Solid Gold

by Stephanie Andrews

  Cosmo laughed.

  “What?” asked Park, looking down the table at him.

  “Ellery Queen,” he said. “I like it.”

  “Who’s Ellery Queen?”

  “Nevermind.”

  Don pointed at Ruby, at the opposite end of the table. “You’re Nippersink.” He turned next to Marty: “You’re Whitehat. Riley, you’re Red—”

  “I absolutely am not,” I said flatly.

  “What’s wrong with—”

  “I’m not.”

  “Okay, fine, you’re Orange.”

  Before I could interject again, he moved on to Cosmo. “You, sir, are Mountain.”

  “Best you could do?”

  “Would you rather just be Cosmo?”

  “No, whatever’s fine. How about you?”

  “Me?” asked Don with a smile. “My name is Charlie.”

  Oh, brother.

  “Miss Orange,” called Don, looking at me, “anything you’d like to add? Concerns?”

  I straightened up in my seat. Don had said I would be given final approval, and now everyone was looking at me. Was I supposed to lead a cheer?

  “First of all,” I said sternly. “It’s not Miss Orange, it’s Agent Orange.”

  “Yes, fitting,” said Don.

  “I’m glad you are all here. I will find a way to make it up to each one of you. I don’t know why I agreed to help Selena, but I’m glad I did. I clearly didn’t imagine it would end up with all of us here, in Mexico, without her. But, when I got it into my head that I wanted to dedicate my life to righting injustices that the law could not, it was exactly this, people like Negron, that I had in mind. I owe you all, and I’m sure Don knows to the exact penny how much.”

  Everyone laughed.

  “As to the plan. It seems solid. My only worry is whether or not all this chaos will actually pull enough people out of the mountain. Why won’t he just call the police? He’s probably bribed them all, anyway.”

  “I expect there will be police,” said Don, “but we will be leaving a trail of breadcrumbs that I think he will want his closest people on. Once they find out where I’m operating from, he’s going to want his top people coming through that door to make sure nothing gets screwed up.”

  I nodded. “I trust you. And you’re plans always turn out better than mine, anyway.”

  “I especially loved that plan where Ruby was supposed to cut your arm off,” said Marty with a grin. I reached over and grabbed his earlobe, hard, between the thumb and first finger of my left hand.

  “Oww,” he yelled, swatting me.

  “Good thing that plan failed, too,” I said, “or I wouldn’t be able to do this, would I?”

  “Get off!”

  Everyone was laughing as I let go, except for Nick, who hadn’t said a thing through the entire meeting.

  Twenty-Eight

  After we had all used the bathroom one last time, we piled into the van. Nick drove, with Don riding shotgun. Marty and Park were in the next row, Jorge and Cosmo in the row after that. Ruby and I plopped down in the very back. I looked out the window and could see T.C. heading across the field toward his helicopter.

  “Well, Ruby, how does it feel to be an international woman of mystery?”

  “I was already,” she said, her accent seeming to grow stronger to prove the point, her “was” becoming “vas.”

  “True,” I admitted. I’d been to Mexico before, on vacations, and I’d been to London once, but that was about it. I needed to get more intercontinental.

  “Are you okay?” Ruby asked me, looking at me studiously.

  I sighed.

  “Yeah, I’m fine. I mean, this is what I wanted, right? But I have to say, seeing Selena get shot was something else. I mean, sure, it made all this spy stuff seem real, but also...” I considered my words for a moment. “If that can happen to Serena, then it’s probably just a matter of time before something happens to me.”

  “You can save the world for a little while,” said Ruby. “You don’t have to do it forever, and no one will think any less of you.”

  “Of course. Of course, you’re right. I mean, there’s no way I can be doing something like this once I’m fifty!”

  She looked at me darkly. “I’m not laughing.”

  “I don’t know why not,” I admitted, “I’m hilarious.” I looked up front at the back of Nick’s head. “But yes, I do think often of warm tropical islands.”

  I shook my head to clear it. “But not yet. And you, are you really going to join Park’s detective agency?”

  “Sure, why not?”

  “Because you retired?”

  “That was never really going to stick,” she said, looking out the window as we passed through Jamapa.

  “Did you run out of money already?”

  “No!” she said, indignant. “Of course not. Besides, if I did, I know where you buried all of yours.”

  “Good. If Negron kills me, I don’t want to think of it all going to waste.”

  Ruby inclined her head toward Cosmo, and lowered her voice. “I think you will be in pretty good hands, even without Salerno.”

  “I know, right? What’s the story there? Did she tell you yet?”

  “No. When I told her what we were doing, she just said she had perfect person for job. Total surprise. He flew over from Miami.”

  “I like him,” I admitted.

  “We’ll see,” said Ruby.

  “Why Ruby, coming from you, that’s almost an endorsement.”

  IT WAS A FEW MINUTES before 9 a.m. when we rolled into Veracruz and made our way toward the waterfront. Don was right, Blvd. Manuel Avila Camacho was well paved and nice and wide, curving along the beach much like a miniature version of Lake Shore Drive at home.

  We passed by the Veracruz Porsche dealership on our left. It was wholly owned by a shell company controlled by Negron, as was the luxury hotel next door. We pulled in a few doors down at another luxury hotel, the Camino Real.

  “Casino Royale?” asked Marty.

  “No, it means ‘High Road,’” said Don as they approached, “only Nick and Ruby will be visiting a casino today.”

  As we got out of the van, I noticed a landing pad in a field next to the hotel. T.C.’s helicopter sat quietly in the landing circle, but I didn’t see T. C. anywhere.

  Nick drove off to park the van. The rest of us entered the hotel, giving each other last nervous looks and smiles as we split up. Jorge and Park went back outside to wait for their limo. Don and Ruby left through a side door that would take them across the field with the helicopter pad. Cosmo and I headed for the back door, past the pool and down to the beach. We each had a messenger bag over our shoulders as we turned left and started along the sand. Even at this hour, scantily clad women were staking out their territory. Hotel employees set up oversized umbrellas and beach chairs, while the women, and a few men, slathered themselves with sunscreen.

  I chuckled, looking at Cosmo and I in our jeans and black t-shirts, our combat boots, his dark sunglasses.

  “Feel out of place?” he asked, nodding at a well-bronzed woman in a light blue bikini.

  “I think I’d feel more out of place dressed like that,” I confided.

  “You’re too hard on yourself,” he said, kindly.

  “I know, it’s a bit of a hobby. That looks more like my vision of myself,” I said, pointing toward two old men sitting on overturned plastic buckets, long fishing lines extending from their poles out into the waves. “A little more casual, not a care in the world. Just fishing.”

  “What are you trying to catch?”

  “A big fat drug-dealing sex-trafficking asshat,” I said with venom.

  “Now you’re talking,” he laughed. “This is us here.”

  I looked to my left. We had passed the helicopter pad, the back of the other hotel, and were looking at two tall, thin buildings the loomed above everything else.

  “Are those office buildings?” I wondered aloud.

  “I
don’t know, maybe part of the hotel. Let’s circle around the back of the pool.”

  We followed the edge of a wall that separated the beach from a sparkling blue swimming pool. It was an exceptionally glorious, sun-filled day. Of course, maybe every day was like this in Veracruz. All I know is that it beat the heck out of Chicago in January. I resolved once again to travel more.

  We reached the rather featureless north side of the building, which looked out on an empty lot. Halfway along the white cement building we spotted an open door. Standing outside of it, leaning against the wall, was a short, heavily mustachioed man in mechanic’s overalls, smoking a cigarette.

  He stepped off the wall as we approached. “Americanos?” he enquired. Was it my red hair, or the jeans?

  “Si,” I said brightly, giving him my best smile.

  “Estan Perdidos?” he asked, gesturing back toward the beach.

  Cosmo punched him solidly in the face, his cigarette flying as he fell to the ground. I pulled a syringe from by bag as Cosmo flipped him over, sat on his chest, and put one of his massive hands over the man’s mouth, blocking his moaning and swearing. I stuck the needle right through his coveralls and into his shoulder. Cosmo kept pressure on him until he finally lapsed into unconsciousness about thirty seconds later.

  I stuck my head cautiously through the open door and glanced around. It was a parts room, with grey metal racks full of white boxes, each with a little black and white picture printed on it of whatever item was inside. There were no people, so I popped my head back out and nodded to Cosmo. I stepped forward to help with the feet, but he just grabbed the guy by his left upper arm and swung him up and over his back. Okay, then.

  We entered the parts room and closed the door behind us. Cosmo slung the mechanic down onto the floor and I pulled a few zip ties from my back, securing his hands and ankles. He should be out for an hour, but just in case.

  The room only had one other door. I cracked it open just enough to see the large open floor of the service area. There were three Porsches parked in a row. The first was near the front of the shop, with the second in the middle and the third not far from where I stood. I could hear tools being picked up and put down in a metal tray. I opened the door a bit more and was able to see the lower body of another mechanic sticking out from under the hood of the middle car. I scanned the room carefully; he seemed to be the only person around. I eased the door open and then walked quietly along the edge of the space until I was past him and close to the glass door that led from the service bay to the sales area. I pivoted back toward him and made sure to walk heavily on the concrete floor. He heard me and pulled his head out from under the hood.

  “Is my car ready?” I asked in a slow, over loud voice.

  He straitened up and said something to me in Spanish.

  “Yo soy auto,” I said, putting my hand in my shoulder bag. “Es mucho ready?”

  He looked at me and his eyes widened in confusion as I pulled a syringe from the bag and held it up. He opened his mouth to respond, but Cosmo clamped his oven-mitt sized hand over it, punching him once, hard, in the kidney with his other. While he was processing that pain, I stepped forward and poked him with the needle.

  A minute later and we had him trussed and tossed in the parts room with his co-worker. Cautiously, we approached the glass door to the sales floor. It was a large space, with half a dozen cars inside. There was also a counter with fresh juice and croissants laid out, and a sectional sofa that sat in front of a large flat screen television showing different cars cruising along mountain switchbacks and through dark city streets. I counted four men with dark suit jackets, brass name tags pinned over the breast pocket, and one man dressed as a security guard, including a gun on his hip. There was also a desk with two women behind it. They wore white blouses and had their dark hair pulled back into long ponytails. One of them was on the phone. Behind them I could see an open door to an office. That’s where I wanted to be.

  Through the plate glass window that ran the front of the store I could see Don and Ruby in conversation with another salesman, who was speaking rapidly to them while gesturing toward a bright red sports car. He opened the driver’s door for Ruby, and she climbed in, setting her leather purse on the passenger’s seat. She reached up and took the offered keys from the salesman and started the car with a roar that could be heard through the glass.

  As she backed the car out of the spot, she nearly ran into a black limousine that had pulled up in front of the building. Jorge got out of the driver’s side and shouted something at Ruby. Don set down his briefcase and took a step forward, but the salesman put a hand on his arm, and pointed as an armed security guard stepped forward to talk to Jorge. Meanwhile, Ruby angled the car to the side and around the limo, threw it into gear, and pulled out of the lot for a test drive, presumably leaving Don behind as collateral.

  Jorge opened the back door and Nick stepped out, his hair slicked back and dark sunglasses on, a fake mustache sitting brown and heavy on his upper lip. The image was so far away from his usual look—rumpled artist—that I couldn’t help but smile, and my heart did a little flip.

  Jorge came around the back of the car and opened the other door. Park hopped out, clutching her big white purse and tottering on her high heels. Don studiously ignored them, drawing the salesmen further down the line of cars, pointing at a nice light blue one. The trio entered the sales room and were immediately greeted by one of the sales people.

  I stepped away from the door and moved to a side counter where a multi-line phone sat amid the tools. I picked up the receiver and pressed the button that said ‘Recepcion.’

  “Si?”

  “Hello?” I said hesitantly.

  “Quien es?” said the woman’s voice.

  “Hello?” I said again, setting my bag on the counter and pulling out another syringe. The line went dead, and I looked over at Cosmo, who was standing flat against the wall next to the door and nodded.

  This time, we put the unconscious body carefully in the back of one of the cars. It seemed somehow improper to leave her with the mechanics.

  I moved back to the door to the showroom and peaked through the glass. Park and Nick were in a heated discussion in front of Jorge and one of the salesman. I cracked the door a tiny bit so I could hear.

  “I don’t want a stupid juice!” exclaimed Park in a ridiculous whining voice. “I want to drive one of the cars.”

  “Do we have to go through this again?” said Nick in exasperation. “We are here for me to look for a car. Not you. You have Jorge to take you anywhere you want to go.”

  “I want to be able to go on my own!”

  “It’s not safe, we’ve had this discussion.”

  “You don’t get to tell me what I can and cannot do!” fumed Park. Ouch, this was getting a little too real. I could see Nick’s face begin to redden.

  Park turned to Jorge. “Ask him if he has any with automatic transmission,” she demanded. Jorge turned to the man and spoke rapidly, and the man turned toward the far end of the showroom and began to walk toward a green car that looked a lot like a Subaru wagon.

  As they moved away, I saw a little red moped park out front. Marty entered and approached the counter, holding a motorcycle helmet in one hand and a messenger bag in the other. He was just pulling an envelope from the bag when a commotion out front made him spin around. A yellow DHL delivery truck had pulled up out front and run right over the moped. Marty and the security guard rushed outside as T.C. climbed out of the delivery truck and walked around to the front. The other two salesmen also moved toward the front door to take a look.

  I stepped through the door and ran lightly along the back wall. I was behind the counter before the receptionist, who had also been looking out the window, even noticed me. She caught me out of the corner of her eye and turned as I launched into her, sending us both flying through the open door and into the office behind. We landed hard on the floor, me on top, and I had my hand over her mouth before she cou
ld scream. Through the open office door, I could hear Marty and T.C. yelling at each other, while several Spanish voices tried to intervene. I kicked the door shut and jumped to my feet.

  “Que—”

  “Shush,” I said, pulling my baton from the bag and telescoping it out with a flick. I brandished it at her and held my fingers to my lips. She stayed still on the floor. I looked quickly around the room. In addition to a desk, there was a bank of humming computers and four surveillance screens. Mounted on the opposite wall was a glass case that contained a few dozen set of keys, and a blinking computer unit that said LoJack on the front. The case was secured with an electronic keypad.

  I reached into my shoulder bag and pulled out a heavy black metal box. It always amazed me that something so small could be so heavy. I know it’s because of the magnets, but I liked to imagine a little black hole was contained inside. Dark Matter.

  I set the box on the desk and pushed the button on the side. The effect was instantaneous: the computers and the lights all went off at once, plunging the room into total darkness. I pulled the flashlight out of my back pocket and turned it on, it’s light catching the terrified face of the receptionist.

  “It’s okay,” I said to her in a calm voice as I located my bag and withdrew more zipties. “Everything’s going to be just fine.” We both jumped as the door burst open, the daylight blocked by Cosmo’s huge frame. The woman screamed, and jumped up to run, but there was nowhere to go. I gathered her arms behind her back and secured her wrists with a ziptie as Cosmo went to the case on the wall. With the power gone, it swung open easily, and he reached in and gathered all the keychains.

  We stepped back out onto the main sales floor just as Don came in. Through the glass I could see that T.C., Jorge, and Marty had subdued both the guard and two of the salesmen. At the other end of the showroom Nick and Park had used Nick’s necktie to secure their man.

  “Clear?” asked Don as he met up with Cosmo and Nick in the middle of the floor.

  “Clear,” I said, Park joining me by the counter. “What’d you do with the other man?”