Low voices from the kitchen drift into the room. The door cracks and Adelena motions for me to come. Once I enter the kitchen she motions toward the pantry, then hurries past me into the dining room.
I open the door to see Jed. Once the door is shut I settle beside him. “Thank you for coming. I know it’s a great risk.”
“I don’t have long.” He looks at his watch. “Have to watch the schedule.”
“I won’t waste words. Can you get me out of here?”
“That’s been the plan. We’ll have to wait until after midnight to make the break. If there’s no shipment expected, most of the men are drunk by sundown and passed out by ten. It’s safer that way.”
“How can I help?”
“You’ll have to help push the plane from the hangar to the far end of the runway.”
“No problem. Just tell me when and where.”
“It’s not that easy. I’m talking about a runway that can handle large jet aircraft. It’s a pretty fair stretch. But the Cub only needs two hundred feet to take off fully loaded. With just us, we should be off the ground and far enough away to avoid gunfire.”
I suppress thoughts of a gun battle and voice my enthusiasm. “Sounds like a piece of cake.”
“Let’s hope it is.” Jed cracks the door to check the kitchen, then pulls it shut. “I’ve gathered all the evidence I need here. The problem is getting Carpenter across the border.”
I gasp. “You’re a Fed?”
“I work directly for Bill Cotton.” “He knows where I am?”
“Yes. Your capture wasn’t part of the plan, but now that you’re here, he’s sure if we can get you ’cross the river, Carpenter will follow.”
“You mean I’m the bait?”
“I guess you could say that.” He leans forward. “The man is a hopeless addict who’s lost all touch with reality. Thinks he’s created the consummate ‘world’ with you at the center. As far as he’s concerned all he needs is a wife and children to make life down here about perfect.”
Paul trying to recreate the life he lost. The house. Cocaine. And me. But I have to give it to him, up to now everything’s gone pretty much as he planned.
“How could he be sure I would come to the border?”
“The letter in the safe deposit box. He knew you couldn’t pass it up. I gotta say he’s a very patient man. You were tailed for months. Phones bugged, too. Gibbs’s secretary alerted Cotton the day you made the appointment. He tried to stall you. That’s why there were no Feds at the meeting.”
“Then Gibbs is in on this.”
“We’re not sure. His secretary is. She’s married to Ramón’s second cousin. She went to work for Gibbs a few months before Paul’s ‘death.’”
The family, no last name ever mentioned, but clearly one of the powerful Mexican cartels holding the border in their grip.
“Do you know who the family is?”
Jed nods. “But you shouldn’t. The less you know the better.”
“How did you manage to...?”
“Get in on the operation?” He smiles. “Cotton and I met at Quantico. One Texan can usually spot another. We were just the guys the DEA was looking for. Cotton was assigned to his home town Uvalde and they sent me to Laredo. New territory for me since I was raised in Amarillo. But there was a natural connection. Cousin Luke. We saw each other over holidays when we were kids, then we grew up and went our separate ways.
“I looked up Luke, said I served a little time and produced a manufactured record. He needed a sidekick. Knew I flew. Figured my stint in prison was enough to hold me hostage. He never bothered to check it out.”
He looks at his watch and stands. “Gotta go.”
I get up and beat his hand to the door knob. “When?”
“Not tonight for sure. I have another run and won’t be back until after six. Hopefully we won’t get another shipment for a few days. The men are zonked as it is. They need a few nights to get drunk and laid.”
“They keep women here?”
He laughs. “Are you kidding? Women are nothing but trouble. There’s a ‘Boys Town’ full of cantinas and brothels about five miles south of here. The men pile in the truck that picked us up last Saturday. They stay for a couple of days. It’s the only way to keep them happy.”
Jed puts a hand on my shoulder and gives me a reassuring squeeze. “Adelena will get word to you in plenty of time. Don’t bring luggage. Just be sure you have your driver’s license and any cash you have in case we run into trouble.”
Chapter 31
THERE WAS A DRUG SHIPMENT late Tuesday that seemed to take everyone by surprise. Paul has been at the barns around the clock, sleeping in snatches, trying to keep some semblance of order among the already exhausted men.
Since I knew a Tuesday escape was out, I slept like a log, but I spent Wednesday and Thursday nights beneath the covers fully clothed, Nikes at the ready, and one ear cocked for Adelena’s signal.
It’s amazing that I have been able to get through the last forty-eight hours without going mad. The stark contrasts of Paul’s new world border on the schizophrenic. Life at this end of the ranch seems to move no faster than lava, while the other end hums with frenzied activity in the race to get drugs across the border.
After a sponge bath I change into a fresh shirt and head for a hot cup of coffee.
The dining room is vacant. I push open the swinging door hoping to find Adelena. On the large center table I see enchilada fixings, but the kitchen is empty as well, its silence broken by the sound of a softly playing radio coming from the temporary servants’ quarters.
In the dining room, I jockey some coffee and pop two pieces of Adelena’s fresh-baked bread in the toaster. After slathering the steaming slices with butter, I carry my breakfast onto the verandah and settle at the nearest table. Before me lies a monotonous vista of flat, endless Sahara broken by heat waves warping low, brown brush.
Late morning brings catcalls and yahoos in the distance, then the canvas-covered truck pulls into view and heads down the dusty road. The men have been liberated. Tonight, hopefully, so will I.
Minutes later Paul bursts onto the porch. “I need a hug, woman.” It’s obvious he’s relied on cocaine to keep going. His lower face is covered with a fine dusting of white.
His lips savage mine, then he murmurs, “You look and feel so delicious I don’t know if I can wait another night.”
This is definitely not what I want to hear, but I curb my anxiety. “You look exhausted.”
As though given permission, his smile fades and he slumps. “That’s the understatement of the year. I’ll pop a few ‘ludes.’ They’ll treat me to a few hours of sleep.”
I force myself to kiss him again, then offer, “What you need is a hot shower and a nice long nap.”
“Sounds like a great idea, but Adelena’s making red enchiladas.”
It’s past four and Paul is asleep. After picking at his lunch while waiting for the Quaaludes to act, he finally lurched down the hall and, still fully-clothed, collapsed on top of his bed. If he keeps this up much longer, he’ll be down to skin and bones.
The only thing left for me to do is take a long soak in the tub. I’m just about to nod off in my steaming cocoon when I hear the whine of a jet overhead followed by hurried footsteps and rapid knocking on Paul’s bedroom door.
Miguel’s voice thunders in my ear. “Jefe? Jefe? Señor Carpenter? Please wake up. El Patrón is landing.”
My escape chances have just been cut to zero.
I hear Paul groan. “He wasn’t due ’til tomorrow, dammit. Keep him entertained while I grab a quick shower and shave.”
Miguel’s footsteps fade and seconds later, I feel a rush of air and turn to see Paul, still in his rumpled work clothes, standing in the doorway to my closet.
I draw my knees to my chest in an attempt to cover myself and force a smile. “I hear we have visitors.”
He stares at me for a few dazed seconds. “Yeah. I didn’t expect Ram�
�n until tomorrow. Not to worry. I’m sure Adelena can easily set a third place.”
He flashes that captivating smile. “Can you believe it? Ramón asked to serve as my best man.”
I bite my tongue and smile back. What can I say? Paul is in control—for now.
“By the way, I have some things for you in my closet. Sort of a trousseau. Towel off and pick something out while I shower.” He retreats through the door, shedding his shirt as he goes.
In the hall I hear several voices engaged in muffled conversation interspersed with deep laughter. Ramón is not alone.
I do a quick calculation. Five empty guest rooms. Ten guests at most. My grand plan is crumbling by the minute.
Mind mired in shock, I dry, then wrap the towel around me and step into Paul’s closet. To one side of his business suits hang three identical long cotton dresses in cerise, aqua, and maize. They have capped sleeves, a square neck, a tight bodice, with moderate fullness from waist to floor. The fabric has been stitched into fine lines that elongate the appearance. All would flatter my dark hair and complexion. I choose the maize.
After I twist my hair into a French knot and pull a few fetching tendrils down the back of my neck, I slip into the dress.
Paul appears again through the closet door to stand behind me. “These pale in comparison to you.” He produces a string of heavy black pearls and drapes them around my neck. When he clasps the choker, they clutch my neck like a noose.
“Oh, Paul.” My words contain no joy, only the hopelessness of a desperate woman.
Ignoring my bleat, he kneels beside me, pulls a large single matching pearl from his pocket and slides it on my engagement finger.
“I’ve been waiting for this moment forever. Come. I can’t wait for you to meet Ramón.”
Paul offers me his hand and we walk down the long, wide hall. As a glimpse of my grim future flashes before me, my senses hone. The alabaster sconces spaced on each side of the hall give a soft glow I’d never noticed before. The geometric pattern of the oriental runner beneath our feet leaps up in bright rusts and vibrant blues. A pair of half-moon tables in the entry hall seem larger now that they bear vases laden with pale pink peonies.
The pungent odor of a cigar wafts through the wide opening into the living room, where Miguel, dressed in black leather pants, a matching bolero jacket, and a high-necked white shirt, holds a silver salver bearing two glasses of champagne.
Six men dressed in identical pinstripe suits encircle a man smoking a cigar. There are no women present.
Paul straightens to full height and pulls me close. “Gentlemen, may I present my bride.”
It’s easy to spot Ramón. He stands several inches above the rest of his group and strikes a ramrod posture. Beneath a heavy mane of silver-streaked brown, his narrow face bears an aristocratic look.
He steps from the midst of his companions, hand extended. “It’s an honor to finally meet you.”
I have no choice but to place my hand in his. In one smooth motion, he turns it and brushes it with air.
I nod and murmur, “And I you.”
Ramón turns to Paul. “Soft-spoken as well. What a surprise these days.”
I meet the rest of Ramón’s entourage. They don’t look like drug traffickers, but have they come this distance just to attend a wedding? I think not.
The silence is almost suffocating. Every man is staring at me like a circle of waiting vultures. I turn to see Paul’s jaw flexing. It’s obvious he feels the tension. When his hand becomes a vise, I wince, then smile up at him. “I’d love some champagne.”
He jerks to attention. “Of course, darling. Pardon my bad manners.” He flashes his disarming smile and releases my hand as Miguel offers us a glass.
Ramón raises his in salute. “A toast to the bride and groom to be.”
The men follow his lead, then resume their conversations, leaving the three of us an island in their midst.
I can’t help but notice the contrast between the two men. Ramón, cool and unconcerned; Paul anxious and tense.
Luke Hansen, dressed in the same pinstripe as the others, saves the moment by rushing through the front door. Paul said Luke cleaned up pretty good when necessary. If this is his best, he’s failed. He looks like head bouncer in a sleazy nightclub.
He acknowledges me and Ramón with a courtly bow. “Pardon me, Patrón, Señorita, but I need a few moments of Jefe’s time.”
Ramón nods and smiles. “Take all the time you like, Luke. I will be delighted to entertain Miss Armington.”
He waits until Paul and Luke disappear, then motions for Miguel to top our glasses.
When Miguel moves away, Ramón waves his hand toward the open French doors. “Would you mind stepping onto the verandah with me?”
The soft night air, with a slight breeze from the west, is laden with delicious aromas from Adelena’s kitchen. The horizon, a black endless scape crowned by a tiara of pink-gold clouds. Under any other circumstances it would be a picture-book evening.
Ramón leads me to a seating area at the far end of the verandah, motions me to sit, and settles beside me. “I don’t have much time to talk, Miss Armington, so please don’t interrupt until I’m finished.”
He leans toward me and speaks in a low voice. “It is unfortunate Paul chose this particular time to bring you here. Of course, he’s been rambling on for months about how he planned to make you his bride, but I must confess I gave his words little credence. The family business presents many more daily pressing issues than the delusional ravings of a cokehead.”
“That’s a little harsh, don’t you think?”
“Perhaps, but I’m sure you’re aware there is little room for addicts in this business. Cuts into the profits.”
He smiles at his small joke, then must read the disgust on my face. “I’m not surprised you disapprove.”
“I used to make my living putting people in your business behind bars.”
Ramón raises one brow. “In Mexico young boys in the barrios see narcotics as their only way out. We have become the heroes of our poor, downtrodden society. Have you not heard of the many narco-corridos written about us?”
“Narco? Corridos? I don’t get the meaning.”
“Drug ballads. In those songs the drug smugglers are celebrated for their wiliness, vigor, and notoriety—qualities that are highly valued in our culture. These men are lauded also for their manliness, courage, sincerity, and sense of fair play.”
I recoil at each proudly spoken word, then shoot back, “Exemplary terms, to be sure, but I believe they’re better known as bribery, coercion, corruption, and killing.”
To my surprise, he laughs. “You have great spirit, Miss Armington. So, I will simply concede, Cada uno a lo suyo.”
He waits for me to react, then translates, “Each to its own.”
I give him my stoniest stare. “Though Paul has performed reasonably well, we have been aware of his growing excesses for quite some time. A change in management was planned, but there seemed to be no rush since he was being well monitored.
“If only we had known his plans were this far along. Believe me, Miss Armington, we would have stepped in sooner and saved you this little inconvenience. Naturally, the minute Luke contacted me, I initiated immediate steps to rectify the situation. Unfortunately, sudden inroads into our territory by a rival family have prompted us to make some hasty decisions and this evening is the first opportunity we had to follow through.
“We are shutting down this operation immediately. As we speak, Luke and his men are placing the important records in the jet and destroying others. The workers will be transported to another location as soon as they’ve enjoyed their fiesta. We’ll all be leaving tonight after dinner.”
This man is talking about springing me. Still, I can’t help but think back to that terrible day when I went to the Anacacho, only to discover it stripped bare. Will it happen here? Will Paul’s life, as he so carefully planned it, dissolve into thin air?
Ramón’s voice creeps through my thoughts. “Sad to say, Paul is no longer of use to the family. We hoped he would be able to restrain his intake, but, as you know, he is totally out of control and therefore a great liability.”
The “no longer of use to the family” turns my spine to Jello. There’s only one remedy for that.
“Surely, Paul can be cured.”
Ramón gives me a paternal smile. “Of course, of course. A cure is exactly what the family wants for Paul. He has served us well and we pride ourselves in our loyalty.”
In a pig’s poke. I check to be sure my agreeable face is still on. Now is not the time to look a possible escape hatch in the mouth.
“Now, for tonight. I am assured that they cannot possibly make it here until midday tomorrow. So, we will enjoy a fine meal before we head in our respective directions.”
He sets his glass aside. “This is where you come in. We plan to sedate Paul during the meal. You must accompany him to his bedroom and remain beside him until we are ready to move. We cannot afford to alarm him. That could compound the trouble.”
“What kind of trouble?”
“We don’t expect any. Our intelligence is very accurate.”
I search his face, wondering if he knows about the Feds. “What happens to me?”
“You will come with us.”
Magic words. Almost unbelievable, but I need to hear a second confirmation. “Are you offering me a way out?”
“Absolutely.”
“That’s a relief. Because I planned to leave here tonight come hell or high water.”
“On foot?”
“I was hoping to borrow a horse.”
“Either option is equally foolish, Miss Armington. Neither you nor a horse would last long enough to make the border. Surely, you must realize that.”
Anacacho, An Allie Armington Mystery Page 19