“I don’t go anywhere in Mexico without protection,” Maria semi-lied.
The man removed the pistol and magazine from the holster and put them in his pocket.
“Bueno, señorita, come with me.” He turned and headed into the house.
They walked through the cool entryway with terracotta tiles and yellow stucco walls. The great room was huge, as big as the one in her father’s house. The pistolero slid open the glass doors and led Maria to the terrace overlooking the water.
“You wait here. El Patrón will be with you shortly.” He turned and left.
Maria turned towards the Sea of Cortez. Its deep-blue water looked so cool on a warm day. She knew appearances could be deceiving. While the water might be in the eighties now, she knew that by late summer, the temperature in the Sea would be over ninety.
A pod of whales breached and blew. She always loved whales, they seemed so powerful and free.
“Señorita, would you like some refreshments?” a short, dark-haired girl asked.
“Do you have té helado?” Maria asked. She didn’t want to drink anything alcoholic when dealing with the powerful drug lord.
“Sí, señorita, right away.” The girl disappeared into the house.
Maria wandered around the terrace. It had a tiled floor and a matching terrace on the floor above her. The walls were painted a cool yellow and potted plants were strewn about, giving it the feel of a tropical jungle.
She looked below her and was startled to see a tiger lying in the shade of a palm tree. She saw movement in the foliage beyond the tiger and strained to see three wild boars.
He has exotic tastes in pets.
The girl reappeared with a metal Tecaté tray with a cold glass of iced tea.
“Muchas gracias,” Maria said.
“Señorita Gonzales, what an honor to have you visit my home.” The deep voice came from the darkness of the house.
Maria turned to see El Pozolero walk onto the terrace. The girl quickly disappeared as he entered.
El Pozolero looked just like the media portrayed him. He might be a couple of years older than her father, a stocky but powerfully-built man with a growing pansa, what Americans would call a beer belly.
He had the trademark dark hair, dark eyes and dark skin of an indio. Wearing khaki slacks and a white guayabera shirt, he cleaned up much better than his pictures in the papers.
“Jefe,” Maria held out her hand.
Ignoring her hand, the dark man walked completely around Maria. She felt like she was a prize up for sale in a slave auction.
“Ricky did well. I haven’t seen you in at least twenty years. You’ve grown up to be a beautiful woman.”
Maria vaguely remembered Santiago Rodriquez visiting the rancho when she was little. He was nobody then, just another narco.
El Patron came to a stop in front of her. He leaned forward and took in her smell. “Ahh . . .”
“Jefe, I have come to talk about important matters . . .”
“No need to be hasty. The day is young. We can talk business anytime. Right now, I think we should get to know each other a little better. It is good to do business with someone you know, someone you like.” He waved his hand towards a padded chaise lounge.
Maria sat on the edge of the chaise for a moment, then made up her mind and swung her legs up, letting her skirt ride up slightly. Another lesson she learned from Catrina.
“Anita, tequila por favor,” he shouted into the house. “Let’s have a drink, get comfortable and learn about each other.”
The girl came running with a bottle of Herradura Añejo and two shot glasses. She set them on the table next to El Pozolero and quickly retreated.
“A little of Mexico’s finest?” he asked as he poured two shots of the amber liquid.
He’s trying to get me drunk. Well, we’ll see who’s the better man. I can drink that old fart under the table.
The man handed Maria a shot. “Salud, dinero y amour,” he said and upended his glass.
Maria looked him in the eye and did the same. “Salud.”
“You know, we don’t have to be enemies,” he said. “We could work together. With you as my queen, we could rule Mexico. Even the Sinaloa Cartel would tremble at our names.” He refilled the glasses.
“Señor Rodriquez, you are already married. You know the Church doesn’t allow divorces.”
“Who said anything about divorce?” El Pozolero got up and sat on the edge of Maria’s chase. “I keep my family and my business separate. My wife runs the home; you would be my business wife.” He reached out and touched her cheek with the back of his fingers.
Maria pulled her head back. “Jefe, I don’t have any intention of being your or anyone else’s queen. I am here to get my father back.”
She felt El Pozolero’s eyes undressing her. She wanted to fold her arms over her chest, put a pillow in her lap, but she had to be strong. To show any weakness would be a disaster. Like a dog, El Pozolero could smell fear.
Maria got up and walked to the railing.
She could feel El Pozolero’s eyes following her every move. She could feel them drilling into her back. She shook her long red hair in a coquettish fashion.
“Like they say in the old movies, we could make beautiful music together,” he said.
She felt the evil of his presence. “I am here for business. We will transact our business, then if things work out the way I want them, we can talk about music.”
The dark man got up and, like a lion stalking his prey, walked to Maria’s side. He was an inch or two shorter than her, and her six-inch platforms let her look down on the top of his head.
He put one arm around her waist. “All right. Let’s talk business if that’s what you want.”
He returned to the table and poured two more tequilas. He walked back to the railing and handed one to her. “¡Arriba, abajo, al centro, pa' dentro!” he said and tossed back his glass.
That’s three, she thought as she followed suit.
“Maria, may I call you Maria?” he asked.
She nodded her head ever so slightly.
“Maria, I invite you to my house and you come armed.” He placed her pistol on the terrace railing. “What kind of show of faith is this?”
“It is only prudent, Jefe.” She picked up the automatic and could tell by its weight that it wasn’t loaded. “I had to drive a long way to get here. There are many dangers on the road. You never know when you are going to run into bandidos.”
“Perhaps the most dangerous bandidos are close to home, no?” He took the pistol from her hand and returned it to his pocket. “You will get your little toy back when you leave.”
Maria rubbed her legs together and could feel the slight bump from the switchblade that she’d concealed underneath the ammunition magazine. She smiled.
“Sí, mi patrón.”
“Okay, you want to talk business; here are my conditions for releasing your father.”
“Is he alright? I want to see him. Now!”
El Pozolero poured another round of drinks. “You are getting ahead of yourself. First you must hear what you must do to get him back.”
Maria felt a shiver down her spine. “What is that?”
“First of all, Ricky will give me his Baja distribution channels. He can still use them, but I will charge a tax of ten percent for allowing him to continue using my new channels.”
Maria took a deep breath. It wasn’t going to get any better.
“Next, you will exchange places with him while he arranges the turnover. You will be my guest here. It is not so bad. I have the best cooks, everything you heart could desire. You can lounge by the pool all day and read your gossip magazines.”
“And if I refuse?”
“It’s really very simple.” El Pozolero slammed down another shot. “I always get what I want. Either you will make this deal with me or I will kill him. I will kill your entire family.” The short man once again ran his hands over her cheeks. “It wou
ld be such a shame to waste such beauty and talent.”
“I have to see him before I can agree to your terms. I need to consult with him.”
El Pozolero put his hands on her waist and pulled her towards him. “I’m sorry, querida that will not be possible. You will see him when you agree to my demands.”
She wrestled herself free. Dad must already be dead. “How do I know I can trust you? That you’ll let him go?”
“Am I not a man of honor? Am I not a man of my word? Ask anyone, El Pozolero’s word is gold.”
Yeah, fool’s gold.
“I have to talk with my mother before making such a decision. I will get back to you.” She turned and walked towards the house.
“Just one minute, mí amor. You forgot this.” He tossed her the little gun.
The tall pistolero led Maria back through the house and to her Thing. The guards had the gate open when she came down the driveway.
Maria just wanted to take a shower, to get the stench of El Pozolero off of her.
What do I do? He’s not going to release Dad. Tears came to her eyes. He’s probably already killed him.
Chapter 16
After a two-hour flight to San Diego, an hour’s stopover and two and a half more hours to Cabo, Ted was ready to be out of the big aluminum tube. It took forever to clear customs. A girl in front of him apparently had some sort of contraband in her bag. Too bad for her, she should know better.
When the customs agent finally got to him, Ted pushed the big red button. The light above it flashed red. What were the chances of having two people’s luggage searched back-to- back?
Ted got out of the line as requested and stepped over to the next table. There a lovely young woman in a blue uniform waited for him with plastic gloves on her hands.
“¿A donde vas?” She asked.
“La Paz,” Ted answered with his most sultry smile.
Her eyes seemed to glow.
“Will you be staying there long?”
“I am not sure. I am looking for a friend. It all depends on how long it takes to find him.”
The customs agent opened the zippers on Ted’s bag and ran her hands around the edges. “I am sure everything here is okay.” She smiled at him. “Where are you staying in La Paz?”
“El Delfin.”
“I know it. My uncle is a manager there. Maybe I’ll see you there.”
“I’d like that.” Ted smiled and zipped up his bag.
From the Customs area, Ted walked to the parking lot and looked for the Ecotours Baja bus. He’d played this game before and knew that the easiest and most economical way to get from Cabo to La Paz was on these big, comfortable buses.
The drive from Cabo to La Paz was as long as the flight from San Diego. It was late evening when the bus pulled into the station on the Malecon.
“Mil gracias,” Ted said to the driver as he handed him a five dollar bill. He stepped off the bus into the cool of the terminal.
Walking through the building, Ted emerged onto Calle Francisco Madero across from the Malecon. He stopped to take in the view.
A white beach ran for miles beyond the Malecon. Palm trees swayed in the gentle breeze. To his right he saw a fleet of pangas, the open fishing skiffs of Mexico, pulled up on the beach.
He turned left and walked a block down the street to El Delfin. The ground level was open to the sea air. Round pillars supported the rooms above. A huge restaurant filled most of the first floor. A norteño band played in one corner. Couples sat around the tables, gazing into each other’s eyes.
Ted walked to the front desk, registered and got his room key, a real live key, not an electronic card. He hauled his bag up to the second floor and found his room. Opening the drapes he had a magnificent view of the bay.
He sat on the bed and just breathed. Traveling was exhausting. The first thing he needed to do was change. The warm Baja weather was no place for jeans and a sweatshirt.
He needed to rent a car, then he had to call Maria’s mother.
The rental car was easy. The Fox office was down the street from el Delfin. A phone call, a short walk and Ted was driving a Jeep back to the hotel.
Now for the hard part. He picked up his cell phone and dialed Maria’s mother’s number.
After several rings, he heard a reluctant, “Bueno?”
“Hi, Mrs. Gonzales. This is Ted Higuera.”
“Oh, Ted. Hello. Before you ask, I still haven’t heard from her.”
“I know. You would have called me if you had. I’m calling about something else.”
“Oh . . .?”
“I’m here in La Paz. I’d like to come out to your ranch, to see you. You know, maybe if we put our heads together . . .”
“Uh . . . I . . . don’t think that’s a good idea. Now’s not a good time. We have a crowd of people here. I have to spend all my time looking after them. Maybe next week.”
‘Next week? How long do you think I’m going to be here?”
“I’m really sorry, Ted. I just can’t do it now.” She hung up the phone without a good bye.
That’s really strange. She sounded stressed. Something’s wrong back at the ranch.
****
The next morning, Ted drove his rented Jeep east on the main road out of town. Before he got to the end of the peninsula, he turned south on a badly-maintained two-lane road. After about a half hour, the road forked. He took the dirt road that went southeast.
The Jeep had no problems with the bumpy road, but Ted thought that his low slung BMW Z4 might be in trouble out here.
Following his sense of direction and what Maria told him about the family’s ranch, he continued on. The road made a sweeping curve around a big ranch house, a barn and some outbuildings. He slowed down and studied the spread.
No, that can’t be it. Maria said there was a fence around their place.
About a half hour farther down the road he came to a gate across the roadway. He stopped and got out to examine the lock. Before he could pull his lock-pick set out of his pocket, two vaqueros armed with AK-47s emerged from the brush.
“Alto,” one man said. “What is your business here?”
Ted didn’t like the way they were fingering the triggers on the assault rifles. “I’m here to see Señora Gonzales. I talked to her on the phone last night.”
The taller of the two men pulled a radio from his belt. “You wait here. I’ll call and see if she wants me to let you in.” He turned away from Ted and spoke over his two-way radio.
After a moment he turned back to Ted. “La Señora, she is no very happy, but she’s says to let you through.”
Ted climbed back into the Jeep while the guards opened the gate. About a quarter mile on, another gate was opened by another armed man. Ted waved as he passed through.
The dirt roads inside the gate were much better maintained than the road that got him here. As he drove, he noticed some gorgeous mansions on the hills above.
I’ll bet they have killer views. But who would live way out here? They must have some money to own those houses.
He drove on for another quarter mile or so, then came to an airfield. Crossing the landing strip, he saw a yellow stucco fence topped with broken glass, surrounding some big buildings.
The gate was open, but two men stood smoking, lounging against an old ox cart just inside. Ted had no doubt that there were automatic weapons nearby.
Why so much firepower, so many guards? Surely they don’t live their everyday lives surrounded by pistoleros, do they?
A short, skinny man in cowboy boots, blue jeans and a Stetson stepped into the roadway. Ted stopped the Jeep.
“Señor Higuera?” the man asked. “I will take you to the main house.” He climbed into the seat next to Ted.
Ted noticed he had a big automatic pistol strapped to his belt.
Once again, everybody’s armed.
“Turn right here, we will head up the hill to the house,” the man said.
Ted reached over and extended
his hand. “Me llamo Ted Higuera.”
The man took his hand. “I’m called Flaco.”
Ted could see why. Flaco meant skinny in Spanish.
The road twisted up the hill for a couple hundred yards, going back and forth in switchbacks. At the top was an opulent, Spanish style mansion.
Flaco indicated that Ted should park in the open area. A fountain surrounded by cactus took up the space between the main house and the guest house on the other side of the driveway.
Peacocks strolled around the grounds and a pack of dogs came charging to meet the new comers. A horse was tied to a railing surrounding a formal garden area lazily grazing on the grass. Near the horse was a beautifully-restored Volkswagen Thing.
You don’t see many of those things anymore.
“Ted, you came out anyway.”
Ted detected a hint of anger in Theresa’s voice.
“Mrs. Gonzales, it’s good to see you.”
A thin smile broke on Theresa’s face. “It’s good to see you too, Ted. Come on in. I just made a fresh pitcher of lemonade.” She turned and walked through the heavy oak double doors. “It’s so hard to find lemonade in this country. I have to make it from scratch. If we didn’t have lemon trees on the ranch, I don’t think I’d ever be able to find them either. Mexicans use limes for everything.”
Ted followed her into the house and took off his Mariners baseball cap. “Geez.” He had to catch his breath. “This place is amazing.” Through the front windows he could see the sea; the windows on the adjoining yard had a view of the pool and mountains beyond.
“Just how big is this ranch?” Ted asked. He was overwhelmed by the size of everything.
“About ten thousand acres.” Theresa walked through the living room to the dining room and the kitchen beyond.
Ted was curious about why they had such a small kitchen in such a large house. It was a tidy little corner of the house overlooking the formal garden. Ted saw llamas on the far side of the garden and two horsemen on the ridge.
There was an old-looking refrigerator and a four-burner gas stove.
It has to be propane. They can’t have natural gas way out here.
Across from the stove, facing the window were a sixties-looking kitchen sink and a Formica-topped counter.
The Cartel Strikes Back: The Ted Higuera Series, Book 5 Page 11