by Garry Ryan
The two waiters each grabbed one of Santa’s arms and heaved him further up the deck. He rolled to one side and lay there catching his breath.
One of the forty-something women, who’d apparently spent much of the afternoon dehydrating and rehydrating herself with various alcoholic beverages, sat up. Predictably, she forgot that she’d untied the top of her bikini to prevent a white line in her tan. Her free breasts danced to their own tune as she sang something vaguely resembling every Christmas ditty ever written.
Arthur and Emir approached the balcony. Arthur asked, “What did we miss?”
Ramón said something cutting in Spanish.
Lane smiled. “Just some drunken fresas.”
THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 20
chapter 18
Frederick Lee sipped a macchiato as he walked through the back entrance to the school. Brittany followed him inside. The leather soles of her red boots met a wet patch on the tiles. She slipped and grabbed his bad arm, nearly spilling his coffee. “Shit!” The pain made Frederick close his eyes. He reached into his coat pocket for a Percocet, popped it in his mouth and took a sip of coffee. The nurse had given him ten painkillers last night. He’d had to return when a fever and chills accompanied the pain. She told him he had an infection and managed to dig out another pellet she’d missed the first time. Then she gave him the Percocet and antibiotics.
“Sorry.” Brittany released his arm, took a step away and adjusted the purse on her shoulder. “I thought it was getting better.”
“It’ll be better soon.” He took another sip of coffee and surveyed the faces of the students in the hall. A guy with his ball cap turned backwards spotted Frederick and looked away. It was a reaction repeated along each hallway as they made their way down to the main foyer where Brittany’s friends gathered. The girls had marked their territory and it was understood no one else occupied the space in front of the trophies displayed behind glass. Frederick stood with his back to the bricks as Brittany and her friends chatted. Brittany said, “He hurt his shoulder. That’s why he looks pale.”
Paula, who had been Brittany’s friend since kindergarten, asked, “Did you hear about the gang shooting?”
Frederick listened as he watched the people nearby and those just arriving.
Paula continued eagerly. “Five guys dead. They’re saying it was gangbangers.” All three looked at Frederick, who felt the weight of their eyes.
A kid in the crowd pointed at Frederick before looking away and talking with a circle of friends who leaned in close to listen.
Frederick pulled out his smartphone, tapped the CBC app and began to read the news.
Nigel stood next to his desk. Lori stood opposite him with her back to the closed door. She wore black leather boots, black yoga pants and a thigh-length purple tunic. “Any news on our travellers?”
“They’re keeping a low profile. I’m working on the assumption that no news is good news.” Nigel looked beyond Lori as someone walked past the office.
“What do you need?” Lori asked.
“I think we need to track a cell phone and a vehicle. After what happened last night, we have to get ahead of this suspect before more people die.”
Lori nodded. “Nebal and Murdoch will be able to take care of the vehicle tracker. You want to be able to monitor the cell traffic?”
Nigel nodded. “Jean is finished with the paperwork. So we’re ready to go.”
Lori asked, “We’re talking about Frederick Lee?”
“That’s right.”
She took a long breath before she opened the door. “You’d better call Harper and get some reinforcements down here to help you out with Lane away. It’s gonna get crazy busy before this is over. Got anyone in mind?”
Nigel made eye contact. “I might.”
It was late afternoon when Ramón opened the door and Alejandro walked in. He was wearing a ball cap, a white T-shirt, faded blue jeans and cross trainers. He looked at Lane and Arthur, then said, “Something’s happening. You coming?”
“Where?” Lane bent to put on socks and shoes.
“West of here on the Sea of Cortez side of the Baja. Near a place called Bahia Los Frailes.” Alejandro looked over his shoulder. “Wear a hat and good shoes.”
Arthur came out of the bedroom. He was buttoning his shirt. “What’s happening?”
“Okay if I explain on the way?” Alejandro pulled his phone from his pants pocket to check the time.
“How far is it?” Lane grabbed a ball cap and sunglasses. He went to the fridge and scooped three bottles of water.
Alejandro waggled his right hand. “Maybe two hours.”
He led them down the elevator, through a back door and along a green tunnel to the employee entrance. A Jeep with a ragtop, open sides and weathered white paint was parked near the loading ramp. Alejandro climbed in behind the wheel, Lane squeezed into the back seat and Arthur sat up front in the passenger seat. They headed east past the white-walled cemetery, then north along side roads until joining a two-lane highway headed roughly north along the eastern coastline of the Baja. The Sea of Cortez glittered as it came into view.
Alejandro said, “Bonner’s yacht raised anchor and headed this way about two hours ago. His cigarette boat hasn’t been seen for a day. It looks like there’s a meet on. The coast on this side has some long stretches of deserted beach.”
Lane felt the wind tugging at his clothes. The Jeep was a flock of parts moving together, lifting over bumps, flapping down the longer stretches, leaning into curves and reluctantly climbing hills. “Where do you get these vehicles of yours?”
Alejandro smiled and looked over his shoulder. His teeth seemed whiter because his skin had seen recent sun. “In Mexico it is always important to have friends. Want to drive? I am expecting a call, so it might work better.”
Lane nodded. “Sure.”
Alejandro pulled over onto a dusty side road. Arthur climbed out, moved the seat forward and Lane stepped out of the idling Jeep. Arthur climbed into the back seat and Alejandro hopped in the passenger seat. Lane got in behind the wheel, adjusted the seat, put on his seat belt, depressed the clutch, shifted into first and eased the pedal away from the floor. The fan belt squealed, the clutch plate shuddered and the engine stalled. He depressed the clutch, restarted the engine and tried again. About ten minutes later, he was getting a feel for the eccentricities of this Jeep. It pulled to the right, liked third gear on the hills and seemed happiest at just under two thousand RPM.
Arthur tapped Alejandro on the shoulder. “What will we be looking for?”
Alejandro shrugged. “Maybe the cigarette boat will be unloading cargo, or they will be fishing, or they may be dropping someone off. It’s hard to know for sure. But it feels like something important because they are all on the same boat and headed for this part of the Baja where they can easily transfer cargo from one boat to another without being noticed. Bonner’s yacht usually sails up the Pacific coast to San Diego.”
Lane looked west at the desert where low shrubs and taller cactus pointed multiple fingers at the horizon.
Alejandro said, “Many of the bigger cactuses are hundreds of years old. They hold many litres of water.”
A trio of birds circled just off the highway. “Hawks?” Arthur asked.
Alejandro shook his head. “Vultures.”
Lane glanced at the dark-coloured birds with long, finger-like feathers at their wingtips. They rode the breeze coming off the ocean. “It looks like nothing should be living out here.”
“The desert is deceptive. There are squirrels, foxes, roadrunners, coyotes and some mountain lions. The hunters usually come out at night.” Alejandro pulled his phone from his pocket, putting it to his ear. He began to speak in Spanish and looked ahead where the highway followed the coastline. He ended the conversation, put his left hand on Lane’s shoulder and pointed up ahead with his right. “You will turn right onto a dirt road less than a kilometre ahead. We have company about ten minutes behind us.”
Lane looked in the rear-view mirror but saw no approaching traffic. He shifted into a lower gear and began to decelerate. A few seconds later, he saw the white sand of the side road. He shifted down, braked and eased off the pavement. He drove along a twisting white sand road, rounded a fifty-foot cactus and wound east toward the Sea of Cortez. Alejandro said, “I have a source who says that Fuentes has used this beach before. Once you get to the beach, turn right. There is a building we will be able to park behind.”
Arthur asked, “If someone is following us, won’t they be able to see our tracks?”
Alejandro shook his head. “Don’t worry. After the dust settles behind us and the wind does its work, they won’t notice.”
Lane turned right. The road opened up onto an undeveloped beach. He shifted into four-wheel drive as the road disappeared and the sand became softer. Atop a hill was a white concrete building with a domed roof. It sat beside a corral made of orphaned planks of grey wood. Lane pulled up on the far side of the building and parked on a concrete pad under a thatched roof supported by six posts. He shut off the engine and listened to the engine tick as it cooled. Waves pounded the beach. The low sun enriched the colours.
Alejandro climbed out his side of the Jeep and moved the seat forward. Arthur backed out and reached for a bottle of water.
Lane pointed at the ocean. Bonner’s yacht Fire pushed a hefty bow wave as it motored north. They watched it slow and settle in the water. Alejandro reached into the back of the Jeep, unzipped a backpack and pulled out binoculars. He took a minute to study the boat, handed the binoculars to Arthur who looked and said, “They’re getting the helicopter ready.” He handed the binoculars to Lane.
Lane adjusted the focus and watched as two men removed the cover from the helicopter. Then he looked at the bridge where he could see the back of a man’s head looking east. Lane looked out beyond the stern of Fire. No boat was visible, but he did see the white spray from a whale spout followed by a second. “Looks like they’re waiting for someone arriving from the east.”
“Did you notice the whales?” Alejandro asked.
Arthur tapped Lane’s shoulder. “Let me see.” Lane passed the binoculars and Arthur asked, “I wonder if it’s the same pair from in front of La Luna Cortez.”
“Maybe.” Alejandro pointed back along the beach, then ducked in behind the building, dragging Arthur by the shirt sleeve. “It’s Fuentes’s Excursion.” The flat-black SUV swayed and bucked, kicked up road dust then slowed in the softer sand along the beach and stopped. The doors opened. Four men climbed out. The pair in the front wore black sports jackets. They took them off and tossed them on the seats.
Arthur watched through the binoculars from behind the corner of the building. “They are armed.”
“Recognize anyone?” Lane asked.
“Pike and Manny.” Arthur watched as the four men walked to the edge of the ocean.
“The cigarette boat is here.” Alejandro lifted his chin. The bow of Wind appeared beyond the bow of the yacht. The high-speed craft idled its way to shore.
Arthur said, “Two men are carrying black sports bags.”
“Another deal about to happen.” Alejandro reached back behind the Jeep’s front seat and pulled out a camera with a long lens. He flipped a switch and adjusted the zoom; the shutter began to click.
Lane watched as the cigarette boat idled just beyond the breaking waves. The bodyguards waded out, holding their guns over their heads. They handed their weapons to a man at the stern, then held the bow and stern while Manny and Pike waded out. The pair reached the stern and climbed aboard followed by the bodyguards.
The cigarette boat’s engine rumbled as the boat reversed, turned and aimed into a swell, cresting the wave and dropping into a trough. Bonner guided the boat toward the yacht anchored about five hundred metres from shore.
“What do we do?” Arthur asked. “They only have about a hundred metres to go.”
The first whale launched itself out of the water between the yacht and the cigarette boat. Forty tonnes of grey–blue was more than halfway out of the water. It rolled and crashed back into the sea within two metres of the cigarette boat. The resultant wave swamped the cabin of the craft. Its bow lifted into the air. The stern sank. The first whale disappeared with a slap of its tail. A second whale surfaced, spouted and began to slap its pectoral fin overtop the men as they splashed in the water. The tail flukes of the first whale surfaced and worked the other side of the boat. The bow of the boat slipped under a swell.
Alejandro asked, “Do you see what I’m seeing?”
“Incredible,” Arthur said.
Lane watched as the splashing stopped. Debris floated on the surface and bodies swayed to the motion of wind and waves.
Minutes later, a zodiac appeared from the far side of the yacht. It began a zigzag search of the water between the yacht and the beach.
Minutes after that, the helicopter was in the air and guiding the zodiac. The boat stopped, and a body was pulled aboard. The zodiac headed toward the shore, then stopped again. Another body was plucked from the water. The zodiac zipped back to the yacht while the helicopter continued to search. It settled onto the deck of the yacht as the light began to fade. The yacht’s lights came on, illuminating its bridge, bow and stern. It pulled up anchor and began motoring south.
“What’s the plan?” Arthur asked.
“We wait until they are out of sight,” Alejandro replied.
“Then what?”
Alejandro watched the yacht through the long lens of his camera. “We see if the keys are still in the Excursion.”
They waited until the yacht disappeared around the point. Lane started the Jeep and drove to the black Excursion. In the fading light, Lane turned on the headlights, illuminating the Ford’s driver-side door. Alejandro climbed out and tried all four doors. He shook his head. Arthur climbed out and walked to the beach.
Lane pulled on the emergency brake and left the Jeep’s engine running. He followed Arthur to the water where two bodies lay rocking in the waves pounding the beach. One man wore a white shirt and an empty holster. His head lay at a right angle to his body. The other body was much bigger. Lane thought he caught the red of a tattoo on one bicep. Arthur went to the smaller body. “Help me.” He grabbed one arm and began to drag the corpse up onto the sand.
Lane grabbed the man’s other arm. It was broken. “Be careful or you’ll pull the arm off.” He gripped the collar of the man’s shirt instead. “What are you doing?”
Arthur reached into the man’s pant pocket. “The keys.” He lifted his right hand. Lane heard a jingling sound. Arthur aimed his right hand at the Ford. There was a click. The Excursion’s yellow parking lights flashed.
Alejandro moved to the driver’s door and opened it. “Let’s go!” He pointed at Lane. “Okay if you drive the Jeep back?”
“Yep.” Lane began to walk up the beach and away from the water. He headed for the Jeep while Arthur walked toward the Excursion.
When Arthur got there, Alejandro held up a black sports jacket and pointed at him. “Try this on?”
Arthur asked, “Why?”
Alejandro’s white teeth shone in the night. “Because you look more Mexican than your fresa boyfriend.”
Arthur took the proffered jacket and tried it on. The sleeves were short. Alejandro said, “Just keep your hands down.”
Lane pulled up next to the Ford. Alejandro turned to him. “Follow us to Palmilla?”
“Okay.” Lane waited for Alejandro to drive away before following about a hundred metres behind so the road-dust had a chance to settle. He was reaching for a bottle of water by the time they found the pavement. He tried driving, shifting gears, twisting the top off the water bottle, then put the bottle in the cup holder until he had worked the Jeep up to over one hundred kilometres an hour. He had it aimed more or less between the centre line and the edge of the pavement. He tried to loosen the cap on the water bottle with his right hand, eventually succeed
ed, tipped back the bottle and spat water and road dust onto the highway. Then he worked to get the Jeep back in the middle of the lane and about two hundred metres behind the tail lights of the Excursion. They remained that way in the deepening darkness until they reached the outskirts of San José. After that it was stop and go with traffic and streetlights. They were able to move faster as they travelled west on the four-lane highway to Cabo San Lucas. Its surface made the Jeep dance and Lane’s teeth rattle. They took the Palmilla overpass and entered a tunnel formed by palm trees along either side of the road. The Excursion turned left down to the beach. Lane followed, pulling up alongside. Alejandro opened the driver’s window. “Just park it over there by the surf shop and get in the back.” He jerked his thumb over his right shoulder.
A minute later, Lane climbed in the back seat where cool leather and plenty of legroom added to the luxurious feel of a climate-controlled environment. “How will we get through security?” he asked.
Alejandro reversed, turned and headed back away from the beach. The headlights cut a swath through the darkness. “The windows are tinted and I’m betting he’ll let us through just because he doesn’t want to piss off Fuentes.”
They approached the security hut. The lights illuminated a tall man in a white shirt and black pants. He looked at the vehicle then turned to lift the barrier. Alejandro raised his left hand with a wave that blocked his face as he drove through. The Excursion’s V8 roared as the SUV climbed the steep grade past closed gates on either side of the road. When they reached the top of the hill and the gates of Casa Bonner, Alejandro used the remote on the visor to open the gate, eased into the courtyard and parked between twin palm trees and in front of the main doorway framed with pink cantera stone. They climbed down from the SUV and walked to the main passageway. A floral design made of many small stones was set in the middle of the pathway leading to the pools with blue light shining up from their bottoms. Below, the ocean lay black and deep; beyond that, the winking lights of the resorts of San José.