Cartel Fire

by Tom Riggs

  Dawn broke slowly in the lay-by. Munro had been awake since just before the sun rose anyway. The hour before sunrise is always the coldest and Munro had taught himself to use the temperature change as an alarm clock. In the army, it was a little earlier than when most of his men had had to rise. But Munro liked to be ready and prepared for the day before them. Lead by example.

  The valium had ensured that he had slept well in the back of the pick-up. A calm, drugged sleep. He ignored his sweat soaked t-shirt that told a different story. He had given Anna the cab as it was warmer and more comfortable. But the two blankets that had come with the truck proved useful. Anna had taken one and presumably slept soundly through the night in the cab. With the other blanket and his bag, Munro had managed to make himself very comfortable in the flat bed of the truck. Years in the army had taught him that you can be comfortable just about anywhere. Be it a fox hole in the desert or on the tread of a tank, as long as you can keep warm, you can really make yourself quite cosy. Munro realised he probably slept better outside and on the floor than inside on a bed.

  The lay-by was empty, as was the freeway. Munro left Anna asleep in the cab and walked over to the gas station. He checked that there was a new attendant on duty and then went in. He knew there were no cameras but kept his head low anyway. He needn’t have worried too much. The attendant was overweight and unkempt, and more interested in reading a pornographic magazine than looking at his first customer of the day. He bought two coffees, some bottles of water and a large packet of pastries. He also picked up a couple of cartons of orange juice. Anna looked like the kind of girl who took nutrition fairly seriously and that was about as healthy as the gas station shop got.

  As Munro paid, in cash, he asked the attendant “Ay banos acqui?”

  The attendant grunted something unintelligible and tossed him a key.

  “Donde?” asked Munro, getting slightly annoyed by his attitude now. The concept of customer service had clearly not yet reached this particular corner of Mexico.

  The attendant grunted again, “A la de recha.” To the right. Munro knew that, he had seen them on the way in. But the man had to do something for his wage.

  Munro stopped at the toilet block on his way back. There was one toilet and it had not been cleaned in a long time. But there was running water and it was cold. Munro splashed his face and the back of his neck. After that, a cup of coffee and some food, he would be ready to roll.

  He got back to the pick-up and saw that Anna had woken up too. He showed her the breakfast selection. She turned down the coffee, but took the orange juice and a pastry. As expected, thought Munro. Takes the vitamins but not the caffeine.

  “There’s a bathroom to the right of the gas station shop, the door is open,” said Munro

  “Thanks,” Anna smiled at Munro, she looked nervous. It occurred to them both that they did not know each other, were in the middle of nowhere and were now having breakfast having just spent the night almost together. As she went to the bathroom block with the bag her grandparents had hastily packed for her at the trailer park, Munro spread out the map on the bonnet of the pick-up. They were twenty miles outside of Guadalajara. Assuming that Rudd could fix them up with new passports in two or three days, they had that time to get as much distance between them and Sayulita as possible. Away from the border. Away from the cartels. Mexico City was the obvious destination. It had a large international airport. Plenty of flights, plenty of tourists. But also plenty of police, and plenty of bad guys. It was the obvious destination for them and as such Munro ruled it out. Another possibility was to head south, for Chiapas state. The border with Guatemala. It was a long way from Sayulita, a long way from the cartels. Although the cartels controlled the towns along the US border, Chiapas was a different world. The most heavily native Indian state, it had until very recently been a no go zone due to a group of communist insurgents called the Zapatistas. But with the fall of the Berlin wall, communism had lost its edge, even in the jungles of Southern Mexico. That, coupled with the Mexican government finally deciding to give equal rights to the indigenous Chiapans, had meant that the insurgency had gradually lost strength, and the Zapatistas eventually surrendered or were defeated. Even so, the whole state was still heavily militarised. It was possible to cross the border there, and intrepid backpackers did so every day. But their passports would come under a lot of scrutiny. Perhaps too much. Munro ruled out that route.

  After going through every possible way out of Mexico, Munro settled upon Acapulco. It was in an area controlled by a drug cartel, true. But then every state in Mexico had a drug cartel of some description operating in it. Acapulco was in an area controlled by the Guerro cartel. The Guerro cartel was little better than any of the others, its speciality was the importation of cocaine and heroin from Colombia rather than exporting it North. But at least they were the sworn enemies of the Sonora cartel. The main advantage that Acapulco had was that it was a busy tourist resort. After some peroxide, Munro thought that he and Anna could fairly easily pass for two European tourists returning home after a nice holiday in the sun. They would have to.

  Munro looked up from the map to see Anna walking back from the bathroom. She had changed, and looked like she had also showered and washed her hair. She had put on baggy linen trousers and a hooded top that looked like it belonged to her grandfather. Munro looked at her, properly for the first time. She was not the conventionally beautiful girl he had been expecting after Frank’s description. Her features were not particularly even. But there was something. With her colouring and brown eyes she could have been Spanish, Israeli or Italian. Munro looked at her again, lost in thought He quickly shook himself out of it. She was also his only witness.

  “So?” she asked, still nervous, but the terrors of the previous day seemingly behind her, “want to tell me what’s going on?”

  Munro looked at her and said, “I was just about to ask you the same thing.”

  21

  They sat in the cab of the pick-up, Munro finishing his coffee, Anna sipping from a bottle of water. Other cars had begun to drive into the gas station and although they were well hidden, Munro wanted the extra cover of the truck’s tinted windows. Munro started.

  “I came to find you because I am investigating the murder of Richard Lipakos. I was asked by his mother to look into it. She thought something was wrong about the police investigation and it looks like she was right.”

  Anna said nothing, just looked straight ahead. Munro went on: “I went to Isla Margarita, to Playa Agua. I spoke to the police, spoke to people at the hostel that you and Richard were staying at. I didn’t find out who killed Richard, but it definitely wasn’t who the police said it was..” At this Anna looked around at him, but still said nothing.

  “The police fingered two men,” continued Munro. “The two men they said did it, didn’t do it. I am pretty sure of that. The people at the hostel said you were staying with Richard. And that you left the night he was murdered.”

  Anna kept staring ahead, seemingly lost in thought. Eventually she said “I didn’t see them kill Richard ... I was terrified.”

  Munro paused to see if she was going to continue. When it was clear that she was not, he prompted, “So what did you see?”

  “I walked out of the hostel bathroom. You’ve been there. They have one big block of toilets and showers that everyone has to share. I was just in time to see three guys chasing Rich down the street, away from the hostel. I could tell immediately that something was very wrong. The guys had been in Rich’s room. But they weren’t robbers, you could tell that, they were too well dressed.”

  “Did you get a good look at them?”

  “The main guy I did. He was smaller than the others, but was clearly in charge. The other two were very big guys.”

  “Ok,” said Munro, “Go on.”

  “I followed them down the street. I don’t know why I didn’t try and get help. Probably because I wouldn’t have known where to go. There aren’t any police i
n Playa Agua, you’ve been there. It’s a hole. Even if I had had a cell phone on me, I would not have known who to have called. What’s Venezuelan for 911?” she almost smiled.

  “But you didn’t see them kill Richard…Rich?” he asked. “I am sorry to ask you such blunt questions Anna, I am sure you and Rich were close..” at this Anna shot Munro an odd look, but then quickly turned her head to face forward and continued.

  “No. I didn’t see them kill him. They chased him down the street, into an alley. I followed them, but one of them, the smaller guy turned around. I thought he had seen me. I was terrified, obviously. They were mean guys, you could tell that straight away. So I ran away. I ran as fast as I could in the opposite direction. After about seven or eight blocks I got to the edge of town. I found some bushes away from the road and lay down to hide. I was there for hours, flat down in the dirt.” She paused and took a sip of water. Munro had seen a lot of civilians after a traumatic event such as this. Families whose houses had been bombed, witnesses to killings, people caught up in the aftermath of a bomb attack. People dealt with it in different ways. Some cried and screamed. Some became withdrawn and said nothing. Munro was no psychiatrist, but it seemed that Anna Neuberg was dealing with almost witnessing a murder and then almost being gang raped surprisingly well.

  “How long did you stay hidden?”

  “Until dawn. When it started to get light, I started to feel a bit silly crouching down in the bushes. I was clearly visible from the street anyway.”

  “So where did you go?”

  Still staring ahead she continued.“I followed my route back to where I had last seen Rich and then went back to the hostel. I went slowly, so I could turn and run at any point. But when I saw that their car had gone, I ran back to find Rich.”

  “What kind of car did they have?”

  Anna looked at him, slightly flustered by the flow of her story being interrupted. “I don’t know. A big jeep of some kind. A big expensive looking jeep. I am not really a car person.”

  “Ok, sorry. Go on.”

  “So I went back to the point where I had last seen Rich. I then went down the alley I had seen them chase him into.”

  She stopped. For the first time since starting her story she seemed upset. Munro gave her a moment and then prompted her.

  “Go on.”

  “And then I saw his body. I had never seen a dead body before. If it hadn’t been for his head, it wouldn’t have been that bad really. A dog had got there first and was eating…” she stopped.

  “Go on, I know this is hard.”

  “There was nothing left of his head that resembled a head. It was a mess. It was disgusting. I chased the dog away and then ran. I ran as fast as I could. I was scared, of course. But I was also thinking clearly. Perhaps more clearly than I have ever thought before. That’s odd isn’t it?”

  “It happens a lot in this kind of situation,” replied Munro, “adrenalin sharpens your mind, for a while at least.”

  “That must have been it,” said Anna, “I was thinking really clearly and had a lot of energy, even though I hadn’t slept at all. Rich was dead. There was nothing I could do about that. That was clear. It was also clear that Rich hadn’t been killed by some random robbers. The men who killed him drove a big expensive car. They were well dressed. They had wanted something from him, and had killed him for it. I knew he had been involved in something, something he was scared about. It was clear that these guys were serious, and so whatever Rich had been involved in was serious too. If they killed him, I thought, they would not hesitate to kill me too, especially as I had seen their boss.”

  “How did you know the smaller guy was the boss?” he asked.

  “It was obvious. When they were chasing him, it was the bigger guys who did all the running. The smaller guy walked, as calm as you like. Like he knew they were going to get him and he was not going to break into a sweat for anyone.”

  “Ok. So you went back to the hostel, why didn’t you call the police then?”

  “I thought about it, but there was something about those guys that scared me. They were too well dressed and too calm. Also I was scared of the police. Some friends of mine had been stopped by the Venezuelan police outside Caracas. They were creeps and made them pay a bribe even though they had done absolutely nothing wrong. I was scared that the guys who had killed Rich might have already paid off the police. They might have even been cops themselves for all I knew. They certainly didn’t act like they were worried about getting caught.”

  “So you skipped town?”

  “Yeah, I skipped town. I packed up my bag and got a taxi straight to the airport. I was on a flight to Mexico by lunchtime…” she paused and looked at Munro. He noticed she had tears in her eyes, but that her eyes were startling, beautiful even. “I know I must sound like a callous bitch, but at the time it seemed like the right thing to do. I was terrified to stay in Playa Agua, terrified to stay in Venezuela. Maybe I have an overactive imagination, but I’ve heard so many stories about people being set up for things they didn’t do in South America. I could just imagine the police saying that I had done it, or threatening me with that unless I bribed them with thousands of dollars that I don’t have… I don’t know. It sounds ridiculous, but when you are in a place like that, where you don’t speak the language that well, the police are corrupt and you’re a woman alone it can be scary at the best of times. When you see someone murdered, it’s terrifying.”

  “It doesn’t sound ridiculous. You did exactly the right thing.”

  “I did?” asked Anna, looking at Munro hopefully.

  “You really did,” consoled Munro. “I spoke to the local police, the guy who was investigating Richard’s murder. He was a nasty piece of work. Really nasty. It’s totally possible that he might have been involved. He certainly had no interest in finding out who really did kill Rich.”

  “Thanks,” she said, “that means a lot, really.”

  “Did you tell anyone once you were in Mexico?”

  “I told my grandparents. We talked about it a lot and I was going to contact the British embassy. My granddad thought I should. But then I saw that they’d got the guys who did it. Only two of them, but it seemed like they had things under control. To be honest, I just wanted to forget about it. My grandparents had a nice set up back there in Sayulita and the days pretty quickly turned into weeks. I didn’t forget about it exactly, I just kind of put my head in the sand. I felt safe there.”

  “Until yesterday.”

  “Exactly, until yesterday.”

  “What did the police say when they came to pick you up?”

  “Not much. They drove their trucks into the campground really fast, kicking up clouds of dust like the macho assholes they are. They all jumped out and grabbed one of the cleaning ladies. I was outside my grandparents’ RV, I had no idea what they wanted. They punched the cleaning lady a few times and shouted at her in Spanish. She pointed at me. They all ran up and surrounded me, waving their big guns around. But they held back. Then the guy without a uniform, the creep that was about to rape me, he stepped out of one of the trucks. He walked up to me and tells me in English that I need to come with them for questioning. I was wearing my bikini, which was not great, but I hardly expected company. I could feel him undressing me with his eyes…I felt really uncomfortable.

  “My grandfather saw the same thing and asked them what the hell they wanted me for. One of the asshole cops just walked up to him and smashed him in the face with the butt of his gun.” At this Anna started to cry, but they were tears of anger. “I mean those fucking bullies. There were ten of them and my grandfather is seventy-six…”

  “He’s ok, remember? They should be nearly out of the country by now.”

  “I know, thanks. You were right not to involve them further.”

  “Did they say anything else to you in the car.”

  “No, I managed to grab a dress as they led me away and they let me put that on, which helped a little. Then they b
undled me into the back of one of the trucks. The two men either side of me didn’t say anything. I kept asking them what they wanted with me, but they ignored me. After a while the cars pulled into the clearing and well, then you showed up.”

  “And then I showed up,” repeated Munro. “So they gave no indication about why they’d arrested you? ”

  “None, but it wasn’t random. They had my name and it was me they wanted. You think it was a coincidence?”

  “Have you done anything in Mexico that the police might want to arrest you for?” asked Munro, looking at her closely. “Been involved with drugs for example?”

  “No! Of course not, is that what you think?”

  “No, but I had to ask. And no, I don’t think it was a coincidence. Whoever killed Richard clearly wants you dead too. Now we just have to work out who that is.”

  The sun had risen and there were more cars on the freeway. Enough cars anyway.

  “How do we do that?” asked Anna as Munro pulled their pick-up out of the lay-by and onto the slip road.

  “You can start by describing the man you saw, we‘ve got plenty of time.”

  “Where are we going?” asked Anna.

  “Acapulco” replied Munro.

  22

  Acapulco was about 900 kilometres from Guadalajara. Taking the freeways, they could make it after a long day’s drive. Averaging 90 km an hour would mean ten hours of driving. It was seven thirty am by the time they had got going which still would have meant they could be in Acapulco by five thirty. In time for a sunset cocktail on the beach. But the freeway was still heavily policed. After half an hour of driving Munro had seen four federal police cruisers. The federal police were not the corrupt incompetents that he had taken out in the clearing. They were highly trained and were on the receiving end of billions of dollars of American aid money. Hence they drove around in souped-up black Dodge Chargers, with bulletproof glass and armour plated grills. They wore body armour and carried the latest American weaponry – M16s, Glock 9s – that they had been trained by US advisers to use. Some of them were honest too, as Eduardo had pointed out. Munro had no problem taking out bad cops. To him they were worse than the drug dealers themselves. But he had no desire to go against a good cop just doing his job, especially not if that good cop was as tough as the men cruising past him on the freeway looked.