“Thank you. Will you—”
“Be quiet. Listen to me. When the men come to take the animals, you get behind them cases all the way over there. Stay there. You hear me?”
“Can you help us?”
“Just do like I said. And keep quiet.”
“You’re going to help us, aren’t you? What’s your name?”
“It don’t matter.”
“Why are you helping us?”
“That don’t matter either.”
“Yes it does. Why?”
The African looked over the rows of caged, frightened faces. His voice was lower. “Because they sufferin’.”
He turned and climbed the steps. Again they heard the heavy clang of the hatch being closed and secured.
Together Ancarit and Ansuro bent down over the sacks the African had dropped. They each pulled one open. Even in the dimmest of light they could see that one sack held loaves of bread. The other held fresh fruits they had not seen since leaving their rain forest village.
They each ate enough of the food to bring back their energy. The renewed strength propelled them to move as fast as they could. They tore off pieces of the bread and fruit to put into open mouths that begged through the bars of every cage. They rationed it until it went as far as it could go. When it was gone, they went back to bringing water until, once again, they fell exhausted onto the mats.
This time, the exhaustion was mingled with a sensation they thought they would never feel again. Hope.
* * *
Ancarit and Ansuro were in the midst of another round of water delivery when they felt the ship slowing. They could sense turns in the ship’s motion until a sudden jarring threw them off balance.
Ansuro whispered. “We’ve docked. Now we wait.”
They crouched behind the cases of animals at the rear of the chamber as the African had told them. It was an hour later that the hatch above clanged open. They recognized the soft footsteps of the African. They could tell from the sound that he came alone.
They came out of hiding to meet him. He brought them more food in a sack. This time he was close enough to hand it to them.
Ansuro spoke for both of them. “Where are we? And tell us, how do we call you?”
“My name don’t matter. We in port. Someplace in Puerto Rico. I been here before on this ship.”
“What will they do with the animals?”
“Listen to me. Not much time. They gonna unload the animals here. Sometime they gonna ship ’em to the coast of the United States mainland.”
“Will they put them on a different ship?”
“Yeah. But not yet. I heard them talk. This time they gonna put ’em on trucks. They take ’em somewhere first. Somewhere inland.”
“Why do they do that?”
“I don’t know. I never been there. Listen to this. Pretty soon most of the crew be off this ship. They go in town to the bars. They gonna leave one, maybe two men to watch the hatch upstairs.”
“Will they come down here?”
“No. They don’t like the smell down here.”
“What can we do?”
“You wait. The men from the trucks gonna come get the animals. They come in the dark sometime before dawn. When the men from the trucks come down here, they won’t know you. They maybe think you with the ship’s crew. You can sneak out then.”
“If we do, what’s going to happen to these animals?”
The African looked from one to the other. “Whatever happen to them gonna happen anyway. You can’t stop it. You did something good here. Now you gotta get out. No good for you to die, too.”
Ansuro and Ancarit felt the same conflicted emotions. There was new hope that they might yet live another day. Still, their looks to each other carried a feeling of futility if what they’d done would have no effect on the fate of the animals they’d kept alive.
Ansuro looked back at the African. He pointed to the food. “I don’t know how to thank you.”
“Then don’t. I know what you been doin’ here.”
“How did you know? You never saw what we did.”
The African nodded to the cages. “Them. I done this trip three times before. I never seen this many of them still alive.”
Ansuro had no answer. Before he could speak, the African turned to go. “Remember. When the men come from the trucks, you just walk off like you one of the crew.”
They were alone again with fear for all of the pleading faces in the cages that surrounded them. They used the time for one last merciful delivery of water to the open mouths of the animals.
Then they lay down to wait.
TWENTY-FOUR
THE SAME DAY
Mayagüez Resort Hotel
IF THERE WAS anything I had failed to absorb about the discipline of being on time during my three years with Mr. Devlin, Nestor had filled the gap. At ten minutes before midnight, I was in front of my hotel. I had shopped for the typical attire of a Mayagüez longshoreman at a store by the docks. My choice of clothing drew curious glances from those who could afford to stay at the resort hotel; but then, this was not the crowd with which I needed to blend.
When the black sedan pulled up to the curb, I jumped into the front seat while it was still on a slow roll. By now I knew enough to finesse any “How was your day?” patter.
“Where to, Nestor?”
I detected a brief smile of appreciation for the brevity. “The docks. The ship’s in.”
“Did Victor tell you when they’d unload?”
Nestor gave a slight backward nod of his head. “Ask him yourself.”
“Hello, Mike.”
I nearly got whiplash spinning my head toward the voice in the back seat. “Victor! Where the hell did you—”
“Long story. I’ll give you a quick update.”
I sat in silence as more of the missing pieces that had been gnawing at my sense of direction in this case poured out of Victor’s mouth.
“When I got to Mayagüez, I got in touch with my cousin, Chico Mendosa. He told me to meet him in the back of a bar on the north side of the city, about fifteen minutes from here. I went with Jose Ramos, the big shot in the insectos. I introduced him to my cousin like I’d known Ramos for years. It seemed to go all right at the time. My cousin listened. He didn’t say anything up or down. He said he’d have to check with his people and get back to us.”
“It was that easy?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“When we started to leave, Chico asked me to stick around to talk about the family. We all shook hands. Jose went out the door. When I turned back to Chico, he grabbed a fistful of my hair with one hand and stuck the point of a knife to my throat with the other. I was scared crapless.”
“So what happened?”
“Nothing. He just held me there for about ten seconds. I could feel my neck getting wet where he’d broken the skin. When I could get the words out, I said, ‘What the hell, Chico?’”
“And?”
“He pushed the knife in a little deeper. I thought he was going to bleed me out right there. He pulled my head up next to his mouth so I could hear him whisper.”
“What’d he say?”
“Damn! I can tell you his exact words. I’ll never forget. He said, ‘Blood is thick, Victor. But money is thicker. If I take you to my people and you’re not on the level, this is exactly where they’ll have us both. Only they won’t stop with a little bloodletting. Do you understand me?’ I said, ‘Yes.’ He said, ‘Are you on the level with me?’ I said, ‘Yes.’ He said, ‘Do you swear it on your brother’s soul?’”
Victor went silent for a few seconds. We gave him time.
“I love my brother. I said what I thought he’d want me to say. I said, ‘Yes. I swear it.’”
“Did he buy it?”
“I think so.”
“So what happened?”
“The next day he called me. He told me to come back around midnight to that same bar. He said we could do
business. I asked if he wanted Jose Ramos, the insecto, to come with me. He told me he just wanted me. The fewer the better. He told me to bring $900,000 in cash for the first payment. When I told Jose, he said he could get it for me from the winnings on that fixed race. That night, Jose gave me a satchel to bring with me to the meeting.”
“How did that go?”
“Quickly. When I got to the bar, the bartender brought me to the back room. Chico was there alone. He took the satchel and just set it down beside him. I asked him if he was going to count it. I hadn’t even looked inside.”
“Did he count it?”
“No. I think that was part of the show. The message was that no one would dare shortchange these people. But I’ll tell you this. When I handed it to him and he set it down, he grabbed me with both arms and just held me there. I just about crapped my pants. Then when I looked at him, he was smiling. I realized he was just hugging me like a cousin. Somewhere I got the strength to hug him back.”
“How’d he leave it?”
“He told me the ship with the animals we were buying had left Macapá. It’s a port in Brazil. It was about a four- or five-day trip to get here. He’d let me know when it would get in. I was supposed to get word to Jose Ramos and the insectos.”
“To do the unloading of the animals?”
“No. He said his men would do that. They had to take them somewhere first. Then they’d be brought back and put on another ship for somewhere on the coast of Florida. That’s where they’d be smuggled into the mainland for sale. His people would set up the contacts. We could use their warehouse in Florida to keep the animals while they were being sold.”
“Sold to whom?”
“Chico said he’d set up the deal with the wholesaler his people used. But he made it clear that once that ship left Mayagüez with the animals, it was up to the insectos to take charge of the operation. That way, the insectos took the full risk of smuggling them into the mainland. That was the deal.”
“You said the $900,000 was the first payment. How much more?”
“Chico said we had to pay another $900,000 within a week.”
“Where will the insectos get the money?”
“That’s the worst part. They’re flying me back to Boston tomorrow. Fat Tony is going to fix another race in a couple of days. They want me in the race as an insider to see that the other jockeys make it come out their way. If I think any of the jockeys are not going along, I’m supposed to tell Fat Tony. His boys will take it from there.”
“So they trust the insectos to come up with the next $900,000.”
“Trust, hell. Even the insectos are scared out of their minds to cross Chico’s gang.”
Nestor had been listening in silence. I looked over and noticed a look that said trouble. “Why are they taking the animals someplace else before they ship them?”
“I don’t know. Chico didn’t say. I wasn’t about to ask. Maybe they have to check them out.”
We all went silent for a few seconds. Nestor and I were ingesting a deeper glimpse of the bigger picture than we’d had since day one. The discontented look on Nestor’s face intensified.
“What, Nestor? What’s your problem?”
He looked at me for a few seconds. “There’s a piece missing. We still don’t have all of it.”
I could almost read his thoughts, but I wanted to hear it. “Like what?”
He shook his head. “I hear what you’re saying, Victor. It still doesn’t sound right to me. Chico’s gang can make a big profit on that shipload of animals and keep it all themselves. They’ve been doing it for years. Why would they be willing to share the profits with the insectos?”
“How about the $900,000 I delivered to them, with another $900,000 in a week? That pays for the animals and gives them the profit before they even have to make delivery.”
“Have they ever had trouble financing these deals themselves in the past? I don’t think so.”
“Maybe they liked the idea of shifting the risk of getting caught in the smuggling to the insectos.”
Nestor looked at Victor in the rearview mirror. “Why now? Word is they’ve been greasing the customs agents somewhere on the coast of Florida for years. No one raises a big fuss over smuggled animals. Even if they’re caught, the fines are a minor business cost.”
Nestor looked at me. He just tilted his head to ask if I had the same feeling. I nodded. “It’s got me, too. We’re missing something.”
Victor raised his hands. “I guess we go with what we have. What else can we do? It’s too late to pull out.”
This time Nestor turned around to look Victor in the eye. “We can be damn careful. Especially you, Victor. You’re the closest to them. What we’re not seeing could come down on you.”
“I know. Which brings us to tonight. Now that the ship’s in, the insectos want me to check out the animals for them. They figure I can get on board by using my cousin’s name. That’s why I contacted you, Nestor. I thought you two might want to go along.”
Nestor gave me a “what the hell” look. “Then let’s do it.”
TWENTY-FIVE
NESTOR LEFT THE headlights off. He cruised to within a hundred feet of the gangplank up to the sea-worn ship with the name Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe on its stern. The three of us walked to it in silence through a shroud of fog.
A few faint lights fore and aft were the only indication that anything human might be on board. There was a rhythmic slogging of waves against the hull that caused the old bucket to groan and give out enough death rattles to scare off a battle-scarred wharf rat.
We climbed the gangplank single file with a wary eye to anything or anyone who might challenge our coming aboard. Nothing stirred. If the condition of the ship was an indication of the caliber of the crew, Nestor was probably right that they were all well into their rum in the nearest bar. Still, even on that sultry night, I could feel the fight-or-flight chills tickling the base of my spine.
Nestor took the lead. The storage of anything large had to be below deck. Instinct more than sight took him toward a large hatch in the center of an open section of the deck. We closed ranks to keep a close unit as we approached.
Nestor took hold of the massive handle on the hatch. He looked back at us before hoisting it. His facial expression did nothing to settle the chills.
Victor and I both gave him a go-ahead nod. Nestor put his back into the lifting of the hatch. It gave off a creaking groan. The shrieking command, “Drop it!” that came from behind made us bolt straight up.
The three of us spun in the direction of the pitch-black darkness that covered the source of the voice. I went into a tight crouch and took the path of silence. Nestor’s breathing was the only thing that gave away his state of shock—that, and the slight glint of light on the barrel of the gun in his right hand. The best he could do was aim it at the voice in the dark. He was the first to be able to speak. “Who the hell are you?”
The voice came back. “The question, mate, is who the hell are you?”
The blinding beam of a flashlight caught the three of us dead center. Whoever held it responded to the gun first. “Put it away, mate. You have one second before I blow the three of you to hell.”
Nestor didn’t drop it, but he was realist enough to lower it to his side. By this time, Victor was regaining control of his voice. “You do and you’ll answer to Chico Mendosa. He sent us. He told us to check out the animals.”
Apparently the name of Victor’s cousin was the effective password. The voice came down half an octave and softened. “Why the hell didn’t you say so? I could have blown your heads off.”
I heard him hit a switch on the metal wall behind him. Another weak bulb came alive above our heads. It gave enough light to see a scruffy, bearded sailor in the act of lowering a double-barrel shotgun.
“They’re down there. You doin’ the unloading?”
“No. Not yet. They’ll do that later.”
“It can’t be too soon.”
/> “Yeah? Why?”
“Open that hatch. You’ll see. Close it when you go down. I have to breathe up here.”
With that ominous preface, the three of us looked at each other for solidarity. None of us wanted to take that next step.
Nestor took another grip on the hatch and put his weight into pulling it open. A cloud of stench like nothing I’d ever experienced engulfed us as if it were literally dying to escape from whatever was below.
We gave it a few seconds to let the acid smell that stung our nostrils dissipate, if it would, and to get control of the clenching muscles in our stomachs. Nestor looked back at the sailor. “Let me use your flashlight. This won’t take long.”
Apparently Chico Mendosa’s name was still working its magic. He handed it over.
We looked at each other for a decision on the marching order. Nestor bowed to our hesitation and took the lead. He took the first five steps down into the chamber below. I could see the beam of the flashlight in his hand coursing around whatever was down there. I’d have followed next, but Nestor stopped cold. I heard him utter words to no one in particular in a tone I never expected from him. “My God. So this is hell.”
I had to force my legs to take the steps behind him. My eyes followed the beam of light as it played across a scene that no words could describe. I saw the faces of animals, birds, creatures I’d never seen before, crammed body to body on top of each other in cages too small for any one of their kind. I could say that the stench was what made my knees nearly buckle, but that wasn’t really it. If ever fear and desperation could be distilled into one sea of faces, so overpowering that no mind could encompass it, this was what gripped our eyes, our minds, and our souls. Somehow I found the voice to answer the words Nestor hadn’t really addressed to me. “This must be hell.”
At the bottom of the stairs, the three of us made our way together following the light in Nestor’s hand. We passed through a narrow passageway between the stacks of cages. I was stunned to notice that practically no sound came from the animals. Their confinement had apparently been so torturous and so prolonged that it stifled even the hope and strength necessary to cry for help.
Fatal Odds Page 20
