by Carl Henegan
When the young girl smiled and nodded at her she was too shocked to nod back. She never expected to come across part of Garcia’s group so fast but embraced the moment.
Opportunity knocked and Marsha made an instant plan. Until that point, she had no idea what she would do or say to Garcia. The time on the plane allowed her to revisit the bad memories of their short never legally dissolved marriage. The memory pulled the anger back to the surface. She liked the idea that ascended in her head.
Her marriage Garcia ment nothing to him and it devastated her. Garcia married her for visa purposes only and discover that fact when she overheard him talking about it over the phone. She confronted him in hopes to get some answers that would sooth her soul but the answers never came.
The next day she came home to an empty house. He had not seen Garcia since that day, until that chance moment at the airport. The stroke of luck at the Dallas airport came just when she was about to give up on catching up to him.
As she watched Anna pass by she had a sudden change of emotions. What if this girl is not just the flavor week? What if she is also being used by Garcia? Marsha considered the distinct possibility the more she thought about it.
Yet it could very well be much more then that. She could not help but notice the way they held hands in the airport. His voice filled with affection when he spoke to her. As much as she hated to admit it, he may truly care for this girl.
She understood. Marsha knew exactly how the girl felt about Garcia. She too once had the same deep love sick gaze under his charming spell. But after he disappeared she began to see a Garcia she never knew.
He presented the person that he wanted you to see. She often wondered if anyone ever knew the true person he was or did they all only know the person he portrayed and would just as quickly change at will.
Stories about his violent past were not accepted at first. Now, from her own research, she discovered that the stories were not only possible, but even more shocking then the truth.
She cautiously trailed the young girl and the large bodyguard. She wasn’t as nervous as she was excited to be back on Garcia’s trail. A small sense of confidence dwelled in her since she was positive that neither of them was aware of her identity.
She debated on following through with the sketchy plan floating across her thoughts. Pictures of the wanted posters and memo’s that placed Garcia on the FBI’s most wanted list flashed across her thoughts. The decision was made.
She casually entered into the store. He eyes followed the girl with the bodyguard walking near her. Marsha patted the pistol inside of her purse for a mental appeasement. She took full advantage of the post 911 hiring frenzy for security workers. After getting trained the agency hired her as one of the very few females that were aloud to work as Airline marshals.
The position afforded her access to many departments used to track Garcia. She grinned to herself. With all of the resources she ended up finding Garcia by chance. The right place at the right time.
Even with him being on the most wanted list, procedures still needed to be followed. She had no intentions on going through the red tape and losing him again. Besides that she had very few worries that any repercussions would await her for killing Garcia. She would just be doing her job.
Marsha watched Anna excitedly look at the assortment of pricey diamond necklaces. The large bodyguard stood next to her like a Buddha in an Armani suite. His expression screamed that he wished that he were anywhere else but here.
“Ok let’s do this. Take me to your leader guys,” Marsha whispered to herself.
CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN
On the opposite side of the river walk, Mike and Kelly trailed behind the energetic boys as best as they could. They had a little trouble keeping up with all three but it wasn’t as difficult as Mike anticipated. The harder task involved keeping a close eye on John.
The task of watching John took more effort then watching Danny and the Wiz combined. John, forever the magnet to mischief, would frequently look back at Mike and Kelly to see if he was being watch. Mike held up two fingers to his eyes and then pointed the fingers back at the boys. However everyone knew that the signal was intended for John.
Danny spotted an ice cream parlor and bolted to it. Soon all three boys took off toward it at full speed. By the time Mike and Kelly caught up to them, a shoving match ensued between the boys just to look into the glass display.
“This is not going to be a quick stop,” Mike said already exhausted.
He turned out to be more correct then he wanted. With the multiple flavor choices it took some time for the ten year olds to make a choice. Mike took advantage of the break by sitting beneath one on the umbrella tables and Kelly sat next to him.
They people watched together without words. Above their heads, the clear Texas skies permitted an unhindered view of its infinite magnificence. Tiny stars dotted the darkness like caring eyes watching the world below. A full moon dominated the sky with a bright glow of illumination. This time Mike instead of Kelly reached over and grabbed her hand.
San Antonio’s temperature stabilized at a steady 70 degrees. It neither ventured to hot nor cold but maintained an even temperature that went virtually noticed. It existed as a compliment to the night instead of standing out in ascendancy. It remained unfelt as an invisible but ideal existence taking an understood inferior place to a night wrapped in romance.
As beautiful as the night was, Mike found the thought of Garcia crippling the effort to enjoy it. The thought of Garcia knowing that they were in San Antonio unsettled him never venturing far from Mike’s mind.
Faces passed by them resembled Garcia. Strangers seemed to stare as if they knew Mike’s past. More paranoid thoughts created the scent of Garcia’s cigarette slithering across the night’s air.
Just like that night at the club, he felt Garcia’s presence. His existence tainted the air making Mike feel that he was there somewhere lurking in the shadows placing a different kind of darkness across the night.
CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT
The row of brightly colored large umbrellas blocked Garcia’s view. He stood on the balcony with his binoculars pressed to his eye sockets looking down at the people that moved along the river’s edge. He scanned along the row of blue, red, yellow, and green umbrellas.
He watched as the smoke from his cigarette rose into the air merging into the Texas humidity. The crowd served no interest to him since he failed to find his target so he changed his view. His line of sight rested on the windows to Michael’s adjoining hotel rooms directly across from him.
The closed curtains and no lights made him twist his expression. “Nobody’s home,” he whispered. Their absence did not dishearten him; he knew it would not be long now. Time ticked on his side and all the pieces were set in place. The trap sat in place like the hen walking right into the fox house.
Garcia pressed the number 1 on his speed dial. Tyler answered in the middle of the first ring.
“Keep an eye out, I’m gonna sit inside the suite for a bit,” Garcia said.
“I’m on it,” Tyler replied.
* * *
Far below the Waterfront balcony and still out of view, the boys finally emerged from ice cream shop.
“Hey Mike, I saw a convenience store a few blocks that way. Do you mind if we back track so that I can get a disposable camera. I just have to get some photos of this trip.”
“Why not,” Mike winked.
The path back took a lot longer then both of them remembered. In addition to that, the onset of night made parts of the walkway a lot darker then before. They pressed on and once they purchased the camera made their way back in the direction of the La Mansion Hotel.
The first photo op came at a stone bridge that, like the others, crossed to the opposite side on the river. Several pictures were snapped on arched bridge before they crossed it but took several more photos on top of it.
“Ok guys we’re back on the side of the river
where the hotel is now,” Mike said. “We should have a straight shot back.”
Danny pointed in front of them. “So we just walk straight ahead now?”
“Yeap, just straight ahead,” Mike said.
The straight shot included a few short covered pathways and winding curves. They passed on any additional photo locations to wait till they made it back to the hotel.
The straight shot more accurately consisted of a winding path. The path curved inward deeply to the left then made other deep turns along the way. Far off the boys spotted a street performer tossing bowling pins high into the air.
“Hey look at that!” Danny said. “Let’s go watch him.”
Mike looked up. “Guys he is a lot further away then he seems. This winding path just makes it look like he is close.”
The path bowed back outwards with a deep bend. Due to the winding of the path, Mike figured that they were still more then two city blocks away from the performer.
“It’s ok, let’s go,” Danny screamed.
Once again the boys took off running. Mike stepped forward to run after them till Kelly placed a hand on his chest.
“Relax Mike; I’ll catch up with them. You may need your rest tonight,” she winked.
“Come on! Hurry before he stops!” Danny yelled back with his hands cupped over his mouth.
Before Mike could protest, Kelly ran ahead to catch up with the boys. She rushed across the short stretch of walkway that extended several feet till it made a hard turn to the left. They moved along the path, took the deep turn, and then were gone.
Mike heard the distant laughter mixed with fading running footsteps. The echo of their voices bounced off the weathered brick walls of the small dark tunnel along the path. He saw them emerge further up the path, and then vanish again into the thick crowd of tourist.
Mike heaved a sigh of pleasant relief. The internal struggle of wanting to watch his family close and distancing himself wore on him since he knew that he was a potential target. This was not a comfortable position and if any harm came to any of the others form trying to get to him would destroy him.
The more Mike thought about it, more dots were connected but even more added. Would Garcia really show up in San Antonio? If so, Mike wondered why didn’t he just take care of him in Dallas. Maybe I should have stayed in Dallas.
As soon as the thought came Mike admonished himself. He broke his promise of not second-guessing the decision to come to San Antonio. When he made that promise one thought was not considered. I’m taking a chance of Danny having to witness seeing his father being gunned down. This did not set well.
The hard facts were difficult in not impossible to ignore. From Mike’s research he knew that Garcia had a way of finding those he wanted to locate. In articles he was considered to be a cross between fanatical and brilliant. Mike’s opinion leaned to the latter. Garcia’s drive contained the same blind ambition that created the likes of Napoleon as well as those who defended the Alamo then ones who crossed the line.
Mike considered what he would or would not do to defend the people he loved. The answer came instantly knowing and realizing that he was not too much unlike Garcia. If the situation was reversed and he came across someone who harmed Danny how would he respond? The fine line between passion and fanatical is so very easily faded. Garcia may be ruthless and calculating yes, but insane? Not in the least.
For now there would have to be a balance. Mike actually did the very thing he had done for years inside of his club. He would have to enjoy the quality time while still remaining alert. A chilled anxiety stemmed from the possibility that Garcia might emerge from the darkness.
Mike stopped and looked all around. He hated to think of Garcia now because if invariably stirred up paranoia. Now suddenly felt that something loomed in the shadows. He hoped that he was wrong as he searched for something that would calm him.
Finally the crowd ahead put Mike’s mind at ease. Safety in numbers, he hoped.
A few small abandoned sections along the path had little to no tourist traffic. Other then that, most of the walk lined with people. Mike could feel his heart rate return to a normal level.
Out of nowhere, Mike thought about a documentary he saw on TV. He watched it several months ago but now popped back into his head. The show covered, of all things, boxers.
Although it was late he felt drawn to the program from his memories of his father’s great love for the sport. His father never missed a single boxing match. However a deeper affinity remained for Rocky Marciano.
“Mike! Mike! Son come here!” he would say. “Look, see that guy? One of the greats, Italian blooded boxing great! There will never be another Rocky. They don’t make em like that no more. Don’t even have the cloth that they were cut out of!”
The program Mike watched back then did a small segment on Marciano and other greats from different eras. It brought back a lot of good memories that Mike was able to take away. With that Mike took something else from the program.
Interviews, taped matches, and stories were played of all the boxing greats. An even longer segment centered on the life of Ali and this segment really grabbed Mike’s attention.
One of the many boxers who faced Mohammad Ali discussed why they thought he was the greatest. George Foreman told the story of how Ali had him where he wanted in the course of the fight and could have taken him out with one extra punch. Instead of taking advantage of the injured Foreman, Ali pulled back and walked away.
Foreman said Ali knew he was vulnerable and exposed. But instead of taking advantage of the situation, Ali just walked away. The unsaid part of the aired documentation was clear. Ali showed his opponent their weakness, therefore finding a secure advantageous place in their psyche. From that point on he remained in Foreman’s head, and every fight between the men after that point, was lost before it even began.
Mike’s walk slowed as he thought about the program. He had to confess that Garcia was in his head. If this were true the next deduction would have to be that this war between he and Garcia was already lost.
Sometimes lines are crossed because we can’t see on the other side. Other times we don’t care. Mike decided that if Garcia wanted him dead then it was going to happen. Although the results of crossing the line were clear, it would be crossed.
The pace of his walk increased as he extended his stride along the concrete. Kelly and the boys were far ahead by now somewhere free from the concerns he battled in his head. The path darkened even more as it made a hard left curve that veered with the river’s course.
He kept his head up trying to catch a distant glimpse of Kelly and the boys. The obstructed view vanished with the next tunnel but would clear after he emerged from the secluded area. For now all was calm.
The tranquil night contradicted how he felt inside. He hated this feeling and the inability to fully enjoy the visit to San Antonio with his family angered Mike. He wondered if it was ever going to change.
The moon’s glow touched the scenic landscape with a gentle caress. Soft light danced around the river walk guiding him through the shadowy section. Just another half block he would feel a small amount of peace after seeing Kelly with the boys.
Mike walked under the small overpass then spotted something on the ground. He shook his head thinking that his eyes were mistaken. He stood below the bridge, which was the darkest part of the path with limited visibility.
Is that one of my-? Mike stopped. He peered at the book of matches. On the cover, an all too familiar logo depicted white piano keys. He leaned even closer to see the green lettering and fonts that he personally selected.
The slogan “By Far The Best Live Entertainment in Texas” was also visible. The book of matches came from his club in Dallas. He reached down and picked up the matches.
When doing so, he froze. An overwhelming feeling came to him that he was being watched.
“Welcome to San Antonio, Mr. Andrews,” the voice said standing just inches behind
him.
CHAPTER SIXTY-NINE
Mike’s reaction swiftly spun his body around. The automatic reflexes twisted his body into a kneeling stance with his gun drawn and aimed for a direct headshot. Daniel Perez stared down at Mike unaffected.
“Now we wouldn’t want to do that, would we?”
At the same time Mike felt the impression of two guns pushed against the back of his head. Perez signaled his men to lower their guns then Mike did the same.
Mike and Daniel Perez walked up the path just a little further then sat at a table in front of one of the coffee shops. Perez leaned back, closing his eyes taking in a deep breath of the humid night.
“Ahhhh, I just love sitting out at night. It’s like the world always welcomes you in to enjoy its hospitality,” Perez said.
Mike didn’t respond. He still had not gotten over the first time he met Perez so the sense of awe never left. The same feeling resurfaced from simple act of sitting next to the legend. Even with the pleasant demeanor, Mike knew that this was a very powerful and dangerous man.
Mike turned his head in every direction; the two body guards were nowhere to be seen. But he knew that they were near by, they were always close. Mike imagined them posted somewhere hidden with their guns trained directly at his head. Sudden moves would not be a smart thing to do at this point.
“To alleviate a few of your concerns, let me get right to the point.” Perez said. “Your friend Garcia is here in San Antonio. But that should not be of any concern to you. I can assure you that he will be dealt with.”
After Perez spoke Mike exhaled. The vast weight of the universe had been lifted from just those words. Mike placed his hand on the back of his neck twisting it from side to side. Much of the tension left his neck and shoulders.
