Second Chance Reunion

by Sharon Hamilton

  “How much will this cost?”

  “If we have to hire a private detective, it could be sizeable. We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it. The bottom line is you’re innocent and we just have to do what we can to prove it.”

  After the call, she hesitated to listen to Damon’s message, but decided she needed that little bit of extra support. She took her shower, then sat down on the couch overlooking the silver moonlight-created crystals of the calm bay this evening, and pressed play.

  ‘Love you, and wish you were here. The water is blue, and I’ve got this killer view and room. Jason is a poor substitute for the love of my life. Take care, be good, get some help if you’re overwhelmed and don’t ever forget that I love you. More every day. You did good this morning, Martel. Everything will be okay. You’ll see. Bye.’

  Chapter 11

  The team was dropped off in two locations just outside Cabo San Lucas and were to rendezvous back in two hours. The location of the villa could be seen from downtown, nestled into foothills overlooking the lower part of the peninsula and Sea of Cortez. With specialized scopes, anyone up on the hillside would be able to see the faces of people below, so their vantage point to spot for operations against them, was excellent.

  But Coop had brought his drones, one for use at night and could detect heat signatures. It wasn’t as sophisticated as the ones the Feds were using, but they were smaller and could get in and out without detection since they were nearly silent. If they launched one, they were required to report it so there wasn’t a mid-air accident, which had happened when there were too many operators with too many toys.

  Damon was in Coop’s group while the other six men went with Kyle into town from the other side.

  “You make it look like you’re just flying a little toy,” Damon said as he watched the drone take off.

  “Yeah, I don’t think they use them much down here. That probably won’t last, though. With the money they’re making, they’ll eventually set up a death drone system to keep out airspace intruders. But you never know. Sometimes these guys fool you.”

  “That’s the truth,” agreed Damon.

  “So, you’re gonna program it to just do circle reconnaissance?” asked Fredo.

  “Yup.”

  Fredo explained earlier that they’d take the drone up to high altitude and then send it over the site before lowering it for a closer look. That way, the villa wouldn’t know it was coming.

  “I’ll send the recording to the Feds so they can help with the analysis,” said Coop.

  “So, when’s the barbeque?” asked Jason.

  Damon, Coop and Fredo chuckled.

  “We’ll see what she brings home. If it was me, I’d want it tonight. But we gotta know where we’re going first.”

  “I don’t like the idea of Kelly and Ridgeway being up there longer either,” said Damon.

  Fredo asked Coop another question. “Did Kyle say there had been any random demands for either of them?”

  “Not sure. I haven’t heard.”

  Coop’s little plane had completely disappeared into the clouds overhead, but he still had a bird’s eye view on his monitor. He scanned the horizon in front, and then casually took a peek behind him.

  “Jason and Damon, you guys act interested in rocks or something. Go look at that stone wall. Touch the soil. Let me know if anyone is watching me and this bird,” asked Coop.

  Both of them fanned out, scraping and tapping the ground like they were combing for shells at the beach. Damon did find several .38 casings and a red shotgun shell. They were about ten minutes outside of the beginnings of the outskirts of Cabo. “Probably a great place to do some target practice,” he said.

  “Kinda dumb, though. The whole place would hear it,” said Fredo.

  “Got anybody interested?” Coop asked over his shoulder. He tapped on his monitor a couple of times and shook his head.

  “Not a soul,” responded Jason.

  “Nobody close by anyway,” added Damon.

  Coop tapped on the monitor again, and then swore. Damon and Jason came running back to his side to ask what was wrong.

  “So, we’re gonna act real disappointed here, because we just lost our little plane, okay?”

  “Did you?” asked Jason.

  “What does that look like?” Coop showed him the view of the complex, looking like a bunch of orange Monopoly houses clustered together with a large pool in the rear surrounded by a freeform lawn and smaller sand traps and tiny lakes.

  Damon knew Fredo relished a good acting job. He kicked the dirt and swore as well, placing his hands on his hips and shaking his head from side to side. “Son of a bitch, the guys have their own private golf course. That just sucks, man.”

  Damon couldn’t think of anything so he just put his hand to his mouth, while Jason continued to search the horizon.

  “You got it on autopilot then?” Damon asked.

  “Yup. She’ll do a cute little thirty-minute cycle, then when she’s done, she’ll beep me, and I’ll get her back up into the clouds and bring her back from the direction of town. Unless they’ve got something special, no one will ever know they’ve been mapped.”

  Fredo barked his command, “Everyone spread out, and pretend we’re looking for parts, okay? Like we think it exploded or something. Pieces. We’re looking for pieces.”

  So, while everyone searched, picking up interesting rocks and shell casings, the little bird was busily making them a map of the entire site. Damon was first to find a dead animal: a snake, and the head had been shot off. Coop had switched off the screen but was careful not to cut the power. He tucked the console in the back of his kakis and went on the search with the other three.

  Damon heard the high-pitched beeping alarm of the monitor, which was Coop’s cue to turn it back on, tap it again, even hold it up to his ear like he was listening for signs of life, and then abruptly turn facing town and shield his eyes as the drone made a perfect landing in front of him, but coming from the opposite direction than the villa they were monitoring.

  He unclipped the wing element, folded it in half on tiny piano hinges, and stored it, the body and other peripheral items in his backpack. Before zipping the bag up, Damon noticed he’d hit an arrow button on his monitor, the faint acknowledgement of something accepted, slid the monitor into a padded sleeve, and then zipped it up.

  The four of them walked toward town. It was hard to tell where the road was at first, but then slowly a worn section of red clay dirt appeared, along with a small curb. The newly formed road T-boned into a busier roadway that wove back and forth, but generally headed toward town.

  On the way, Fredo stuck his thumb out along the two-lane freeway, and a pickup truck bursting at the seams with family members in the four-door cab, stopped and allowed them to ride in back with a goat that was tied to a hook mounted to the bed of the truck, and headed toward the Marina.

  The ride was less than five minutes, but they exchanged waves and wished each other well. The men traveled the rest of the way on foot, toward the smell of sea water and a particular restaurant that specialized in crab tacos and boasted the largest margaritas in town.

  It was their designated rendezvous point.

  The restaurant didn’t have any front doors, just a metal sliding grate that was pulled across the gaping entryway. Wicker tables and brightly colored chairs were dotted throughout the inside of the place, closer to the fans and air conditioners, but outside under grass palapas it was also very pleasant, and they could watch the population driving and walking past.

  Kyle’s group was slightly late, but eventually arrived.

  He sat close to Coop. “They’re working on the upload you sent them. Said the pictures were excellent.”

  Coop patted his backpack. “She does real good work.”

  “Did you learn anything?” Damon asked his LPO.

  “We have a minor wrinkle in that General Cortez is in residence at the present time. He didn’t see us, but, well I don�
��t have Kelly yet to work something out with her people but if he cooperates, I think the price will go up from before.”

  Damon had been told that on one mission, the General was awarded a bright cherry red Tesla at the border for his troubles in helping them with a mission. But the verbal promise Kyle made to him was also that one of his guys would marry the General’s daughter. Luckily none of the bachelors from that trip were with them this time, but Kyle explained that they were to give him a wide berth.

  “I’m not sure how he figures in here, but with the level of smuggling rising astronomically, it’s no accident he’s here, which means his prices are inflated should we need his protection.”

  “I’ve never met him,” sad Damon.

  “He’s not hard to forget, even without his red Tesla,” said T.J. “He likes his medals.”

  Kyle turned toward him. “He’s got a house just over the border, and that’s where the Tesla is stored. He also happens to have several beautiful daughters, and they would have to be to get any takers. I mean, who wants him for a father-in-law?”

  “I feel sorry for the girls. They didn’t ask to be born into that family,” said Danny.

  “You think he might know about Kelly and Ridgeway? Can that be exploited any way?” asked Tucker.

  “That’s a good question, and I don’t have an answer right now. Problem is, even though you two are native speakers, we don’t know who the movers in town are. A lot could have happened since we were here last, so who knows what side Cortez is on.” Kyle stood up to slip into the head.

  Coop asked Trace and Tucker, “Was he alone, or with his men?”

  “He was with a handful of non-uniforms. Fairly clean-cut. Could be military, or undercover, maybe cops, maybe government types. He’s got an angle somewhere,” answered Tucker. “He was definitely doing business.”

  “I say if we run into him, we say it was intentional, flatter him a bit. Let him know there’s something for him in it if he helps get her out alive. Them, I mean,” barked Fredo. “You gotta figure people promise things all the time. We’ve never not paid him.”

  “Only when none of us came back to marry his daughter,” said Armando coolly. He was wearing his shades even though the palapas threw everything into near darkness. It was sort of his signature, part of his uniform.

  Pitchers of beer and margaritas instantly appeared just as Kyle was returning from the rest room.

  “Your little bird did good, Coop. The Commander is pleased.”

  A group of very drunk American tourists, mostly college-aged men, passed by, attracting attention. “Dumb farts,” Damon mumbled under his breath.

  “Oh, come on, football jock like you—you never came down here for a good time, spring break and everything?” Fredo said.

  “What are you sayin’ Fredo? They’re probably not much older than I am. And as for college, well, take a gander. I don’t think anyone here except Kyle ever went to college.”

  Danny Begay raised his hand. “Semester at the J.C. and I even managed to pull off a one point oh G.P.A. before I got expelled.”

  “See?” Damon said, defiantly.

  “I got an AA degree in nutrition and weight training,” said Tucker.

  “Shrek, you’re the highest educated one of us all then!” said Kyle, hand-slapping him a five.

  “I took a cultural anthropology class at University of Hawaii just so my grandma would stop yelling at me. And the teacher was right off a sailboat from Tahiti, and she wanted to, so I taught her how to surf—for extra credit,” Jason shrugged, pretending to be embarrassed.

  “I rest my case, sir,” Damon bowed onto the table toward Fredo. The L.A. native wasn’t pleased. His eyes were getting rheumy. Both he and Armando had consumed almost one entire pitcher of margaritas by themselves. Damon could see something was eating away at Fredo and he thought perhaps he’d scratched something that was still bleeding, an old wound.

  He was going to say something back, but Coop kicked him under the table. Then Coop asked Fredo if he’d been able to pick up any stray conversations, anything of interest. Kyle added his approval.

  Fredo pressed his shoulders back, cracking his neck, then leaned forward, balancing his head on the tripod of his clasped hands over his elbows.

  “There’s a lot of stuff in the air. Lots of tourists, people who are not paying or tipping well, have little money, but sort of flaunt themselves at the local population, you know? They haggle and bargain, not because they need to, but just for the fun of it, but it deprives someone of money to feed their families.”

  Damon wondered if that was the source of the older SEAL’s frustrations. He suspected it was more than that.

  Armando added, “I’ve been hearing complaints, too. Like people handing servers tips, peanut change, really, and smiling, expecting them to be so grateful. A lot of people here because it’s a cheap place to go. There’s a lack of respect. I’ve never seen it that way before.”

  “Yeah, and they’re getting in the way. The locals are trying to make sure the tourists have a good time, and they’re worried. We all know where the big money is. I think if the cartels had it their way, they’d send all the tourists away so they wouldn’t have to worry about upsetting their uncle to the north,” said Fredo. He gave a quick look at Damon but didn’t hold eye contact. “Tension. I feel tension, Coop.”

  “Maybe that’s why the massacres and holdups of the vacationers,” added Kyle. “Maybe they’re trying to discourage or depress tourism a little bit.”

  “But this is the bread and butter for the unconnected people,” began Armando. “It’s just that now, it’s literally pennies compared to what they can make in the trafficking trade. I think some of them resent it.”

  “Well, it is their country,” added Damon. “I can see if they’d feel disrespected because many tourists don’t understand the culture, or they have a fictional concept of it. Something they’ve seen on TV.”

  “It’s more than that, Damon,” Fredo said softly. His tone was lightening, indicating to Damon he’d reconsidered his attitude, keeping some of his emotions in check. “It’s really more like they don’t feel they need our dollars anymore. Or not these little dollars. They’re earning hundreds of times more than most the people coming to visit. I don’t think they like hiding it.”

  “That’s dangerous,” whispered Kyle. “That’s being drunk with power.”

  “Nobody treated them benevolently. Why should they return the favor?” Armando said behind his shades. The comment made Damon shudder inside.

  The balance of power was indeed changing. It was dangerous, unpredictable and not likely to do anything but get worse over the coming months. Damon could see it wouldn’t end well. Society in this region was split between those who survived with the old ways, and the newcomers who brought loads of people, cash and attention to the area. He could see the two sides were headed for a collision course.

  “All the more reason to get them out now, because time is not on our side,” Damon added.

  “Most definitely,” Fredo said, nodding his head solemnly. “Most definitely.”

  Chapter 12

  Carlton Green called Martel before eight o’clock.

  “The attorney for the Gibbs, a Mr. Manny Risso, wants a meeting in my office this morning at ten. Can you make it?”

  “Sure,” she said. There wasn’t any choice in the matter. “This is just for the attorneys, right? The Gibbs won’t be present?”

  “Yes. He’s going to be meeting with me afterward. He thought it would be best to informally meet with you before he files anything.”

  “Who is he considering suing, or do you know?” she asked him, beginning to have her first annoyance of the day. She knew it was going to be tough. Part of her resented it.

  “Potentially against you, and/or the school district.”

  Martel read between the lines that Green was jockeying for position to be excluded from the proceedings. Gran Karmody had been right about her administrator. She
wanted to ask him why he wasn’t named but decided to drop it for now. But she had to tell him about Karmody.

  “Mr. Green, I’m going to be bringing in my attorney.”

  “Uh, well, this is informal, really. Nothing has been filed as of yet. He reassured me he was fact-finding.”

  “Then I definitely want my attorney there, since he’ll be asking me questions, Mr. Green. You know that’s the best way to do this. The union would want it that way too.”

  “You have an attorney from the union already? That’s kinda fast. They usually—”

  “No, I haven’t heard back from them. This gentleman will represent me, and only me. I assume the school district will use their counsel.”

  “Well, if it comes to that. Don’t you think that gives off a whiff of some wrongdoing here?” he asked. “If you just talked to him, maybe nothing further will happen. We certainly don’t want to escalate things.”

  Martel wanted to give him a smart retort, but knew it wasn’t wise. “I don’t think I did anything wrong. I was acting in the child’s best interest, which indirectly was for the benefit of the parents as well. But I’ll go over all that this morning. Let me get hold of my guy so he can be there on time.”

  “Suit yourself.”

  “Can I ask you why you won’t be in the meeting?”

  “We’ve managed to talk some, and he said he didn’t think it was necessary.”

  “Okay. That’s fine. I have no objection to that.” She hesitated to bring up her concern about class this morning, even though she’d already decided to ready herself for it just in case.

  “I can still go in, I mean, I’m prepared to teach this morning. I’ll just need coverage for the meeting, if you can arrange that. But no need for a sub—”

  “Already been arranged, Martel. Mr. Risso thought it would be a good defusing type of action, cooling down everyone’s tempers.”

  So, you’re still setting me up.

  Martel was feeling a little better about leaving in June.