by Don Easton
“It depends on the locks. Trailer locks are easy. Most desk drawers I can do in about five seconds. Handcuffed behind my back, I can get out of it within a minute if I have a bobby pin.”
“You could be a handy guy to have around sometimes.”
“I’m not that good. Other locks, like deadbolts, are tougher. There are many I can’t do.”
“I wouldn’t mind learning how.”
“I’ll teach you the basic concept sometime, but even when you do understand how locks work, you still have to practice regularly or you lose the ability.”
A search of the trailer did not take long. It was completely empty. They got back in the car and nobody appeared to pay any attention to them as they drove away.
It was five o’clock when they arrived back in El Paso. While on their way to Jack’s hotel, Adams received a short call from Weber.
“Looks like you’re a celebrity,” said Adams, when he hung up. “Davidson and Weber are coming over to join us and sponge some free drinks from the hotel for happy hour.”
Jack and Adams were the first to arrive at the hotel and each ordered a Corona as they stood in the hospitality room.
“I’ve been wondering about Wednesday,” said Adams.
“What about Wednesday?”
“When you meet Tio. What if he wants to meet you in Juarez?”
“Then I’ll meet him there,” said Jack firmly.
“That’s what I was afraid of,” sighed Adams.
“I’m telling you because I trust you not to tell anyone,” said Jack. “You strike me as the type of guy who does what it takes to get the job done. So do I.”
“I’m not worried about you ignoring orders. What concerns me is if I try to follow you in Juarez, I’ll be spotted. There are too many places they could take you where a gringo like me would stand out.”
“I don’t want anyone following me. It would probably get me killed. Besides, no use in both of us getting in trouble with the bosses if something goes wrong. Just be forewarned that I may intentionally lose you and the cover team on Wednesday.”
“I also don’t think you appreciate how dangerous it is over there,” said Adams. “That place we went to this afternoon … I had never even heard so much as a whisper about it. And it was huge operation right under our noses.” Adams took a swig of Corona and added, “Which to your credit, you led me to on your first day here.”
“It was luck I found the map. It was you who deciphered it.”
“Yeah, luck that you delicately obtained. Not to mention, it was you who figured out to turn at the skull. I’m going to check into it further, but right now I can tell you I’ve got some serious concerns about who is behind it.”
“Who do you suspect?”
“It has to be either the Guajardo or the Sinaloa cartel, that part is obvious, but it is the level you’re dealing with that concerns me.”
“The level?”
“Whoever your Tio is, he’s no Mickey Mouse player. For you to have a map of what we found today … this isn’t some chicken-shit low-end guy.”
“Good.”
“Yeah, good … and dangerous. This guy will have a lot of protection and will be taking all the necessary precautions. You’re going to be like an ant under a magnifying glass.”
“Hope the sun doesn’t come out.”
“Yeah, well if it does, you better be prepared. First thing in the morning I’m going to show you different escape routes out of Mexico in case you do end up over there. If something goes wrong and you do manage to make a run for it, don’t use any of the bridges.”
“Thanks, I appreciate that.”
“There’s something else I’m going to do, as well … and this is putting a lot of trust in you. Tomorrow I’m going to introduce you to someone. He’s a commander of a police station in Juarez and has got the biggest set of balls of anyone I’ve ever met. The cartels would kill him immediately if they knew he was co-operating. I’ll introduce you to him. He might be the only guy in Mexico who could save your life.”
“How will he feel about meeting me?”
“He’s the type of guy who will help anyone he thinks is working for the right side. The first time I went to his office to meet him, he pretended to throw me out, but slipped me a piece of paper with a time and location to meet him later. We’ll also show him the pictures of those two guys from the apartment security cameras who did the hit in Canada.”
“I nicknamed the one guy El Burla for sneer and Lobulo for —”
“Hey, guys! How are you doing?” interrupted Weber as he and Davidson arrived.
“Doing great.” Jack smiled.
“What did you do this afternoon?” asked Davidson casually.
“We checked out the Cactus Sunset and then the Armadillo Motel to see where I would be staying on Wednesday,” replied Jack. “After that we went for a drive and had a cold beer.”
“What do you think of our city?” asked Weber.
“I like it,” replied Jack. He glanced at Adams and added, “Seems like there are some really good people around here.”
Jack saw the trace of a smile of appreciation on Adams’s face as they briefly stared at each other. What he didn’t notice was the subtle wink Davidson gave Weber.
chapter twenty-four
* * *
Jack woke, had breakfast, and was waiting in the lobby at nine o’clock when he spotted the metallic-silver Camaro and went out to meet Adams.
“Hey there, two-gun gringo, how you doin’?” asked Jack.
“I don’t have a hangover, so that’s good.”
“You only had two drinks last night.”
“I don’t like to drink much in front of Davidson and Weber. Besides, I had to drive. How long did you have to put up with them?” asked Adams.
“Not late,” replied Jack. “They left shortly after you did. I was tired. I wanted to get a good night’s sleep.”
“Good. This morning when I dropped in to pick up the car, I told them I was taking you around to familiarize you with the various nightspots in El Paso. I said it might come in handy for you to know the area for when you do your undercover stuff.”
“Good thinking.”
“You have breakfast yet?”
“Already ate.”
“Likewise. Let’s get to work.”
An hour later, Adams pulled up and parked near a small bridge southwest of the city. A U.S. Customs booth was on one end and a Mexican Customs booth was on the other.
“Get out and take a look,” said Adams. “You probably won’t believe it.”
Jack got out of the car and walked up to the bridge. A small stream of Mexicans walked across the bridge and were stopping to be checked at U.S. Customs. Jack walked to the far side of the bridge, stopping short of the Mexican Customs. Below the bridge on one side was a clump of bushes. The growth on the opposite side the bank was sparse and he could see dozens of Mexicans walking across the small stream and clamouring up the far bank to enter the United States without clearing customs.
“You’re right, I don’t believe it,” said Jack, getting back in the car.
“Only the honest ones clear customs,” said Adams bitterly. “We don’t have the manpower to rein in the thousands who cross illegally. Most work here during the day and go back the same way at night.”
“That shallow stream they walk through … I thought it was the Rio Grande that separated you from Mexico?”
“That is the Rio Grande. Most of the water has been run off for irrigation long before the river reaches here. Out here it is easy to cross, although there is talk of building a high wall as a barrier, so maybe that will change. I’ll take you back to El Paso and show you other places in the city that aren’t quite as easy as out here in the countryside.”
As they approached El Paso, Adams turned up the volume on a police radio. It was a report of gunfire at the bridge where they had just been. The customs agents in the booth at the end of the bridge said someone was firing shots at t
hem from the clump of bushes on the Mexican side.
“Are we heading back to help?” asked Jack.
Adams shook his head. “It would be over before we got there. They do it all the time. The good news is the Mexicans are lousy shots, except of course for the ones we trained and who were then hired by the cartels.”
“Actually, I’m a crummy shot, too,” admitted Jack. “What did you mean about that last comment? The ones you trained who joined the cartels?”
“It’s not common knowledge and normally I wouldn’t talk about it, but someone has already let the cat out of the bag on the Internet.
“Like toothpaste out of the tube. Hard to put it back in once it’s out.”
“Exactly. What happened was someone in Washington woke up and realized we were losing this so-called War on Drugs. Cartels are popping up everywhere in Mexico and a lot of them are at war with each other as they continue to expand and take over territory. Washington realized it would only be a matter of time before they firmly establish themselves in the U.S. and elsewhere.”
“Like Canada.”
“Yeah, so someone figured it would be a good idea to try and contain the bloodbath in Mexico. Our government trained an elite group of Mexican soldiers to be expert commandos and snipers. I don’t think there would be anything on paper about it, but basically it was implied that the Mexican government could use these guys to selectively take out the heads of some of the cartels.”
“Can’t say as I feel real opposed to that idea,” replied Jack.
“I feel the same way. Except it backfired. The cartels pay a lot more money than the military does. A lot of the commandos we trained were hired by the cartels … and they can shoot the eye out of a scorpion up to a mile away.”
“Something I should probably keep in mind,” said Jack sombrely.
The next spot Adams took Jack was near the centre of El Paso. The Rio Grande basin had widened a little and a high chain-link fence acted as a barrier. Adams parked the car and said, “No use getting your feet wet. Sit and watch a moment.”
Within a couple of minutes, Jack saw two Mexican men and a woman approach the fence from the Mexican side. They walked a short distance to a clump of bushes and suddenly appeared on the American side.
“The fence has been cut there,” noted Adams. “Happens all the time. When we repair it, they cut it again someplace else.”
“Sounds like that wall you said they’re thinking of building is needed.”
“It should help.” Adams gestured to the Mexican side of the border. “I want you to take a good look at all the buildings so you can remember them in case you have to come through that way to escape. We’re only about a mile upstream from the Bridge of the Americas, which is the biggest legal entry and exit point into Juarez. Don’t under any circumstances think of trying to cross that bridge if you’re on the run.”
“The Mexican Customs are bought off?”
“Everyone is. The police, military, customs … everyone.”
“Dangerous country,” replied Jack.
“I doubt you have any idea how dangerous. I stayed awake half the night last night wondering whether I should tell you some stuff.”
“What sort of stuff?”
“I have special military training. Occasionally I’m still used for covert missions. There are some things I’ve learned that people wouldn’t appreciate me talking about.”
“Then don’t tell me.”
“A couple of things I think I should, just so you’ll appreciate what goes on around here. The first thing I already told you.”
“About the U.S. training assassins?”
“Exactly. Something else that happened is we Americans are getting blamed for something in Mexico we didn’t do. There was a third powerful cartel in Juarez and all the kingpins of it were basically family members. They lived in five mansions on a mammoth estate out in the desert. They had their own runway, planes, helicopter crews … and a small army guarding it. One night seven unmarked Huey choppers packed with commandos flew in and killed all the top guys and anyone else they thought was involved with the cartel. The choppers then flew away, apparently without suffering a casualty. Everybody was pointing their fingers at us … but I know it wasn’t us.”
“Another cartel?”
“We thought that, until we found out that afterwards one of the choppers crashed on a mountaintop when they were low-flying at night to escape detection. Where it crashed was what caught our attention. It was on the southern border of Mexico going into Guatemala.”
“Guatemala!”
“Exactly. It made us wonder, as well. Some locals reported a couple of men inside lost their lives, but another chopper stopped and retrieved the bodies. The only thing left behind was the wreckage … which had no markings or identification to indicate where the chopper came from or who owned it. Then we learned another key piece of information that gave us a pretty good idea who was behind it.”
“And it wasn’t the CIA?”
“No. Turns out this particular cartel was supplying drugs to the Palestinians who were selling the dope to make money to buy weapons.”
Jack took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. “That makes it rather obvious, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah, I would say so. We’re getting the heat for what the Israelis did.”
“I had no idea how dangerous Mexico really is. You paint a different picture than the travel agencies do.”
“What I told you is nothing. Right before you got here, I had a partner who went into Juarez. He got kidnapped and tortured for almost three hours by the police. They had him handcuffed to the bars and were dousing him with water and using a cattle prod on him. Luckily, four FBI agents found out where he was and rescued him.”
“Jesus Christ,” replied Jack in shock. “I had heard about the DEA agent who was kidnapped, tortured, and murdered. The one where the Mexican president’s brother was implicated.”
“You heard right. The guy they killed was Special Agent Enrique Camarena. A few key people were eventually arrested, but the president’s brother and a couple of guys under him will never be charged.”
“Did you know Camarena?”
“No … but you know how it feels.”
“It’s like losing a brother, even if he did work in another country.”
Adams nodded silently.
“Guess I was hoping the cartels wouldn’t try it again.”
“That kind of thinking could get you killed. They’re becoming bolder every day. Greg had three years to pension, but he decided not to stay. He quit because of it.”
“You’re working these guys alone? Don’t you have a new partner?”
“No. Just my cop friend in Juarez, but I can’t be seen with him.”
“So you are on your own.”
Adams nodded. “Now that I’ve opened your eyes a little, are you still sure you want to go into Mexico?”
“I’m sure I don’t want to … but I made someone a promise I would do my best to find Lily Rae. I keep my promises.”
“Yeah, that’s what I was afraid of.”
chapter twenty-five
* * *
“Where to now?” Jack asked as Adams drove away from the border.
“This afternoon we’ll go into Juarez. I’ll show you another escape route. Then I’m going to introduce you to my friend over there, Jose Rubalcava. He might be the only guy who could help you out down there.”
“How often do you go into Juarez?” asked Jack.
“A couple times a week, but I only meet Jose a couple times a month. His phones are likely tapped by the cartel, so we use a preset time and place. It’s too risky for him to meet me any more often than that.”
Jack was quiet as he thought of the gravity of the situation.
“We have some time to kill, so if you don’t mind, I’d like to take a look at a house in El Paso,” said Adams. “I think about a dozen couriers come and go from it. It was the one my partner was watching when they
lured him into Mexico.”
“They still using it?” asked Jack.
“Two days ago there were still some of their cars there.”
“Two days ago?” said Jack. He doesn’t know about yesterday because he was busy driving me around. No wonder he was pissed off at having to pick me up at the airport.
“Yeah. Lots of muscle cars. All with Mexican plates. I have no idea who they belong to. I’m thinking they’ll be moving someplace else and would like to follow them. I know they work for the Guajardo cartel, but that’s all I know.”
“And you think the Mexican uncle I’m looking for is either with the Guajardo cartel or the Sinaloa cartel?”
“Yes. Jose might know which one, based on what we found yesterday in the desert.”
A short time later they drove into a neighbourhood in El Paso with overgrown yards strewn with garbage and the odd partially dismantled or wrecked car.
“That’s the house there,” sighed Adams. “The red one in the middle of the block. Usually the driveway is full of cars. They must have moved out yesterday.”
Jack grimaced as he thought of the frustration Adams must be feeling. “I’m sorry,” he said. “If you hadn’t been running me around you probably would have been here.”
“I wouldn’t call finding what we did yesterday a wasted day.”
“Getting those who kidnapped your partner would outrank that in my book.”
Adams paused as he looked at Jack and said, “Mine, too, but it’s not your fault. Anyway, I’m going to take you home for lunch. Introduce you to my wife. After we’ll head into Juarez.”
“Hold it,” said Jack, looking down the street. The largest, most muscular black man he had ever seen was walking along the sidewalk. He was in a postman’s uniform and had a mailbag slung over his shoulder.
“You looking at the mailman?” asked Adams.
“Why not? Your targets know the house is hot so you’ve got nothing to lose. Why not ask him who lives there? Maybe he’s got some mail for them and you could get some names.”
