Just for the Birds

by Jinx Schwartz

  “Tell him we’ll alert him if Drew leaves the sanctuary. And ask him to radio us when he gets to Campo Muleshoe. Just a test blip’ll do it, so we know we can communicate.”

  Jan switched from her phone to her laptop and went to work. After a minute or two, she got a ding. “Aha! Agent Craig has stationed himself out of view on the road between Campo Muleshoe and Rancho Los Pajaros, so if we let him know when Drew leaves, he can do something to slow him down if necessary.”

  “Like what?”

  “Want me to ask him?”

  “Nah. Let’s just do our part up here. I did enough decision-making yesterday.”

  “Whaaat? Hetta Coffey, giving up control? Call the networks.”

  “Oh, shut up. I’m tired, okay?”

  “How’s about we share camera and binocular shifts, so we have two sets of eyes on the ranch at all times?”

  “Good plan, Agent Jan.”

  “Agent Jan! Ack! Agent Jan!”

  “Shut up, Agent Trouble.”

  Chapter Twenty-one

  OUR VHFS CRACKLED with three consecutive bursts of static about ten minutes after we got Roger’s last message that he was at the mule skinners place.

  “Okay, Agent Hetta, stay sharp. Roger’s in. We’d better go into stealth mode. That static sounded awfully loud to me.” She turned off her handheld, handed it to me to put on a charger, and moved back to the camera.

  I shook off a lethargy that had befallen me while sitting in the warm sun. Plugging in Jan’s radio, I inserted my earphones into mine and turned the volume to low, but on high power. “Okay, I’m on radio duty. God, I’d kill for a nap.”

  “Go ahead. I’ve got eyes on the sanctuary, my cellphone on vibrate in my pocket, and the radio will wake you up. Grab a quick one while you can.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Absotively. After this is over, we’ll go down to Cabo, check into a luxury hotel and spa, and treat ourselves to a week of nothing. Dream about that.”

  “Sounds fab, but I’d as soon fantasize about my upcoming trip to the islands with Jenks. Okay, closing my eyes.”

  I was just dozing off when a thought hit me like a shockwave. We needed back up! All seven of us (counting Agents Po Thang and Trouble on the roster) were up here in the middle of nowhere, and not one soul who actually might care knew where we were. We could disappear without a trace and only Jenks might have some clue why, but no hard facts. By the time he figured it all led back to Trouble’s reappearance, it would be too late.

  A sudden image of Po Thang battered and bloodied from a dog fight did the job. I sat up and grabbed the laptop.

  “Can’t sleep?” Jan asked.

  “Oh, I could, but I just remembered I gotta send an email.”

  “Go for it. Dammit, I wish we could see Craig, but we don’t have a visual on that part of the road. Or the mule ranch. Makes me nervous.”

  “Tell me about it,” I said as the Dell booted up. “I’ll be much happier when both Craig and Roger join us up here. I’m not cut out for this surveillance crap.”

  “Surely you jest. You are the snoopiest person I know.”

  “Snooping and waiting for bad guys to do something awful and not knowing what to do about it, are different.”

  “True dat. Oh, shit oh, dear! That, rat bastard muleteer is getting into his pickup. And he looks like he’s leaving.”

  “You owe the cuss jar ten dollars. You said the S word.”

  When we were certain Drew was going out the gate, I abandoned the computer, grabbed the radio, and said, “Earth to R. Incoming. Repeat, incoming.”

  I received two series of three click spurts as confirmation, then we heard Roger say, “H, going to your rock. C, shelter in place. Confirm.”

  “Confirm.”

  “Confirm! Ack! Confirm!”

  Jan whirled. “Okay, that’s it! Cover for me!” As I moved to the camera just in time to lose sight of Drew’s truck, she strode to Trouble’s cage and threw a nearby tarp over it. “Noisy little shit—and yes, I know, the cuss jar—is gonna get us busted. Maybe I should take him back to the pickup.”

  “It’ll just be worse, Auntie Jan. At least up here we have some control.”

  “I hope they didn’t hear anything down there.”

  “With all that bird noise? I doubt it.”

  She took a sweep with the binoculars, then went back to telephoto lens duty. “Uh, someone heard. Take a look at this.” She moved away from the camera and I took over.

  “Jesus y Maria! Po Thang’s pointing.” He was standing motionless, with his snout directed at us, a front paw bent up and his tail skyward. “Crap, he learns one doggie behavior on his own and it’s gonna get us murdered.”

  As I spoke Topaz handed Po Thang a treat to break his concentration. Where did she get those? His little doggie brain obviously registered, TREAT! and he relaxed. I laughed, told Jan what happened and asked, “Do you know where the treats came from?”

  “Nope, I wondered about that. There’s a large box sitting on a shelf near the gate. I figured Drew brought it with the dog food. I guess he can’t be all bad.”

  “Oh, yeah?” I grumbled. “Hitler loved his dog.”

  On that happy note she went back to the camera and I returned to my computer while waiting to hear from Roger or Craig again. I hoped like hell Roger’s little B&E job at the mule skinner’s house got results. We were flying blind and could use some hard evidence. And a few new, and highly trained recruits to the cause: ‘cause I was tired and pissed and a little scared for the outcome.

  I got to work on that email and fifteen minutes later I finished my detailed missive as to how we got into this mess, and sent it out, even though I knew the internet was sketchy with only two bars on my jet pack. At least now someone, somewhere, would know where we were. When I closed my laptop, I asked Jan for updates.

  “Absolutely nada. Zip. Zilch. Take over, will ya? My teeth are on edge.”

  As soon as I had camera duty, she stomped to her backpack and pulled out the biggest silver-colored bracelet I’d ever seen. She slipped it on her arm, sat down near me, unscrewed the decorative ball at the top, took a slug from the hole, and handed it to me.

  Flask as jewelry? Genius.

  Jan with one full of tequila? Priceless.

  My radio earbuds crackled.

  I hit the transmit button three times, then said, “H.”

  Three cracks of static told me to wait. Then three more, and I heard, “C.”

  Craig, Roger and I were all on the radio. We couldn’t talk at the same time, so patience was necessary; if one was broadcasting, the others couldn’t. I waited impatiently.

  Finally, Roger said, “C, meet H and J at bird nest. The mule is out of the corral, headed east. Tailing.”

  “On my way,” Craig answered.

  “Roger Dodger,” I couldn’t resist saying.

  Jan, who couldn’t hear anyone but me asked, “What’s up?”

  “Seems Drew is on the move, headed east. Roger’s following him, and Craig’s on his way here.”

  “Thank goodness. We can use some new company. Can you send Roger a message? Ask him to please send us text updates the first time he gets a good cell signal? Maybe he found clues at Drew’s house we can use. I hope that dirty lowdown skunk of a mule skinner isn’t just going to the grocery store in Loreto.”

  “Amen. Texting.”

  Jan blew a raspberry, then drawled, “So, looks like we get to wait, watch, and chew our nails.”

  “Yippee, y’all,” I said with as much sarcasm as I could conjure, and resumed keeping an eye on Rancho Los Pajaros, albeit somewhat more casually than earlier. Since Drew was not returning to the ranch, I was pretty sure nothing new was going to happen any time soon, and a couple of shots from Jan’s bracelet, mixed with whatever was in that pill she gave me, had erased my muscle pain and a good deal of my angst.

  Somehow, the spy business seemed a smidge less intense with a buzz on.

  “Now I know w
hy those guards down there drink on duty, Miss Jan. And speaking of, we haven’t seen the goon Drew shot in the leg, or the one he roughed up for sleeping on the job. So, with Drew headed for who-knows-where, I estimate the bad guy count is down to one able-bodied punk and the truck driver. Who, by the way, is a little old man, but he unloaded heavy boxes like they were empty, so we can’t count him out as a threat.”

  “I can take him,” Jan said, fondling a length of rope she’d brought with her.

  We work great as an attack team, but I prefer keeping my enemies at gun’s length, while Jan wants to lasso and truss them up like a Thanksgiving turkey, maybe breaking a wing or two in the process.

  “No doubt you could, but he might be a handful. I didn’t see a gun on him, but older Mexicans do tend to carry machetes. And he’s got that wiry look of a farmer or fisherman. Someone who’s worked hard physically his whole life.”

  “And now he’s a smuggler.”

  “Yes, but I noticed how gently he handled the birds and girls. And I caught him frowning at those young punks with obvious disgust a couple of times. He might prove an ally.”

  Jan brightened. “You think so? We could sure use someone on the inside right now. Or, we need Nacho.”

  “Already sent him the whole story.”

  “What? When?”

  “I told you I was sending a couple of emails.”

  “I thought you meant to your parents or something.”

  “Jan, you know my parents refuse to do anything electronic.”

  “So, now Nacho knows where we are and what we’re doing?”

  “If he opens his email, he does.”

  “That’s a big if, Hetta. Anything Nacho gets from you he tends to trash, lest he gets dragged into one of your debacles.”

  I shrugged. “True, but Nacho owes us one. He dragged us into the French kidnapping mess.”

  “True dat. Who else did you copy?”

  “Rhonda. I asked her to forward my email to Cholo, that mysterious Mexican seal-type dude who may or may not be her amour. He’d come in right handy about now.”

  “Cholo! Oh yes, he’d do serious damage to these amateurs. However, my guess is we’ll wrap this up today all by ourselves.”

  I gave Jan the squint eye, checking for any sign the tequila was messing with her judgement.

  “Miz Jan, might I remind you we have no guns, and there are only three of us. Four counting Topaz, but she’s locked up and in no position to do a damned thing to help anyone right now. How do you figure we can wrap this up today?”

  “Optimism.”

  “Yeah, tequila does that for me, as well.”

  Chapter Twenty-two

  CRAIG RADIOED US once he was parked next to my pickup, and Jan went down the path to lead him up to our bivouac, as we were now calling it.

  “Hey, Craig, you didn’t by any chance bring a pizza, did you?” I asked, when he crested the hill. I gave him a hug and was privately annoyed that he wasn’t even breathing hard.

  He stepped back and sniffed. “You two have been into the rum ration, right?”

  Damned teetotalers; they can smell alcohol at thirty paces.

  Despite being covered, Trouble squawked, “Tequila!”

  “Shut up, bird. Just a wee dram to calm our shredded nerves, mind ye,” I said in my best Oliver Twist accent. “Please, sir, could I have more?”

  Craig laughed. “Right now I wish I’d never quit drinking. My nerves could stand a hit, but one of us must stay sober. Have you heard anything from Roger yet?”

  “No. He’ll have to stop to text, or at least wait until he gets off the windy road down to Mex One at Loreto.”

  “What’s been going on below?”

  “Check it out for yourself. They’re down to two goons and an old truck driver right now. I wish we could get a message to Topaz. She needs to make a break for it while Drew’s gone. He’s obviously the brains in the operation.”

  “How can we do that?” he asked.

  “Hell, I don’t know. I was hoping you’d have an idea. I’m suffering burn out.”

  “Ack! Tequila!”

  Jan jabbed a finger at Trouble. “You want the tarp back?”

  “What kind of lock is on that aviary gate?” Craig asked.

  “It used to be just a drop bar, but who knows by now? That rat bastard, Drew, ain’t no idiot.”

  He made some adjustments to the telephoto lens. “I’m gonna zero in, see what I can see.”

  I watched him as he handled Roger’s huge camera with ease, removing it from the tripod and holding it in one large hand. It took two of us to even set it on the tripod and dog it down. Now that my giant of a friend had it, he deftly made adjustments.

  “I think I see the old man. Or at least his sandals and tattered pants legs. Looks like he’s taking a siesta in the bed of a yellow truck.”

  “That’d be he. The others are wearing new jeans.”

  Trouble, for some reason started barking. Jan threw the tarp over the cage, but it was too late.

  “Uh-oh, ladies. Po Thang is barking at us.”

  “Topaz will calm him down. She knows we’re up here, or at least I hope she does. Like I said before, I know if I were in her little boots I’d feel better knowing that friendlies were watching over me. Not that we can do squat, at least until Roger returns. With four of us, I think we can pull off a sneak attack after dark.”

  “If the other two guards are out of commission.”

  “Hetta thinks the truck driver might help us.”

  “Really? Why?”

  I told him my observations where the old man was concerned. “Just my opinion. I could be wrong.”

  “Did Hetta Coffey just say she might be wrong?” Jan cackled.

  Craig chuckled. “I do believe she did.”

  “Bite me!”

  “Bite me!” Trouble shrieked, despite the tarp. Then he began barking again, sounding for all the world like Po Thang.

  “Oh, hell, an armed guard just came out of the house and is looking this way.”

  “Jan, grab that bird and shut him up! If you have to, take him down the path toward the pickup so the sound won’t carry.”

  “Check!”

  I grabbed the binoculars to give Craig an extra set of eyes. The surly guard was stalking toward the bird enclosure, yelling so loud we could hear him. “¡Pinche chucho! Callate!” He raised the gun barrel as he closed on the gate, then stopped and took aim at Po Thang and Topaz. My heart seized, and I gasped.

  “What? What’s happening?” Jan yelled as she shoved Trouble into an empty cooler and sat on it.

  Evidently the goon calling Po Thang an effing mutt, and demanding he shut up, just didn’t resonate. Back hair up, teeth bared, ears back, Po Thang was the very picture of menace. He charged the chain link fencing, sending the guard scampering backward. The man lost his balance and fell on his designer-jeaned ass.

  Topaz tackled Po Thang and got him in a headlock, but he was so worked up, I was afraid he might bite her in his attempt to get loose and attack the guard. Never mind he hadn’t figured out there was a fence between them. In one practiced move, Topaz pulled off the bandana she wore as a head band, muzzled Po Thang, and lay across him.

  The guard scrambled to his feet and picked up his gun, which looked more like a semi-automatic than an automatic, but either was deadly at close range. If he started shooting into the pen, it would be a massacre.

  The old man nimbly slid from the truck bed, yelled loudly, ran toward the guard, and the punk spun to face him. As he did so, he tried to swing the gun barrel at the driver and fell against the aviary gate.

  Topaz dropped him where he stood.

  Pandemonium broke out in the cage as birds screeched, girls squealed in fear, and the old man froze in his tracks, staring in disbelief at Topaz and the still form on the ground.

  Jan was pitching a hissy fit next to me, jerking on my arm while demanding to know what was going on. She let go and yelled, “Oh, shit! Was that a gunsho
t?”

  “You betchum! Topaz just nailed a guard. Oh, hell, here come the other Pendejos. Two of ’em!”

  I watched in horror as the goons, one of them still bloodied from his earlier ass stomping, and the other limping, ran from the house. Luckily, only one of them was able to carry a gun.

  “Those bastards are charging the pen, and they’re still out of Topaz’s range!” My voice was up at least three octaves, I could barely catch my breath, and my heart was practically jumping out of my chest. All remnants of the pill and tequila disappeared as my stomach went cold. “Jan! Let Trouble loose.”

  Jan didn’t hesitate. I knew my parrot would leap into the fray, and hoped turning Trouble loose on the men below would at least create a diversion, but he did better than that. Drawn to the brouhaha below, he soared down the mountain like Mighty Mouse, covering the distance in a flash. Then he aimed his entire twenty or so ounces of heft at the lead man—the one with a gun—who never knew what hit him.

  The goon screamed and grabbed the top of his bloodied head with both hands as Trouble sailed out of sight, and to the safety of some tall trees.

  During the confusion that followed, the old man snatched up the dead guard’s long gun and handed it to Topaz through the feeder gate. She let go of Po Thang, took aim, and evidently ordered the old man to hit the ground for he dropped like a rock. The moment he was out of harm’s way, she easily finished off the two Pendejos. Seconds later, she and Po Thang were free.

  Jan wrested the binoculars from my death grip on them and said, “Hetta, you better calm down before you have a danged stoke!”

  I forced myself to take deep Yoga breaths while she gave me a running report.

  “Looks like an all-clear. The driver is opening the gate to the aviary. Jeez I hope Po Thang doesn’t eat him. Craig, you haven’t said a word. You got all this?”

  “On video. We better get down there as fast as we can.”

  “Hetta, you okay to take over up here?”

  “Hell no! I want to hug my dog, now!”