“Hetta, it’s only nine thirty. You’ve been on a diet for three whole hours.” She looked at Po Thang’s still untouched bowl. “And feed that crap to the fish. I’ll scramble you both some eggs.”
Topaz watched me scrape Po Thang’s bowl into the trash. “Good grief. What is that?”
“Never mind. We have to call Craig for some nutritional advice.”
Po Thang and I hoovered our eggs—scrambled in a non-stick pan with onions and fresh basil—and I took him for another brisk walk. As we passed the Dock Café, we both whined.
By mid-afternoon, despite some dry dog food for him and two yogurts for me, both our stomachs were grumbling. This was not going to be a fun month. Week. Day? Why didn’t I weigh both of us earlier? I mean, if we stick to our diets for one whole day, the start numbers might be skewed.
“Okay, Jan, since you’re leaving tomorrow, and Topaz is here for dinner, I’ve decided to start our diets in the morning. You can help me weigh Po Thang then; you get on the scale and I’ll hand him to you. I mean, if we don’t have a starting number, how are we going to stay on track?”
Jan sniffed the air. “Do I smell a hint of irrational justification?”
Dinner was broiled fresh snapper, salad, saffron rice, and a mixture of stir-fried, leftover carrots and broccoli. I had to admit the veggies were much better sautéed in olive oil. Po Thang steadfastly abstained from eating until I added a can of dog food to his fish and rice.
Had we not opened that bottle of wine, I would have felt positively saintly. Well, except for that tuna fish sandwich I had mid-afternoon.
With Jan returning to the whale camp to help Chino with the chores, we needed a plan of action. I was tired of waiting around for something to happen with the birds, as were Jan and Topaz.
“How about we go with you as far as Loreto?” Topaz asked Jan. “I can rent a car, take a ride up to the aviary, and pose as some kinda bird nut. At least we’ll have an on-site evaluation.”
I wasn’t for it. “You just gonna saunter into the lion’s den? How will we know you won’t end up at the bottom of a dry well or something? We need to think this through.”
“I’ll take Po Thang with me for protection.”
Po Thang cocked his head and stood up at the mention of his name, especially when that someone sat at a dinner table. He leaned against Topaz’s leg and put his head in her lap.
Jan tipped her own head. “Ya know, an on-site gander isn’t such a bad idea, but I think Hetta needs to go to Loreto, as well.”
“What am I going to do with Trouble? I already locked him up when we went up there last week. Not fair to do it to him again.”
Trouble glided from his perch on high and landed on Topaz’s shoulder, walked down her arm, and hopped onto Po Thang’s head. We all sucked in our breath.
“Topaz,” I whispered, “don’t move a muscle, and close your eyes. That bird can be lethal and he might mistake you for an enemy agent.”
Topaz froze and squinted. At least she wouldn’t lose an eye in the impending dust up.
“Po Thang! Sit!”
And he did.
“Good dog!”
Po Thang looked a little confused, since it was Trouble who gave him the command and praise.
The two former foes, after both enjoying a nosh of jerky, cuddled up on the settee while their humans discussed the dire situation at the bird sanctuary.
Jan called a woman we’d met in Loreto who had a two-bedroom casita for rent near the beach, and she agreed to a dog and bird, as long as we didn’t leave them alone in the house. By the time we retired for the evening, we didn’t have a plan, and we were sticking to it.
We all agreed that telling Craig and Roger about this little foray was unnecessary because they’d tell us it was a bad idea. But, by golly, we figured a possibly bad idea was better than no idea at all.
Chapter Thirteen
WE LEFT AT oh-dark-thirty for Loreto.
Jan drove her Jeep with Po Thang happily riding shotgun and the rest of us followed in my pickup.
It was still cool out, but Jan was bundled up in the drafty Jeep and Po Thang was as happy as, well, a dog with his ears flapping in the wind. He wore a pair of new bright blue Doggles; Craig insisted if my dawg was going to be riding around with his head out the window, he needed to wear eye protection. When Craig gave them to him, I had serious doubts Po Thang would wear them without a fight, but he seemed to like them. Jan added a natty cravat to complete the look.
At Ciudad Constitución, we picked up four bars from a cell tower, so Topaz, not letting on what we were up to, checked in with Roger for updates from Drew. We couldn’t, without internet, pick up his daily report. According to the mule skinner, there had been no further movement of vehicles, and the birds were being well cared for. None, as far as he could tell, had died from their ordeal.
“At least that,” I said after Topaz gave me the latest. “Maybe we’re a little premature with this trek.”
Topaz disagreed. “I want to get a look for myself. I’m operating on second hand info.”
“Yep, and I’ll just feel better knowing they’re safe for myself. I really, really, hate sitting around doing squat. Makes me feel helpless and when I do, Jan says I’m dangerous. I’ll admit it, I’m ready to storm the gates, kick those bastard’s asses, and get the poor birds back where they belong.”
“Won’t get any argument here. But getting them returned to where they came from? That might be a tall order. How do we know they were wild caught, and not stolen pets?”
I hadn’t considered that. “Okay, reboot. Storm, kick, and at least leave them in the safety of the sanctuary. Under new management.”
Topaz chuckled. “I’ve been in law enforcement long enough to know we don’t want to get too hasty. Let’s just surveille, as planned, and then decide how and when to kick some butt, okay?”
“I guess you’re right. After all, you’re the professional,” I said, but grudgingly.
“Hetta, why do I get the feeling you’re just trying to placate me?”
“Because I am placating you.” I gave her a grin. “But we’ll do it your way. For now.”
“Good.”
“So, how do you want to handle this?”
“Like we agreed, I’ll drive to the Rancho and you watch me from your lair. Jan can wait at the rental house with Trouble. That way, should we need the marines, she can call them in.”
“Mexican, or American?”
“Who cares, as long as they are on our side.”
Except, like most well-laid plans, ours went to hell in a tortilla basket.
We were tailing Jan’s jeep when she suddenly swerved off the road. We skidded to a stop behind her, and she gave us some bad news. Chino, her sig-other whale guy, had somehow gotten a huge treble fish hook imbedded in his foot. He’d removed it but was on the way to a hospital in Guerro Negro. She was needed at the fish camp, immediately.
“Sorry, guys, but it’s the height of the whale count and I have to fill in for him. He can’t go out with his crew for several days, because the hospital will keep him around to make sure he doesn’t get vibrio vulnificus.”
“That sounds like a venereal disease. What’s he been doing with those whales?”
Jan laughed in spite of her worry. “I’ll have to tell him that one, cuz he’s gonna need a chuckle. Vibrio is a flesh-eating bacterium that lives in salt water and can infect humans through any cuts or abrasions in the skin. I doubt we have to worry, as the Pacific is cold this time of year, but we have to be very careful. Damned hook got him in a bone and people have died from complications of just that thing.”
“Oowie. That had to smart. Okay, hit the road, Chica. Po Thang come on. Get in the back seat with Trouble and don’t start any crap, you hear?”
Po Thang bounded from the Jeep and into my tiny jump seat, most of which was full of Trouble’s cage. Trouble grumbled as my dog wedged himself in. I transferred our luggage, supplies, and the like into my camper she
ll from the back of the Jeep, we hugged Jan goodbye, and off she went, back to her honey.
As we watched her leave I asked, “So, what’s plan B, Miss Topaz?”
“We settle in to our rental digs, drink a beer, eat, regroup.”
“I like it, except for the order. I vote we drink beer, eat, settle, then regroup.”
“Approved.”
After stuffing ourselves with carnitas we’d picked up in Loreto, we relaxed on the third-floor, sea view patio.
Trouble was caged inside because there was a light breeze, and I was also afraid he’d take a flying poop over the upscale furniture or chew up something wooden. On the boat, I cover everything with tarps when he’s loose, and I keep tabs on him in case he decides to use my teak for a chewy toy. Now we were in strange territory with a hefty security deposit at stake, so he’d just have to get over being incarcerated for my own good.
The jailbird grumbled occasionally to let me know he wasn’t pleased, but it was somewhat half-hearted, what with his cage chock full of jerky.
“Okay, Topaz, since no one but Jan knows what we’re up to, why don’t you give me the coordinates of that road we think we found on Google Earth, and I’ll send them to her.”
She moved her cursor and clicked on a two-tire track off the main dirt road leading to Rancho Los Pajaros, and before the entrance to Campo Muleshoe. She read off the numbers and I punched them into both our phones.
“What did you label the turn?” she asked.
“Bad Road exit off Main Bad Road. Now, I need a waypoint for where we think we can see Rancho Los Pajaros from on high.”
That done, she got out a pad and pen and drew a rough map. “So, we both drive to this spot, then climb up here. I think I see a faint animal path.” She drew a circle. “When we’re sure we have a good visual on the bird sanctuary, I’ll drive there in the rental car and try to worm my way in. Or at least get a glimpse inside the property.”
“That’s the part I’m worried about. Those guys are thugs.”
She gave me a look. “Hetta, I’m a cop. I thrive on thugs.”
“If you say so. Anyhow, once I see you leave Rancho Los Pajaros, I’ll drive to the main road and we’ll rendezvous there for the trip back to Loreto.”
“That’s the plan, Stan.”
“It’s going to be a long day. While you’re renting a car, I’ll hit the grocery store for extra water and victuals.’
“We aren’t going on safari here.”
“Yabbut I like to be prepared. Besides, I don’t think you want me seen by the rental personnel. I sorta have a history with them. I got one of their cars blown up.”
She laughed. “I can see how that might be a problem. Okay, you shop, I’ll get a car.”
“What time should we be there?”
“Eight.”
“Then we’d better hit the sack soon. I’ll have to leave my phone on for a while, cuz Jan’s supposed to call me when she gets to the whale camp. I figure a couple more hours. Right now, I gotta walk the hound.”
We were staying two blocks from the Loreto malecón, or waterfront, so Po Thang and I headed for the water. I called Jenks as we strolled, not letting on where we were, or what we planned to do. I just wanted to hear his calming voice before I engaged in something that might end badly. I did tell him Jan left for the whale camp because Chino managed to lodge a treble hook in his foot.
“Ouch!”
“Ya think? And, he’s out of action for a few days so she has to fill in. High whale season, you know.”
“What are you up to? Must be a little dull with Jan gone and Po Thang and Trouble in a ceasefire.”
Oh, hell. Should I, or shouldn’t I? If I don’t tell him and he finds out, he’ll know something’s afoot, but if I do he might think something’s af—
“Hetta, you still there?”
“Topaz Sawyer is here,” I blurted.
“That cop from Bisbee? She on vacation?”
“Uh, yes.”
“Well, that’s good. I know you get a little lonely at times.”
“Times when you aren’t here.” Crap, that sounded petulant.
“Speaking of, I think I’ll get to La Paz in a couple of weeks. How’s that?”
“That. Is. Fabulous. Po Thang! Leave that poodle alone!”
“Mind your pooch, Red. I gotta go to a meeting anyway. I’ll talk to you in the morning. Love you. Bye.”
I said, “Bye” to one of those foreign phone beeps and dragged Po Thang toward our digs for the night, telling him, “Forget it, Romeo. If I can’t get any lovin’, neither can you.”
Chapter Fourteen
BY TEN THE next morning, we’d picked up the rental, stashed all the food, water, and beer I bought, and caravanned as far as Mission San Javier. After a potty break, we grabbed some breakfast at the little café there, and walked Po Thang again. He must have missed a flower pot the first time.
“Hetta, you lead the way from here. Once we take the turnoff onto the badder road from the sort of bad road, I’ll mark waypoints as we go. I suggest you do the same, just in case.”
“Just in case of what?”
“I dunno. Just seems like a good idea. We might have to do this again at night or something.”
I loaded Po Thang into her car. I figured why put up with two critters when I could fob one off. Moving Trouble’s cage into my front seat so he could keep me company, I took off with Topaz following at a dust-free distance.
As we approached the turn off, Topaz called on the VHF radio. “You see it yet?”
“No, I—wait, there it is. I’ll stop so we know if your waypoints need tweaking.”
Our inputted coordinates were amazingly close; in fact they were correct within a few feet. Google Earth rocks!
Unfortunately, the “road” was rocks. No more than a washed-out goat path. After an hour we could go no further in our vehicles and were still a good quarter mile from where we thought we’d have to climb to high ground.
When we got out for a much-needed stretch, I told her, “I was afraid of this. Topographically, I thought it looked a little on the steep side, but between the boulders and angle, it would take an off-road vehicle to go any further on wheels.
“The good news is, it isn’t far to the top. Let’s take a look.”
“I guess Trouble will be okay if we leave the windows down. It’s nice and cool up here.” I pointed to a scrubby tree. “I’ll park under that. Come on, Po Thang, you get to go with us.”
“Aren’t you worried about him taking off after critters?”
I clipped on his leash. “Not now.”
The climb looked much easier than the one we took the last time we spied on the bird sanctuary. And we didn’t have to ride mules. I’d have to give Roger some crap about that.
I checked my phone for service. We had three bars. Bless Carlos Slim’s greedy little heart; he’d installed cell towers all over the place in order to capture even more pesos. Every cowboy and mule skinner in the Baja now had a cellphone and paid exorbitant rates for the privilege.
Topaz brought up the coordinates we’d put in the night before and made a beeline up the hill, Po Thang on her heels. I let him pull me up the path. Once in a while he gave me a dirty look over his shoulder. I gave him one back. “What? You’ve never heard of service dogs?” Besides, to get all the equipment we needed up there, we’d have to make two trips, so I was pacing myself. On the next climb, he’d have his saddlebags packed with his treats, water, and whatever would fit.
We set up shop on a ridge. We were further away from the sanctuary than we’d been last time, but with the assist of Roger’s super-duper binoculars, we had a pretty good view. There were no humans in sight at the ranch, and no yellow “taco” truck like we’d seen on the last trip. I did make out brightly colored birds flitting around in the aviary, but with the breeze at our backs, we couldn’t hear them.
“So, the scene of the crime,” Topaz said dryly after taking in what resembled a pleasantly bu
colic painting of a lazy Mexican rancho. She handed me the binoculars.
“Sure looks more peaceful than the last time we saw it.”
“Is there even the slightest possibility that those men were good guys dropping off a load of birds rescued from smugglers?”
“I’d almost buy that theory, except for Humberto and Anna, and his coded message.”
“How exactly did that go?”
She was starting to annoy me, which is what happens when someone questions the veracity of (in my not so humble opinion) my superior cognitive content. “What do you mean?” I asked, trying and failing not to sound testy.
Topaz picked up on my irritation and shrugged. “Just the cop in me. Can you recall the exact words of the conversation? Just double-checking nothing was lost in translation, Chica.”
I relaxed and closed my eyes, recalling that day. “Okay. The phone rang, and since my caller ID said Rancho Los Pajaros, I quickly answered and hit the speaker button so Jan could hear what was coming down. I said, ‘¡Hola!’ but didn’t get a chance to greet Humberto, because a rough-sounding dude interrupted me and rattled something off in rapid Spanish.
“Jan’s Spanish is way better than mine, especially with mainland dialects. She mouthed that I should ask who was talking.”
Topaz nodded, seemingly approving of our methods. “Go ahead.”
“So I asked the caller, ‘¿Quien habla?’ but all I got was silence. I thought maybe they’d hung up, then we heard whispering in the background, and scuffling noises. Then Humberto asked, “¿Señora Café?”
“How did you know it was Humberto?”
“For one thing, he steadfastly refuses to address me as Señora, like every other Mexican man I know, and he was kicked in the throat by a horse when he was a kid, and he sounds like he has oatmeal stuck in his gullet. It also makes him talk very slowly in order to be understood.”
“Okay, what next?”
“After he asked if it was me, I asked him, in English, if he was okay and he answered, in Spanish, that he didn’t speak English. I know for a fact that he has a good command of the English language; he was raised in Texas, for cryin’ out loud. So, as we suspected, something was rotten in Mexico.”
Just for the Birds Page 8