Border Crossings

by Michael Lee Weems

  “He’ll bolt,” said Matt. “He can’t risk another assault here. He doesn’t have the manpower to withstand it. They’re about to be running for a back door.”

  Catherine looked out on the massive hotel. “There’s gotta be twenty ‘back doors’ to this place, how do we know where he’s going?”

  “We’re not going to let him get that far,” he told her, handing her Miguel’s Mac-10 sans the silencer. “He’s too out of shape to bolt the stairs from what we’ve heard,” he told her. “So if there are several of them together, they’re all going to hit the lobby by the elevators in a minute.”

  She stared at the determined glare in his face and realized what his plan was, “Matt . . . there’s only the two of us.”

  “That’s how it’s been most of the way,” he said. “It’s either this or we let him go underground and hope we get another shot.” Matt was already pulling on his flak jacket and handing her the other. “What do you want to do, Cat? It’s now or never. There’s no time to call in the cavalry.”

  She stared at the Mac-10 in her hand and then at the flak jacket he was holding out. She snatched it and began putting it on quickly. Matt was already back out the door. “We need to make a lot of noise. All we have to do is keep them pinned long enough for the authorities to get here.” He had his Glock in his hand and Catherine’s in his belt ready to be pulled when needed, along with two clips. Catherine clasped the last clip of the jacket and jumped out of the car with him.

  As soon as they entered back through the lobby, Matt started shooting the ground. The desk staff on the midnight shift ran for cover around a corner, immediately dialing for the police just as Matt had hoped. The authorities were sure to arrive much quicker than the Hilton incident just two weeks before as now the military were in charge. Matt and Catherine positioned themselves behind a corner with a view of the elevators.

  No sooner had they put their back to the corner wall than the elevator doors opened up. Matt and Catherine waited with their breaths held until the several men all cramped inside exited. As soon as the doors closed again, they made their move. Matt took the first two out, Catherine depressed her trigger and the Mac-10 sent a sporadic barrage across the lobby, which was now vacant except for Arismendez and his men. Arismendez, who was behind the pack, was dragged back and away by two of his guards. The others now already had their guns drawn and began shooting back.

  The tiled walls cracked and flew in pieces as Matt and Catherine ducked back again. Matt ducked down and popped his head down low out just a split second, but long enough to see two men on the ground, three standing, and Arismendez being led out the back way by two more guards. “He’s running,” he told her.

  Catherine swept around Matt and poked the Mac-10 around the corner ever so slightly, and let loose another, more controlled spray. At the same time Matt popped his head back out again. The three remaining guards were running back for cover, still shooting, but wildly now. One caught Catherine’s fire in the back and dropped. Matt took another one out just before he reached the corner, but the third disappeared around it.

  “They’re out of line of sight!” he told her, now pressing forward with her following. They put their backs to the next corner the men had just turned. Catherine pointed to an elevator across from them, and in its pristine façade, they could see the reflection of the last man turning yet another corner. Arismendez and the three remaining guards would be out of the hotel in seconds. “Come on,” he told her, running for a closer rear door.

  They exited it at the same time the last guard exited another rear door, Arismendez and the other two guards over his shoulder heading for the side of the building. The guard took aim but Matt was already behind a column, but when Catherine appeared a split-second later behind Matt, his eyes went wide in terror as he realized he’d left her open. He jumped back in front of her just as a bullet struck his back. Matt whipped her around the column with him and Catherine screamed, “Matt!”

  He’d hit the ground behind the column but said, “I’m fine. Jacket got it,” though breathing hard and clearly in pain. It was lucky the shot had been aimed for Catherine’s head, which met Matt in the center of the shoulder blades. He rolled to the left and jumped back up. The guard was now running as fast as he could. Catherine took flight as well, but she was no match for Matt as he was already several steps ahead of her.

  The guard turned the corner around to the side of the hotel and turned and aimed. Matt saw him just as he flew out. He immediately dove to the ground, another bullet missing him barely. The guard took aim again and had Matt dead to rights, but for Catherine suddenly blazing out. She’d seen Matt dive and knew there was only a hair’s breath to spare. The Mac-10’s clip emptied its last three bullets, one hitting the guard in his pelvis. He jerked his arm and Matt seized the chance, finishing him off with one to the chest.

  Exhausted as they were in the chase that was less than ninety seconds on, Matt and Catherine bolted again. Arismendez had a good head start on them and his guards had managed to push, pull, and drag him quickly enough to the street where they’d stopped a passing taxi by stepping in front of it, guns drawn, and one was now jumping in the driver’s seat as the other pushed Arismendez’s girth into the back, the taxi driver left on the pavement, killed without a moment’s hesitation by Arismendez’s men. The taxi then scored the road in skid marks as it tore away, Matt sending a few shots into its trunk.

  Catherine didn’t hesitate. There was no way she was letting him go this easily. While Matt put a few rounds in the car, she was busy stopping another car, a passing Toyota. The terrified driver slid over and out the passenger door as she came around screaming for him to exit, a menacingly deceptive, empty Mac-10 in her hand. She moved the vehicle up, its passenger door still open, and Matt jumped in. He didn’t have to yell Go or give any instruction of the kind. They were in a perfect sync as they gave chase.

  The traffic was light but still present as the two vehicles raced through the city. As the taxi flew past a patrol car that was racing towards the hotel, it skidded to a halt. Catherine and Matt raced past it just as it was attempting to turn around. “Hope he’s radioing someone,” she said.

  As they raced along the main road heading out of Cancun, she got her answer in the form of a military helicopter, most likely the same one used earlier, as it appeared overhead. Soon they saw more lights appearing behind them.

  The taxi hit a side road, then an alley, and back out to another side road and went right, no longer on the main road. “Where’s he going?” she asked.

  “Airport,” said Matt. “They’re trying to lose the helicopter.”

  As they neared the airport Catherine looked up. It appeared the military aircraft either had permission to enter the air space or didn’t need it as it did not turn away. The decision to try and lose the aircraft at the airport was further proved against the favor of Arismendez when the taxi came to a screeching halt, a police car and two military vehicles blocking the road ahead. Catherine hit the brakes as did the police cars behind her. Officers jumped out. The officers in the rear were now pointing their weapons at Catherine and Matt’s car, not knowing if they were friend or foe. The ones in front were aiming at Arismendez’s car. Nobody exited the taxi and Catherine and Matt remained in their vehicle, engine running.

  Catherine stared ahead at the vehicle, “He’s going to give up,” she said, the ramifications of it being quickly calculated in her mind. Even if he hadn’t decided yet, Catherine knew he didn’t have a choice.

  She looked to Matt. “It’s your call,” he said. Both knew if Arismendez surrendered, he’d have a long trial with a lot of time to plan. Maybe they’d try him, convict him, and he’d spend his life in a Mexican hellhole. But the other possibility was that he’d use his money, his scare tactics, his everything to find a way to crawl out somehow. They looked at each other, both making sure the other was agreed, both knowing what it meant. This could easily be considered a severe crime. Arismendez was preparing
to give up. To attack him now would be to interfere with the Mexican government’s judicial system. But the possible alternative . . . he’d slipped away once already. The risk was too much for her. Catherine hit the gas.

  They barreled into the back of the taxi at nearly thirty miles and hour. Glass shattered on the road as the stunned authorities closed their circle in but were dazed by what had just occurred. None of them knew what to think.

  To Catherine’s horror, Matt put one Glock on the dashboard and the other in her hand, and then stepped out of the car before she could stop him, completely unarmed. “Stay here,” he said. “But cover me.”

  “What are you doing!?” she cried. He held his arms high and looked as though he were headed for the taxi’s rear door, over a dozen guns on his every move. The passenger guard opened the door and made to point his gun at Matt, but Catherine saw him just fast enough to shoot him through the windshield.

  As he fell back in the car the taxi lurched forward, its mangled rear dragging the exhaust pipe in a cloud of sparks, as the last spooked guard, the driver, tried to take off with Arismendez in the back seat. As it bore down on the officers in front, they opened fire and Matt hit the ground. Bullets shred the taxi like an aluminum can used for target practice.

  Catherine had dropped her gun and held her hands in plain sight as the officers approached the Toyota and hastily removed her, slamming her head against the top of the car as they cuffed her. They treated Matt with the same affection, but neither cared. They were alive. And as they looked on while the authorities removed Arismendez and his driver, they were happy to see it was more than he could say for himself. Arismendez had blood all over him, most his, some his driver’s. Innumerable bullets had reduced the kingpin to a mangled corpse.

  With a boot on his back and his head pressed down into the glass-strewn asphalt, Matt still smiled.

  The day Catherine landed back in Dallas she had passed an attractive young Mexican woman in the airport who was being walked to the gate by a detective. Catherine had barely glimpsed the badge and gun peeking out from under his jacket as they passed. It was enough to snap her out of a thought she’d been lost in, something that had been occurring fairly frequently since she had said an awkward goodbye with Matt in Cancun. The last few days had caused a whirlwind of thoughts in her mind. She pulled the headphones from her pocket and plugged them into her phone/mp3 and let the music clear her head a bit.

  She and Matt had visited Julio again before heading home. He was thriving at Patrick’s home and in an unexpected result she couldn’t have hoped for, Patrick said he and his wife had decided they wanted to take the boy in. “He’s already just like family,” pat explained.

  “Are you sure?” Catherine had asked. “What about your wife?”

  “Hell, whose idea you think it was in the first place? She just loves that boy. She took to him like I took to hers. Sometimes things are just meant to work out that way.”

  She’d given him a hell of a going away present . . . the diamonds from Ortiz’s safe as well as the money left over . . . after she’d kept some for damage to a few rental cars, of course, and insisted Matt take fifty. “Holy shit on a stick, are these real?” Patrick had asked, holding up a round diamond twinkling in the sun.

  “Oh, yes. The finest of quality, or so I’m told.” Then she’d handed over the money as well. He didn’t want to accept it at first but she insisted. “It belonged to the man that killed Julio’s friend and tried to kill him, so I’d say he owes it to Julio. And if you’re going to take care of him, then you’d better hold on to it and use it for your family.”

  After much convincing, he accepted. “I’ll make sure we put it to good use. I suppose I have to go get this skin cancer crap taken care of. You just took my last excuse away from me.” Catherine had been glad to hear it. It was a hard goodbye with Julio. She’d grown quite an affection for the little man and promised to call and check in with him now and then and wished him well.

  The goodbye with Matt had been less conclusive. They’d had to stay a few more days, the cause of an enormous amount of paperwork. But given that they’d single handedly handed Arismendez, all be it dead, back to the authorities after he’d already escaped their grasp, the Mexican government turned out to be quite appreciative. They’d extended many thanks and contrary to the fear of reprisal that had crossed their minds, Catherine and Matt were told in no uncertain terms they were welcome back to Cancun any time they liked. Although they didn’t book any immediate travel plans to return.

  As for Yesenia, she didn’t think twice about the raven-haired woman with the blue eyes when they passed. She was lost in thoughts of her own. She’d stayed and put her testimony down on tape for the police as well as visited Imelda and Catalina in the hospital. The other girls were to be sent home for a proper burial with their families, assuming Zuniga could determine where home was for each. Yesenia knew Imelda would probably be able to help provide their information once she was well enough. He had been nice enough to see her off to the airport and they walked together in silence towards her final departure.

  Yesenia was headed back to Mexico City . . . the first time she would ever fly. She’d always imagined flying in a plane would be exciting but given all she’d been through, it now held little appeal. Once back, she had plans to stay with Ceci for a bit. She wasn’t sure if she’d stay in the city or go back to Santa Rosanna, but after the hell she’d found in el Norte, a quiet life back in her small town seemed much more appealing to her now than it had a few months ago.

  A month after things had settled back to normal Catherine sat in her office looking over a new contract. An oil processing plant was being built in India and she was one of hundreds of attorneys and consultants hired to look over their particular parcel of information. She let out a long sigh and pushed the contract away. Then she opened her desk and pulled out a fresh Newsweek magazine, which contained an article about the Kelly Woodall murder.

  Following the shootout in the street near the airport, a massive investigation had been launched which resulted in the arrest of twenty-seven police officers and officials, all charged with aiding and accepting bribes from the cartel. It was a start.

  She looked at the small picture of Detective Ramirez and her fingers ran over the sub-caption Detective Assassinated in Revenge Killing. He’d been coming out of his front door not two weeks after she left Cancun when a car pulled up and opened fired. He’d been struck several times. A banner had been left on his doorstep warning others of interfering with the cartel’s operations. Arismendez or no Arismendez, the cartel was already back at work. I’m sorry, she told him in her thoughts. You were one of the good guys.

  After Catherine re-read the Newsweek article for at least the tenth time, she put it away in her drawer. Then she picked up her phone and made a call.

  “Hello?”

  “Matt?” she asked.

  “Catherine . . . hi, how are you doing?” Matt had since returned to his little house in the Florida Keys where he spent his leisure time fishing, snorkeling, and occasionally treasure hunting for lost Spanish bullion. He never found much, a silver coin here, a ceramic cup there, but he enjoyed it, and after the war they’d been through in Mexico, he decided it was time to take a nice long break from work. He’d reimbursed Silver Shield and after they’d learned what he’d been up to in Cancun . . . and what he’d accomplished . . . he was more in demand than ever.

  “I’m good,” she said. “I’m doing okay. Thanks to you.”

  “Any time,” he said. “I hear the tourists are already returning back to Cancun.”

  “Yeah,” she told him. “Unbelievable, isn’t it? The Association of Hotels down there slashes prices and starts advertising the city corruption has been wiped out, and people start showing up in masses.”

  “Marketing,” he said with a melancholy laugh.

  “Hey, Matt?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I’ve been thinking about a long overdue vacation. And since
Mexico is definitely not in my travel plans any time soon, I was wondering . . . how’s the weather down there?”

  He looked out his window on a perfectly miserable day, gray and pouring rain. He smiled, “It’s beautiful, Catherine. Just perfect.”

  That evening Matt sat down to dinner when his phone rang. He picked it up with a grin, a new found hope it might be Catherine on the other line. But it wasn’t. “Hello, Mr. Jordan.”