neighborhood, too. They’re everywhere.’
‘I can’t be afraid of that,’ Bernardo said.
‘Don’t be mistaken,’ the woman said, ‘I want you to find your daughter. It’s only that we have learned not to call attention to ourselves here. They notice. They do things.’
Bernardo saw Little Bernardo watching him and he straightened up. ‘I don’t have any problems with them unless they are the ones behind my daughter’s disappearance. And if they are… the army will deal with them. I won’t have to.’
‘The army!’ the woman exclaimed. ‘Do they know about this?’
‘They are looking even now,’ Bernardo said. ‘Everyone is looking for my daughter and my niece. There is nowhere they won’t go to find them. These papers are only part of it.’
He knew even as he said it that he was boasting, but there was something about the woman that he did not like. She irked him. He wanted her to know this was not a joke, though she was not laughing.
‘I hope they find her,’ the woman said simply.
‘They will.’
‘Good luck to you, then.’
The woman turned away and walked off the way she’d come. Bernardo and his son watched her leave until Little Bernardo tugged at his father’s shirt. ‘Papá,’ he said.
‘What is it, son?’
‘She’s not the only one. Lots of people will see these.’
‘I know. She’s just scared. Lots of people are scared, but we must be brave.’
‘Shall we put up more?’
‘Yes, more,’ Bernardo said, and they went to the next pole with the last of the flyers in their hands.
ELEVEN
THE HOTEL ROOM WAS NOT LARGE AND was not meant for company. Jack sat on the edge of the bed while Gonzalo commandeered the only chair. While Gonzalo watched, Jack brought out the Browning Hi-Power and put it under the pillow after unloading it. Gonzalo nodded his satisfaction.
Street sounds were barely audible from three stories down. The thrum of passing engines and the occasional honk touched the window at the front of the room. A weird, low buzzing carried through the room and it took a while before Jack realized it was the hum of the electric clock beside the bed. It was too quiet, but they did not talk.
Gonzalo seemed unperturbed by the stillness, but Jack found it infuriating. He had brought nothing to read, not even a magazine, because he had not foreseen long hours of downtime. In his mind he would be searching, always searching, with Gonzalo alongside him to smooth the way. The wait was forever and the hands on that electric clock moved glacially slowly.
When he could stand no more quiet, Jack said, ‘I’ve got to get out of here.’
‘There’s nowhere to go. Better if we stay here until we have to move. Wandering the streets without a plan is no good. Waiting is part of police work,’ Gonzalo said.
‘Is there some rule against talking to your partner while you wait?’
Gonzalo had been looking off toward the window, but now he turned his eyes on Jack. He seemed strangely calm, or perhaps it was just because Jack felt so agitated. ‘No,’ he said. ‘There isn’t.’
‘Well, then, talk to me.’
‘I should tell you that you were a damned fool to bring that gun into the country,’ Gonzalo said. ‘If I were still on active duty I would be obliged to bring you in.’
‘Guess it’s lucky you’re not.’
A strange look of melancholy crossed Gonzalo’s face and he stared away again toward the framed rectangle of sunlight at the front of the room. He nodded slowly. ‘I suppose it is lucky,’ he said at last.
Jack turned on the bed so he could look at Gonzalo more directly. There was only a scant few feet between them. ‘Why won’t they have you back? I told them you wouldn’t take money from me. If it’s corruption they’re worried about then you aren’t part of the problem.’
‘Everyone is under suspicion now,’ Gonzalo said without looking at him.
‘But I told them—’
‘Everyone, Jack. I am no exception.’
A long quiet grew between them until Jack could clearly hear the buzz of the electric clock again. He cursed out loud. ‘You’re a good cop,’ he said.
‘And you know this how?’
‘I told you: because you wouldn’t take my money. Because you gave a damn. Because you’re helping me now.’
Gonzalo smiled a thin smile with no humor. ‘There are a dozen policemen who would gladly take my place for the wages you’re offering me. That doesn’t mean they truly care.’
‘Well, do you?’
They matched gazes again. ‘Yes.’
‘How did you get here?’ Jack asked. ‘What do they have on you?’
‘I’d rather not say.’
‘Hey, you’re already hip-deep in it with me because of the gun. You might as well come all the way in.’
Gonzalo was quiet a while and then he took a deep breath. He said, ‘When I was a patrol officer I shared a beat with an older policeman. His name was Leopoldo and he’d been on the force for many years. He was senior enough that he could have worked at a desk, but he stayed in a car on patrol.’
‘Why?’
‘Because the money was better,’ Gonzalo said.
‘The money? You mean the bribe money.’
Gonzalo nodded. ‘The mordida. He collected it everywhere, from everyone. There was no one he wouldn’t put his hand out to. And the Golfos owned him, though back then it was not so terrible a thing as it is now. They paid him and he protected their interests.’
‘How?’
‘There are many ways a policeman can make himself useful to the narcos. But Leopoldo was not so young anymore that he could do it all alone. There was money to spare and he offered it to brother officers who could help him.’
Jack watched Gonzalo carefully. He could see the story being pulled out of him word by word and his voice sounded labored, as if it took effort to speak. Gonzalo looked at his lap, at his open hands. ‘He gave you money?’ Jack asked.
‘Yes.’
‘And you took it?’
‘I did.’
‘Why?’
‘Because it was easy to do. Easier than arguing the point. I took the narco money and when Leopoldo asked me to do a favor for his friends, I obliged. For a year I did this.’
Jack let Gonzalo speak.
‘It was a good year,’ Gonzalo said. ‘I had plenty of money for everything I wanted and the things they asked were simple enough to do. In those days there was no war between the Golfos and the Zetas. The Zetas were a part of the Golfos and there was peace. A kind of peace. The police had only to let them do their business and the angel of death would pass by.
‘Then Leopoldo told me there was going to be a shooting. He knew the day and the time. We were told to stay away when the call came in, to let it happen. And on that day and hour we heard on our radios that an officer was shot. He radioed for assistance, but no one went to him because we had all agreed what was to be done. He died waiting.’
Now Gonzalo stopped talking and after a while Jack realized he was not going to say anything more. Gonzalo went on staring at his hands.
‘What happened?’ Jack asked.
Gonzalo stirred like someone nudged out of a nap. He rubbed his palms on the legs of his pants. ‘What happened? The investigators went to work and we were all brought in, one by one, to tell our stories. Where we were. Why we were so late. Everyone knew, of course, but no one would tell the truth.’
Jack sat upright with a thought. ‘You did,’ he said.
‘Yes.’
‘What did they do to you?’
‘They disciplined me like all the rest and then they went after Leopoldo. It was not hard to find something to charge him with. And when he went on trial I was asked to testify against him in a closed courtroom with my identity concealed.’
‘You did that?’
‘I did.’
‘Jesus. What happened to Leopoldo?’
‘He went to prison and I went back to my patrol car. And when the chance came for me to become an inspector, I was helped along by friends in high places.’
‘Does anyone know?’
Gonzalo shook his head. ‘I don’t think so. Leopoldo had to suspect me, but he was stabbed to death three months after he went inside. I don’t know if he ever said anything.’
Jack searched for words. ‘No wonder you wouldn’t take my money,’ he managed.
‘Never,’ Gonzalo said, and his jawline firmed. ‘Never another centavo. What you’re paying me now is for my work, not my silence.’
‘All I ever ask for is an honest day’s work for an honest day’s pay,’ Jack said.
‘Yes,’ Gonzalo said.
‘I don’t know if I have your balls,’ Jack said.
‘You are in Mexico with an illegal gun, asking questions of narcos in a city filled with killers,’ Gonzalo said. ‘Your bravery is not in question.’
‘I just want to find my girl.’
‘And we will,’ Gonzalo said. ‘We will.’
TWELVE
NIGHT CAME AND GONZALO DROVE them to the place called Goyo’s. Jack recognized landmarks here and there and estimated that they were not more than a few minutes from Bernardo’s house. He hadn’t spoken to Bernardo all day and he wondered how it had gone with the flyers and if anyone had called. If not, it was only a matter of time. The city wasn’t blind.
There was a large dirt parking lot around the place and the edges of the flat-roofed building were decorated with unblinking Christmas lights. A few cars and trucks were scattered around in front, empty of anyone. Gonzalo parked carefully on the side.
‘What kind of place is this?’ Jack asked when they had gotten out. There was still residual heat rising off the earth and the air had not yet cooled, but it was a relief from the unrelenting day. ‘Another bar?’