Ted scooted forward in his chair. “What do you have?”
“First of all, Maria’s father, Ricky, is in a shady business.”
“I know about that. Maria told me he ships marijuana to the U.S.”
“Did she also tell you that he has one of the largest pot smuggling operations in the world?”
Ted just stared at his friend.
Why wouldn’t Maria tell me that?
“He has thousands of employees. He has an arsenal at his disposal. He is not a ruthless killer like El Pozolero, but he won’t hesitate to eliminate anyone standing against him.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“The word is that with Ricky gone, his organization is headless. With no one to lead it, the other cartels are circling, hoping to pick it off.”
Rudi finished his beer and raised the bottle to the bartender.
“There is going to be bloodshed. A war. This is not a good place for you to be. The smartest thing you and your girlfriend can do is get out of the country.”
Ted rubbed the heels of his hands against his eyes.
“She won’t leave and I can’t leave her.”
“Do you know what you’re getting into? It’s already started. We had a drive-by shooting last week. I know that the news story released about the shoot-out by the boatyard was pure mierda. The cartels tell the papers what they can publish. They wanted it to look like the Sinaloa cartel had a shoot-out with the police. I know better.”
The bartender came to the table with two new beers.
“What I heard is that our lovely little Miss Maria had a shoot-out with the police. She was aided by some gringo. You wouldn’t know who that can be, would you?”
“We were ambushed, Rudi. We weren’t looking for a fight.”
“The takeaway here is that El Pozolero wants your girlfriend dead. You’re high on his hit list as well. You can’t match his resources. You have to get out.”
Ted leaned back in his chair. “El Pozolero is a barbarian. He has to be stopped. The Mexican justice system is so corrupt they’ll never get him.”
“Ted, get a grip. You think you can do what the Federales can’t?”
“I’m not bound by their laws. I don’t have to follow their rules.”
Rudolfo chuckled. “Do you hear yourself? Do you think Roberto Lazaro is bound by laws? More crooked police and narcos have disappeared than I can count. You know those drive-by shootings you read about? At least half of them are the police. They’re simply eliminating narcos they can’t bring to trial.”
Ted looked out the open front of the bar towards the bay. “I have to do something. I can’t just leave her here to die.”
“La cuenta, por favor,” Rudolfo shouted to the bartender. “El Pozolero is badly wounded. While he was in prison, his organization fell apart. He is now trying to rebuild it, but the Sinaloa Cartel has taken over some of his most prized territory. There’ll be a war for it, but no one knows if he’ll get it back. He’s hedging his bet, trying to find other ways to ship his drugs out of Mexico. That’s where Ricky’s organization comes in. He has to have it.”
“I hate drugs.” Ted pounded his fist on the table. “I wish all the drug lords would just drop over dead, but I can’t abandon Maria. I have to go with the lesser devil.”
“Well, my friend.” Rudolfo put his hand over Ted’s. “Be careful. You know that El Pozolero plays rough.
****
Ted parked his Jeep in the parking garage of Maria’s condo. He took the elevator to her floor. Stepping out of the elevator, he instantly knew something was wrong.
Bullet holes pockmarked the cement walls.
He turned the corner to Maria’s unit and froze. Nacho and José lay on the floor in pools of blood. He bent over each, checking their pulses. They were both gone.
The door to Maria’s unit was open. The place was trashed. There had been a fight there. Furniture was overturned; lamps and vases lay scattered on the floor, the mirror over the side table in the entryway was shattered.
His heart stopped. A pool of blood lay on the floor by the door.
Maria! Oh my God. What to do?
It was obvious that El Pozolero had Maria. But where? Was she alive or dead?
He heard a soft groaning from the kitchen. He dashed over and found Popo lying on the floor, blood oozing from a hole in his shoulder.
A vet, I have to get him to a vet.
He pulled a kitchen towel from the rack and pushed it against the dog’s wound.
Turning back to Popo, Ted pondered on what to do.
I can’t carry him, he’s too big. Will the vet make a house call?
He remembered Maria kept a magnetic business card for a pet hospital on her refrigerator.
He grabbed the card and dialed the number.
“Hospital de Mascotas,” the voice said.
“Hi. I have a Great Dane. He’s been shot. He’s too big for me to move by myself. Can you send someone to pick him up?”
“I’m sorry, señor. We don’t have anyone who can help you. Can’t you find a friend or neighbor to help you? It sounds like you need to get him here fast.”
Ted hung-up and looked around. What to do?
He finally got a blanket from the bed, slid Popo unto it and dragged him to the elevator.
Sitting in the hospital waiting room, Ted knew he couldn’t handle this by himself. He couldn’t call the police, they probably kidnapped her. Lazaro already told him that he couldn’t help.
That only left one person.
He reached for his cell phone and dialed.
“Cat. Ted. I’m in trouble. I need your help.”
“Higuera. What the hell’s going on down there?
He took a deep breath. “Maria’s family are not who I thought they were. They’re drug runners. They’re in a war with the Baja Cartel. Her father’s been killed. Now Maria is missing.”
“Missing? How long?”
“I don’t know. She was there when I left and when I got back her apartments in ruins, both of her bodyguards dead.”
“Christ, Higuera, where are you?”
“In La Paz. Maria has a condo here and her family has a ranch not far away.”
“Okay, let me get my stuff together and I’ll head down.”
There was a pause as Catrina thought. “We’re going to need weapons. Those guys play for keeps. I’m not sure if I can smuggle them across the border in my Explorer.”
“Don’t worry about it. Maria’s dad has a whole arsenal here, enough to arm a National Guard brigade.”
“Sounds like he was expecting trouble.”
“Cat, call Chris. We’re gonna need him too.”
Chapter 28
Catrina pulled her Ford Explorer to the curb in front of Chris’s 1920’s Craftsman-style house in the University District. Harry bought this house for Chris when he was going to school, now it showed signs of prosperity.
The once brown lawn was lush and manicured. The unruly plantings along the fence were trimmed and deadheaded. A myriad of flowers bloomed at the edge of the lawn and a new roof graced the house.
Catrina hadn’t been to Chris’s house since that long-ago Thanksgiving when she finally admitted her feelings for Ted. There was a lot of water under the bridge since then.
Taking the three steps up the concrete walkway to the house, she climbed to the porch and knocked on the door.
“Cat, oh, you’re here early.” Ted’s little sister, Hope, opened the door.
Catrina and Hope bonded in their previous adventure in Mexico. The short, dark young woman was a beauty. With waist-length ebony hair and bedroom brown eyes, no wonder Chris fell for her.
“I hope that’s not a problem.”
“Not at all, come in.” Hope threw her arms around Catrina in a big hug. “Chris, Cat’s here,” she yelled up the stairs.
“Almost ready,” Chris called back from the top of the stairs. “Let me lock up.” He descended the stairs to the platform halfway down bump
ing his carry-on behind him. At the halfway point, he gave up, collapsed the handle and carried it the rest of the way.
Hope’s much less expensive bag stood by the door.
“I have a small cooler and a bag of snacks.” Hope turned and walked towards the kitchen. “I hope you like breakfast burritos.”
“I love anything that comes out of your kitchen,” Catrina replied. Hope ran one of the most successful, innovative Mexican restaurants in Seattle.
“I’ll carry the bags out,” Chris said, as he grabbed Hope’s backpack.
“Hope.” Catrina followed her into the kitchen. “Are you sure this is a good idea? You coming with us, I mean. The last time . . .”
“The last time I was a big help.”
Catrina had to acknowledge that point. She served as a translator for Catrina and Chris, she was an excellent actress when they were searching for her father and brother.
“I know, but your brother . . .
“My brother nothing. He’s not my father, my boss. I go where I want to go.” Anger flashed in Hope’s eyes. “Sure, he’s going to be mad at first, but he’ll get over it. I’ll probably have to pull his ass out of the fire again.”
“You packing?” Catrina asked.
Hope patted her bra holster. “Don’t leave home without it.” She carried a Beretta PX4, a light ladies purse gun with the stopping power of Beretta’s much larger Storm.
Catrina chuckled. No one would ever know that her friend was concealing a firearm. “How about your knives?”
Hope had proved exceptionally adept at throwing her stainless steel knives.
“A girl’s gotta look out for herself.” Hope lifted her skirt to reveal a holster strapped to her thigh with six razor sharp knives in it.
“You know, you won’t get those past customs. I even left my weapons home.”
“I’ve been through the border crossing at TJ so many times, I’ve lost count. They won’t search the car. When you go through, they give you a red light or a green light. If it’s green, you just drive through. If it’s red, you have to pull over, but if you flirt with the carbónes a little, they wouldn’t see an elephant in your backseat. Besides, they never do a body search.”
“Your funeral,” Catrina replied.
“So, why are we driving?” Hope asked. “It’s almost twenty-five-hundred miles. It’s much faster to fly.”
“Yeah, but I want the bat mobile there with me in case we get into any trouble.”
“You guys ready to roll yet?” Chris asked as he came back into the house.
“Let me just grab the thermos of coffee.” Hope stepped back into the kitchen.
Chris carried the cooler and bag of goodies to Catrina’s burgundy Explorer. Ted always called it the “bat mobile.” Catrina had the vehicle specially built by the firm that designs presidential limousines. It would take an anti-tank gun to penetrate the armor and bullet-proof glass. The wheels had steel disks so it could keep going if the tires were shot out. Inside were several secret locking compartments and Ted had upgraded the security system to state of the art. He also installed a voice-activated electronics system that could do everything from making a phone call to hacking into an orbiting spy satellite.
“Who’s choosing the tunes first?” Chris asked as he settled into the comfortable white leather seat.
“I already have the Stones in.” Catrina was a classic rock girl.
“I hope you didn’t bring any of your salsa,” he said to Hope, and punched her lightly on the shoulder.
“You’re so white you don’t know reggae from rancheros.”
Chapter 29
Ted drove slowly up Calle Republica, a quiet residential street. He left the touristy Malecon behind him and the street turned from paved to a dirt road.
The houses on each side of the street were mostly well maintained. All of them had walls up to the street. Many had wide wrought iron gates so Ted could see what was going on behind the fences.
A woman hung laundry on a clothesline strung between two palm trees. A boy played with a pair of dogs. An old man sat in a lawn chair quietly reading a newspaper. Normal, everyday life in La Paz.
Somewhere here, he had to find a narco. Someone who knew about El Pozolero and who Ted could convince to talk.
He had no experience in interrogating prisoners, although he had been victim of a couple of unpleasant interrogations himself. On the plus side, he met a former seal who was an expert interrogator last fall and had a handle on some of the finer techniques.
But, could he do it? Could he actually cause that kind of pain in another human being?
It doesn’t matter. They’re on the other side. They have Maria. I’ll do anything I have to get her back.
The Jeep hit a huge chuck hole and bounced Ted’s head off of the canopy. He focused on the task at hand.
He spent several nights in the various cantinas and night spots around town. If there were any narcos there, he sure couldn’t pick them out. There had to be some way to get a lead, to learn something useful while he waited for Chris and Cat.
Was he in over his head? Chris had been with him through the gun fight with terrorists up in Canada and his war on the drug cartels in Juarez. He was smart, strong, quick thinking and he didn’t panic.
Catrina was something else. She was a machine. He first met her when a gang of skin heads was beating the living shit out of him. She took them on and had two of them on the ground before they knew what was happening. She was one wicked woman.
But even with their help, was it enough? These cartels had billions of dollars at their disposal, hundreds, if not thousands, of soldiers. What could three puny gringos do against an army?
Ted’s cell phone buzzed.
“Higuera here.” He pulled his Jeep over to the side of the road to talk.
“Amigo, this is Ricardo Lazaro.”
“Jefe! Good to hear from you.
Even though the Jeep had a canopy over it, when it was stopped, the heat was stifling. Summer came early to La Paz this year.
“Señor Higuera, I have some news for you.”
“Yeah! You find out something about Maria?”
“Sadly, no. But I did learn that there is a price on your head. El Pozolero will pay anyone who brings him your head a million pesos. He must want you very badly.”
“Yeah, I heard about it. I guess I pissed him off.” Ted reached in his cooler and grabbed a bottle of water. “But why does he want me so badly? He already has Maria, at least I think he does. What good am I going to do for him?”
“My friend, you have a reputation. You killed Yves Bouhier, he remembers that.”
Yves Bouhier was the arms dealer that supplied the al-Qaeda cell in Canada with the anti-ship missile they planned to destroy the cruise ship with. Then he lured Ted and Chris to Mexico to get revenge for being badly burned when the Canadian Air Force sunk his yacht.
“You were also responsible for the killing of El Lobo and El Pozolero’s capture. He does not like you very much.”
“I can’t let him get away with this. I have to find Maria.”
“Ted, it would be best if you left Mexico. Let us handle this. I have my best men on it. We will find your sweetheart. Give us time.”
“I’m sorry, General, time is the one thing I don’t have. If El Pozolero has her, he won’t keep her alive for long.”
“You know I can’t condone any of your unilateral actions. Just be careful, my friend.”
****
El Pelícano was one of the bars known to be owned by the Baja Cartel. Ted surely would find some narcos there. The only problem was that the joint would be full of them. How would he isolate one man from the herd so he could work on him?
As it turned out, it wasn’t hard. The dive bar was a couple blocks up from the Malecon on Calle 5 de Mayo in the heart of downtown La Paz. There were no windows opening on the street and the door looked like it belonged on a walk-in freezer.
The young PI checked to make sure his G
lock 21 was in his waistband, then pulled on the door handle. Going from the bright sunlight outside to the semi-dark inside left Ted virtually blind.
He felt smooth hands gliding over his shoulder before he was aware the woman was standing next to him.
“Hi, vaquero,” she said. “What can I help you with?”
Ted’s eyes began to adjust to the dim light. She was tiny, no more than four foot ten. She had the expected dark skin, black hair and deep brown eyes. Or at least they looked brown in the dark. “I’m just looking for a cerveza.’
“Let me get you a table.”
“No thanks, I’ll just sit at the bar.”
Ted left the tiny woman and pulled up a stool.
“Corona,” he told the bartender.
A short, dark man in a white linen suit and a white guayabera shirt sat at the other end of the bar. His scared face displayed a trace of curiosity at Ted’s presence.
“Señor, you are lost?”
“No.” Ted took a sip from his bottle. “Just need a cold one.”
“You are not from here, sí?”
Ted picked up his bottle and walked a couple of steps down the bar. “No. I’m Americano.”
The man nodded his head towards the seat next to him. “What brings a rich Americano to El Pelícano?”
Ted looked around, conspiratorially. “I’m looking for new friends. You know, to make a connection.”
The man upended his shot of tequila. “Come with me. I think we can talk.”
Ted was not a tall man, but when the man from the bar stood next to him, he seemed positively diminutive. “The call me El Abalón,” the man said.
“The abalone?” Ted questioned. “Why do they call you that?”
El Abalón” smiled. “It is because I have a hard shell, but inside, I am filled with many colors.”
Ted chewed on that while the short man led him to a door at the back of the bar.
“Maybe we can help each other, gringo,” he said as he opened the door.
The room they entered was a store room. Boxes of liquor filled the shelves against the wall. Cases of beer were stacked on the floor. An old, battered table served as a desk at the back of the room.
The Cartel Strikes Back: The Ted Higuera Series, Book 5 Page 18