by PAUL BENNETT
‘Yes, my friend. You have done everything I asked.’
‘I’d be grateful if you ring Toomey at the earliest time and tell him that. It is very important.’
Estevez nodded. ‘Consider it done.’
‘Meanwhile,’ I said, ‘we seem to have a problem.’
‘I’ll say we have a problem,’ said Maria. ‘I don’t want to stay here. I’ve had enough of being smothered here, my every move watched, my spare time monitored, my boyfriends non-existent because they’re overawed by what you are, father. I want out.’
‘We love each other,’ said Rojo. ‘During the past two weeks we have got to know each other well. We want to be together forever.’
‘Oh, God!’ Paco said. ‘As if I wasn’t in enough trouble, I now need to explain this to your father.’
‘I care nothing for my father,’ Rojo said. ‘I care nothing for my family and my family business. I will give it all up for this sweet girl.’
Sweet! I doubt that Bull thought her sweet as she had pounded his chest repeatedly as he carried her here.
‘I’ll go and make some coffee,’ Estevez said, passing the buck to his wife.
‘You stay where you are,’ commanded his wife. ‘You can do without your precious coffee for once. Stay here and sort out this problem.’
How do you solve a problem like Maria? I doubted he was singing along with Julie Andrews.
‘Maria,’ Estevez said slowly, playing for time, ‘this cannot be. You have only just met him. You must go through the ritual of courtship. One year, maybe two years’ time, you can get engaged and then after that get married. We will have a grand wedding. Everyone will be invited, even the lowliest villager.’
‘No,’ she said. ‘Forget the rituals. Either you accept our wishes or we will elope and get married without you and your grand wedding. What is it to be, father?’
‘Maria,’ her mother said, coming to Emanuel’s rescue, ‘we are only thinking of you and what will be best. Take some time over things and see how you feel in a while. You have been a prisoner for two weeks, look at the situation when everything is back to normal.’
‘Are you not listening?’ Maria said. ‘There is no normality here anymore. The world has changed. I have found myself through Miguel.’ She reached across and squeezed his hand. ‘Do you want the best for me or is it for you?’
This was riveting stuff, but it wasn’t getting us any closer to a solution. ‘May I intervene,’ I said.
Emanuel shrugged his shoulders. He’d take help from the devil if it would get him out of this fix.
‘Paco,’ I said, ‘what will be Miguel’s father’s reaction to this relationship?’
‘It is unlikely he will jump for joy, let us say.’
‘So what will he do?’
‘He might take the boy and make him a prisoner, thereby preventing any furtherance of this relationship.’
‘Or?’ I said.
‘Or,’ said Paco, ‘and I really hope it is, he will give up on trying to control the boy’s life. He, and I’m sorry to say this, Miguel, will come to the realisation that the boy will never be able to handle any part of the family’s empire. He has no aptitude for the business.’
‘No aptitude for drug smuggling and killing? That should go in his favour, I would think as far as Maria’s father and mother are concerned. Is that right?’
‘If he can reform,’ said Emanuel, ‘it would make him a better candidate for Maria’s hand.’
‘It would seem that Miguel’s father’s attitude is germane to this problem. Why not go to Columbia and meet with him and talk through the matter?’
‘He can come here,’ said Maria’s mother. ‘Emanuel is always complaining about how uncivilised the country is. If he comes here, we will show him Mexican hospitality. Maybe then we can come to a better decision.’
‘Maria,’ I said, ‘can you go along with this arrangement? I mean, what’s the rush? A week or two of delay is hardly going to interfere with your future plans. And you know what they say — absence makes the heart grow fonder.’
Maria looked at Miguel, He nodded. ‘I suppose so,’ she said grudgingly. ‘But no more than two weeks. Our love is too strong to wait longer than that. I will burst if it is longer.’
The thought of Maria bursting didn’t help me to picture the scene when the two families met.
‘I,’ Estevez said firmly, ‘would need a clean break of Miguel from the family’s — how should I put it — core business.’
‘I want nothing to do with it,’ said Miguel. ‘I have seen enough death in the past few days to last me a lifetime. No more must die for me.’
‘It would seem that we have the beginnings of a plan,’ I said. ‘I suggest that we let Miguel and Paco go back to their ranch — and you stay here Maria. There will be plenty of time in the future for you to be together. Tomorrow the guards must leave — there is no need for them anymore. You, Miguel, or I presume it will be the unfortunate task of Paco, will make arrangements for the Rojos to visit at the earliest opportunity.’
‘I say this without wishing to cause offence,’ said Estevez, ‘but it is vital for my business that there is no association — however small — with drugs. Any taint could ruin my empire. I have spent too much time and effort for it to fall apart now.’
‘I think we can factor that into the discussions. Do you agree, Paco?’
‘I will do my best,’ he said.
‘Then I suggest,’ I said, ‘that we call it a night. I feel a vodka and a few hours of sleep beckoning, although the chances of the latter are pretty slim.’
‘I’ll settle for the vodka,’ said Red.
‘Amen,’ said Pieter.
It was a good note on which to finish.
Chapter Eighteen
We sat on the roof terrace with a bucket of ice, a bottle of vodka and a pot of coffee. Something was niggling at my brain, like an itch I couldn’t scratch. I ignored it — if it was important it would come in its own time. There was still smoke in the air and the odd glow of a fire not yet under control. I wondered what would happen to Rojo’s ranch. Would it turn from love nest to the first home of the soon-to-be-wed couple? Would either of them want to stay in a one-donkey village like Santa Rio? I suspected not. There was nothing to hold them here. Miguel would bargain sufficient money from his father to live like a king and he and Maria would move to a beach house in Baja California. They would have some kids and lead a normal life far away from the murky world of drug smuggling; good luck to them. One less criminal in the world.
‘Your Agent Toomey has a lot to answer for,’ said Bull.
‘He’s not my Agent Toomey,’ I complained, ‘but I take your meaning. How many lives would have been saved if he’d simply persuaded Estevez to wait for a while, play for time until Maria comes back home wearing an engagement ring. Although I suppose that wasn’t evident at that time. Whatever, I shall let Toomey have both barrels when I see him.’
‘So it’s all back to normal,’ Pieter said. ‘Apart from you and Anna getting married again, if it matters to you that is.’
‘It’s the right thing to do. Shows that everlasting commitment. Goes towards building a stable home for the twins.’
‘And any that come after,’ said Red. ‘Hell, I can see you being overrun with kids in a few years’ time. Have your very own Comanche tribe.’
‘Thanks for that contribution, Red,’ I said. ‘It’s frightening enough contemplating twins to think beyond that point.’
‘Be good to get back to the real world,’ said Stan. ‘Although I’m sure the hotel is in good hands.’
‘One day I might forgive you for stealing Ho,’ said Red. ‘But that day is going to be a long time coming.’
‘Didn’t know that Comanches were such bad losers,’ said Stan.
‘Remember the Battle of Little Bighorn and Custer’s last stand? Never underestimate a Comanche.’
‘You had a bit of help that day from the Sioux and the Cheyenne,’ I said. ‘
We were just being kind,’ he replied. ‘Didn’t need no help from savages.’
‘When do we go home?’ asked Bull, changing the conversation to things that mattered now. ‘Can’t be soon enough for me.’
‘Day after the fiesta we can leave,’ I said. ‘Make our way back to Red’s ranch — hopefully an uneventful journey this time — and then get some flights to take us our separate ways.’
‘Hang up our gun belts till the next time,’ said Red.
‘I sincerely hope there won’t be a next time,’ I said. ‘I’m getting old. Sooner or later the reflexes will have slowed down so I can’t depend on being the first to draw his gun and fire at the bad guy. I need to quit before the bad guy wins.’
‘Kinda fun though,’ said Red. ‘Don’t you think you might get to miss it?’
‘Like a hole in the head,’ I said. ‘From now on all I want is a quiet life. No more missions, no more killing, and especially not getting killed. The world must learn to live without the five of us getting involved in their lives, rescuing them from some situation that the authorities should be handling. Most of all, no more Agent Toomeys with their threats to ruin our lives if we don’t do what they say.’
I poured another mug of coffee and looked at my watch. Four in the morning and the prospect of being woken up at some uncivilised time by the fiesta didn’t seem a great prospect. I put the coffee back on the table, drank what was left of my glass of vodka and stood up.
‘Enough for one day,’ I said. ‘I’m grabbing a few hours shut-eye before the festivities start and the mariachi band starts playing. I’d recommend you all to do the same.’
‘Wise words,’ said Bull. ‘But since when have we been wise?’
‘It would be good to start now,’ I said.
Chapter Nineteen
‘Our Lady has arrived! Our Lady has arrived!’ Chico shouted, hammering on the door. ‘Wake up, Senor Silver. Our Lady has arrived!’
I looked at my watch as I was walking downstairs to open the door. It was ten o’clock. Despite the adrenaline, the vodka and the coffee, I had slept for five hours and felt as refreshed as I deserved to be, which is another way of saying groggy. Chico dragged me outside and pointed up the street.
‘She will be coming soon,’ he said excitedly. ‘Come on.’
‘Whoa, give me a chance,’ I protested. ‘Come inside while I get dressed.’
‘Be quick, senor. The fiesta has started. I don’t want to miss a thing.’
I walked into the kitchen and splashed water over my face, drying it with a tea towel. Climbed the stairs slowly, still half asleep.
‘What’s going on?’ said Bull as I entered the bedroom I shared with him and started to get dressed.
‘Apparently the fiesta has started. I’m going out with Chico to see what’s happening. Might be good if you assembled the troops and joined me. Solidarity with the village and all that jazz. Celebration, too. Mission accomplished and all that.’
I slipped on some jeans and a T-shirt and, out of habit, took the Browning from underneath my pillow and tucked it in my waistband at the back.
Chico was jumping up and down with excitement when I got back downstairs. He grabbed my hand and pulled me outside. There were people walking past the house and down the street. Seeing the spotless white of the clothes of the passers-by, I took a look for the first time at what Chico was wearing. It was his Sunday best: brilliant-white loose-fitting trousers and equally white baggy shirt, a black sash tied around his waist. His hair was shiny and slicked back in an effort to control his wayward locks. I was beginning to feel under dressed.
At the outskirts of town a low-loader was parked. On the open back of the truck sat Our Lady, Santa Rio, the patron saint of the town. It was a large effigy, maybe four feet in height. It showed Santa Rio seated and cuddling a baby. I looked to Chico for an explanation.
‘It is said that Santa Rio was a nun who went on a pilgrimage to find a place to build a church to educate the people of this country. She travelled from near the border — the nunnery was in the village that we share Our Lady with. On her walk she rescued the baby from wolves. It had been abandoned and Santa Rio found it with wolves circling and ready to attack. Another few minutes and they would have killed and eaten the child. Santa Rio sang to the wolves and prayed for the safety of herself and the baby. The story goes that the wolves fell asleep when Santa Rio sang to them and she was able to leave and find safety for herself and the baby. This village found her an empty house in which to shelter and fed her and the child until she had thought about what she wanted to do. She decided to stay and prayed for a blessing for the village for its kindness, that it would want for nothing from that day forth.’
‘I can see why she is revered,’ I said. ‘It’s a good story.’
I didn’t have the heart to say that it was exactly what is was — just a good story.
‘Come, Senor Silver. You must touch Our Lady and you will have good luck for the next year.’
And boy did I need that. I thought of Anna and longed to be by her side. We would soon all be home and would continue with our lives as if all the killing had never happened, as if our lives had never been in danger.
Chico reached up and ran his hand down the saint’s arm. He took my hand and placed it on the head of the statue. It felt warm. I had expected it to be made of stone, or, failing that, of wood, but it felt strange. It puzzled me for a moment and then it came to me — papier mâché — the figure was made of light, insubstantial papier mâché. It felt incongruous, but maybe that was all the village could afford and it is the thought that counts.
‘So do I have to pay you for all this information?’ I asked. Might as well get the monetary transactions over before the festivities.
‘Not today senor. Today everything is free. Senor Estevez provides for us all.’ And he had every reason to. The return of the prodigal daughter.
The others joined me, looking about as bad as I felt. ‘What’s going on?’ said Pieter.
‘Seems like the festivities have started,’ I said.
‘Not before I’ve had a cup of extra strong coffee,’ said Bull.
‘What happens now?’ I asked Chico.
‘Our Lady will be taken through the streets to the church. She will stay there until the service of thanksgiving this afternoon.
‘Can we watch the parade from the bar?’ I asked.
‘Si senor. You will see it pass by. Do you want me to tell you just before it happens so that you can watch outside?’
‘That would be good.’
‘Hasta la vista,’ he said.
‘Si,’ said Red, whose Spanish hadn’t improved throughout our stay.
We walked up the street and into the bar. The patron looked about as pleased to see us as on every other occasion. I could see ‘Would I escape with my life?’ in a speech bubble coming out of his mouth. Granted our track record on people killed didn’t count in our favour, but we were the best customers he had had for a long while.
‘Coffee,’ I said. ‘As thick and strong as you can make it.’ He nodded as if he understood. We’d soon find out.
We sat down at our usual pulled-together tables and tried to get a grip on the day.
‘It’s good to get a mission over,’ said Bull, ‘but the let-down can be hard to endure. All that adrenaline out of the system that needs replacing to get back to normal.’
‘Adrenaline?’ said Pieter. ‘What you need is tequila.’
He got his wish. The patron brought a tall pot of coffee that threatened to tip the table over and placed a bottle of tequila by its side. We looked at him. He scurried away and brought back stoneware mugs for the coffee and slightly smaller versions for the tequila.
‘Senor Estevez pay,’ the old man said. ‘Today Senor Estevez pay para todos. Comprende?’
‘Then here’s to Senor Estevez,’ said Pieter, filling our tiny mugs with tequila. ‘To Senor Estevez,’ we toasted.
‘And to going home,’ I added.
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‘And to going home,’ they said with feeling.
If the tequila put fire in your belly, the coffee put it out. It’s chief deficiency was that the blenders had economised by substituting chicory for some of the coffee beans and this gave it a bitter taste, but it would win medals in the strength event at the Olympics. He’d taken us at our word. I could hardly swirl my spoon in it. If we didn’t wake up fully after this, then there was something terribly wrong with us.
‘Jesus, that hits the spot,’ said Red, as he refilled his tequila mug. ‘Did we always feel as bad as this when we’d finished a contract?’
‘We’re getting old, Red,’ I said. ‘Recovery takes longer.’
‘I don’t care how long it takes,’ said Bull, ‘as long as it happens. Means I’m still alive.’
‘What’s the first thing you’ll all do when you get home?’ I asked. Pieter grinned.
‘In your case what’s the second thing you will do?’ I said.
‘Watch predator and prey drink from the same waterhole, sharing a truce while they drink the life-giving blessing of the rains.’
Wow! Deep down inside there was a philosopher lurking within Pieter’s soul.
‘Hold Mai Ling and little Michael in my arms and squeeze them tight. Then watch the sun go down with a cold beer in my hand,’ said Bull.
I nodded. Sounded good to me.
‘Go for a swim in the lake,’ said Stan. ‘Let the water wash the stench of death away.’
‘Ride over the Texas plains,’ said Red. ‘Feel nature enveloping my soul, giving it rebirth.’
‘There’s some things about being a Comanche that are universal,’ I said. ‘I’ll hug Anna, swim in the sea, feel the sand between my toes, have a rum punch and watch the sun sink below the horizon.’
‘That’s more than one thing,’ said Red.