“I’ll see what I can find out. What else do you know about Racón.”
I didn’t know much, but I told the prince how old I thought the Rat was, and that he worked for the mining group, sort of. Faoud then assured me he would find my Mr. Jenkins forthwith and get back to me. Just knowing someone with power and resources was on the job gave me a great deal of comfort.
We said our goodbyes, then I asked Jan, “So, what’s the prince up to that you commiserated with when you first talked?”
“What’s a prince to do? He’s commissioned a new mega-yacht and his designer informed him that an on-board stable for his beloved Arabians is so much horse hockey.”
For some reason this sent me into hysterics, something that happens often when Jan and I are together. We were trying to stifle giggles as we made our way upstairs, but not successfully, because we met Sonrisa checking us out. That impassive countenance, which normally drives me so nuts, only made me laugh harder.
Jan followed me into my room, reassuring me that all would be well with Jenks.
“I hope you’re right. I’m to the point of, if he is alive and well, ending it all. I can’t take this kind of relationship much longer. Maybe I’ll cut him loose and let him go after some young, gorgeous type.”
“Oh, Hetta don’t be so dramatic. Jenks doesn’t want someone young and gorgeous, he wants you.”
Chapter 27
After the phone conversation with Prince Fauod I slept through the night for the first time in a week, perhaps because I now knew the prince’s far-reaching feelers were in action, tracking down Jenks. I actually awoke to a moment of peace until I remembered with dismay that Jenks was not yet found. So many missing people and cars, and nothing I could do but wait.
Even a hot shower didn’t help diminish a deep malaise that I finally identified as powerlessness. A self-admitted control freak, I am not one to normally let her boat drift with the tide, and I was adrift. Instead of doing things my way, I had somehow let others put me out to sea. This simply would not do.
While dressing, I jotted items on a list that I make out on those all too frequent occasions when my life heads for the rocks. These TO DO lists help me organize my feelings and identify those problems I need to get a handle on.
TO DO—AND I MEAN IT—LIST
1. Call daily for a progress report on Raymond Johnson, and demand those reports be backed up with photos.
Just getting that task on the list made me feel a little better, so I put on mascara.
2. Find my car.
Realistically, that was a tough one. Locating a stolen car in Mexico is damned near impossible, but I stubbornly refused to count my VW out. Yep, I would find that car. Thinking I looked a little peaked, I added a dollop of blush to my cheeks.
3. Job?
Actually that was one thing I seemed to be on top of, and now that the prince had agreed to look into El Ratón’s background, maybe I’d dig up sufficient dirt to move him out of my way.
4. Trap the Rat.
I smiled, picturing him hightailing it to Mexico City, tail between his legs, chased after by Mexican secretaries armed with carving knives. This happy thought prompted me to put on a dab of lipstick.
5. Jenks. Decide if worth it, make pro vs. con list.
Just how long could we, should we, sustain pissing each other off from afar? When we were together, crazy in lust, we rarely argued, he treated me like a princess, and I treated him like…well, better than I treat anyone else. There are those who would argue I should work on my people skills, but Jenks actually seems to enjoy me, warts and all.
However, the longer we’re apart, and the more he tells me what is good and bad for me, the more I resent him for being gone. My emotional status being dependant on actions of others makes me insecure, and when I’m unhappy, I like lots of company. Like moldy apples love spreading gunk.
I tried to remember my happiness scale, pre-Jenks. One thing for sure, I didn’t need another to foist emotional distress upon me, I am a master of doing that to myself.
I was captain of my own fate when I met Jenks, but I was then operating under the Edna Ferber theory: Being an old maid is like death by drowning—a really delightful sensation after you have ceased struggling.
Simply put, before Jenks I had ceased struggling, and now here I was, treading water again. Jenks had to come home, or else.
6. Quit drinking, lose ten pounds.
Of course, this ain’t gonna happen, but it always leaves me with something to strive for.
Somehow all this list and decision making empowered me. Or was it the hoarded Valium (I am not allowed to have more than one or two in my possession at a time, due to a terrible lack of self-control where these wonderful pills are concerned) I downed in anticipation of a bumpy small plane ride? Whatever it was, I descended, practically floated, to breakfast, suitcase in hand, smile on my face, ready to head home and tackle the world on my own terms.
Maybe, I rationalized, in some convoluted teaching moment, I owe those guys who took my car more than a swift kick in the balls. I mean, after being chased all over a Mexican highway, then having my car stolen, how much worse can things get?
But then again, as Humphrey Bogart once said, “Things are never so bad they can’t be made worse.”
Everyone was already seated around the breakfast table when I breezed in. From their glum looks, they were not in a state of grace such as I.
“Hetta, have you been into the wine already? It’s a tad early, ya know,” Jan said, after taking in the glide in my step and glow of contentment on my face.
“I am at peace.”
“You found those guys who took your car, and dismembered them? Gosh, you have been a busy bee this morning.”
That lightened the mood and brought smiles.
“Au contraire,” I said airily. “I have forgiven them.”
Jan dropped her fork. “No way.”
“It’s simple. I have decided not to let these offenses get under my skin. I can get another car.”
“Who are you, and what have you done with the real Hetta Coffey?”
I beamed her a saintly smile and absolved her impudence. As Sonrisa filled my water glass, I greeted her warmly.
She scooted for the kitchen, obviously leery of the crazy Gringa’s sudden benevolence toward her.
“Hetta may be onto something,” Nanci said.
“More like on something,” Jan mumbled.
“I mean it,” Nanci said. “We have all worked ourselves into a froth here, and we don’t know for sure any harm has come to either Lupe or Rosa. Maybe we’re overreacting.”
Jan, who had been watching me closely, smiled and mouthed, “Valium?”
I whispered, “Only a half.”
Ted, not noticing our little exchange, answered Nanci by shaking his head. “We are right to worry. Rosa would never walk off the job, especially now. She removed the old rods a couple of days ago, and the new ones are ready to go in. We need to energize the system and not just anyone can do it. Rosa had Lupe trained before she vanished into thin air, but Sonrisa is nowhere near ready.”
“You can’t do it, Nanci?” Jan asked.
“Unfortunately, I inherited an arthritic condition.” She held out her hands for us to see the noticeable swelling of her finger joints. “I don’t think anyone around here wants me handling cobalt.”
I bestowed upon her a beatific beam.
Jan rolled her eyes and asked Ted, “Rosa’s training Sonrisa in the lab? I thought Sonrisa worked in the kitchen.”
Nanci answered. “Rosa took her under her wing, grooming her for backup. I mean, it ain’t rocket science, but it is somewhat delicate, and realistically takes two people, preferably three. With Rosa gone, now it’ll be Ted and Sonrisa, with me as watchdog.”
“Are you sure you have the time to fly us home?” Jan asked Ted. “We can take a bus, you know.”
“I have to go north today for a meeting with the bank I can’t miss. I was planning on
staying over in Sierra Vista, but now I’ll have to fly back so we can work into the night. And they might not show it much, but Rosa’s disappearance has put a real strain on the entire staff, so I need to backtrack, pronto. If she’s not here by the time I return, I’ll make a police report. Not that it’ll do any good.”
“Love will overcome,” I said, spreading my aura with wiggly fingers.
“Yeah, Maharishi Valium-hesh Hetta,” Jan drawled. “Let’s just do a little Hari Krishna conga line around the room, chant a few oms, and all will be well with the world.”
“Cynic.”
Ranch hands had already rolled Ted’s plane, a twin engine Beech Baron, from its hanger when we arrived at the runway. While we chatted with Nanci, Ted bustled about the aircraft, checking this and that, hopefully very thoroughly.
As much as I hate to admit it, small planes make me nervous, thus the early morning Valium. I prefer my air transport complete with drink service and bathrooms, but getting home in a flash today held a great deal of appeal, especially after being pursued by shady characters on the roads of Mexico.
We were to land first at Douglas, where Ted made arrangements with officials there to enter the country. He explained the required rigmarole to us, said it was just part of flying these days, especially when entering the U.S. from Mexico. Once checked in and legal, he’d hop over to Bisbee Municipal, dump us off before heading for Sierra Vista.
“We better get to it,” Ted told us. “Normally Rosa goes with me, we split up at the airport, she heads into town in a taxi and does the Walmart, Staples, that kind of shopping while I knock out the commissary list.”
I asked, “So, Rosa has a green card?”
“Oh, yes. She’s an employee of our corporation, and even though we’re located in Mexico, we are also incorporated in the United States.”
Jan and I volunteered to go to Sierra Vista with him, run Rosa’s errands, but he said no thanks, he would have frozen food with him on his return, and since he had to check into Mexico at Nogales, he didn’t want to backtrack in order to drop us off.
We waved goodbye to Nanci and strapped in while Ted taxied to the end of his runway. He handed us earphones with built-in microphones so we could hear and talk to each other over the engine noise.
When stopped at the end of the runway, he gave us a running commentary on what he was doing. “I have to do a runup. I’m cycling both engines to check the magnetos and props. Okay, now I’m setting the trim tabs, and here we go. Ready?”
No, I thought, but nodded a reluctant yes from the copilot’s seat.
My heart stepped up a beat as we picked up speed on the bumpy runway. Another thing I like about real airplanes is that they taxi on real runways. I’ve spent plenty of time on puddle jumpers while traveling to remote jobsites, bounce-landing on dirt and grass fields successfully each time, but I can’t say my confidence level has risen greatly just because I’ve survived.
We were rolling along at a pretty good clip when Ted suddenly cut the power and shouted, “What the hell?”
“My car!” I yelled, pointing as my VW caught up with, then passed us. “They’ve found her.”
“Finally, some good news. Okay, I guess this changes your travel plans, so I’ll let you two…what is with those guys? Dammit.” He braked sharply.
My VW matched speed with the plane, keeping just far enough directly ahead in front of us to avoid pulverization by propellers. Now the brake lights pulsed on the car, making Ted follow suit.
My surprise and delight at seeing my car again quickly dried up, along with my mouth, when we damned near rear-ended her. It was thanks to Ted’s piloting skills that we managed to keep squared behind the car, our nose centered just feet away from the VW’s rear bumper. Jan and I let loose with a couple of wimpy eeeks, but Ted kept his cool.
He slowed us to a crawl so when the car abruptly stopped, Ted avoided hitting it, but just barely. We were all cursing the driver out in our own way when the car doors swung open and three men in black balaclavas and camouflage fatigues leapt out brandishing large weapons.
Ted muttered, “Crap, they’ve got automatics.”
Jan whispered, “Oh, shit. Oh, dear.”
“Urk,” I cleverly articulated.
Chapter 28
When the men jumped from my VW, any benefit of my earlier Valium vanished. If Jan, and even battle-proven Ted, were any indication, we were all in a state of jaw dropping shock, unable to absorb that, like some action movie, masked, armed men were rushing our plane, obviously intent on a hijacking.
Or worse, hijacking the plane, and killing us.
I watched dumbly as my emptied VW rolled forward on her own for a few feet, then rocked to a stop, blocking the runway.
While Jan and I exchanged a look of pure horror, Ted went into a flurry of hitting switches on his console.
With great effort, I croaked, “So, Ted, you have a plan for this sort of thing?” even though it was pretty clear our options were nil to none. The men wanted the plane, and they were going to get it. At least I hoped that’s all they wanted.
As if we weren’t breathing our last, he calmly asked, “Hetta, does that car of yours have a manual or automatic transmission?”
“Manual.” Was this really the time to talk cars? Men.
“Get into the backseat with Jan.”
I unbuckled and inspected my high seat back with dismay. There was only about a foot of clearance above the headrest, and the split between the seats the same, both spaces way shy of my butt size. Somehow, though, I shinnied through with all the grace of a pole vaulting elephant, kicking Ted in the head before landing with a thump in Jan’s lap.
She shoved me into the other seat, none too gently. “We’re good,” I told Ted, although I didn’t know why. Good? Hell, we were screwed.
“Buckle in, and keep your heads down. These bastards are not taking my plane,” Ted told us as he loosed the brakes and gave the engines power, all the while closing on the rear end of my car. With a gentle nudge, Ted centered on my VW’s bumper and began pushing her.
Jan, who had been trying to keep an eye on the bad guys, shrieked as one of them materialized outside the window next to her. Ted hit the gas, and the masked man lost his wing perch and tumbled from sight.
While Jan and I stretched and craned our necks, trying to see what was happening, Ted concentrated on keeping the nose of the plane centered on the VW’s bumper. If we slipped to one side, we would catch a prop and make mincemeat out of my car, and it probably wouldn’t do us much good, either.
I wasn’t exactly sure what the consequences would be, but I instinctively knew that one of us was unstoppable, and the other immovable.
For some reason, possibly because the men didn’t want to harm the plane they were hell bent on stealing, no shots were fired. Yet. As a matter of fact, they now followed us at what seemed an insolently leisurely pace because they had the advantage, and they knew it. Unable to scoot the VW very fast, or very far, we would have no choice but to stop.
When Ted built his runway, he had to cut a big notch into the side of a mountain, leaving three sides with steep drop-offs. Okay, cliffs. He was now pushing my car, and us, toward one of those sheer drops where, in short order, we’d take a five-hundred foot plunge. The bad guys could afford to bide their time.
“Ted, we are going to stop, right?”
“We’d better, because this ain’t no stinkin’ glider. Right now, I’m buying time, giving the ranch hands and Nanci a chance to react to all the commotion. By now I should have buzzed the house, so they’ll know something’s wrong. Our people are armed, probably something these guys didn’t plan on. See any of the good guys yet?”
“No, just those jerks. They’ve fallen back some, probably because they can see we’re running out of runway. Wait a minute, there’s someone crouched down behind them. I can’t…yes! It’s Sonrisa, so others can’t be far behind. Uh, you don’t happen to have any firepower on board, do you?”
“
Not much. Reach under your seat. There’s a latch release for a storage compartment.”
I fumbled around and finally found an emergency flare gun case. Not the ideal weapon, but one I’d used to good effect in the past. I loaded a cartridge. “Got it. What do you want me to do?”
“Slow those bastards down. Jan, open your door so Hetta can get a bead on them.”
“I’m on the move,” I shouted as Jan worked on the door, and got it open. I wiggled over her, then she slid into my seat. “I ain’t much of a wingwalker, but I’ll do my best. Jan, hold my feet, make sure I don’t end up head first in the dirt, okay?”
“I’ve got you.”
Ted slowed more. “Okay, guys, this is it. We’re at the end of this rope. Sorry about your car, Hetta.”
I twisted around and caught a final glimpse of my bumper taking a swan dive into space. I gaped until Jan yelled, “Hetta! For God’s sake, shoot someone!”
Pushing onto my knees, I launched forward, then slid my upper body out onto the wing. Jan, true to her word, not only held my legs, she sat on them.
“Okay, make my day,” I growled.
I’d always wanted to say that.
Taking aim on the closest attacker, I was determined to take him out without blowing a hole in our own plane. It wasn’t going to be easy, even though we were now fully stopped, because my firing angle was off.
“Shoot ‘em, dammit,” Jan demanded again.
“I’m tryin’, dammit. Okay, okay, I’ve got him lined up.” I braced my arm as best I could and was squeezing the trigger when the guy suddenly stopped in his tracks, spun, and sprinted away from us, toward the other end of the runway.
“Ha, I scared them off. They’re turning tail.”
Ted left the engines at idle and unbuckled. “Fantastic. Everyone out of the plane. If I have to, I’m going to push this baby over the side, because they are not getting it. Hetta, you first, then cover us. Go, go, go!”
We went, went, went.
Jan held onto my feet as long as she could, but when she let go, I still had a goodly headfirst drop. Luckily my fall was broken by a large bush, but then Jan knocked the air out of me when she landed on my back. We rolled aside just in time to avoid being flattened by Ted. All three of us scrambled behind that puny bush, as if it would stop a bullet.
Just Deserts (Hetta Coffey Series (Book 4)) Page 17