Leandra held her ankle and winced. ‘It’s starting to swell. It could be broken.’
‘Hopefully we’ll find a clinic.’
Over at the pickup, I yanked the door open and climbed onto the driver’s seat, setting my rifle on the passenger seat; I stowed the other rifle under the seat. I fumbled to insert the key into the ignition, but it didn’t fit. My eyes darted around the dash and I pulled down the sun visor, hoping to find a spare key.
I jumped when Leandra screamed.
‘Looking for these, American?’ Squat asked, dangling a set of car keys.
Leandra’s face appeared in the mirror as he dragged her to her feet by the hair. ‘Put your hands where I can see them, or she dies. Move out of the pickup real slow.’
My automatic might just as well have been the other side of the field, rather than sitting next to me.
‘I said, out of the pickup and keep your hands where I can see them – now. Then move to the tailgate.’
Slipping out of the driver’s seat, I walked to the tailgate and stood facing him, shaking with rage. Squat grinned, sidestepped over to Leandra’s gun lying on the grass, and toe-poked it out of reach.
‘Perez isn’t going to like it if we’re dead. The girl’s a ticket to his source of your cocaine,’ I said.
‘Well, now, you’re assuming I’ll own up to killing you and your girlfriend, here.’
His reply confirmed what I hoped. The news of Perez’s death hadn’t reached him. ‘Oh, I think he’ll find out. Can you gamble on him not knowing?’
By his expression, he was calculating the odds. He pulled at Leandra’s hair, tilting her head to one side and rasped his tongue along her neck. Her face contorted and she scrunched her eyes closed.
‘Get off me, you animal.’
‘I’ll show you an animal.’
Releasing her hair, he mauled at her breast. The young boy looked at Squat, horrified.
‘No harm in tasting the goods before I send you back.’
He grabbed her hair again. Infuriated, it took all my willpower not to lunge at him. But someone else was more incensed and less restrained. The boy grabbed Squat’s leg and took a bite at his calf. Squat grimaced, let go of Leandra’s hair and smashed the butt of his rifle into the boy’s head. Then Squat showed the boy the barrel end of his automatic rifle.
Leandra dug her elbow into Squat’s potbelly, to the sound of an empty chamber as he squeezed the trigger.
I was already on him, tearing Leandra to one side. It was too late. Squat sideswiped and smashed the stock of his rifle into Leandra’s temple and stepped back. She screamed long and loud and fell to the ground. Surging forward, I slipped my leg between and behind his legs as both my palms smashed into his upper chest, sending him crashing to the ground. In an attempt to subdue him, I dove on top of him. He suckered me in one fluid movement, lifting a leg, digging his boot into my midriff and launched me over him. Rolling over, I jumped to my feet. For someone so overweight, his agility surprised me as he too sprang to his feet, drawing his machete. I pulled out my knife and we circled. He glanced away and, following his line of sight, I could see Leandra’s gun lying by the gate.
Our eyes followed each other and I cursed inwardly at my height. His low centre of gravity made him an awkward opponent. Not only that, but his blade gave him the reach advantage. Taking deep breaths, I emptied my mind and concentrated on his every move and body language.
We continued to circle and jab at fresh air. Only one of us was going to come out of this alive.
Chapter 41
Unarmed Combat
If it weren’t for Leandra, lying unconscious in the dirt, I would have tried to run. I doubted Squat would have the stamina to catch me. Nevertheless, over a short distance, I didn’t think either of us would chance going for the gun lying by the gate. Toxic fumes drifted around us, carried by the smoke from the fire, smarting in my eyes and leaving a bad taste in my throat. Holding the knife didn’t give me any comfort; it was more of an encumbrance. I was more skilled at defending against a weapon in unarmed combat, than in using a knife.
He made to lunge at me with the machete, and I stepped out of reach. Still, his blade swished past my nose, uncomfortably close. We continued to circle. His attempt at a chop was telegraphed, and I avoided it. Without the knife, I could have stepped into his movement, throwing him off balance. I threw the knife at him, but the handle struck his arm as he turned sideways and it fell lamely to the ground.
‘Very brave, but you’re making it easy for me, American.’
‘That’s how you like it, isn’t it – defenceless victims, like the family back at the farm and Miguel?’
‘Why should I care? None of you mean anything to me.’
Squat didn’t need to tell me; I already knew the psyche of bullies and he was as psychopathic as they came. He struck again, with a forceful sweep from left to right. With little room to spare, I drew my stomach backward to avoid the slash of the cutting edge. The momentum of the sweep had him drawing his arm around his body, pulling the blade out of harm’s way. Changing my stance, one foot in front of the other, before he had time to draw back his blade, I launched a kick at his arm. The blow connected my boot full on with his biceps. Squat lost his balance, stumbled, and fell backward. I stepped back. He still had control of his blade, and he scrambled to his feet.
‘Brave? You don’t know the meaning of the word. Better to be who I am than to be the coward that you are. You should try being a man,’ I said. ‘Why don’t you drop the machete while you can and surrender?’
He gritted his teeth and his complexion darkened as we continued to circle.
‘Surrender! I’ll show you who’s a coward when I part your head from your shoulders, American.’
‘You’re all talk, like all the thugs I’ve ever come across. I’m ten times the man you’ll ever be. I’ve seen your dick, remember. You’re nothing but a fat tub of lard. I bet your wife has to masturbate to a picture of some pop star.’
The jibes had the desired effect as he tore toward me growling. Swinging wildly, holding his machete aloft, he committed to a downward strike. I sidestepped, chopping him in the nape of the neck as his momentum took him past me. He tripped, with his machete digging into the dirt. I delivered a solid kick to his butt, and he sprawled headlong on the ground, leaving his machete behind.
‘Sanchez, grab the gun,’ Squat said.
His cry distracted me. In my peripheral vision, Sanchez stooped to pick up the gun. We both dove for the machete. Squat beat me to the handle. Grasping his hands in mine, I forced the blade further into the soil as he fought to extract it. Our heads clashed, like rutting bulls using each other’s foreheads for purchase, both of us gritting our teeth and growling at the exertion.
Leandra screamed out, ‘Sanchez, no, pass the gun to me.’
Squat drew back his head and butted, leaving me stunned. He ripped the machete from my grasp. Rising onto his knees, he raised the blade. I expected him to strike, but his body froze like a snapshot, his frame held rigid to the sound of a gunshot. His vest tore apart as a bullet entered his shoulder and he flinched, his eyes bulging. A second bullet hit his arm and he dropped the machete. His arms fell limp to his side and his eyes glazed over. A third shot rang out and his body jerked as a round sunk into his gut.
‘Who’s going to hell now?’ I growled and rolled away as he keeled over and hit the dirt with a thud.
I turned, expecting to see Leandra holding the gun. Instead, the boy dropped to his knees next to Leandra, holding the gun with both hands. The Glock fell from his grasp and he let go, as if he’d been holding a hot coal. Leandra sat upright and placed an arm around Sanchez’s shoulder. He began to sob and mumble, burying his head in her breasts.
‘What’s he saying?’ I asked. I sprang to my feet and walked over to pick up my knife and the pickup truck keys.
‘He’s saying that Squat can’t hurt him or his mom, or me anymore.’
Standing between Squat
’s corpse and the two of them, all I wanted to do was to get the hell out of there and alert the authorities.
Leandra screamed. ‘Look out!’
I turned, horrified to see Squat on one knee. He used his machete as a lever so he could stand. He was unsteady on his feet, his shattered left arm hanging by his side.
‘Come on, pussycat, let’s finish this. I should have killed you along with that family.’
He stumbled toward me and raised the machete. A vision of him putting that final shot into the twitching body of the child flashed through my mind. I rushed to him, grabbed his wrist as he attempted to strike, and dug my knife into his belly just below his rib cage, thrusting upward and twisting the handle, until the hilt prevented the blade from penetrating further.
He fell backward and I landed on top of him.
‘See you in hell,’ he moaned.
‘I doubt it,’ I replied through gritted teeth.
In a final life-and-death struggle, he gurgled and blood trickled through his lips. His chest twitched, rising and then falling as a final exhale escaped his mouth. His body relaxed and I rolled off him in time to hear the hiss of his bladder emptying. When I took hold of his limp wrist, I found no pulse. I let go, as if releasing a piece of garbage.
Finally, we were free.
‘Let’s get the hell out of here before anything else crawls out of the ashes,’ I said.
My entire body trembled. Leandra’s temple was gashed and already swollen. I walked over and picked up the gun, slipping it into my belt. The boy was still snivelling when I tapped him on the shoulder and signalled for him to stand.
‘Sanchez, por favor, ayudar,’ I said.
He did as I asked and helped me lift Leandra to her feet.
‘You’ll have to carry me to the pickup,’ Leandra said, her voice weak, and she winced at her pain.
I nodded, still dazed from the experience. Lifting her into my arms, I carried her to the pickup. The boy opened the rear door and I eased her onto the back seat. Sanchez followed Leandra onto the seat and snuggled up to her, and I closed the door. My hands still trembled as I climbed onto the driver’s seat and gripped the steering wheel, taking a moment to gather some composure. I glanced over at where Squat was lying, the knife buried to the hilt in his body. Avenging the deaths of Leila and her family gave me little comfort, though some degree of closure. No amount of revenge could bring them back.
I pushed my back into the seat, shook my head, and shuddered.
‘You okay back there?’ I asked, as I turned the key in the ignition and fired up the engine.
‘Just get us away from here. I feel like crap, but I’ll mend,’ Leandra said.
I doubted anything could go wrong now. But something at the back of my mind told me not to be complacent. I’d been wrong before.
Chapter 42
Phone Call Home
I drove out the gate and turned right along the dirt road, veering past the corpse of Squat’s sidekick and along to where we had thrown the bags into the ditch. When I jammed the brake pedal, the vehicle stopped. The top of the crop duster was visible above the hedgerow. My fingers still trembled as I pulled on the door handle and elbowed it open.
I made my way through the hedgerow and into the ditch to retrieve the bags. The stench from the fire engulfed me and with an already fluttering stomach, I threw up. Swiping my arm over my mouth, I held my breath and wriggled back through the hedgerow, then dashed to the pickup. Not wasting time, I threw the bags into the footwell on the passenger side and eased onto the driver’s seat. With tyres spinning, we set off and sped along the road. Once away from the scene, I wound down the window, relieved by the inrush of fresh air.
It must have taken twenty minutes for the trembles to subside. Leandra and the boy exchanged words during the ride, but my mind was elsewhere, so I didn’t even attempt to translate what they were saying.
We came to an unsigned junction. Sanchez leaned over my seat and pointed left.
We drove on for some time before we saw a road sign as we approached another junction. After a left turn, it was maybe a thirty-minute drive to the border. Right and we’d be heading toward Leila’s home and Squat’s farm. I stopped the pickup and pulled over. With millions in hundred-dollar bills in the truck, me armed and wearing a blood-stained uniform, not to mention that neither Leandra nor I had documents, I felt wildly uneasy. I thought it would be better to call DEA headquarters and ask them to contact their counterparts in Mexico and arrange an extraction.
‘What’s wrong?’ Leandra asked.
‘We need to find a telephone.’
‘Sanchez is saying we’re nearing his home and he wants his mom. Drop him off first and then we can find one.’
‘We can’t go too near. Last time I was there, there was a dozen of Squat’s gang at the farm, and they’ll be heavily armed.’
My stomach tightened as I turned right, then accelerated and headed along the road toward Leila’s home.
‘Ask him where the nearest village is where we can get to a pay phone.’
They exchanged words and Leandra tapped me on the shoulder.
‘He says the closest village is past a gas station in the opposite direction, near the border.’
Over on my left, I could see Leila’s home, set back fifty yards from the road. As we neared, I tried to look straight ahead as gloom descended. I couldn’t stop myself from glancing left as we passed the entrance. Police tape straggled the posts of the dirt-road drive leading to the farm. At least I knew they’d had a decent burial.
We drove on for another ten minutes, then I pulled over. I placed my arm over the seat and turned.
‘It’s around three-quarters of a mile from here. He can walk from here and we’ll be long gone before he gets home.’
Leandra talked to Sanchez in a soft voice and they hugged. Then he opened the door and climbed out of the pickup. He stood at the side of the road and I tipped him a salute. Sanchez responded with a smile and mimicked a kung-fu fighter’s actions. Weaving his hands and kicking a leg in the air, he wobbled on one leg. I had to smile back at him as he fell on his backside, still smiling. For all his disadvantages, he had stood tall. He was more of a man than Squat had ever been. Sanchez had saved my life.
‘I’m so glad I didn’t shoot him back there. Thanks for stopping me.’
‘So am I, or we both could be dead. It really is tragic, but I’m glad he’s finally free.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘His dad, Squat, and his uncle who you left dead in the road, both abused him as a child. His mother didn’t fare much better, from the sound of it. He told me Squat was forever beating her.’
‘Well, I guess neither of them will have to worry about it now.’
Sanchez stood and waved as I twirled the steering wheel, made a U-turn, and headed for the border.
A mile past Leila’s home, I spotted a single-storey house.
‘I’m going to stop here and see if they have a phone.’
With the pickup parked, I walked up the path and knocked on the front door. After several knocks with no response, I walked over to the window. A glance inside revealed an empty room. Working my way around to the back yard, I stopped and looked through another window. Inside was a single bed with a mattress, but no bedding.
I passed some patio doors with one of the glass doors smashed and headed back to Leandra.
‘Any luck?’ she asked.
‘No. It’s empty. No phone.’
‘Kurt, my ankle really hurts, and I have a terrible headache. Can’t we rest a while? The pickup isn’t doing me much good, bouncing around on the potholes.’
My need to get to a telephone to speak to Mary and the authorities was tempered by my concern for Leandra. Her expression told me she was in agony.
‘Wait here.’
I hurried back to the patio doors. Reaching through the break in the glass, I unhinged the catch and slid the door open. Retracting my hand, I snagged my finger, slicing
a small cut. Back at the pickup, I lifted Leandra out and carried her along the pathway, through the patio doors and into the bedroom. Setting her down on the mattress, I sat beside her.
‘Listen, I don’t feel comfortable driving around with all that money and the computer. How about I go on to the village, pick up some painkillers and something for that gash from a drug store? I can call and explain where we are, then head back here, and we can wait for someone to arrive.’
‘Fine by me, but don’t hang around. Get back as quickly as you can.’
I slipped the gun from my belt and tucked it under the mattress.
‘That’s just in case. Listen, I’ll get the bags. If anyone arrives back here before I do, don’t tell them about the bags – whoever it is.’
I hurried from the room to the pickup. Unzipping one of the bags, I managed to squeeze my automatic rifle in with the contents. Looking left and right, I returned with the bags and hid them under the bed. There was a broken mirror fastened to the wall, and I took a moment to examine my reflection. I looked like someone from a SWAT team, but without the armoured vest and helmet. Still, I was thankful the black clothing didn’t show the bloodstains.
I turned and walked over to the bed. Leandra had curled her knees to her stomach and was resting her eyes. I ran my fingers through her hair.
‘Back soon.’
She opened her eyes and smiled.
Driving along the highway, I could see the gas station sign. Farther ahead, cones created a filter lane to a rest area, with cars parked and their lights flashing. I could just about make out a police officer waving a truck into the rest area. It didn’t surprise me, as we used the same tactic north of the border to catch drug traffickers. I pulled into the gas station and parked. They were bound to have a pay phone, or so I hoped. As I walked over to the shop, to my relief, there was a pay phone hanging on the wall.
Deadly Journey Page 24