by PAUL BENNETT
‘I’d like you to fly us to the point marked by an X on the map,’ I said. ‘When we get close I would like you to overfly it and search the ocean for a boat with a Panamanian flag: four quadrants, 2 white, one red on the top right, one blue on the bottom left, both white quadrants with a star inside — one red, one blue.’
All this presuming that Stan had done his homework properly.
The pilot nodded to me as if he did this kind of operation every day and we took off. If you’ve never flown in a helicopter, it is a strange sensation. It’s the vertical movement that is disconcerting. If you’ve flown in an airplane you would be subject to the normal gradual ascent and descent. A helicopter can soar, hover and plunge. Please don’t make it plunge, I prayed. I looked over my shoulder to see the others. At least some of them would be thinking ‘Was this a good idea?’
As we flew south and along the Gulf of California, the landscape changed from desert to a verdant strip of land adjoining the Gulf. There were hundreds of miles of stunning beaches, great swathes of golden sand with people playing in the water or sitting in the shade of umbrellas dotted close to the shore. By the time we would go into action the sun worshippers would be gone and the beaches would be deserted. That’s why their boat had picked evening for a meet with the fruit and vegetable truck.
When we reached Bahia Kino the pilot drew my attention to a small track which ran down to the beach. It ran for about a mile before reaching a roadway which would lead to the main road north to Sonora, south to the popular resort of Mazatlán and eastward to Chihuahua. We had to stop the truck on the narrow track before it gained protection from other vehicles on the fast roads.
At Bahia Kino we turned south to follow the Gulf and we could see Baha California Sur on our right. This was more heavily populated and more built up, especially with hotels and tourist facilities.
‘Not like the same country,’ said Bull. ‘I bet the people here live for a day on what the villagers exist on for in a year. Don’t seem right.’
We flew as far down the Gulf as fuel would allow and, not seeing the La Gitana, set down on a deserted piece of scrub about ten miles down from Bahia Kino and prepared to watch out for the boat on dry land. We left our assault rifles in the helicopter and jumped down with just our handguns.
Stan lay on the dunes and took out a pair of binoculars from one of the deep pockets of his camouflage trousers.
‘We’ll take surveillance among us at half an hour at a time. They’ve got to come by us here, so there should be no chance of missing them.’
‘They’ll want to land during the dark.’ I said. ‘They have two options: time it right and arrive just after dusk or come earlier and anchor up and wait until nightfall. Either way we’ll spot them with plenty of time in hand.’
‘Candy from a baby,’ said Pieter, tempting fate.
I lay down on the dunes next to Stan to keep him company. Might as well be there as someplace else. We weren’t going anywhere for a while.
‘What are you thinking, Stan?’ I said.
‘That this is far more complicated than we thought. I’d rather we could have got here one day, storm the place the next and go home. Waiting is the hard part of our job. If you are not careful, you think of negative things — everything that can go wrong — and you start to doubt yourself. Get all edgy. We are close to that happening. Let’s get this over and done quickly, Johnny.’
‘I have the feeling that the fiesta is important. Like we’re destined to attack then whatever we do. Do you believe in fate, Stan?’
‘No,’ he said, shaking his head vigorously. ‘Otherwise you would believe that your actions are predetermined and you start thinking nothing matters, that whatever you do will make no difference to the future. I think we’ve made a difference to many people’s lives in the past. I like to think we did it because it was the right thing to do, not that there was no alternative.’
‘We’re up against some bad people. People who don’t care who lives and who dies, as long as it’s not them. We might have bitten off more than we can chew here.’
‘Could be time to work out a back-up plan. Anna is the complication, though, isn’t she? Can’t let her be sent back to Chechnya after Toomey pulls the rug from beneath our feet. Not with the twins, too. No other option left Johnny. We are going to have to kill a lot of people before we can complete this job. Pull this off today and we could be nearly there.’
I checked my watch. ‘What’s keeping them?’
‘Relax,’ said Stan. ‘They might not show for hours yet. We have them covered. They have to go past here. There’s no other way. Plenty of action later.’
‘I’ll watch for a while. You take a break.’
‘It won’t make them come any earlier,’ he said.
‘No harm trying,’ I replied.
Stan gave a little laugh, passed me the binoculars and got up and walked back to where the others were sitting on the grass.
I looked through the binoculars. There were sailing boats moving up and down the Gulf, but none that could be described as a gin palace or were flying the Panamanian flag. Then I saw it. It was unmistakeably bigger than the other boats. Two decks for sunbathing, one large control cockpit with a big wheel. There were two heavy duty fishing rods, the kind that Bull provided for the tourists out catching marlin. Just to confuse the police, there were two girls in bikinis sipping drinks on the decked area by the cabin entrance. Good cover. Attract attention to divert attraction. I checked the name painted on the stern and it matched. This was the Gypsy. I rolled over on the dune and gave out a yell of triumph, premature maybe, but it was progress.
I jumped out and ran to the helicopter pilot and interrupted his cigarette at the edge of the dunes.
‘Action?’ he said.
‘Close,’ I said. ‘The boat is pulling into the channel towards Bahia Kino. It should anchor up till dusk and then move to the shore to make the transfer. We have to be in the air at that time. The moment the merchandise is delivered and the truck pulls off we have to be in the air and alongside. That’s when we open the door and Bull starts shooting. From there we play it by ear.’
‘That sounds like you don’t know what is going to happen,’ he said, squinting through his Ray-Bans.
‘In theory — how we’ve practised it — you land by the truck. Bull and Red run to the front and point their guns at the driver and the guard. I run towards the back, open the door and look for the merchandise. Pieter and Stan come over to help in case it’s well hidden. We find it and skedaddle. We pile in the chopper and you take off. Next stop, Santa Rio and some cold beers, or whatever takes your fancy.’
‘Then let’s do it.’
I looked at the sky and saw the sun start dipping toward the horizon. I clapped my hands to get the attention of the others.
‘Let’s mount up,’ I said.
We started to climb into the helicopter. As Pieter was about to enter, he paused.
‘I hate to bring this up,’ he said to me, ‘but what if the boat turns round when the truck is under attack and joins in the fight?’
‘You’re being fired at by a guy with an assault rifle in a helicopter. Would you turn back and join in?’
‘Point taken,’ he said.
The pilot started the rotor blades and Bull and I put on our headsets.
‘Leave the door open,’ the pilot said. ‘Tricky to get it open when we’re flying. Too much wind resistance.’
Bull nodded and took up position with the assault rifle cradled in his lap.
We rose into the air. No one was concerned about plunging now, there were bigger fish to fry. Or fly, I suppose. The nose dipped fractionally and we were moving up. The pilot swung around and we headed for Bahia Kino.
The noise level increased as the rotors whirred and the wind rushed by. Bull was leaning over the edge of the helicopter and Pieter had hold of Bull’s belt just in case something went wrong and he got dragged outside.
The sky grew darker. Soon the
pilot would have to turn the lights on so we could see the truck clearly. As we drew nearer, I could see the boat and the truck. The boat was just making the delivery. I instructed the pilot to hover and watched for exactly the right moment. When the man doing the transfer walked back to the boat I shouted ‘Go, go, go,’ like they do in the cop movies. We swooped down on our prey.
Bull started to fire. The noise level inside the cabin increased. He strafed the tyres on the right-hand side of the truck and the helicopter sped along and turned round so that the other side came into view. Bull fired long bursts and I heard him, through the headset, tell the pilot to land.
The truck had ground to a halt. Bull and Pieter jumped out and went to take up a position covering the driver and guard. Stan and Red went towards the rear. I ran past them and reached the rear doors. Turning the handle, I swung the door open and looked inside.
There were four men with Kalashnikovs staring at me. They grinned. I couldn’t outshoot that many without an edge, so I did the only thing possible. I ran like hell.
‘Cover!’ I shouted to Bull and Pieter.
They started to spray bullets behind me to give me some protection en route to the helicopter. Stan and Red ran in my wake, turning round from time to time to add their bullets to the mix. Gradually, Bull and Pieter withdrew and we climbed aboard. The pilot must have heard the shooting or seen us running and the rotors were already turning. He took off before we were even seated, let alone got the door shut or put our belts on. He didn’t want such a valuable object marred by bullet holes.
We climbed quickly and soon we were out of range. Bull slammed the door shut as the pilot hovered and I turned round in my seat to check on everybody.
‘Hell,’ said Red. ‘The goddamned hell of a damnation sonovabitch was a trap.’ This seemed to sum up the situation perfectly.
Chapter Thirteen
When we arrived back, all talk of the failure having been banned because it hurt too much at the time; we were an unsociable bunch, grumpy to an extreme. We drank too much and pretended, out of politeness, to eat with gusto the chicken dish that Rosa had prepared, but it stuck in our craw. We retired early, grunting goodnights to each other and settling the watch rota for the night, and were up and ready to meet Paco at the duly arranged time. We still didn’t have a clue as to what had happened with the raid on the truck, but hoped that we could get sufficient information — maybe even an admission — from Paco to solve the puzzle of who and why.
We entered the bar and I went up to talk to the waiter while the others got seated. I took out a bunch of dollars and told him what we wanted. Soon after, Paco walked in and gave us a smile that I hoped to wipe off his face.
The waiter brought over the beers and placed them in front of us. They had been poured into glasses which were only partly grimy. I didn’t want to upset him so drank mine eagerly.
‘Well,’ Paco said, ‘hand it over.’
‘Slight problem,’ I said.
‘Didn’t the boat show?’ he asked.
If he was behind the trap, he was pretty good at playing innocent. Although, frankly, I couldn’t see why Rojo would set the trap unless it was an attempt to get rid of us for good. We were too useful in the short term for that. Maybe not after today, though.
‘You lied to us,’ I said. ‘There were more guards than you said. They were waiting for us. Somebody set a trap and we were lucky to get out alive. We’re aiming to find out who that someone is and get even.’
‘Well, don’t look at me,’ he said. ‘I wanted the merchandise. I had no reason to set you up.’
‘Who else knew about it apart from you?’ I asked.
‘Only the kid.’
‘The kid?’
‘Rojo, I mean.’ Interesting Freudian slip.
‘No one else?’ Bull asked, to make his presence felt.
‘The man who gave us the tip off, but he would never do something like that. It’s more than his life is worth. Well, exactly what his life would be worth, I suppose.’
Bull grunted. ‘You’d have to fight me for which one of us kills him. I don’t mind going into battle, but I like to know who I’m up against. Surprises are never good in my book.’
We finished our beers and the waiter brought another round over and set them before us.
Paco took a sip of his new beer. ‘Does this beer taste a bit funny to you?’ he asked.
‘That’s the Mexicans for you,’ I said. ‘Can’t even brew a decent beer.’
He shook his head at the inability of Mexicans and drank some more. ‘There’s always tequila,’ I said.
‘A brew even worse than the beer. Now, where were we?’
‘You were going to hand over the rest of the twenty-five grand in dollars.’
‘Got the wrong person there, folks,’ he said. ‘You were going to hand over the twenty-five grand I gave you as a down payment. Then our business is over.’
‘Can’t help you there,’ I said. ‘You forfeit the money for misinformation. Just about cover our drinks bill for consoling ourselves.’
‘Rojo won’t like it,’ he said.
‘Then I guess it’s your job to placate him. Reckon you do a lot of that.’
‘The kid will learn. Eventually. Probably. It’s my job to teach him and I do a lot of that at the moment.’
I desperately wanted to see if I could get any information on the kidnapped girl, but couldn’t broach the subject because no one but Estevez was supposed to know.’
‘Have another beer,’ I said, as an alternative, raising my hand to summon our waiter of the year. ‘No rush to break the bad news to Rojo.’
We sat there in silence until the glasses of beer had arrived and the waiter had gone back behind the little bar.
‘Youth can be impetuous,’ I said.
‘Not the word I would use,’ said Bull.
‘Nor me,’ said the counsellor.
‘I imagine you favour rash instead,’ I said. ‘Acting before he thinks, I reckon. Can get you into a whole lot of trouble.’
‘I’m used to dealing with professionals. Guys like you with experience and who know what they’re doing and the reason why. Rojo thinks he can click his fingers and it all works out fine.’
This was a man with a lot to get off his chest. Bitterness for landing the lousy job of baby minder in a one-mule village in Mexico, rather than being back at Drugs Central in Columbia where the main action was.
‘As one professional to another,’ Bull said, to keep him talking, ‘it can be kinda hard to watch the young mess things up because it’s you who has to pick up the pieces.’
‘You’re right there,’ Paco said.
‘Consequences,’ I said. ‘They never think of the consequences.’
More beers arrived. Most of us were slowing down, but Paco was in full stream by now. Didn’t get much opportunity to talk with like-minded people — or so he thought.
‘You never guess what he went and did,’ he said. ‘No, take that back. That’s confidential.’
The that’s came out without the second t and confidential was slurred. ‘Something where you’ve had to pick up the pieces, I imagine,’ I said.
‘Too damn right,’ he said. ‘And do yer know the worsths thing?’
‘No, tell me,’ I said.
‘He may jusht have got lucky. In a matter of monsths he may have built an empire.’
‘Must have taken some risks for that,’ Pieter said, to keep his attention wandering around the group of us.
‘Only one risk, but it’s a big one. One his father would never have . . . Washt the word?’
‘Contemplated?’ I said.
‘Yesh, con . . . whatever. And the kid may come up shmelling of roses. Ain’t no justshtice.’
‘Must be a hard life,’ I said.
‘And you never guesh what he’sh done now.’
‘Tell me.’
‘Fallen — I don’t know how I’m going to break the newsh to his father — fallen for the oldesht trick
in the book.’
‘Which is?’
Which is when he passed out.
* * *
‘Almost worked,’ said Bull. ‘Which is the same as saying it didn’t work.’
‘Sometimes in life you have to settle for almost,’ I replied.
‘Aren’t we the homespun philosopher today,’ Bull retorted.
We were sitting on the roof terrace drinking coffee and reviewing our meeting with Paco. We’d made him as comfortable as we could and left him sleeping with his head on the table. A bear with a sore head would sum up his reaction when he woke up. I doubted whether I’d make his Christmas card list.
‘So what did we learn, great white warrior?’ said Red. ‘It wasn’t Paco who set the trap.’
‘That leaves Estevez and the pilot,’ Bull said, ‘and I don’t buy either of those.’
‘Me neither,’ I said. ‘Doesn’t make sense for either of those.’
‘Then who else knew about the raid?’ asked Pieter.
‘No one,’ said Red.
‘That’s technically not quite right,’ I said. They all looked at me.
‘Ah,’ said Bull, seeing where the conversation was going. ‘But surely he wouldn’t blab.’
‘Who?’ asked Red. ‘Who in hell wouldn’t blab?’
‘The only other person who knew where we were going and when,’ I said. ‘Which is?’ Red pressed.
‘Chico,’ I said. ‘It must have been Chico.’
* * *
I was waiting outside the school when it finished for the day. There was the normal exodus you find with any school in the world: excited kids who’d gone stir crazy during the course of the day racing out and running amok. Chico was one of them. He scooted over to where I was standing.
‘Time we had another walk,’ I said. ‘Show me the rest of the village I haven’t seen so far.’
‘How was your trip to Bahia Kino?’ he asked. The kid had a good memory.
‘Didn’t quite go to plan,’ I admitted. ‘But that happens sometimes in life.’
Chico started walking in an anti-clockwise direction. As I suspected, this half of the village was pretty much a mirror image of the other half.