by Lionel White
I didn’t say anything. I just nodded for him to go on.
“I have not been wasting my time since I’ve been in town, and it’s my opinion that the safest way would be for us to see that the package which is to cross the border crosses in the camper that your friends are driving.”
I shook my head.
“To begin with,” I said, “they would never agree to it.” He stopped me. “They don’t have to agree to it. They’re not going to know about it. That should be obvious.”
Once more I shook my head.
“I will not, under any conditions, put those two girls in danger,” I said. “I will not have them involved.”
“I don’t think you understand me. The only way you can keep them out of danger is by following orders.”
“If you think I’m going to let two young girls cross the border carrying a half a million dollars in narcotics, unescorted, you’re out of your mind.”
“They won’t exactly be unescorted. We ourselves have no intention of letting that huge an investment get out of our sight. You will be accompanying them, but you will not be in the car with them.”
“And just how do I manage that?”
“You’re driving a Jaguar, I believe. When you leave Ensenada, you will be following directly behind them. You will be armed. You will follow them to the border and you will cross the border in your car, immediately after they have crossed in the camper. The chance of them being stopped and searched is remote, but I can assure you that no cursory search will turn up anything.
“The fact that they will be unaware of the narcotics is an additional guarantee that they will avoid difficulty. We have checked them out, and there is no reason they should fall under suspicion.
“Once in the United States you will arrange to rendezvous with them at a certain predetermined location some distance inland from the border.”
“And supposing they are stopped at the border,” I said. “And supposing the camper is subject to a complete search which turns up the narcotics.”
“We are prepared to take that calculated risk. In that case, however, your friends would still not be in serious trouble. They have no records. They have never been involved in anything of this sort, and it is a known fact that drugs are frequently planted in the luggage and in the cars of innocent tourists crossing the border. When, convictions are obtained, the persons involved have either been mixed up with the law before or are unable to prove their innocence. There is no possibility that these two particular girls would be held.
“We’ve had a good deal of experience, and we certainly wouldn’t be willing to take the risks that we are taking unless we were sure of our facts.”
He stood up then and stared at me for several moments. “You are receiving a good deal of money for your part in this,” he said. “We are risking a great deal on you. I want you to think it over and remember what I said before. If you are really interested in the welfare of your friends, as well as your own welfare, you will follow instructions. I shall say goodnight to you now.”
I thought it over, and the more I thought, the less I liked it. My instinct was to go and get Ann and her sister and pile them into a car and head for Tijuana and the border as fast as I could drive. There was every chance that I could get them across safely.
The plan had one flaw. I might get them across, get across myself, but there would be no returning to Mexico.
I remembered what Dr. Sandor Constantine had told me two days before. They didn’t allow for failure.
I had a second thought. Angel Cortillo. I might get to the States, and I might be safe once I got there, but Angel Cortillo would be destroyed.
A half an hour later I walked out to the bar. Billings was about to close up. He was alone. I told him that I wanted to get in touch with Captain Morales as soon as possible. It was vitally important.
I was still sure in my own mind that Morales was a part of the whole thing, but I also remembered Dr. Constantine’s advice at that last moment before I left him. He had said, “And I want you to sever any relationship with Captain Morales.”
I played it safe. I told Billings to explain to Captain Morales that I did not want to see him at La Casa Pacifica, but to let me know where and when I could meet him.
I went back to my room to wait, and I took Carlos Santiago’s advice. I thought it over. I had a lot of thinking to do. I was trying to figure the whole thing out.
Morales had sent me to Dr. Constantine, and I wondered exactly how much truth there was to his reason for wanting me to make that connection.
The possibility that he was planning a hijack of Constantine’s narcotic-smuggling operation was foremost in my mind. It would be a logical plan.
On the other hand, I strongly suspected that Morales and Constantine were working together. Should anything happen during the course of the smuggling operation, should I be picked up and attempt to turn state’s evidence, Morales would be in the clear.
He wasn’t making the deal with me. The deal was being made by Constantine through a man named Carlos Santiago, who without doubt would disappear if anything were to go wrong.
There was no question in my mind that Morales was using me, was blackmailing me into doing what he wanted me to do, was using the frame-up of Angel Cortillo as his lever. But I couldn’t be sure as to exactly what his motive was.
One thing I was sure about. Somebody wanted a highly valuable package of narcotics taken into the United. States, and I had elected myself to see that it got there.
More than two hours passed, and I was about to give up, have a nightcap and go to bed, when the knock came at the door. It was Billings. He gave me the message verbally.
“The Pancho Villa Cantina on Alvarez Street,” he said. “Be in front of it at exactly three-thirty, and stay in your car.”
He turned and left without another word. I looked down at my watch and saw that it was a quarter to three.
I pulled up in front of the Pancho Villa at twenty after three and turned off the headlights of my car. I had no difficulty finding a parking place. I waited.
I didn’t have long. This time when he showed up he wasn’t wearing a uniform and he wasn’t in an official police car. He was walking. He opened the right hand door of the car and crowded in next to me.
“You wanted to see me, Senor Johns?”
“I do,” I said. “Shall we talk here or would you prefer���”
“We can talk here. Am I to assume that Santiago has made his contact with you?”
“He has, and I don’t like it. I don’t like it at all.”
“Just what don’t you like? Perhaps you’d better tell me the whole story.”
I repeated the conversation I had had with Carlos Santiago earlier in the evening. When I got through I said, “There is only one thing wrong with it. I am not going through with it.”
“And just why, Senor Johns? It seems a very feasible plan. You are taking a minimum of risk and you’re getting paid fifty thousand dollars.”
It brought me up short. I had mentioned nothing about the fifty thousand dollars. I’d said that I was getting a certain percentage, but I had not told him the exact sum when I had talked to him previously.
“How did you know I was to get fifty thousand dollars, captain?”
“Simple matter of deduction. You told me that the package would be worth a half a million dollars on the streets in the United States. I’ve been involved in this business long enough to know what kind of deals are made with mules. But continue. What is it you don’t like?”
“I am not going to have those two girls involved.”
He gave me the same arguments that Santiago had given me and then when he was through with that he went one step further.
“The fact is, Senor Johns,” he said. “You have no choice in this matter. Back out of this deal now and I don’t think you would live long enough to get to the border. Dr. Constantine isn’t a man who makes a deal, gives his confidence to someone and then lets
them back off. There is an additional factor you’re losing sight of. Your friend Angel Cortillo.
“I have made you an offer. I’ve told you that I would see that Cortillo is released from prison if you keep your end of the bargain. If you fail to and should by any chance manage to avoid being killed, I can assure you that Cortillo will be convicted of first-degree murder. I will go even further. I will do everything I can to see that you are involved as an accessory before the fact. I don’t think it would be hard to build up a good and sufficient circumstantial case. Give this some thought.”
I gave it a great deal of thought. It was true, of course, that there was every reasonable chance Ann and her sister would not be stopped at the border. It was equally true that should anything happen they would probably eventually manage to beat the rap. There was a danger, of course, but there was a certain danger, no matter what I did.
“Let us say, captain, that I do go ahead with this. What guarantee do I have as far as Angel Cortillo is concerned?”
“You have my word.”
“Your word is not good enough, captain. If I do this, I will do it under only one possible condition. The plan calls for my leaving Ensenada the day after tomorrow. As I have explained, I am to follow the camper in my car. I want Angel Cortillo sitting next to me in that car. I want his papers to be cleared so that he can cross the border. This is the only condition under which I would undertake the mission.”
“You ask a great deal, Senor Johns. It would be extremely difficult.”
“Why should it be any more difficult the day after tomorrow than later on?”
He didn’t answer my question. Instead he was silent for several moments before he again spoke.
“You say that you are to leave Friday? What time on Friday?”
“I do not have the details yet,” I said. “Santiago will be getting in touch with me again tomorrow, apparently to give me the final outline of the plan. As of now, I have not even agreed to go ahead with it.”
“But you will go ahead with it, Senor Johns.”
“I will go ahead with it under the terms that I have stated.”
“I must know exactly when you leave and all other details. But I will not see you again.”
“And then how will you know?” I asked.
Again he hesitated.
“Santiago will be giving you the final details on your methods of procedure some time within the next twenty-four hours. As soon as he does, I want you to write them out and put them in a sealed envelope and give them to Billings. I will want to know exactly when you plan to leave, the route you plan to take, where you will cross the border, as well as your ultimate destination after you cross the border. That envelope must be handed to Billings at least three hours before your actual departure.”
“And you will see to it, then, that Cortillo is in my car when we leave La Casa Pacifica?”
“I will see that he is in your car.”
“Should there be any hitch, captain, I will abort the trip. Neither I nor the camper will leave Ensenada.”
“There will be no hitch.”
He opened the door of the car and without another word stepped to the street and stalked off into the night. I returned to La Casa Pacifica.
16
It had been a long day and a longer night. I could have slept for ten hours, and probably would have, had I not been awakened before nine o’clock the following morning by the ringing of the telephone in my room.
Carlos Santiago didn’t bother to give his name, but came directly to the point.
“I have been in touch with our friend in Acapulco,” he said. “I would like to see you immediately.”
This time he requested that I come to his room, and I met him there some forty minutes later.
“You’ve thought over our conversation of last night?” he asked, after I had entered the room and he had closed the door behind him.
“I’ve, thought it over,” I said. “I still don’t like your plan, but if there is no other way of doing it, I will be forced to go along.”
“An excellent decision, Mr. Johns,” he said. “And a very wise one on your part. Our friend in Acapulco was quite unhappy when I talked with him.”
“He will have nothing to be unhappy about,” I said shortly.
“In that case, we will go over the details. We haven’t got too much time. I will want you to leave here at three o’clock tomorrow afternoon. You will cross the border at Mexicali sometime shortly after dark.”
I looked up, startled.
“Mexicali? Why not Tijuana?”
“Tijuana is always a dangerous place,” he said. “And furthermore, Mexicali fits into our plans.”
He walked over to a table on which he had spread a large-scale map. It covered the area of northern Baja California and Southern California proper.
He took a pencil from his pocket and pointed to a spot on the map in California in the Vallecito Mountains, just off State Route S2.
“There is a small desert inn at this location,” he said. “Now follow me. When you cross at Mexicali you drive north to Calexico, where you will pick up Route 98 going west. You will follow that Route 98 west to the point where it intercepts Route 8. You will cross Route 8, pass through the town of Ocotillo, and continue north on State Route S2 for exactly thirty-eight miles. You will see a small dirt road on the right hand side opposite the Anza Borrego Desert State Park.
“A mile and a half in on this road and you arrive at the Rancho Grande Inn. You will arrange with the two girls who are driving the camper to meet at this inn, explaining to them that you have phoned ahead for reservations for the night.
“And when do I phone ahead for these reservations?”
“You don’t. You will be expected. It is a small, secluded, semiprivate lodge, and your party will be the only one which will be there tomorrow night.”
“And then what happens?”
“Your companions will retire to the room which has been reserved for them, to wash up before dinner. You will go to a separate room. After a short interval you will join your friends and have dinner. After you have eaten, you must see to it that the young ladies retire for the night. They are not to leave the inn once they have arrived. The following morning you will all be free to depart.”
“And that is all there is to it?”
“That is all.”
“I assume then that the package will be picked up sometime on Friday night, while we are at the lodge?” I asked.
“Let us just say that when you leave on Saturday morning, we will no longer be worrying about the destination of the contents of that package. That if all goes well-and all should go well and must go well-you will have earned your commission.”
I nodded. It seemed simple enough. Almost too simple. I guess he was reading my mind.
“It is a very simple plan and one which should be foolproof. But there is one thing you must do. Until you arrive at the inn, you are not to let that camper out of your sight. Not for an instant. But you must be very careful. Especially at the border. You must do nothing which would make anyone believe that you are following it or riding herd on it. There is a chance, of course, that during the actual crossing of the border, the camper will be some distance ahead of you, but you must catch up to it as quickly as possible.”
“You sound,as though you think there is some possibility of its being intercepted,” I said. “I have told you I will not have those girls put in a position where they could be���”
“We expect no trouble at all,” he interrupted. “None. But we are still taking no unnecessary risks. On the other hand, you are being paid a very large sum of honey, and you must be prepared to earn it if the necessity arises.”
“You are considering the possibility of a hijack?” I asked. “It has happened before with people running Narcotics into the States.”
He shook his head.
“I think we can disregard that possibility,” he said. The only people who know of this opera
tion are our own people-and our security is watertight-and the people in the other end who are to receive the cargo. There is no possibility of a leak at that end.”
“In that case,” I said, “why all the worry about my hiding shotgun?”
He looked at me as though I wasn’t quite bright.
“Suppose,” he said, “the camper were to break down somewhere along the road? Suppose it were to be involved in an accident? These things can happen you know. Well, we would want you there. We would want you to stay with he vehicle until arrangements could be made. You understand?”
I understood. It sounded reasonable enough. After all, they would have a half a million dollars riding in it.
We went over it again, this time, in detail. He explained very explicitly about the dirt road turning off the main highway which led to the Rancho Grande Inn. exactly how we were to recognize it. That if by any chance the Volkswagen missed the turnoff, I was to catch up at once and turn it back.
When he was through, he folded up the map and landed it to me.
“There must be no mistakes,” he said. “No mistakes. You understand?”
“There will be no mistakes,” I said.
When I returned to my room, I found a sheet of paper and I carefully wrote out my itinerary for the following day. The time we would leave, the route we would take our ultimate destination after we crossed into the States.
I added an extra paragraph before sealing it in an un addressed envelope. I wrote: “Only if my friend is sitting next to me in my car and his papers are clear.”
Billings was at the desk in the lobby, and I handed him the envelope, being careful to see first that we were alone.
“For our friend, the captain,” I said. “He is waiting for it, waiting very anxiously.”
Billings took the envelope, saying nothing.
