“Still pissed?” asked Charlie.
“Yes, handsome. Yes I am.”
FASTER THAN A SPEEDING HELICOPTER
Chapter 22
“Okay, Elwood. Here’s the plan. Denice and I will go down to Jacumba and pick them up. Then we’ll head back towards the Acorn. You wait there. Denice and I will page you. Five minutes before going by, we’ll go east on Highway 8. You catch up. I doubt they’ll follow us even if they see us. Knowing the checkpoint is open, if we, you know, grow a tail going down the grade, you know what to do.”
Elwood nodded.
Charlie and Denice jumped in the rented Ford Excursion. This may be the biggest SUV ever made. So big the Governor wanted to apply an extra gift tax to it, given the crappy gas mileage and all.
“This thing reminds me of a bus,” Denice quipped.
“Yeah, I hear ya. It just cost me one hundred dollars to fill it up.”
-- -- --
Elwood followed them from Rancho Country Estates, up the grade and onto Old Highway 8. He hit the walkie-talkie, “Eyes up, boss. See you soon.”
“Ten-four.”
They came into Jacumba around 4:00 p.m. and pulled their big SUV up behind the post office. They then cut through the dilapidated parking lot to Edgar’s cousin’s house.
The cousins were sitting in lawn chairs and drinking Coronas, watching their kids play soccer in the dirt.
“Got seven. But two of them are girls. You know the boss, she don’t want Wiley hiding girls up in the rocks.”
“Taking them to Julio?” Charlie inquired.
“Nope. Straight to the boss.”
“Got an address?”
“Century City Mall. Call when you’re on the 10. You are going that direction, esé?”
“Planned on it, vato,” Charlie’s responded.
Charlie took no shit from these clowns. He and Denice were the most respected drivers on the circuit, bar none. If these Bozos were jealous, tough shit. If they had a problem with Whitie, they’d have to deal with it. One phone call to Ramona, and Edgar would come down off the high desert and beat them senseless. Storage was everywhere and not a concern. Running the gauntlet with smooth precision was a talent, almost an art.
Driving a lawn chair, drunk, took no talent at all.
One of the young men started to rise up out of his chair. Charlie reached into his pocket and pulled his phone out.
“Shall I call your daddy? Tell Julio you’re playing tough guy with my wife standing right fucking here?”
“No, man. No problem here.”
“Sit down, puto,” one vato said to the younger man with the baggy pants and Reeboks. “Look, señor,” he continued, turning his attention toward Charlie. “It’s almost dark. You take a walk with your beautiful señorita here. Maybe 30 minutes. They’ll be loaded and laying down in that big white truck over there. How’s that for service, señor?”
Charlie pulled a one-hundred-dollar bill out of his front pocket and handed it to the man, “Perfect.”
“We’re on the same side, señor.”
He looked at the young gangster, flashed a smile and said something in Spanish. Probably called him a dumb-ass, showin’ off the bill.
Charlie said, “Thank you, señor. And we are on the same team. My wife and I pay for good service. Good business is good for everybody.”
Charlie pulled out another one-hundred-dollar bill, handed it to the kid with the saggy pants nodding his head toward the man. “Make our job easy. Make your life easy.”
The young man put down the tough guy expression, grabbed the bill with his left hand, and stuck his closed fist out. He and Charlie bumped knuckles. The youngster smiled and said, “Good luck on your run.”
-- -- --
Charlie and Denice started strolling toward Larry’s. Going past Elrod’s parents’ house, you could sense the loss. The ghosts. His ghost, already present. A chill ran down Charlie’s spine. He produced a Pall Mall as Denice thought the same thing.
They stopped just past the house, flip-click-flame, lighting their smokes. They continued on to Larry’s place. That presence was there, also. No words were said. Like a dark omen, a chill in the air, a stain on the Cosmos. Like pain from a wound you can’t see. They held hands all the way back, quietly smoking.
-- -- --
The exit from Jacumba with their human cargo was smooth as glass. Just before Live Oak Springs, they paged Elwood, who rang back immediately. “Let’s roll.”
“On it.”
Elwood passed them at the Desert View/Rock Tower exit. He scanned the terrain back and forth behind boulders and frontage exits. He was good, very good at his job. And he had a bad feeling.
“Mad Max to Boss Man.”
Denice answered, “What ya got, Mad Max?”
Charlie looked at Denice, “I’m rubbing off on the boy. Mad Max, that’s good.”
“Boss Lady,” Elwood continued, “I’ve got the heebie jeebies. Something don’t feel right.”
“Okay, sweetie. We’ll stop at the Springs Motel.”
“Ten-four.”
Denice turned around as they came off the grade. She told her passengers, “Everybody down, please.”
The five men and two women had not uttered a sound the entire trip. It was always the same. But when Denice spoke they always did what they were told.
So everyone hit the floor.
“It’s okay. It’s okay,” Denice tried to assure them. “We’re just pulling over for a minute.”
A woman translated and they all exhaled.
They stopped at a Denny’s across from a Union 76 gas station.
“We should motel up,” Woody said, “and let me run through to the airport. Something ain’t right, you notice not one BP on the road. None up on the hill, either.”
“Now that you mention it,” Denice concurred. “Woody’s right. Better safe than sorry. Let’s check in at the Well Springs Motel.”
Denice registered under her own name, having to show her ID. But under license plate, she wrote BTUWN 2. The Indian woman with the dot on her forehead couldn’t care less.
The little eight-room, single-story motel was vacant, except for one room. The shabby exterior was just a front for a shot-out interior, with green linoleum peeling in the bathroom, and a 1970s-era, matted beige shag rug. It looked like it had mange. The only plus was the brand new air conditioner rattling in the window. Once all nine passengers were crowded into the cramped space with two double beds, they turned the AC on high, and Elwood went for food. Once again, they had loaded Mad Max with bags of cement.
Looking out the curtain, Charlie said to Denice, “That boy looks like he’s got a load.”
“It doesn’t make sense to run until daylight. Can’t see in the dark so, what’s the use of a point man?”
“All right, I agree.”
Charlie turned to the oldest female, “You speak English?”
“Si’, señor.”
“We stay here tonight. You want a shower? Go ahead. When little brother gets back with food, my wife and I will leave for a few hours.”
Denice added, “Don’t worry, everything will be fine. We just need daylight.”
“Si, señora.”
Elwood returned with bags of microwave burritos, potato chips, six packs of Coke, and cans of jalapeno peppers.
With no can opener.
“What the hell, Elwood? How are they supposed to break into those cans?”
Elwood said, “It’s a fucking desert out there, man. In case you haven’t noticed. I’m not driving 40 miles to Indio for fast food.”
“Chill, man. I was just wondering how the hell do I open these here jalapenos?”
-- -- --
Charlie and Denice wen
t to Denny’s for their favorite meals. Charlie’s was the All-American Grand Slam, and Denice’s was the country-fried steak and eggs. They had spent many an evening on the road. At Denny’s they would stop to drink coffee and talk. On this particular visit they took a moment to catch up with Ramona by phone.
“We’re running late, Ramona,” said Charlie.
“Is everything good?” ask Ramona concerned.
“Yeah, except our motel room.”
“You still, at the resort?”
“No, we’re still a ways away.”
“Morning then,” Ramona confirmed.
“Lord willing and the river don’t rise.”
“Call me.”
“Will do.”
-- -- --
Back at the room Elwood was presently falling madly in love with a beautiful young Latin girl named Esperanza. She spoke just enough English to sound exotic, and her big almond eyes spoke louder than her soft voice. Elwood was entranced. Not 15 minutes ago her hair had been full of brambles and almost completely matted on one side of her head. Now she was all showered and clean.
Elwood pointed to his chest and shouted, “My name is Elwood.”
“I am as Esperanza. And I can hear just fine, Señor Elwood.”
Elwood blushed. “Sorry,” he replied in a normal tone. “It’s just that you’re so pretty and I don’t speak Spanish and...” He trailed off. He shook his head in disgust. All the cool had left. All the witty words and sharp repartee was replaced with a stutter and a dumb-ass puppy love stare. Now would be a perfect time to raise the bar and not pick your nose or scratch your crotch. Elwood was about to do so, subconsciously when he heard the key in the door. Charlie and Denice walked in.
Charlie noticed the faraway look on Elwood’s face. “Close your mouth, Woody. Jesus, you okay?”
“Yeah, Boss. I’m good.”
The room smelled like a weird mixture of soap, wet hair and high desert bushes. Charlie looked around and was surprised to see that most were asleep. One man obviously had a sinus condition, and sounded like a pig rooting for truffles. Denice started arranging the bed nearest the bathroom, pulling off the comforter. She covered three men on the floor, then looked over at Woody, who was intently staring at Esperanza, climbing onto the other bed. Denice looked at Charlie and whispered, “Love is in the air.”
“So are my funky armpits, I’m getting in a shower.”
“Me, too.”
“Sweet. Love is in the shower.”
-- -- --
Morning came, and the room looked like a bomb had gone off inside. The sun tried to squeeze through the heavy green curtains when Denice looked at her phone for the time. It was 6:30 a.m.
Elwood was awake, lying on the floor between the beds, and both girls were on the one bed. He awkwardly stared straight at the ceiling. Denice spoke softly, “Elwood, run the road to the base of Wells Mountain. Then hurry back.”
“Okay, Mrs. DeVille,”
“My name is Dee-Dee to my friends.”
“Yes, ma’am, Dee-Dee, ma’am.”
Elwood was enthralled with the sleeping form of the young woman. Suiting up his mental armor, his mission was to rescue and return this damsel. He loved that idea.
Charlie noticed that starry look in Elwood’s eyes. “Woody? Dammit, snap out of it,” Charlie told him. “Plenty of time for that shit later. I’ll get her phone number for you. Right now, you’ve got work to do. Did you hear what the boss lady said? We’re not paying you to undress the girls with your eyeballs. Now go do your job.”
“Yes, sir.”
Woody grabbed his keys off the table and he was out the door.
-- -- --
The group was anxious, and totally dependent on these white people. They seemed nice enough. Not crazy, like all the stories people told back home about white people. And the huge white truck with the leather seats was like a limousine. The two youngest men from a village near Matamoros had never seen one, much less rode in one.
The oldest man, in his 30s, looked at Esperanza, and said softly in Spanish, “The young man has fallen for you.”
“That is not my fault, Señor Garcia.”
“I hope he does not lose focus.”
There was little she could say, she just sat there holding hands with the other young woman, who was wild-eyed with fear, and had been since Hotel Mexico. She had not spoken one word.
Elwood returned less than 40 minutes later. “Clear, as far as I can tell.”
Charlie said to him, “Okay, let’s move the people into the truck. Denice, go check us out. Have a conversation with Miss Congeniality while we load.” He shifted positions, and said to Elwood, “As soon as we’re done, you turn left out of here. Go to the Union 76 and get gas. As soon as you see us roll out, come on with it.”
Elwood said, “Good plan, boss. That Indian lady looked at me like I was Satan, or some bad yogurt.”
“Yeah, she’s nosy. Don’t want any anonymous tips to the BP. Make sure your Radio’s on channel 14 and your batteries are good. Phone too.”
Elwood nodded his head. He looked at Esperanza and said, “Okay, ladies first. Same deal. Down on the floor.”
The exit was successful. Denice did a good job of distraction, the art of illusion and seclusion. Half a mile outside the motel parking lot, Mad Max was flying past the big Ford Excursion.
Scanning left and right, taking in both sides of the road, Elwood was on his game. The road rose and fell with the topography of the desert terrain. Acacia bushes were seven to eight feet high, bordering each side of the road. Jagged rock jutted up and out of the earth on the westbound side. A good point man runs between three quarters to one mile ahead at about five miles an hour faster. He slows down occasionally to maintain distance. The load vehicle always does the speed limit or the flow of traffic.
As Elwood came over the rise, one mile from the beginning of Wells grade, there were two Border Patrol units, each facing the opposite lane of oncoming traffic. Their windows were down, and they were talking across the narrow two-lane highway. Elwood immediately went into action on the radio in his lap. He keyed the button, “One on each side. Flip it.”
Charlie pulled towards the side, preparing for a U-turn. Elwood’s mind was taking in everything. He thought of Esperanza. He couldn’t let her down. He flipped a U-turn, an eighth of a mile past the two officers. They had stared him down on the way past. Elwood sped up to 65 miles per hour, his foot to the floor.
One officer said to his partner, “Here he comes again, Jerry.”
Jerry was preparing to pull out behind Elwood, but just then Elwood pulled to the right and side-swiped Jerry’s cruiser, tearing off his front fender and a chunk off his driver’s-side tire.
“I’m coming back toward you, Boss. Don’t flip. Don’t flip. Punch it.”
Charlie slowly pulled back onto the roadway.
Jerry’s cruiser was out of commission. Jerry picked up the Motorola, as his fellow officer flipped a two point U-turn, and sped after Mad Max. Elwood reached 80 mph, up and over the next rise, then slammed on his brakes. Stopping dead square in the middle of the road, he jumped out of the car. Not one second later, the cruiser with lights and sirens blaring flew over the rise.
The officer did not see the Maxima till the last second. He veered to the right at the last possible moment. It was his only choice, as Charlie’s big white SUV was coming in the opposite lane. His passenger-side wheel hit the sand and gravel shoulder, flinging his cruiser out into the desert at 70 miles per hour. The vehicle flipped, and the officer’s head hit the wheel. Everything went dark.
Jerry called in the helicopter unit. Elwood ran back to the car. Charlie and Denice passed Jerry’s cruiser and gawked at the wreckage. Jerry was too preoccupied to acknowledge them driving by.
“Holy shit! God almighty!” Denice exclaimed.
She and Charlie both saw the cruiser in a slow motion, kind of an altered reality. It was upside down, and lost in the Acacia trees.
Flying past in the opposite direction, Woody hit the walkie-talkie, “Gotta go, Boss.”
“You okay, Wood Man?”
“Yeah. Car’s toast, though.”
Elwood’s Maxima was bashed in from its passenger headlight to rear door. Smoke poured out from under its hood. Antifreeze sprayed on the windshield and the wipers were only making the visibility worse. Woody had to look out the side window as he drove.
“Haul balls, Elwood,” commanded Charlie into the walkie-talkie. “Ditch that piece of shit, just like we talked about, motherfucker. Go!”
Charlie and Denice had just passed Jerry, and were trying to decide if they should stop. But Jerry looked okay. Plus, he was a cop. So...you know...
Jerry was mad as hell, and the cruiser was bashed in like a boxer’s face.
Charlie said to Denice, “What the fuck’s up? Moon’s in Cancer. On the cusp of herpes, or what?”
“Gimme that,” said Denice, as she grabbed the walkie-talkie from Charlie’s hand. “Elwood. Are you okay?”
“Yes, ma’am. Can’t say as much for the car, though.”
“Drive that out into the desert and put as much distance between you and it as possible.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I’m calling Nea right now.”
The sound of the Border Patrol chopper cut through the desert air as Charlie and Denice started up the extremely steep, sharp, switchback grade of Wells Spring Mountain.
Charlie mused to no one in particular, “Go, Wood Man. You stud, you.”
Denice thought to herself, Holy crap. This shit’s not supposed to happen.
Esperanza smiled to herself, and in Spanish she said, “He did it for me. He told me. He would make sure we made it.”
Elwood’s voice crackled through the walkie-talkie. “That’s not a fucking helicopter I hear, is it?” He had dumped the Maxima, having driven it straight into a stand of Acacia trees.
Jacumba Connection Page 16