A Perilous Pursuit

by Diane Gilmore

  She analyzed her possibilities. She could call the police. And tell them what? she snickered to herself. My rock star lover hasn’t come home and I think he’s with a Mexican drug lord? She could just imagine telling the DEA that story while amused agents took down the barest of details and sent her on her way, thinking she was deranged. People wandered into police precincts and FBI field offices every day making outlandish claims, especially ones about celebrities, with no proof to back it up. Most law enforcement authorities did not place missing persons at the top of the manpower list, when the usual reason was often a miscommunication or a complete delusion by a person with mental issues. By the time they went through the bureaucratic process of determining the threat was valid and getting a full investigation launched, it could be too late for Craig and Shaun, if it wasn’t already.

  Moreover, alerting the authorities to a matter involving the international drug trade would open a new, dangerous can of worms, even if they did believe her. Steve warned her not to expose the inner workings of narcotics traffickers to anyone, or risk getting killed for being a snitch. In addition, she and everyone around her would be under suspicion by government officials for being involved in a drug operation. Besides, although she was still furious with her father for not leveling with her at the beginning, he did have a point. If the people Craig was involved with were as cunning and dangerous as she was led to believe, it wouldn’t take them long to discover American drug agents in their midst, working undercover, asking questions. Craig could be killed outright.

  Still, the idea of doing nothing but waiting to hear from Craig and hoping for the best simply wasn’t an option. What was she supposed to do? she asked herself over and over. Go about her daily routine like nothing was wrong and hope it all worked out? Her mind screamed out, do something! Do something! But every idea she came up with threaded out to a dead end while her soul twisted itself into knots over and over with worry about Craig.

  The news came and went without a solution. The late-night talk shows were ending when the idea hit her. It was the only option left.

  She could go to Mexico herself.

  Her mind churned with details. It wasn’t such an outrageous notion. She’d traveled to the country before, and her Spanish was passable, so the country wasn’t completely foreign to her. She wasn’t traveling to a remote village. Culiacan was a thriving city in that region of the country. More important, she had no idea who Craig was involved with and they, likewise, didn’t know her. She would blend in perfectly as a tourist for a week or two.

  It was crazy. She knew it was totally, completely, hare-brained crazy, but what if the roles were reversed? Wouldn’t Craig come after her? You bet he would! She would go to find him herself. It was an obligation, a duty, and for sure no one else was going to. She and Craig shared a deep, unbreakable love. To not make an effort on his behalf, especially if he never came back or wound up dead, would be simply an unbearable outcome. The guilt at not taking any steps to find him when she had the chance would haunt her for the rest of her life, and that was something she couldn’t cope with.

  On the other hand, even drug smugglers have phones. Craig never once tried to call her from wherever he was. Her mind began to churn with doubt. What if his not calling her was intentional? What if she did manage to find him, only to find he had left America purposely to pursue a new life and a new relationship with another woman under the guise of returning to drug trafficking so that no one would look for him? Would it be better to just not know about that at all?

  No, she decided. Even if such a preposterous notion did turn out to be the case, she would want to know the truth and gain closure so that she could move on with her life instead of hanging on to a love that no longer existed.

  She decided to use the time in Mexico to begin a discreet search for Craig, leaving no stone unturned. Going alone would make it easy for her to cover more distance and enable her to get up and go wherever and whenever she wanted. Even if she never found him in such a large city, she could bring back the information she obtained to share with the federal drug authorities to convince them to open a legitimate case.

  It all made perfect sense. She was going to Mexico to find Craig.

  With cool, hard resolve, she opened her laptop and surfed the online travel sites, developing an itinerary. She found a noontime Air Mexico flight that departed daily from LAX. Perfect, she thought. She charged it to her credit card, along with hotel accommodations and a rental car.

  It was nearly dawn by the time she finished packing. She picked up her cell phone and called Susan.

  “Taylor?” she asked, yawning into the phone. “Is something wrong?”

  “Something’s come up and I want to tell you about it before we get to work. I’m leaving town soon for a couple of weeks and I need you cover for me, both with my accounts and with my father.”

  The news jolted Susan wide-awake. “What? Why?”

  “Craig is in trouble. I have to find him.”

  “In New York?”

  “No. Mexico.”

  Susan’s voice became alert. “What are you talking about?”

  Taylor gave her friend a brief rundown of what she had learned the day before.

  “And you are going to Mexico to find him, alone?” Susan asked with shock. “Taylor, this is serious, for God’s sake! We need to call the police!”

  “No, we can’t do that,” Taylor countered. “My dad said Craig was adamant about not calling any authorities, so what else can I do? I can’t just wait and hope he’s alive and well somewhere out there. What if he’s in danger? What if he never comes back?”

  “Yes, but Mexico—” Susan began.

  “You and I have gone to Mexico before,” Taylor continued. “I’m not going to Mars, for God’s sake. It’s only an hour and a half flight to Culiacan from here, so I won’t be that far away. And going alone is the best way. No one knows me there, and I can easily drive where I want and ask questions on my own without arousing any suspicion. I’m going to tie up a few loose ends at the office and leave right away. I need you to keep my father at bay.”

  “Taylor, wait a second and let’s think about this,” Susan urged. “I know Craig is the love of your life, but don’t be stupid. You could get into trouble and no one could get there in time to help you. Why don’t you just let your dad handle it?”

  “No,” Taylor said firmly. “He’s wasted enough time already. I won’t be out of touch and it’s only for a week or two at most. Besides, it’s not as if I’ve never traveled alone before or am incapable of taking care of my own business. It’s the only way I can find Craig without drawing a lot of attention. Please, Susan, I need your help!”

  “You know I will help you, girl,” Susan said, “but I’m asking you to think this through a little more. How do you plan to find him, and what do you plan to do if you locate him? You can’t just waltz into a drug lord’s lair and say, ‘Hello, I’ll take my boyfriend home now.’“

  “Of course not,” Taylor said. “I’ll figure out a plan when I get there, when I see what I have to work with. Maybe if Craig hears about me being there, he will find me. Maybe I’ll figure out a way to infiltrate this network to find him without anyone knowing the wiser.”

  She sighed with exasperation. “Oh, I don’t know! I haven’t thought it completely through yet, but I just know that I can’t do absolutely nothing to try to find him, even if I fail in the attempt.”

  She heard her friend sigh through the phone. “Okay. I guess I can’t change your mind. What do you want me to do?”

  “You can keep an eye on my accounts while I’m gone. I’m sure nothing major will come up until I return. If anybody asks, say that Fury is in the studio, on vacation, or something.”

  “Why don’t I just go with you? I have some personal time days banked at work. We can cover more ground together
.”

  “No.” Taylor stated with impatience. “Really, Susan, I’m better off going alone. I won’t be gone that long. Besides, Dad has no idea I’m leaving, and I need you to hold him off for me. Just for a little while.”

  “Oh, hell no!” Susan moaned. “You want to leave me to deal with a bloodbath as soon as he finds out what you’ve done! What am I supposed to say when he asks where you are?”

  “Come on, Susan! He won’t realize I’m gone until I get there, and when he does, tell him anything. Tell him I went to visit one of my bands on tour, I don’t care. I won’t be gone long enough for him to do anything about it anyway. You know his bark is worse than his bite.”

  “Are you kidding? He’ll chew my ass off and serve it to me for dinner, and then I’ll be fired the next morning. Guilt by association!”

  “Don’t be silly. He can’t fire you for something I chose to do on my own. Besides, I’m going whether he likes it or not,” Taylor said. “He’s done enough damage by doing nothing all this time. If Craig’s in the area, I have to at least try to find him, Susan. Please try to understand!”

  Susan paused. “I get it,” she conceded. “Not that I’ve ever had someone who was crazy about me like that, but I guess I can understand it.”

  “Then please work with me on this. I’ll call you and deal with my dad after I get there. Promise.”

  “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

  “I won’t know until I try. Until then, we have to play along at work like everything is normal, all right?”

  Susan sighed. “What I do for my bestie! Okay, I’ll do it. I don’t like it, but I’ll do it.”

  The next morning, Taylor called out of work. Then she climbed into the cab that pulled up to her door, bound for Los Angeles International Airport.

  Chapter 17

  Craig had been imprisoned in Robert Cabrera’s bizarre work system for a couple of weeks now, as near as he could guess. The days had passed quickly, disappearing in a fog of unmarked, hellish time.

  During this period, he began to see a routine emerge at the compound. Each morning before dawn, he and the others were taken into the rocky Sierra hills to work. Sometimes they lanced poppy capsules, letting the gummy opium sap ooze out to dry in the blistering Mexico sun. In other fields, the gum was already dried and ready to be scraped from the capsules. They would collect it by scraping the sap off the pods and placing it in worn leather bags, which were then handed over to the guards at the end of the day.

  After the sun dipped below the mountainous peaks, the long, hard workday ended, and the men would be brought back to their barracks for a meager ration of dinner and to bed down. In the evenings, however, the “entertainment” would begin.

  The bunker house was often filled with activity before the lights went out for the night. Frequently the prisoners staged an organized boxing match. Jim Walden told Craig that the prisoners were fanatics about fighting, probably because it was a favorite national pastime in Mexico. Many prisoners liked to think they were professional athletes, even if it was in an illegal work compound and minus the boxing gloves. Most of the prisoners chose their opponents and used the matches to settle old scores and release tensions. At first Craig was appalled at the brawls, but soon after the fights began, the barracks became alive with laughter, cheers and excitement. The despair lifted for them, at least temporarily, and Craig soon found it impossible not to get involved.

  The other cultural activity of the bunker house, the one Craig hated, were the orgies. Rodriguez or one of his friends would randomly grab one of the younger, more inexperienced inmates and strip him down. The unfortunate esclavo (slave) would then be held down tight in a most compromising position for any takers to line up behind him for a quick mount. They would all take turns raping their victim amid his screams and pleas for mercy. When they were finished, they would throw him into the filthy, bug-infested tub. Then, amid their laughter, they would turn on the rusty faucet, letting the icy cold water wash down on him until he was shivering and soaked to the skin, “to clean him up for the next time.” Craig couldn’t believe the spectacle of it all. Their perversion made him sick, but he slowly began to get used to it.

  Get used to it?

  One night Rodriguez, stoned on heroin, as usual, pulled a young Mexican prisoner from the group to use as his esclavo for the night. Craig remembered the boy. It was the same one that Rodriguez had brutally assaulted the night Craig arrived.

  The boy screamed and pleaded for mercy in a barrage of whimpering Spanish, but Rodriguez simply laughed and made a quick retort that sent the others roaring. Craig’s temper began to fuel. Once he had watched while Rodriguez abused that boy. He wasn’t about to watch the horror show again.

  Rodriguez and his friends had surrounded the boy like a pack of wolves by the time Craig reached them. Without uttering a word, he pulled the boy out of the circle, then roughly pushed Rodriguez against the cold, concrete wall. Rodriguez looked at Craig, stunned. It was probably the first time anyone ever challenged his self-imposed authority, Craig thought smugly.

  Sensing trouble, the men spread out, retreating to the walls in anticipation of Rodriguez’ response. Suddenly Craig heard glass. An empty tequila bottle went rolling across the dirty floor toward Rodriguez. He grabbed it and then came at Craig. Craig ducked as the bottle flew by his head, shattering against the wall behind him. He tried to hit Craig, but in his condition, his fist missed and weakly swung through the air. As Craig was taller than the other men, he easily fought back, and his aim hit its mark every time across Rodriguez’ face. Soon Rodriguez and his friends left Craig alone, and Craig went back to his bunk, where the boy huddled there, frozen with fear.

  “Hey, Phillips,” Walden said after Craig sat down. “That was good. I’m impressed. You just might make it in this place, after all.”

  The boy looked at him curiously, then said something to Walden in Spanish.

  “The kid doesn’t speak English,” Walden informed Craig. “No one knows his real name; they just call him Chico. He’s been here about six months now, as I remember.”

  “What the hell for?” Craig asked incredulously. “He’s just a kid.”

  “Yeah,” Walden replied casually. “He was a pickpocket down in Mexico City who got caught running a kilo across town for some local dealer, I heard. Probably did it to get a few pesos for his family. Too bad. Who knows how long he’ll be here.”

  Craig was stunned. “And he was put out here, of all places?”

  “He’s young and strong. Probably what made Cabrera take him,” Walden said. “I say the kid’s lucky. He never would have survived in a real Mexican prison.”

  Craig’s eyes wandered back to the boy. He looked at Craig with uncertainty, then a cautious smile spread across his lips. In that instant Craig knew he had made another friend.

  “Tell him to get what he has and bring it over here,” Craig told Walden. “He can bed down near us if he feels safer that way.”

  Walden looked at him curiously. “What do you care about him, anyway? He’s just a dumb kid. He’ll learn to survive on his own eventually.”

  “I guess it’s because he reminds me of—” Craig choked on his words. Shaun. The boy reminded him of Shaun. In his despair over his brother, he couldn’t even bring himself to say his name.

  “It’s just something I want to do, that’s all,” Craig said firmly.

  Walden shrugged and mumbled something to Chico. The boy’s eyes lit up, and he quickly retrieved an old Army duffle bag from across the room. He ran back to Craig, and thus blossomed a new relationship for them.

  The lights went out for the night just as Rodriguez pulled another esclavo up into his bed with him.

  ~ ~ ~

  Craig learned other, even more dangerous, work compound rules during his stay. One of them happened the next after
noon.

  They had just resumed working, lancing poppy capsules under the bright, merciless sun, when Comandante Suarez sauntered up to Craig with a couple of guards. Suarez often intimidated Craig, for no reason, whenever the moment suited him. He hated Craig and Craig loathed him.

  Whenever he would start with the mental and physical abuse, Craig would try to tune him out by imagining all the ways he could kill the comandante. He fantasized taking a gun and blowing his brains out or taking the lancing knife and slicing Suarez’s throat. A good hit to the bastard’s windpipe would kill him instantly, Craig often thought. This particular guard died a thousand deaths in Craig’s mind, day after day.

  On this day, as usual, Suarez didn’t disappoint him.

  “Hey, you. What you doing?” he commanded, knowing full well what Craig was doing. He glanced at the capsule Craig had just cut. “You work too slow!”

  He raised his rifle and brought it squarely down across Craig’s back. Craig cried out and fell, and Suarez kicked him.

  Suddenly something snapped like an elastic band inside Craig’s head. Thinking about the incident later, he couldn’t determine exactly what triggered his response, as he was used to getting heaps of physical abuse and insults thrown at him daily from Suarez. Hatred, pure and raw, filled him to the point that he didn’t even feel the blows that came down on him.

  The raging anger that had gnawed at him since his captivity, his loathing for Cabrera and his men, and especially his hatred for Comandante Suarez gave him a superhuman burst of energy he didn’t know he possessed.