“Where have I heard that before?” McNamara said.
Where, indeed? Wolf thought.
The more he heard, the less he liked.
José shifted to a seated position on the floor and took out his phone.
“You want me call Salvador, jefe?” he asked.
Zerbe nodded.
“Who the hell’s Salvador?” McNamara asked.
Zerbe held up his palm.
McNamara obviously wasn’t pleased with the man or his gesture but said nothing.
Wolf was seriously considering trying to convince Mac to scrap this mission and this unsavory trio, but they’d gone too far now.
José started gabbing into the phone, laughing and uttering words so rapid and sloppily pronounced that Wolf couldn’t understand what was being said or get a feel for the conversation.
If they don’t want you to understand them, he thought, you won’t, no matter how good you think you speak the language.
José laughed again and muttered a few more grunts before terminating the call. He looked up at Zerbe and said, “All set, jefe.”
“Let’s go down to the market and get some tacos,” Zerbe said.
Paco nodded and they started speeding down the street.
Wolf and McNamara exchanged glances again as they sat in silence. The trip wasn’t long, but it was punctuated by sudden stops, weaving in and out of lanes, and an almost constant blaring of horns. Through the window Wolf watched the sea of brown faces they passed: men, women, children, all walking alongside the road or pulling carts stacked with fruits, clothing, or stacks of electronics. It reminded him a little of the streets of Baghdad, at least until the IED’s made the treks too perilous to appreciate any indigenous color. Here, whenever they stopped people ran up to the side of the van extending their wares.
“Kind of reminds you of downtown LA, don’t it?” Zerbe said with a smirk. “In the old days back in Johannesburg we’d just shoot the bastards and leave ’em lay.”
So he’s South African, thought Wolf.
“How long did you say you had Accondras under surveillance?” McNamara asked.
Zerbe shrugged.
“About ten days. My job was just to locate him and keep an eye on him until you guys arrived.”
“Who you working for?” McNamara asked.
The PI didn’t answer for several seconds, then said, “The same people you are.”
Wolf had taken a distinct dislike to this Zerbe character and read that McNamara was having the same misgivings as well.
Paco suddenly jammed on the brakes and everyone shifted forward with an abruptness. He rolled down the window to yell and curse and then wheeled around some obstacle in the road.
“We’re almost there,” Zerbe said.
“Thank God for small favors,” McNamara said with a grin. “And I was actually thinking about renting a car down here, too.”
“Not advisable,” Zerbe said. “Plus, you’ve got to buy Mexican insurance.”
They felt the van veer to the left and go over a huge bump. At first Wolf thought they’d run over someone, but José looked up at him and winked.
“Un tope,” he said.
“Speed bump,” Zerbe added.
Wolf had heard tales about them down here, but never experienced one directly until now. It made him long for the stable suspension of a Hummer.
After moving off the pavement and onto what felt and sounded like a gravel roadway, the van came to a stop. Wolf saw they were in some sort of open-air market with rows of tents and vehicles. The sharp odor of hot peppers and meat being cooked wafted over as they opened the doors. It felt good to stand and stretch after being cramped in the vehicle. Zerbe began walking toward a couple of tents, José and Paco following. Stopping in front of one of the tents where a squat Mexican woman shuffled a variety of chopped meat, green and red vegetables, and a variety of dough in a pan over an open flame, Zerbe turned and said to José, “Order me four durados and a can of soda.” He passed the slim Mexican a handful of pesos and looked askance at Wolf and McNamara. “Get whatever you want, but I’d advise against overdoing it. We can’t afford messing up our timetable because somebody’s got the shits.”
“You don’t have to tell us twice,” McNamara said.
Both he and Wolf ordered two tacos and bottled water. After watching the food being prepared and listening to José extol the virtues of the cooking of la señora, they joined Zerbe at a wooden picnic table at the far edge of the clearing. It looked fairly well isolated.
José set a paper bag with Zerbe’s food down on the tabletop and then sat on the far edge of the bench and began devouring a burrito. Wolf glanced around and saw Paco standing about fifty feet away, eating and apparently keeping an eye on his van.
Zerbe unwrapped his first taco and bit into it, chewing, and then nodding appreciatively.
“Best damn food in this shithole,” he said.
If the pejorative offended the little man, he didn’t show it.
Neither Wolf nor McNamara ate.
“All this running around serving any purpose?” McNamara asked. “So far all we’ve seen is mini-fortress where this guy’s hanging out. You say it’s his parent’s house?”
Zerbe took another bite and nodded as he masticated. Running his tongue over his teeth, the grabbed the soft drink can, wiped the top with his coat sleeve, opened it, and took a swig. In this heat Wolf doubted that it would be very cold.
“Salvador’s on the way,” Zerbe said.
McNamara rolled his eyes. “I say again, who the fuck’s this Salvador?”
José chirped a laugh, expelling some partially chewed food.
“Salvador?” he said. “He es un padrote grande.”
Wolf understood this description but remained silent.
Let’s see how they’re going to frame it, he thought.
Zerbe shot José a quick look and the little man shrugged his shoulders and bit of another piece of his burrito.
“Salvador is a man of many talents,” Zerbe said. “He’s sort of a local legend around here.” He paused as if considering how to phrase the rest of his description. “He’s rather well known to the American and European permanent residents in Palacios del Oros. You might say he arranges things for those who have … unusual proclivities.”
“Un padrote grande,” José said, expelling more food particles. Wolf edged farther away from him. “Muy grande.”
“He’s a pimp then,” McNamara said.
Wolf was glad that Mac was able to read between the lines, despite the language barrier.
“Yes,” Zerbe said. “And he’s our key to your getting Accondras.”
“I like to know how it’s our key to us getting him,” McNamara said.
Zerbe smirked. “Listen, my job was just to locate him. Set things in motion for some pros to come down here and do the snatch. So far you guy haven’t shown me shit.”
McNamara took off his cowboy hat and handed it to Wolf.
“How’d you like me to shove those last two tacos up your ass?” His expression made it clear that he was prepared to do just that.
Zerbe’s eyes were still concealed behind the thick green lenses but Wolf was sure they were wide open now.
“Hey,” Zerbe said. “Take it easy, will ya? I been cooped up down here for ten days tracking this piece of shit. Then I get word Fallotti’s sending down two pros to grab him. I’m just doing my job.”
McNamara stared at the other man for several seconds then blew out a slow breath.
“I’m tired of you giving us the run-around. You got a plan, let’s hear it.”
The tip of Zerbe’s tongue shot out and wetted his lips.
“Accondras is inside that exclusive area,” he said. “Armed guards on all sides. Concertina wire on top of the wall.”
“So we noticed,” Wolf said.
“Well,” Zerbe replied. “Getting inside there is virtually impossible.”
“You told us that before,” McNamara said.
“So, the only way to grab him is to get him to come out. Salvador is our way to do that.” Zerbe picked up one of the tacos, looked at it for a moment, then dropped it back into the paper bag. “Accondras and Salvador are known to one another. You’re familiar with Accondras’s sexual preferences?”
Mac shot a quick glance at Wolf, who nodded.
“Le gusta los ninos,” José said. “Muy joven.”
“So we’ve heard,” Wolf said.
“Well,” Zerbe said, wiping his mouth on the inside of his sleeve. “Tonight, he’ll be going out to partake in a bit of his perverse lechery.”
Wolf and McNamara exchanged glances, their faces mirroring their feelings of disgust and disapproval.
“How reliable is this information?” McNamara asked.
“It’s taken me, or rather our employer,” Zerbe said, “quite a tidy sum of money, in the form of bribes, to come across this connection.”
“Connection?” Wolf said.
Zerbe shifted his gaze to him.
“Right. Salvador has gotten him some fodder for his excesses in the past, and he’s scheduled to do so again.”
“Tonight?” Wolf asked.
“Tonight,” Zerbe said.
“How do you know he’ll be coming out of the place?” McNamara asked. “What’s to stop the pimp from bringing the kid inside the compound?”
“He’s done it before this way before,” Zerbe said. “He doesn’t get on well with his stepfather and can’t afford to get kicked out of the house.”
“And you’re sure about this?”
Zerbe nodded.
“And when’s this supposed to be going down?” McNamara asked.
“In a few hours, actually. At dusk. Nobody likes to travel much at night, especially the tourists and expatriates. Even though Cancun is not known for the type of violence as the rest of Mexico, it can still be a dangerous place.”
“A nest of vipers,” Wolf said.
“What?” Zerbe asked.
“That’s the Mayan translation for Cancun.”
Zerbe shrugged. “If you say so.”
“A few hours,” McNamara said, looking at his watch. “Give me a time.”
“Time is relative here,” Zerbe said. “Suffice it to say that we’ll be able to name our time, and location.”
McNamara frowned. “You better start laying it all out for us. And quite being so mealy-mouthed.”
The PI pursed his lips. “Okay, this is the way it’ll go down. José contacts Salvador and gives him the where and when. We’ll already be there setting up on the location. Once he comes out, José calls me and follows them.” He pulled his burner partially out of this pocket. “When he shows up expecting to see a little bare behind, you two step out of the shadows and grab him.”
“And exactly where is this supposed to take place?” McNamara asked.
“It is near a place called El Meco. The ancient Mayan ruins. There’s a smattering of slum housing almost adjacent to them. A lot of them are vacant. Pay somebody a few pesos to rent their shitty little shack for a few hours, and nobody gives a damn what you do in there.”
“Garida de apañar,” José said with a lascivious grin. “Para el baile de diablo.”
McNamara looked at Wolf.
“Den of iniquity,” Wolf said. “Loosely translated. “For the devil’s dance.”
“So Accondras is going there to meet this Salvador guy,” McNamara said. “Thinking he’s gonna be getting his rocks off sodomizing some poor kid and then planning on beating feet back to his compound, of which he’s afraid to leave after dark.”
“Discretion is often unwisely supplanted by desire,” Zerbe said.
“What is it you’re not telling us?” Wolf said.
Zerbe raised an eyebrow.
“If he’s living behind a wall covered with concertina wire and has armed guards to keep the locals at a distance, and everybody’s afraid to travel at night,” Wolf said, intentionally drawing out his question. “Then it stands to reason that even if he lets his desires supplant his discretion, that he’ll be taking some precautions. He gonna be armed?”
Zerbe laughed. “I doubt it. This guy’s what you’d call a real pussy. A lightweight, albeit a crafty one.” He pulled out the lapel of his dingy white sport jacket and snared his cigarette pack out of his pocket. After shaking one out, he put it between his lips. José was quick to lean over with his lighter and flicked the wheel. It ignited with a sharp burst. The PI leaned his head forward and stuck the end of the cigarette into the yellow flame. “He’ll most likely have a guard with him.”
“An armed guard?” McNamara asked.
“Yes, but it’s doubtful that the guard will accompany him into the house where he thinks he’s going to find the boy.”
“What kind of weapons this guard gonna have?” McNamara asked.
After taking a long drag, Zerbe let the smoke embrace his words. “A sidearm, most likely. Possibly something a little more substantial. An old Uzi or perhaps a shotgun.”
“And we have nothing.” Again, McNamara’s reply was more of a statement than a question. “Can you get us couple of guns?”
Zerbe shook his head. “Only the police, the cartel, and a few thugs have guns down here. It’s difficult, not to mention extremely risky, but I’m working on it.”
“Working on it?” McNamara said.
Zerbe nodded.
“Well, work a little harder,” McNamara said. “We ain’t going into this thing unarmed. What you’re asking us to do sounds pretty risky.”
“Isn’t that what you’re being paid for?” Zerbe said. “And, you’ll have the element of surprise.”
“Surprise,” McNamara said, emphasizing the triteness of the word. “Against a guy carrying an Uzi or shotgun that ain’t gonna count for a whole lot.”
“Plus, I’m not too eager to maybe having to take out some guard who’s just doing his job,” Wolf said.
“Hey, you guys are supposed to be the pros,” Zerbe said. “How you do it is your business. But this house we got set up for the …” He paused, smiled, and then continued: “Liaison has a rear window. Just jump him once he gets inside, take him down, and carry him out the back. Me and Paco will be waiting down the alley with the van. We shove him in and take off for the rendezvous without anybody being the wiser.”
“What about this Salvador fella?” McNamara asked.
Zerbe shrugged again, as if striving for nonchalance, but falling a bit short.
“I’ll pay him off beforehand. He’ll escort Accondras and the guard to the house, give them the key, and collect his dough. Then he’ll be gone.”
“What if Accondras wants the guard to come inside with him?” Wolf asked. “To check things out.”
“I don’t suppose he will,” Zerbe said. “He didn’t the last time.”
“That’s a whole lot of supposing,” McNamara said. “What if he starts yelling? That’ll bring the guard in real quick.”
“Lock the door behind him. I’ll bring you a Taser and some duct tape to cover his mouth.”
“A Taser,” McNamara said.
“Yeah,” Zerbe said. “They work great. You ever used one?”
McNamara and Wolf exchanged glances and Mac smirked.
“Yeah,” he said. “I know all about ’em.”
“And suppose,” Wolf said exaggerating the word, “we are able to take this Accondras down inside without a problem or a sound. How are we going to get him out of town?”
“I already told you that. Bring him down the back alley to where we’ll be waiting with the van.”
Wolf kept his tone flat. “And then we drop him at a pre-arranged location.”
“For which I have the coordinates,” Zerbe said. “I was told you both have map reading skills, and I’ll have a GPS device if you’re worried.”
Wolf glanced at Mac, wondering what his thoughts were. It was his play to make, or not. Wolf was having severe misgivings but said nothing. There was no way he
was not going to back his friend and mentor.
“You said gringos are afraid to drive at night around here?” McNamara asked.
“Let’s just say it isn’t always advisable,” Zerbe said.
“Then how the hell we supposed to get back here from this dust-off zone?”
Zerbe took another long drag on his smoke before replying.
“Paco can drive you back.”
“And you’ll be with us?” McNamara asked.
Zerbe nodded. “All the way.”
McNamara and Wolf exchanged glances. All the way—the Airborne creed.
Both of them smirked.
McNamara stared at the diminutive José, then glanced at his watch. “What time’s this little illicit rendezvous set for?”
“I tol him seis por la noche,” José said. “Eet will be getting dark by siete.”
McNamara stood up, stretched, and readjusted his hat on his head.
“Okay, let’s go check out this Garida de apañar,” he said. He started walking toward the van at a quicker than normal pace and motioned for Wolf to join him.
“Whatcha think?” he asked when Wolf caught up.
Wolf considered his answer carefully. He didn’t like it, any of it, but didn’t want to let Mac down.
“Your call,” he said. “But it sounds like it could easily turn into a cluster fuck.”
“Yeah,” McNamara said. “With us caught smack-dab in the middle.”
Zerbe and José were still a good distance behind them and certainly out of earshot.
“It’s not too late to back out,” Wolf said.
McNamara glanced at him. “That what you want?”
“I got your back,” Wolf said. “Whatever you choose to do.”
McNamara gave a quick nod and smiled.
“I never doubted that.” They strode for several more steps in silence and then Mac said. “Looks like we’re gonna be dancing with the devil ourselves tonight.”
Chapter Sixteen
Von Dien Winter Estate, South Belize
Eagan watched as the trio of luscious Latinas cavorted about in the pool along with the two bounty hunters. The backdrop beyond was a conflation of succulent green vines, blooming bougainvillea, wildflowers, and assorted trees spreading out into the verdant and seemingly infinite forest. Somewhere in the thick shrubbery, Eagan knew a high, electrified fence topped with barbed wire prevented unauthorized intrusions by man and beast. It was the kind of place men like him dream about. Not too much different than Saddam’s luxurious mansions which were scattered around Iraq that Eagan had luxuriated in on his first tour while still a grunt in the army. It had been a brief taste of a lifestyle very foreign to him, and one that he realized he would never see again unless he made some severe changes in his life. So after his hitch was up, he went back to Iraq, but not in uniform. There was far better money to be made in a PMC, and only a contractual obligation that could be broken without any military consequences. The Vipers and good old Stu had afforded him a chance to hop into the fast lane and make some real dough. And then the nice little gig of “recovering” the artifacts fell into his lap.
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