by Jack Tunney
She slouched on the edge of the bed. “I know I have to go to him. I want to go to him. But I’m not sure if I can.” She sobbed into her hands.
“Look at me.” Ben took her hands away from her face and encased them in his. “You can do it. You’re going to do it.”
She spoke through the heaving sobs that shook her entire body. “I left him, Ben. My son…I left my son. And you.”
Ben sat next to Vicky on the bed and gathered her to him. “Don’t look back. Just think about what you can have now. And, as crazy as this is, think of it this way.” He pushed her away from his chest and caught her eye. “If you hadn’t left George, he wouldn’t be where he is now…waiting for you. He’d still be with Joe.”
“As soon as I have him, I’m coming back here for you. We’ll figure something out. We will.” She pounded his chest with both wet fists.
“Okay.” He nodded. “We’ll figure something out. But we can’t do that until you get up there and get George.”
He got up and gathered her clothes from around the room and passed them to her.
“Tell you what.” Ben straightened up the room a bit as she dressed. “We won’t even say good-bye now. How’s that? It won’t even be good-bye.” He leaned against a small desk. “It’ll be see you later.”
Vicky pulled her slingbacks, which someone must have retrieved, into place and stood up. She smoothed Tonda’s costume over her body, wiped the moisture from her face and crossed to where Ben stood. She laid both hands flat against his chest, got up on her tiptoes and kissed him. “I’ll say thank you, but it’s nowhere near enough to cover this.”
He smiled a little. “It’ll have to do.”
“For now.” She patted his chest. “It’ll have to do for now.”
He nodded, but the smile was gone. “See you later.”
***
Jose, the big bald Mexican who had carried Vicky to Ben, had done so at Ben’s request, but his ultimate loyalty was to the promotion and Senor Gonzales. So, though he agreed to drive Vicky back to La Querencia, she had to be blindfolded when he did it.
Can’t have anyone knowing where the Mexican wrestling champion from Chicago is stashed.
Chicago.
George.
She’d pack and she’d go. No good-byes for any of the rest of the group, and no indication she was going to leave if she saw any of them before she left. She’d make her way north, through whatever means, until she got to St. Vincent’s Asylum for Boys, which was the name of the orphanage Ben scribbled down and gave her before Jose had taken her away.
Senor Gonzales dropped the American group’s payoffs in their respective boxes at the hotel the mornings after they appeared, so no one would have to walk without money. The pesos she’d collected so far should translate to enough dollars to get her back to Illinois at least.
She would pack and she would go.
George.
Jose took Vicky’s blindfold off when they passed Arena Mexico. She told him to let her off at the edge of Circular de Morelia.
The hotel’s front door opened as she reached for it and Mickey stepped outside.
“Oh, hey,” he said.
“Hey, yourself.” Vicky stepped back to let him out. “Fancy meeting you here.”
“Yeah.” He looked her over in her Tonda costume, the same clothes she’d worn in the ring the night before, and grinned. “Fancy that.”
“Alright.” She took the door from him. “On your way.”
“I’m going, I’m going.” He smiled. “Dick was looking for you, by the way.”
“He was? For what?”
“Don’t know. Just wanted to know if I’d seen you or knew if you were in your room.”
“Okay.”
“See you later,” Mickey looked her over again, “Queenie.”
“Yep.”
An older couple, who looked like they could have been from anywhere in Eastern Europe, were in the little lobby sunroom looking at a map. The man smiled and nodded as Vicky walked by.
She went to the front desk, where the typically friendly clerk was typically friendly. “Buenos dios, senorita.”
She asked him where the nearest train station was. It turned out to be close enough to walk.
Her room was the second one on the left up the short first-floor hallway. The boys were in the third. Vicky let herself into her room, pulled her suitcase out of the closet and fed it clothes from the dresser and floor.
She heard a voice.
“Kid said he ain’t seen her. And now he’s gone, too.”
It was Dick’s voice, coming through a vent near the baseboard of the shared wall. She’d heard their muffled voices and snores throughout the entire trip, but this was the first time she’d heard a voice so clearly. Dick must have been standing or sitting right near the vent.
“Good,” was the next word she heard, not as loud, not as distinct, but it was definitely Mammoth’s voice.
She eased down to her hands and knees and crept to the vent.
“Everything is set up beautifully. Couldn’t be better,” Dick’s voice said.
“Better than a one-on-one?” asked Mammoth’s voice.
“Better. I talked to Gonzales this morning and he’s agreed to let me work the match as a second referee. Y’know, we’ll say you demanded it in the name of fairness. The crowd will hate it after last night. More heat for us.”
“And we won’t have to rely on that dumb bitch to carry the blade. That’s much better, Dickie. Nice work.”
“Thanks. Say, you didn’t already tell her about this?”
“No way. Was gonna wait ’til the night. Figured the less time she has to hormone over it the better.”
“Good, good. Now she won’t know until it’s all over. Plus, we can use her to distract everyone to make the transfer even easier.”
“Yeah. It’ll be the least useless she’s ever been.”
They shared a fake, machismo-soaked laugh.
“So, you want to chop the loot now?”
“What’s a matter, Dickie? Don’t trust me?”
The satchel.
“It’s not that. Just figure there might be a little too much excitement on the night.”
“True, but we’ll be comin’ straight back here while they’ll still be trying to figure out why that big sonofabitch is bleeding so much.”
“I suppose.”
“It’ll be a cinch, Dickie, relax. We’ll chop up this beano, chop up this loot and be back to Wayne for the other half before any of these locals can say, who killed the giant eagle?’”
“Speaking of Wayne. Make sure you get the mask. Remember, we need it to get the other half.”
“He probably wants to hammer it up somewhere. Remind Munson what happens if you look to recruit stars from down here to push in on his territory.”
This time the laugh was genuine.
Vicky pushed herself away from the vent until her back hit the bed.
It would probably take her two or three days to get to George.
Ben would be dead in six.
SIXTEENTH FALL
Her hotel room door locked, her shoes on the floor and her legs crossed, Vicky sat on the bed, quaking, and considered the three places she could go with what she’d just learned.
The police.
The police in Mexico had a terrible reputation for corruption, and, without any real evidence, they would have little reason to believe a scarred gringa raving about a lucha libre murder plot. Even if they were inclined to believe such a story, and act on it in a way that didn’t involve a payoff — money she didn’t have — she was ill-equipped to communicate the situation to them properly. That led her to the second option.
Daniel.
Daniel could certainly help her relay all the details to the police, but that would first involve telling those details to him. Once that happened, Daniel was involved and, cops or no cops, there was a good chance he could be hurt.
There was also a chance, however slight,
Daniel’s sense of national pride and reverence for lucha libre could cause him to turn on her. His world would implode when it was revealed Aguila Gigante was American — and she didn’t see any way that secret would not be exposed.
For the same reason, she couldn’t go to the third person she thought of either.
Senor Gonzales.
Daniel could help her tell him the situation, and certainly he wouldn’t want his champion killed in the ring, but Senor Gonzales had perhaps the most to lose if Ben was exposed as Aguila Gigante, The Giant Eagle.
Vicky had no idea if the Lutterroth family, the real power behind the promotion, had any idea their associate promoter was using an American ex-boxer with gigantism as their company’s main attraction.
In the unlikely event Gonzales was willing to risk Ben’s unmasking, Ben’s life would be in danger from old threats, and maybe a few new ones.
Still shaking from somewhere in the pit of her stomach, Vicky rocked back-and-forth on the bed a little, clutching a pillow to her chest.
Although Daniel was the most likely to help her, with or without anyone else involved, he would still end up in as much danger as her or Ben. She couldn’t have that. No matter what she told him, Daniel would almost certainly not settle for just being a translator to help her get her message across. He’d try to help.
He clearly hated Mammoth and, even if he never found out it was Ben under Aguila Gigante’s mask, Daniel would try to take Mammoth out and Vicky couldn’t have any more blood on her hands.
So, no police, no promoter, and no Daniel.
And no leaving.
That, of course, was the other thing she could do. There’s no way Ben would lie to her. George was in St. Vincent’s Asylum for Boys in Chicago. All she had to do was finish packing and make her way north. She even knew Mammoth and Dick had no idea she was in the hotel. She could take her suitcase and slip out the back door. Or even the front one. She’d have her son.
But the man who was the reason she regained her son would die a horrible death, one she could prevent, or at least try to prevent.
George already has a mother who ran away once. What would he need with one who did it twice, and left the only person who ever cared about either of them behind to be murdered?
Vicky stopped rocking, stopped quaking and laid on the bed to start thinking.
***
Sunday was a quiet day. She did her laundry and pretended to read in the sunny day room at the hotel.
Monday, Daniel came by and they walked around the neighborhood a bit, but her demeanor with him was flat and dry, so he took the hint she didn’t mean to give him and excused himself early.
He did, however, ask her to tell the others Senor Gonzales wanted them at the arena the next afternoon to go over the plans for the big match.
That’s when it hit Vicky. She was going to be involved in the match, too. Dick was going to be the heel referee, sure, but Mammoth would still have Tonda at ringside to run her usual interference and get her usual heat. Even if she wasn’t involved in any spots, she still needed to be at the practice to make sure she knew when and where she needed to be during the match.
And that’s when she’d warn Ben about the plot to kill him.
But of course, this was Senor Gonzales’s lucha libre and, even though he was there to supervise and coach, and Daniel was there to translate, Aguila Gigante was nowhere to be found.
El Corazado, who was sort of shaped like Ben, but not as big, stood in for the champion.
Daniel relayed Senor Gonzales’s instructions to Mammoth, and he and Corazado walked through some spots and transitions. Dick consulted with Gonzales here and there, offering suggestions for things he could do during the match. Most of them were rejected, a few weren’t.
Vicky, in gym sweats and sneakers, watched everything from a corner post outside the ring. She was looking for anything she could use as an opening to help Ben.
Daniel waved her over.
She put a smile on her face and a bounce in her step as she approached them. “What's the skinny?”
You’ve never said that in your life. Tone it down, dummy. Don’t be so obvious.
Daniel’s brow creased. “Senor Gonzales and Senor Glass have worked out a spot we all think will be a good touch.”
“Sounds yummy.” Vicky rubbed her palms together, the smile still plastered across her face.
What are you doing, idiot?
Daniel and Senor Gonzales exchanged a look. Daniel cleared his throat. “About ten minutes in, Mammoth will already have gotten the first fall by rolling Aguila up and grabbing his trunks. You know, cheat to get the pin.”
Vicky nodded.
“At the ten-minute mark, Aguila will body slam Mammoth and turn to the crowd for support. Make sure you’re far away from him on the outside, then jump up on the apron and distract him with your jungle powers.” He smiled at her.
She grinned. “I can do that.”
Senor Gonzales chuckled.
Daniel gestured toward the ring. “While Aguila, and hopefully everyone else, looks at you, Senor Glass is going to pass a foreign object to Mammoth.”
Over Daniel’s shoulder, Dick and Mammoth exchanged a look.
There it is.
Daniel pantomimed as he spoke. “Mammoth will try to hit Aguila with the object, but the champion will see it coming at the last moment and block it.”
Actually, he’ll pick up a defensive wound or two before getting his throat slit.
Daniel grinned at her. “Sound good?”
She nodded. “Sounds great. Great spot, but maybe we could have Aguila come to me on the apron, show just how distracted he is.”
Two can play at this game, boys.
“Nah, I don’t think that’s necessary.” Dick waved her suggestion away from behind Daniel. “Should be a quick spot. You draw it out, it’s less believable.”
“Are you sure?” Vicky shrugged. “Mammoth could even brandish the gimmick in front of crowd. Show them what he’s got.”
Daniel consulted with Senor Gonzales in Spanish whispers. “No.” Daniel shook his head. “He likes it as Senor Glass suggested.”
“No problem.” Vicky showed them her palms, backing away. “Just brainstorming with you guys.”
She went back to the corner post and stared at the rest of the rehearsal without actually seeing anything.
***
“Tonda.”
She turned, halfway up the aisle to the backstage area. Daniel, and someone just behind him, trailed her from the arena floor.
“Just a second.”
She crossed her arms over her chest. “What’s up?”
Daniel was all smiles. “Someone has something they want to say to you.”
Rosita, a big smile on her face, stepped from behind Daniel. “Hola, Tonda. Gracias.”
Vicky’s arms dropped to her sides. She smiled. “I’m glad to see you, but what are you thanking me for?” She reached out to pat Rosita’s shoulder, which, along with the rest of her, was blissfully free of grime.
“She has a match tonight.” Daniel looked at the little pudgy girl as though she was his little pudgy daughter.
“Great!” Vicky clapped her hands.
“Against La Reina de Sangre.”
Vicky and Daniel exchanged a look, then she grinned at Rosita. “Good luck Little Hummingbird.”
“Gracias, Senorita Tonda.” Rosita gave Vicky a little hug and trundled off.
Vicky looked at Daniel. “Squash match?”
“Probably.” He shrugged. “But it’s one more match than she would have had without you.”
She glanced off in the direction Rosita went. “That’s true, I guess.”
“Speaking of such things.” Daniel motioned to the arena chairs. “Do you have a moment?”
“Sure.” She dropped into an aisle seat.
He sat one row ahead and twisted round to face her. “After Friday, your run here is over.”
No kidding.
; “Yep.” She nodded. “It’ll be time to head back home.”
“Why don’t you stay?”
“What?”
He swallowed. “That is…Senor Gonzales. He wants you to stay.”
“And do what?”
“Everything.” His eyes widened. “Wrestle, sometimes win. Valet some luchadores. Maybe give him an idea or two here and there.” He smiled at her, head cocked. “Everything.”
“Sounds nice.” She got up. “But I’m not really interested.”
“You’re not?” He remained seated. “Why?”
“I dunno.” She shrugged. “Just not. Doesn’t really interest me.”
“I see.” He slouched in his chair. “Or maybe I don’t see. I thought…”
Vicky cut him off. “You thought wrong, both of you guys.” Her gaze wandered away from his.
Daniel nodded slowly. “Perhaps we did.” He stood up. He gave her the thin, false grin of a furniture salesman. “Very well. I’ll tell Senor Gonzales how wrong he was about you.”
She sort of nodded, then left the arena.
DECIDING FALL
“Oh yeah? So’s your old man!” Tonda waved a clawed hand at a guy in the front row.
The first fall was over. Mammoth had rolled Ben up and snagged the tights for the three count, just as planned.
Any second now, Ben would slam Mammoth and then she would hop up on the apron and help Mammoth and Dick kill him.
Or so they thought.
Vicky had spent the early part of Friday in bed, turning the possibilities and probabilities over in her head until they all melted together and none of them made sense.
None, except one. She had to stop Mammoth and Dick from killing Ben. And she had a plan to do it.
Or so she hoped.
When people plot to commit a crime and a getaway is part of that plan and that plan is overheard, it’s only a matter of small additions to make that getaway plan someone else’s getaway plan.
It was with this in mind that Vicky made of show of leaving for the arena a half hour early, wishing everyone else good luck, then trotting across the park and waiting for the others to leave.