by Doug Ball
“By the way, the Governor intends to give Jack Lawler the Arizona Medal. She just sent me word and I have to get word to the father today.
“Any questions? Anything I can do for you, except cash?”
Nobody had anything. The meeting ended minutes later as the leaders began saying, “Thanks,” and leaving.
Tan reached his truck exhausted. He wasn’t used to having to watch every word he said as carefully as he had to do with that group.
Nogales had changed tremendously since the last time he’d seen it almost a year in the past. It had been ruins and piles of rubble, now it was a city on the move. New buildings and construction all down the main drag, people shopping and talking on the sidewalks, new cars, and smiles were evident everywhere he looked.
After taking the self-guided, personal tour of the damaged areas, Tan went back to Mariposa Road and turned east to Congress where he turned north. As he turned he noticed all the fast food places were bustling with business. He followed Congress until the Sheriff’s complex was in sight and pulled into the parking lot. Because his truck had no markings obvious to the casual observer, he parked in the open parking area.
Entering the Sheriff’s office he announced himself to the receptionist who promptly escorted him in to the Sheriff who stood and offered his hand as Tan walked in. “Pleased to meet you up close and personal, Mr. Brown. As the Governor is called only Governor, I am called Sheriff.”
Tan took the extended hand, received a firm grip, and said, “Well, Sheriff, I am called Tan. Pleased to meet you also. The way you guided this community in the aftermath of the war has always been an example I use when talking of the war with various groups. This county is privileged to have a man with your ability to lead all factions in unity for the common good.”
The Sheriff dropped the grip. “Thank you for those kind words. Now, let’s cut the crap and get down to business, my new friend.”
“And friend I will be.” Tan went into his spiel and ended it with, “May we work in your area and assist you in the investigation of these events?”
“Not a problem. I have one deputy who I will assign to you. She will be our liaison and will work with you and make reports to me. I will send all I gather from other sources through her. Don’t let the feminine pronoun scare you, she is one tough cookie and most of my men step aside when she has that look. You’ll know what that means within a day or two.”
“Sounds great. I have no problem working with females. I’ve had more trouble with and from men than I ever did with women.”
“Yes, I agree.”
The two looked at maps and talked for an hour before a knock interrupted them. “Come.”
A tall woman in a Santa Cruz County Deputy’s uniform walked in the door. The Sheriff said, “Glad you could get loose and join us. How’s your boy?”
“He will live. Just a broken leg and the end of his baseball career, which at 12 is more painful than the leg.”
“Good. Let me introduce Les Brown, Tan, from the Governor’s Special Investigator’s office where he is the lead man. Tan this is Sergeant Sara Borkowicz, previously one of the many Sanchez’s in our fair community. Do not let her beauty fool you, her husband is a brick and rock guy weighing in at 300 pounds, built like a left tackle on a pro football team, and she whipped him into shape and keeps him there.”
“A little love goes a long way with a man like my husband. Pleased to meet you, Tan. I understand you are now one of my bosses.”
“How about team leader and as a team we work together although I get stuck with all the responsibility.” He stuck his hand out to meet hers and received as firm a grip at the Sheriff’s.
“Sounds good to me.” She smiled.
The Sheriff said, “She speaks border Mexican, real Spanish, two tribal languages, and occasionally, English. Sara holds a black belt in two or three martial arts and ranks as an Expert marksman with all weapons we use, and she’s all yours for the duration. Oh, if you take her out to eat, go to a buffet. She has a hollow leg.”
“Sheriff?” Sara had that look.
Tan said, “I see the look you were talking about. Sara, don’t worry I love buffet’s.”
“We work in civvies. Is that a problem?” Tan looked at Sara and the Sheriff.
Sheriff said, “Not with me.”
“Me, either. I’d prefer it if were gonna get down and dirty. Uniforms are expensive and with my three boys, money seems to disappear on sports equipment.”
She turned to the Sheriff, “Know anybody with a speed bag and a heavy bag for sale cheap. Lonzo has decided he wants to be a boxer, a kick boxer.”
The two men laughed and the Sheriff said, “I’ll keep an ear open.”
Tan was fidgeting in his chair.
Sara said, “Looks like you’re chomping at the bit, Tan. Let me go change clothes and I’ll meet you where?”
“What’s a good motel?”
“Whoa, fast worker.”
Tan backed off trying to deny the question so hard he could say nothing and only blushed.
Sara laughed, “I know, just down the street there’s a mom and pop that doesn’t look like much, but your car can be hidden, the rooms are great, wifi is passworded for every room, and the price is great.”
Tan’s face was a bit red at the response. “Thanks, I’ll give it a try.”
“Twenty minutes in the parking lot. Work for you?” Sara asked.
“Yup.”
10
Tan checked into a room that looked like a dump from the outside, but inside was a mansion. A coffee maker with six bags of coffee, a fridge with free water bottles, a microwave with three popcorn bags waiting, and a king bed filled it comfortably with lots of walking around room. The bath was a spa tub with various oils and salts on a shelf above. There was a regular handicap toilet with hardware coordinated between it and the other fixtures. Even the TP was embossed.
He looked again at this receipt for the first night which he had put on his Arizona employee credit card, $79, including tax. “I gotta bring Joan down here sometime. Without the boys of course,” he said to the mirror over the sink. “She would love it.”
He dumped his bag on the TV table and sat in the recliner in the corner under a reading lamp, pulled out his cell and called Abdul.
“Yeah, boss, what’s up?”
“You guys come up with anything new?”
“No. The source I had dried up on me. Tank thinks he has something, but I ain’t sure. Something about small planes following the San Pedro River north. Friend of his says the planes are a dull black and no numbers showing. Been two of them go over his house just after the moon sets. Might wanna get one of them shoot down crews the Gov was talking about over there.”
“Where’s that.”
“Just east of San Manuel south of Mammoth where he from.”
“I’ll let the Gov know.”
“Get Tank and come to Nogales. Call me when you are in a room. There’s a couple a dumps not too far from the border. How do you feel about working in Mexico? Undercover? No guns?”
“I think on dat before I answer. Me’n Tank talked about that some. I guess we gonna have to talk about it somemore.” Abdul did not sound happy.
Tan thought for a moment or two while Abdul did the same. “Call me,” Tan said as he ended the call. Last thing he heard was, “Yup.”
He laid his head back and started trying to get his head around all he thought he knew. The idea of a new cartel hit him, as did an old cartel trying to push through the border with product. The amount of dope being found in Arizona was on the rise again and Druggersville population had dropped, and now was filling up as more and more were caught in drug related crimes. The new prison unit, actually one of the empty ones after the changes of last year, was filling with mules caught running dope north.
The Hunters were out in force, with more volunteering all the time because of the big money, and their catches were not giving out with much information. Most of the Hunt
ers were Native Americans happy to be playing Indian as in the 19th century. Some of them had even devised a vest that had a badge for every capture they made. Josie, the Governor’s Assistant, had thought of that idea and sold the Governor and the DPS Director very quickly. Because it was piece work, the paperwork was a piece of cake. The new no-kill rule kept things honest.
His reverie was interrupted by a knock at the door.
“Come in.”
“No, you come out.” It was Sara.
“On my way.” He checked his holster under the long shirt tail and opened the door.
She was standing in a pose, hips cocked, hand behind her head, and S&W on her belt. Her clothes looked well-worn and very appropriate for the job at hand. The hat on her head was a very well abused straw cowboy hat with a wide brim. “How do I look, podner?”
“Like a wanna be cowgirl with a gun.”
“Oh, just like all the other gals with cowboy hats and jeans, huh?”
“Yup, ma’am, you look mighty fine.”
They both smiled and dropped the poses. “Now where can we go and share, chat, and plan, that will please your delicate sensitivities.”
“We could go to my husband’s office.”
“Okay.” He didn’t have a problem with that, at all.
“You hungry?”
“If you are.”
“You drive and I’ll point.”
“Plan.”
They both got in the truck. Tan showed Sara the radio and switches. They pulled out.
#
Ray pulled his car into the spot Leon had determined was wide enough. The camp had been set up with minimum effort, yet lots of cover for shade and protection from searching eyes, airborne or ground.
“Ray, we’ll need to spend most of the night walking. You sure you’re up to it.”
“Yeah. I’ll be right with you when we get back.”
“Great.” Leon sat back in the folding chair and pulled out his weapon. The Kimber broke down easily as his practiced hands move over it. The pieces were set on a rag across his lap and checked for problems as each came loose. The small tin box next to the chair yielded all the materials and equipment he would need. “Want me to go over your S&W?”
“Sure, why not.”
“Hang on to it until I finish this one. We will most likely need these before this is over. How about your rifle?”
“It’s good. Cleaned it up after the last time on the range. That ’03-A3 Springfield will still take out the X on the target. I will have no problem pulling the trigger on my son’s killers at all. You just point them out.”
“We gotta find that quiet chopper and then we’ll be sure. I have to tell ya, Ray, the odds on us living through this aren’t good. If they catch us alive, it will be even worse. There’s gonna be a bunch of men running around when we start shooting. Last I heard, Armado had 50 or more soldados.”
“Just more targets to hit. Kinda easy to hit a target when there’s a bunch, they all feel safe and don’t stay down.” Ray was almost laughing when he spoke.
“You sound like you have some experience in shooting folks.” Leon got very interested.
“Just a little. I was called up in the first Gulf War and had the opportunity to send a few of Hussein’s men to Paradise, one at a time. I was a sniper and that Springfield was my weapon.”
“Aha, I like the sounds of that. You’ve been shot at then?” He had a pile of respect for this man now. And, he wouldn’t have to worry about him getting buck fever or freezing.
“Once or twice. Didn’t much like it, but I did my job. This time it will be for me and not for a government that just had to stop before it won. We will win or die trying.”
“Let’s stop with the win. I’m not much on the dying part.”
#
Josie tried Ray Lawler’s phone one more time. ‘I’ll try again later. He’s probably out making arrangements for the funeral,’ she thought. The load on her desk was bad enough, and now she needed to find the man of the hour’s father. The one thing she had on her desk was a computer with a calendar app that allowed her to put in anything at any time and it would read it out to her when the time came.
She punched in – Call Ray Lawler – and set the time to – 1700 – quitting time.
#
Melissa Vasquez came out the door of the Senate and moved to the shade, not to smoke like so many of the others, but to calm herself down after that floor argument concerning the fence and surveillance on the border. She had literally been shouted down by one of the men from the northern part of the state that was not the honorable senator from anywhere. There was no honor in the man. He lied. He refused to acknowledge she had the floor. And, Hawk had not stopped it.
Speaking of the Hawk, he was sitting on his favorite bench. She stormed the castle with all guns blazing.
“Have a seat, Ms. Vasquez. I will admit I let that fool go on for longer than was necessary, but I wanted you to stand up for yourself. You did. You made many points and he lost twice as many in that brouhaha. My apologies for ever letting that happen, but now your side has more credit than his. The Senator from the Yuma area will be bringing charges against your antagonist before this day is done. At which time I want you to make a motion to vote on the fence, just the fence. It will pass and we can send it on to the Governor who is waiting for it. I don’t know if she will sign it or let it sit, but I do know she will not veto it. Her replacement doesn’t need that against him before he even starts.”
“Hawk, you are a sneaky bastard. I was ready to kill you.”
“Never let emotion control you on the Senate floor. You will be a well-remembered Senator one of these days. I like the way you think and work. Oh, please don’t call me a bastard again.”
“Thank you for the compliment and I will try not to call you any names in the future. Enjoy your solitude.”
She got up and left, looking for her administrative assistant.
#
Sara left their little quiet meeting of the minds with a couple of assignments. Tan sat with his file digging for a report he wanted to see again. His phone rang.
“Hola.”
“That you, Tan.”
“Yeah, it is. What’s up, Rachel?”
“The first body recovered in the tunnel was wearing an apparently valid Mexican Army dog tag. He is identified as Juan Batista Gomez. Mexican Army Northern Headquarters says it’s a phony. Our CSI troops from Bisbee say it’s real.”
“Have they found any more bodies?”
“Yeah. Two with army uniforms but no tags. All the weapons recovered are standard issue Mexican Army. The interesting thing is that other than the dog tags on the one, none of them have any ID on them at all. One of them is rather rotund, fat to you country boys. One has the outline of corporal stripes on his sleeve.”
“Stay on it. Fax me the info as it comes in to the Santa Cruz Sheriff’s office. You have their number on file. I’ll call and ask them to expect faxes. Put a big cover letter on anything you send.”
“Okay. You sure you don’t need me down there. I can bring the office with me, fax and all.”
“You stay put. How’s Chuck doing on his search for recent aircraft sales in northern Mexico.”
“Hasn’t found anything out of the ordinary. Actually, there has been only one small plane delivered to the Nueva Casas Grandes area. A high wing two passenger one. Can’t remember the brand.”
“Fax me that, too. I want to know the payload on that model aircraft and range.”
“Will do. Be careful, I kinda like working for you.”
“I like working for me, too.” He hung up.
After a couple of other calls concerning the faxes and vehicles, he went back to the no name motel.
#
Abdul looked across the seat at Tank, wondering how he was going to deal with this man. He figured since he had survived various jails and prison yards, Tank would be easy. “Look, dude, you sitting there in that seat droppin’ crumbs all d
own the front of you makin’ me hungry. You ain’t offered me none of them goodies.”
“If it’s on the seat, it’s up for grabs. In my hand or mouth, keep you mitts off. Dig in. I guess we just need to learn each other a bit.”
“How bad you think it is down below that border for a black dude and a white guy?”
“I don’t know. I used to go to Agua Prieta and Rocky Point from time to time. Never had a problem, but then, I was spendin’ U.S. dollars, not nosing around like we gonna have to be.”
“Yeah, I went to Tijuana once and only once. Them gals just wanted my money. The booze was bad, specially the beer, and the place stunk, man, really stunk. Hey, look, there’s a Mexican restaurant, let’s eat.”
“Sounds like a good idea.”
“Remember, we only speak English. We learn more when they don’t think we speak the lingo.”
The old, jacked up truck rattled into the dirt parking lot of the El Gato Cantina. Just as they were leaving the truck, two men came out of the door swinging, sweating, and swearing. The littler one had a broken beer bottle in his hand trying to neuter his opponent. The opponent didn’t think it was a good idea. His clothes were already torn and the little guy was bleeding from the nose and over one eye.
“I will kill you,” the little guy screamed.
The other man said, “Why did you tear my new shirt and throw the beer in my face.”
“You were looking at me.”
“So, you were right in front of me sitting in front of the picture of the Señorita with no clothes on. I was looking at the picture. She is beautiful, no?”
“Yeah, but you hit me.”
The two investigators worked their way around the pair and went inside where a cute young gal was setting up a table and cleaning up a mess. “If you two are gonna fight, go somewhere else, like across the street. Their place is already broken up.”
“Hey, can we help? We just want to eat.”
“Sure, I will feed you.”
Twenty minutes later the police had stopped and taken the two fighters to the jail, the table and chairs were upright, and Abdul was waiting for his order. Tank was still mopping the floor while he waited for his order.
