Solid Gold
Page 11
“She gets things done.”
“Yes, and between you and me, I didn’t see any reason to stop her.”
“Rebel.” I pinched the bridge of my nose to try and stay awake, but my head kept nodding to the side.
“I know. Vigilantes are dangerous. Unaccountable. But my God, this problem is getting worse, not better. I’ll take all the help I can get.”
I didn’t respond.
“Riley, you okay?”
I was okay, I was just sound asleep.
HE WOKE ME HALF AN hour later. I wiped the drool from my mouth and sat up in the back of the car, wincing at my sore back.
“We’re almost at the airport,” he said, “but I’m having second thoughts about this.”
“I’m going.”
“And I admire that, but I’m not sure what you think you can do against Negron all by yourself. There’s no way I can help you.”
“I’m not by myself,” I said quickly and pulled both backpacks across the back seat toward me. I contemplated how badly I would be hurt if I jumped from the car. Maybe I could cause another accident, like in Windsor, and jump out when we stopped.
“Without Selena—”
“I have a team.”
“You have a team? The Russian lady and the Korean girl?”
“Woman, jerk. She’s a trained cop and private investigator. And others. In fact, I have to call and let them know we are moving on to stage two. Where’s my phone?” I asked, then spotted it on front seat.
“Stage two.”
“Exactly.”
“You are talking out of your ass,” said Carter flatly, but I had already dialed.
“Hi, it’s me.”
“You are alive? That’s good,” said Ruby.
“Yes, still alive, but we’ve been blown, Negron knows Selena has defected and is working against him. We have to move on him now, get the team together.”
“Team? What team?”
“You know who I mean,” I bluffed. “Find a rendezvous spot near Veracruz and text me when you have it.”
“But Kay—”
“There’s no time, I’m getting on a flight to Mexico City in a few minutes, I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon.”
“I’ll do what I can,” she said, but she sounded concerned.
“I’m sorry, but there’s no time. He’s going to kill Valentina.”
“I’ll be there.”
“I know. See you soon.”
I hung up and began combining the contents of our two backpacks into one. Carter had recovered my baton and the knuckles as well. I reached over and picked them up off the front passenger’s seat.
“Can I pack these,” I asked him, “or will I need them to beat you senseless as the airport.”
“You can pack them,” he sighed. “Just be careful, Riley,” he added as we took the exit for the airport.
“George Bush Intercontinental Airport,” I mused, “that’s supposed to make you think about ballistic missiles, right?”
Twenty-five
The bus rolled into Jamapa, Mexico several hours later. I was incredibly sore, but I had slept the sleep of the dead for most of the way, my body instinctively shutting down after the adrenaline rush of The Great Pipe Fiasco (I like to name these things, I don’t know why).
I stepped off the bus and was glad that my hair was still dyed black, my clothes a pair of old jeans and a black shirt. Even then, I stuck out like a sore thumb. This was not a tourist destination. I shouldered my backpack and started up the street, following the GPS coordinates I’d been given. I was soon in a residential area, the street gravel and the houses single story cement affairs with tin roofs, some with AC units stuck in windows, some not. It was about eighty degrees, or you know, twenty-seven Celsius.
The street ended at a T intersection, but my destination lay straight ahead. Looking to the right, I saw a tire-track path leading between two yards and started along it. In the yard on my right, two little boys were running in circles with their arms out, making airplane and helicopter noises. When they saw me, they stopped short and ran around the side of the building and out of view. I stuck my tongue out at them anyway and continued my way.
The rutted road led through a few hundred yards of forest and then came out on a large field, nestled in the bend of a river. Across the field on the left I could see the roof of a large, one-story house. My mouth dropped as straight in front of me, in the middle of the field, I saw a bright red helicopter, sitting silently. No wonder those kids were so excited.
I looked around cautiously, on high alert, but the field was deserted, the helicopter empty. I could smell gas fumes, though, and the helicopter gave off waves of heat, noticeable despite the regular heat of the day.
I turned and headed toward the house, surprised as I drew near to hear a woman’s voice laughing, and the murmur of men talking. There was a shriek and a sudden splash as I came around the corner of the house to find a beautiful pool area, with half a dozen people seated at tables shaded by umbrellas.
I felt like I had stepped in to the tropical oasis version of This Is Your Life. At one table sat Don and Nick Shelby, talking with a man I had never seen before. He was middle-aged, black, and had a hundred-watt smile. At the other table Ruby and Martin Martynek were squinting to look at the screen of a laptop. Splashing away in the pool was a fully dressed Ellery park.
Nick saw me first and rushed across the patio to throw his arms around me. It was a long, hard hug. It felt great. I dropped my backpack and jumped up to wrap my legs around his waist.
“I’m so glad you’re okay,” he whispered into my ear.
“Me too.”
“You’ve got to get down, or I’m going to fall down,” he whispered.
I dropped back to my feet, laughing, but then a dark cloud descended.
“How mad is Uncle Elgort?”
Nick frowned. “Mad. What the hell happened?”
“The guy was an asshole.”
“Well, we don’t have contacts everywhere. Sometimes you must make do with what’s available. I told Uncle Elgort you wouldn’t have started something if there wasn’t a good reason.”
“One of them called Selena a dirty whore.”
He whistled. “That, I can only imagine, would be a ridiculously bad thing to do. I figured she had something to do with it.”
“Well, at least she didn’t kill anyone. I have a calming effect on her.”
By this time Don had wandered over.
“I hear you punched Sherman Tuttlethrush in the face.”
Nick winced. I forgot to mention that part.
“Did you have to?” he asked. “Uncle Elgort was doing you a favor.”
I stepped back. “Yes, Nick. I had to. I don’t know how to say this any more clearly. I’m not sorry. I’m chasing people who buy and sell women. Girls. It’s messing with my head, and every time someone around me treats a woman like shit, it makes me want to punch them in the face. I’m sorry I pissed you off and disrespected Elgort. I know he was doing me a favor, but...”
“Woah,” said Don, while Nick just looked down at his feet. “Uncle’s mad, but we’re not. If we were, we wouldn’t be here. Tuttlethrush is nobody.”
“Thanks,” I said. He was as dapper as ever, in a blindingly crisp white shirt and ironed dress pants, his shoes shined to perfection. Nick was dressed in cargo shorts and a t-shirt, as was the other man, who now came up and joined us.
“Riley, this is T.C., he was kind enough to fly us down on short notice, and under the radar.”
“A pleasure,” I said, return his smile and shaking his hand.
“All mine.”
“About that,” I said, looking back at Don, “a helicopter? I got here on a bus.”
“Yes, well. Things were moving fast, and you were already on your way. We wanted to make sure we got here before you went off and did something foolish by yourself.”
“I—” I began but stopped as my indignation faded. “You’re right, I probably wo
uld have. What do you—”
I was cut off midsentence by something cold and wet barreling into me from the side, nearly knocking me down. It was Park, giving me a sodden bear hug. She stepped back, grinning from ear to ear.
“I’m so glad you’re here!” she exclaimed.
“I’m glad you’re here, but why—”
“—am I swimming in my clothes? These guys didn’t tell me there was going to be a swimming pool. I’d have brought a suit, I mean, seriously guys, it’s five degrees in Chicago right now!”
Before they could respond, she grabbed me by the arm and started to pull me toward the pool.
“Come meet Cosmo,” she piped.
“Cosmo?” Who the hell was Cosmo?
As we approached the edge of the pool, a bald head surfaced from beneath the water, followed by wide shoulders and two enormous arms that reached up and grabbed the railings of the ladder. He emerged from the pool in a seemingly endless stream of muscle and water, and by the time he was standing next to me he was towering. Six four? Six five?
“Riley, this is my friend Cosmo. We met on my trip to Florida last month.”
He held out a catcher’s mitt of a hand and smiled, his crow’s feet wrinkling deeply. I also noticed his hair, on his forearms and sticking up over the v-neck of his sodden t-shirt, was curly and grey. I placed him at mid to late forties, though it seemed impossible that someone that age could be in such incredible shape.
“Pleased to meet you,” he said in a low, rumbling voice. “Sorry for my appearance, Ellery pushed me in the pool.”
“That seems unlikely,” I grinned, arching an eyebrow.
“It’s all about leverage,” said Park with a bright smile.
“I’m going to have to hear more about this Florida trip, sometime,” I said. He didn’t look like the type who spent a lot of time at Harry Potter World.
“Sometime,” said Park. “I’m going to go inside and change.” She headed toward a sliding glass door and the dark, cool interior of the house, and Cosmo wandered over to where T.C. and Don were talking together. Nick had disappeared.
All this time, Ruby and Marty had been hunched over the laptop. I wandered over and plunked down in an empty chair.
“Hi there! I’m alive! Good to see you, too!”
Ruby looked up, glancing at me over her half-lensed reading glasses. “Of course you are alive. You are like the weeble that wobbles and won’t fall down.”
“I have no idea what that means.”
“It is toy, from seventies. Little oval people with no legs.”
“That’s...odd. Anyway, what are you working on. Marty? Marty?” He was staring across the patio at Cosmo, a weird look on his face. I followed his gaze. “Really?”
“Huh?” he said, swiveling back to look at me.
“Cosmo.”
“I’m not sure about him.”
I grinned. “Jealous, much?”
“What? No! Of course not. But can we trust him?”
“I don’t think he’s competition, Marty, even if he is ruggedly handsome.”
“Competition, what are you talking about?”
“He’s eighteen inches taller than Park and at least twenty years older. Not to mention a full hundred pounds heavier.”
“Some people go for that,” said Ruby without a hint of smile.
“Not helping,” I told her. “I’m sure he’s useless with a computer. Or a Nerf gun.”
“But he can probably crush your Prius with his bare hands.”
“Again, not helping, Ruby.”
“We don’t even know him, that’s all,” insisted Marty.
“Park trusts him,” I said, “that’s good enough for me. She’s got a good sense about that kind of thing.”
“Me too,” said Ruby.
“Well, well...whatever,” said Marty.
“What are you working on, she said, changing the subject,” I said in a light-hearted voice.
“We’re putting together the presentation for our part of the plan,” said Ruby. “Team Martynek.”
“Are there going to be team jerseys?” I asked.
“We will see.”
“Presentation?”
“Don will be organizing it later tonight,” Marty said.
“Of course he will.”
“I’m just trying to make sure I can do what he’s hoping I can do.”
“Of course you can,” said Ruby, with obvious pride.
“Presentation?” I asked again. “It’s not going to be PowerPoint, is it. I freakin’ hate PowerPoint.”
I felt a presence behind me and looked up into the sun, which was quickly blocked out by the looming figure of Cosmo. He set a Coke down on the table in front of me. It was glistening with condensation.
“Thought you might need this,” he said. “Unless you’d like a beer?”
“Thank you, no. This is perfect. I’m not a big drinker. Did you see where that scruffy guy who looks like Don went?”
“You mean Nick? I don’t know. Do you need me to find him?”
“No, that’s okay. Thanks.”
He strolled away, his t-shirt and khaki pants still wet from the pool, his bald head shining. I hope he put some sunscreen on that.
“I think he likes me,” I said, turning to see Marty scowling at his back. “He’s not too old for me.”
“Or me,” said Ruby.
“True,” I agreed.
“Oh, just stop,” Marty muttered and got up to go inside.
Just then the sound of a car engine approaching got everyone’s attention. I noticed both Don and Cosmo snap to high alert, but when a blue pick-up truck pulled up to the side of the house, Don relaxed and made an all clear signal with his hand. The truck was pulling a trailer with two large motorcycles on it. I couldn’t tell the make. It stopped in a cloud of dust, and Jorge Alvarez hopped out of the cab.
“Jorge!” I shouted, standing to meet him. “I didn’t know you’d be here!”
He gave me a quick, embarrassed hug, and then stepped back. “I heard you needed an extra hand,” he said, “or at least a few extra fingers.”
“Ha ha.”
He was a fit Latino guy, a few years older than Marty and Park, maybe twenty-eight or twenty-nine. He wore a dark purple button-down silk shirt that only partially hid the many tattoos on his arms and neck. His hair was shaved close, almost bald. He looked around in surprise.
“This place is muy pera,” he said, “how did you find it?”
“I have no idea,” I admitted, “I only just got here.”
“Don knows somebody who knows somebody who knows somebody,” said Ruby.
“Of course he does,” said Jorge.
“Where’d those come from?” I asked, indicating the motorcycles.
“I have many cousins in Veracruz,” he said with a smile. “These will be just what we need. Very good offroad.”
I shook my head in amazement. “I show up here and it looks like everyone has already done all the work.”
Park stuck her head out the sliding door. “Nick says dinner is almost ready.”
That’s where he went. I thought the was just mad at me.
Twenty-six
The sun set just as we finished dinner out on the patio. Both T.C. and Jorge had left early, but the rest of us were leisurely watching the sky move from orange, to red, toward blue. Nick and I ate seated next to each other, but we didn’t talk much. I couldn’t tell if he was mad that I had screwed up, or mad that I wasn’t sorry about it. I couldn’t even tell, really, if he was mad. He was not the kind of guy who had tantrums or made heartfelt emotional pleas. But the air crackled in a different way when things weren’t one-hundred percent between us, and I could feel that now.
Don had gone inside about twenty minutes ago, and now he opened the sliding glass door and asked everyone to come inside. In the immense, open plan living space there was a long table, capable of seating all seven of us and then some. Don had set a pot of coffee and some mugs in the middl
e of the table, next to a spread-out map that showed the territories of Tlaxcala, Puebla, and Veracruz. No PowerPoint, thank God.
Just as we were settling in, Jorge returned with a box of what turned out to be still-warm churros. I was beginning to love his cousins, and I hadn’t even met them yet.
“Excellent,” said Don. “T.C. isn’t back yet, but we can get started without him.” He was still dressed in the same shirt and pants, and they still looked as if they had just come from the cleaners moments ago. I was wearing jeans and a t-shirt that belonged to Selena—I had shoved some of her things into my backpack before leaving Houston as I hadn’t packed enough for a longer trip, and she wouldn’t be needing them for a few days. I had also kept the brass knuckles and the telescoping baton, which it turned out I was able to carry on the plane by checking my backpack in the cargo hold.
“Also,” added Don, looking at where I sat shoving a churro into my mouth. “I know she is mercurial, but when can we expect Selena?”
“Wha-?” I said and then swallowed.
“Do you have an ETA for Selena.”
“Selena’s not coming.” Everyone turned to look at me. “She’s was badly injured.”
“But it’s her sister,” said Ruby.
“I’m aware. But she’s unconscious, in a hospital, in Houston.”
“Was there a time when you were going to tell us this?” asked Don in a flat voice.
I looked around. “I thought I had, on the phone. Ruby?”
Ruby shook her head. “You were a little out of it. You just said we had to move on Negron now, because your cover had been blown and Selena’s sister was in danger. I asked if you were okay, you said yes, then you got off the phone because the FBI man wanted you.”
I searched my memory. Damn. “Well, I guess I didn’t expect everything to happen so fast. You show up here with a plan already in motion—”
“I thought that’s why you called me,” said Don, irritated, “and not Mr. Smith’s Discount Henchman.”
Everyone sat quiet, watching the confusion and anger boil up through my neck and into my face. I wanted to lash out at someone, but I didn’t know who. It was all my fault. It wasn’t Don’s fault he was so good at his job. I had just expected to be in charge, and I was suddenly following someone else’s plan. A man’s plan.