“We have to pull it off,” Tom said. “Those girls don’t know it, but we’re their only hope.”
The rest of the night was spent by the three groups getting to know each other. Tom huddled for a long time with Keller, Long, Van Sant, and the Alvarezes, putting together a rudimentary plan. Once the girls were located, the rescue team would have to cross into Nuevo Laredo by ones and twos and rendezvous somewhere on the other side of the border. Their weapons would be smuggled across, reversing the usual pattern in which contraband was smuggled from Mexico into the United States. Once the force was together and armed, it would strike at the stronghold of Los Lobos de la Noche and free the girls.
Getting out of Mexico would be tougher than getting in. Sonia Alvarez came up with a suggestion. If they could put their hands on three or four helicopters, she and some other pilots could be waiting north of the border for a signal from the rescuers. When they got it, they could lift off, home in directly on the spot, and airlift the girls and their rescuers the hell out of there.
Tom thought that was a good idea and said, “I’ll talk to Hiram Stackhouse again. If he doesn’t already own some helicopters, he’s bound to be able to put his hands on some.”
“Not little traffic copters,” Sonia said. “They’ve got to be big enough to carry quite a few people. And it would be better if they were armed with machine guns and a few missiles, but I suppose that might be a little too much to ask.”
“Yeah, maybe,” Tom said with a smile. “You never know with Stackhouse, though. When you have enough money, almost anything is possible.”
By the time he left the gun club, he was more optimistic about the proposed operation than he had been since he’d come up with the idea. What had seemed crazy and impossible at first glance might just be possible after all. Still a little crazy maybe ... but possible.
He headed for the hospital where he had left Bonnie earlier. When he got there, he found her in one of the small waiting areas on the floor where Kelly’s room was located.
“How is she?” Tom asked after they had hugged a greeting to each other.
“Not too bad,” Bonnie said. “Still a little sick to her stomach, and of course she’s still terribly worried about Laura. And she keeps telling me that she’s sorry for causing so much trouble.” Bonnie looked intently at Tom. “I don’t suppose you have any good news that might cheer her up.”
Without hesitating, he replied, “No, not yet. We’re still just talking about things. It would be better not to get Kelly’s hopes up.”
He didn’t like lying to his wife, even when he was just stretching the truth a little. The day had seen plenty of positive developments, but the whole plan could still fall through. Also, he didn’t want Bonnie to worry, and he knew she would if she was aware of how close to going into action he and the makeshift rescue force really were.
“Are you going to stay here tonight?”
Bonnie shook her head. “There’s really no need for me to. Kelly’s asleep and probably will be all night. The nurses are keeping a close eye on her. I thought we’d go back to her house and try to get some rest ourselves.”
“That sounds like a really good idea to me,” Tom said.
When they got back to the house, yet another FBI man was there, in case the phone rang and it was the kidnappers. Tom knew now that wasn’t going to happen. Too much time had passed. If there was going to be a ransom demand, it would have come by now. He was more convinced than ever that Keller was right about Guerrero’s plans for the prisoners.
How long did they have? Tom asked himself. How long before it would be too late?
He couldn’t answer that. All he could do was pray that they would be in time to save the girls.
After they had both showered and gotten into bed, Bonnie surprised him by snuggling next to him and letting her hand play over his bare chest. Tom turned toward her, and her mouth met his in a passionate kiss.
When she pulled back after a moment, he chuckled and said, “Have you forgotten that there’s a federal agent in the house?”
“I haven’t forgotten anything,” Bonnie said as her caresses continued and became more bold. “I don’t care. I want you to make love to me, Tom.”
They had always had a good sex life. Of course, the ardor had tapered off some from when they were younger, but their desire for each other was still strong—and there was definitely something to the idea that some things got better with practice. Slowly, they stripped each other’s nightclothes off, and Bonnie lay back and opened herself to her husband. Tom moved into position and entered her slowly. Her arms and legs folded around him, squeezing and drawing him in deeper.
“I love having you inside me,” she whispered into his ear as he launched into the timeless rhythm of their coupling. They made love at a steady, deliberate pace, but as their passion built Tom sensed an added urgency growing within Bonnie. Her movements became more fervent than usual, and the words she gasped out to urge him on held a deeper degree of emotion.
She was afraid, he realized suddenly. The stresses and strains of the past few days had built up inside her until they were almost unbearable. She was afraid for Laura and now, after what had happened this morning, she was afraid for Kelly, too.
And she knew, even though they hadn’t discussed it in detail, that he was going to be doing something highly dangerous, so she faced losing him, too. No wonder she was desperate for even a fleeting moment of reassurance and sought it in the affirmation of life represented by a husband and wife joining together in the most intimate way possible.
She cried out as they climaxed almost simultaneously. Tom didn’t care if the FBI tech overheard, either.
When it was over and both of them had crested the peak and started the long, slow slide down the other side, Tom cradled her face in his hands and showered kisses on it. She took hold of his wrists and held his hands there as the last spasms died away. It hadn’t been the galloping, earthshaking sex they had shared as newlyweds. It had been slower and much, much sweeter, and Tom knew he would never forget this moment as long as he lived.
“You come back to me, Tom Brannon,” Bonnie whispered. “I hope and pray that you bring Laura with you, but whatever else happens, you come back to me.”
“Bonnie, I—”
“No,” she said, “don’t promise. I know you can’t promise me what’s going to happen. Just do what I told you. Come back to me, because I love you.”
“I love you, too,” he said, and he bent his head to give her a long, lingering kiss.
It might have lasted even longer if the cell phone he had left on the bedside table hadn’t rung at that moment. He lifted his head and grated, “Damn it—”
“Answer it,” Bonnie said without hesitation. “It might be something important, something about Laura.”
Tom rolled off her and reached out to snag the phone. He opened it and brought it to his ear. “Yeah?”
“Brady Keller, Brannon,” said the voice on the other end. “You’d better come see me. I may have a line on where those girls are.”
Twenty-six
“I’m sorry, sir, it’s after visiting hours,” the nurse at the desk said as Tom stalked quickly into the lobby of the private hospital.
He paused. “I know, but it’s very important that I speak to Brady Keller. He called me and asked me to come.”
“I’m sorry,” the nurse said firmly. “We can’t make any exceptions. Our patients need their rest—”
“What I need is for you to let him in,” Keller said as he rolled his wheelchair around a corner and out of a hallway. The chair’s electric motor whirred softly as he used his left hand to work the throttle switch. He handled the chair quite well, especially considering that he had only been in it for a few months.
“Mr. Keller, you know we have rules—” the nurse began.
“Rules are made to be broken. Besides, this is a matter of life and death.”
The nurse looked like she doubted that, but after a mom
ent she shrugged and said, “All right. You can visit with your friend in the TV room. But be quiet about it. You know you’re not supposed to get all worked up about anything.”
Keller nodded to Tom and said, “Push this damn chair. Batteries’ charge is getting low. I’ll tell you where to go.”
Tom went behind the chair and took hold of the handles. Keller guided them down a hallway to a good-sized room with several sofas and armchairs scattered around it and a big-screen TV, now dark, on one wall. It was late enough so that most of the hospital’s patients had turned in for the night.
After parking Keller’s wheelchair so that it faced one of the armchairs, Tom sat down, too, and leaned forward eagerly. “What’s happened?” he asked.
“I got a call from one of those contacts I told you about,” Keller replied, keeping his voice down as the nurse had requested. “A guy in Nuevo Laredo. He said he could put me in touch with somebody who knows where the Night Wolves’ headquarters is, but whoever it is will only pass along the information in person. He doesn’t trust the phone.” Keller grimaced in disgust as he nodded toward his crippled body. “Unfortunately, I’m in no shape to go gallivanting across the border.”
“I’ll go,” Tom said without hesitation. “If you think the informant will talk to me, that is.”
“I asked him about that, and whether or not he thought his source would go for it. He was agreeable to setting up a meeting, but it would mean going over there by yourself. That’s a damned dangerous thing to do these days.”
“You think this might be a trap of some kind?”
“Not likely, but that doesn’t really matter. There are plenty of people in Nuevo Laredo who will cut your throat for whatever’s in your pockets. They don’t have to have anything to do with the Night Wolves to be dangerous.”
Tom understood that, but he didn’t see that he had any choice in the matter. “Is your informant reliable? Can he be trusted?”
“As much as anybody over there, I suppose. He’s never lied to me or tried to double-cross me before, as far as I know.”
“Then that’s good enough for me,” Tom said. “Just tell me where to find him and what to say when I get there.”
“You know anything about Nuevo Laredo?”
Tom shook his head. “Nothing except how to get to the international bridge.”
“All right. The place you’re looking for is called the Flamingo Bar. It’s on Calle de Hidalgo near the mercado. In the old days, it was kind of a rough part of town, but still a little touristy. Not anymore. Now there’s not anywhere in Nuevo Laredo that’s safe for tourists after dark, and mostly you wouldn’t want to go there during the day, either. Park on this side of the bridge and walk across. There’ll be cabs waiting at the other end.”
“Even this late?”
“Twenty-four hours a day. You see, no matter how bad it gets, there are still gringo college kids who think a night on the town in Nuevo Laredo is a rite of passage or some such shit. Hit a few bars and whorehouses, get drunk and get laid, and come back across the river to brag to all your friends about it. That’s the lucky ones. The unlucky ones wind up lying in an alley, knifed and robbed, or blindfolded and kidnapped, or locked up in the Nuevo Laredo jail. It’s a toss-up which of those things is worse.”
“You’re really making me look forward to it,” Tom said dryly.
“I want to make sure you know what you’re getting yourself into,” Keller snapped. “If you go over there, you might not come back.”
Tom was well aware of that, and yet he didn’t see that he had any choice. Keller’s contact might be the only trail to the girls that they would ever uncover.
“I’ll be careful,” he said. “What do I do when I get to the Flamingo Bar?”
“Go inside, order a beer, and ask for Pepe.”
“Sounds like something out of an old movie.”
“Yeah, well, they watch TV in Mexico, too. You see all sorts of shit in real life now that got started because somebody thought it would look cool in a movie, like holding a gun sideways while you shoot it.” Keller snorted in disgust. “That’s a good way to get hot brass right in your face, but try telling that to all the young punks who shoot that way now.”
“So Pepe’s your informant?”
“That’s right. If he decides to trust you, he’ll let you talk to his source. Either that or just pass along the information himself. I don’t really know how it’ll go once you’re there.”
“So I’ll wing it,” Tom said. “It won’t be the first time.”
“Yeah.” Keller slipped his left hand into the pocket of the robe he wore over his pajamas and looked around, carefully checking to make sure that he and Tom were alone. Then he pulled a gun from his pocket and held it out. “Take this. You may need it.”
Tom reached out and took the gun, a flat little .25 automatic with a short barrel. Accurate only at close range and not very powerful, it could still be an effective weapon in the hands of a man who knew how to use it. Tom made sure the safety was set, then tucked it into the back of his jeans so that the tail of his shirt hung over it.
“I don’t have a concealed-carry permit for Texas,” he said.
“That’s all right, the gun’s not registered anyway. You’ll already be in trouble if the cops pick you up on this side of the border. But if you need it over there in Nuevo Laredo, you’ll be glad you took the risk.”
Tom didn’t doubt that. Just the hard reality of the gun against the small of his back made him feel a little better about the prospect of venturing south of the border.
He put his hands on his knees. “Anything else you need to tell me?”
“Keep an eye on your cabdriver. The Flamingo is four blocks south of the bridge and then two blocks east. If your driver starts taking you some other way and tells you it’s a shortcut, odds are he plans to deliver you to kidnappers. Put the gun against his head and tell him you’ll blow his brains out if he doesn’t take you where he’s supposed to. Watch what the fare is, too. They overcharge like sons of bitches over there.”
Tom smiled grimly as he pushed himself to his feet. Somehow the prospect of being overcharged didn’t seem as daunting as being kidnapped.
“Thanks,” he said to Keller. “And I mean thanks for everything. Without your help we wouldn’t stand a chance of pulling this off.”
“Yeah, well, you only stand a slim chance of it anyway. Sometimes, though, you’ve just got to roll the dice.” Tom started behind the chair, but Keller waved him away. “Go on, Pepe’s waiting for you. I can get back to my room.”
Tom nodded and left him there, sitting in front of the TV with its big, blank screen. He thought he saw a look of longing in Keller’s good eye, as if the man wanted to get up out of that chair and follow him, even though it would mean going into danger.
Once he got in the car, Tom debated with himself whether or not to call Bonnie and tell her what was going on. She knew that Keller had some sort of lead to the girls’ whereabouts, but since Tom hadn’t known before-hand that he would have to cross the border to get it, neither did she.
She wouldn’t like the fact that he had kept her in the dark, but it might be better that way, he decided. If he called her now and told her where he was going, she would worry like crazy until he got back. If he didn’t tell her about it until it was over and done with, he would save her some anxiety.
But if he never came back, he would have missed his chance to say good-bye to her... .
He shoved that thought out of his brain. It was the sort of negative thinking he didn’t need right now. He was going to come back, and when he did, he would know where the kidnapped girls were being held.
With that decision made, he drove toward downtown Laredo and International Bridge #1, the main pedestrian bridge and point of entry to Nuevo Laredo.
There were several parking lots at the northern end of the bridge. They were mostly empty, and that told Tom just how much the current state of near-lawlessness in Nuevo Laredo
had affected the tourist industry. In better times, Nuevo Laredo would have had a booming nightlife fueled primarily by visitors from north of the border. He parked the rental car and locked it, then started across the long, dimly lit span. A small Mexican customs office and guard station waited at the far end, but the bored-looking officer on duty just collected the twenty-five-cent toll and waved Tom on.
It was about ten-thirty by now. Some of the restaurants and bars were still open along the main drag just south of the bridge, but the little stores and shops along the street were closed. A street sign told Tom that he was on Avenida Guerrero, and his mouth quirked in a humorless smile at the irony. He was confident that the street hadn’t been named after Colonel Alfonso Guerrero—but these days the leader of Los Lobos de la Noche was probably the most important man in Nuevo Laredo. Certainly the most feared.
Just as Brady Keller had predicted, several taxicabs sat parked at the curb, with their drivers leaning against their fenders. The men straightened as Tom approached, and one of them called in heavily accented English, “Hey, buddy, you need a ride?”
“Don’ go with him,” another cabbie said quickly. “His cab stinks like goat shit. I got your cab right here, amigo.” He slapped a hand against the fender of a thirty-year-old Dodge.
The other cabbies called to Tom, as well, trying to attract his business. He didn’t figure any of them were more trustworthy than the others, so he settled for the first one who had accosted him, prompting the others to mutter insults in Spanish. Tom ignored them as he got in the back and the grinning driver slid behind the wheel. He was a stocky man about thirty with a toothpick clenched between his teeth.
“Where you wanna go, buddy? You wanna drink or some pussy? I know plenty of good places, get you anything you want, anything at all.”
“The Flamingo Bar,” Tom said.
The driver turned halfway around in his seat and shook his head. “Oh, no, you don’ wanna go there! Tha’s a bad place, they’ll rip you off really bad, man. You jus’ let me take you to a place I know, you’ll get your rocks off really good—”
Invasion Usa: Border War Page 17