He looked grave. “Raven, we are the State Department. We don’t go arresting people in foreign countries. Or anywhere, for that matter.”
“What about these guys?” Carlos asked, nodding at the two guards.
“They are security guards from a private contractor. They have no arrest capabilities whatsoever. It’s simply out of the question,” Bill said.
Over Bill’s shoulder I watched Aaron climb into the van which immediately pulled away.
I sighed. “Here’s how this is going to go,” I said, thinking on the fly. And then I bolted out in front of the SUV and pulled open the driver’s side door. Before they knew what hit them, I climbed in and put the Tahoe into drive. The guards were pulling on the passenger side doors, but they were all locked. I revved the engine and sped off. In the rearview mirror I could see Bill’s hands raised high up in the air. The two guards were chasing after me on foot.
I caught up to the white van in no time as it wound its way out of the resort complex, down a narrow, two-lane private road. I gunned it, moved the Tahoe into the oncoming lane, and overtook the van, swerving into its lane and ultimately into the van itself.
It wasn’t enough though, and the van regained its course in no time. I wasn’t so lucky. The impact had sent me careering off to the left, and my SUV was soon barreling through the desert hardscrabble, rattling my head up and down and almost shaking the fillings out of my teeth. I stomped on the brakes to avoid a pair of beefy cacti and then swerved hard to the right to get myself pointed back in the right direction. I had never driven on sand before, and it took me a few seconds to realize that gunning the engine just made the wheels spin more. Once I got the hang of it, I accelerated enough to get me back on the road where I tried to catch up with the van.
The van was in escape mode now, trying to get onto the highway and away from the psycho in the SUV. I had enough power to catch up with it, but then it swerved away from me and then back into me, trying to run me off the road. We both screeched on the brakes, and when our tires got caught up together, both vehicles started spinning out of control and tumbling off the side of the road. When I finally stomped the brake as hard as I could, my SUV screeched to a halt, now tilted sideways on a hill of nothing but crushed stone and cactus. The white van was upside-down, teetering back and forth on its roof.
I climbed out and shook myself off. I had banged my head pretty good on the door panel, but other than that, I felt okay. Up the road I could see the two guards still running after me in the distance, and I hoped they could get here before anyone in the van got out. I hadn’t completely planned this through (the understatement of the year), and now I needed their help. I just hoped they’d forgive the part about stealing their truck.
Out of caution I stayed behind the Tahoe and kept my eye on the upside-down van, whose darkened windows prevented me from seeing anything inside.
Finally, the van’s door slid open on the other side. I heard a thunk, and then I heard unsteady footsteps on the crushed stone. My heart was pounding. Although he couldn’t have seen me driving the Tahoe, he must have known it was me. Who else would so deliberately run him off the road like that?
His figure staggered out from behind the van. He was bleeding badly from his forehead which he was clutching with his left hand. In his right hand was a handgun.
I ducked quickly back behind the SUV and tried to collect myself. A shot rang out, ricocheting off the hood of the Tahoe. It was only a matter of seconds before Aaron would stagger over here and shoot me, I figured. I had to hope that either he would bleed to death or that the hired guards would get here first.
I peeked out from behind the Tahoe. Aaron hadn’t advanced at all and seemed preoccupied with the wound on his head. Behind him I could see the security guards running down the hill, but they were still a few hundred yards away. And then he looked up and saw me.
I pulled myself back behind the Tahoe, but it was no use. I could hear him yelling my name. “Raven!” he called. “Get back here! I won’t hurt you!”
Yeah, right. He just took a shot at me, and now he says he won’t hurt me. It was silent for a few seconds, and then I heard the crunch of his feet walking towards me on the crushed stone. It wasn’t a steady gait, but it was headed in my direction. I decided my only escape was to get back in the Tahoe and try to drive away before he could shoot me, so I turned back and grasped the door handle.
“Stop!” said a voice behind me. I turned to see Aaron leveling the gun at my chest. “I need to know how you found out, Raven. Just tell me that much, will you?”
“And then what?” I asked, stalling for time.
“Then I’ll be gentle with you,” he said.
That was too vague a promise for my tastes. “Gentle” could mean shooting me between the eyes so that I didn’t suffer too much. “I’ll tell you everything you want, Aaron. Just put the gun down.”
“Can’t do it, Raven. I’ve worked too hard for this. Much too hard to have it wasted because some nosey stripper couldn’t keep her hands out of my business.” With that, he raised his arm up and cocked the gun using his bloody left hand. Then he aimed it at me.
And then there was an explosion, and he lurched to one side. He was looking directly at me with a bewildered expression, and as he tumbled to the ground, he squeezed the trigger. Immediately I felt heat on my left arm, so I grabbed it and held on to the wound to keep the bleeding down. In my haze I figured that the guards had arrived at just the last minute. But when I looked back at Aaron’s slumped body, someone else had moved towards it.
It was Miranda. Her hair was mussed, but otherwise she seemed to have survived the impact just fine.
“Pretty good shot, don’t you think, Raven?”
“For a supposed dead woman, it was an excellent shot,” I agreed, wincing through the pain.
“You don’t seem surprised to see me,” she remarked. “How about a ‘thank you’ for saving your life just now?” She pointed her gun at me.
“Why would you save my life only to shoot me dead?” I asked. It didn’t make any sense.
She shrugged. “It’s a shame about Aaron here. Now I won’t have to share the money with him. I was planning to kill him next week, but you got in the way.”
“One question,” I said, stalling for time. “Who’s the other guy? The guy who makes all the fake statements?”
She cocked her head a touch to the side, as if thinking. And then a thin smile crossed her face.
I piped in to fill the silence. “He’s your boyfriend, isn’t he? Much younger than Aaron.” I was just throwing stuff out, anything to keep her from shooting me.
She snorted. “Him? He was nothing. Although…” Her eyes grew distant, and then she laughed.
“What?” I hissed.
“It was his idea to leave some of my blood on the scene. His girlfriend works at a plasma center and got us a needle and blood bag. Clever, huh?”
“Fooled me,” I said, trying to disguise my nerves.
And then she leveled the gun at my head. I closed my eyes, as if that would help, and then I heard that crunching sound again. And then the shot fired. But it fired up into the air, I realized, not at me, and when I opened my eyes, I saw a blur in front of me, two people locked in a deadly struggle. The person wrestling with Miranda wasn’t one of the guards—it was Carlos.
My heart jumped, and I nearly forgot my wounded arm as I leapt into the fray. The most I could do was pull her hair, but it was just enough to keep her still while Carlos subdued her. I could tell he was out of breath, having run about a half mile from the resort, overtaking the two lumbering guards along the way.
“Freeze!” said a loud voice. We all turned and saw both of the guards pointing their weapons at us. Carlos stood up gingerly, and I backed away, holding my hands in the air. Miranda, bloodied, was wheezing, gasping for air. She remained on the ground.
“Sorry about the Tahoe,” I blurted out. “But these two are international criminals. This might have been our
only chance to stop them.”
Both guards shot me a death stare. At least their Tahoe wasn’t all dinged up. Apart from a bullet hole, some massive scrapes to the paint job, a shattered side mirror, and a cracked rear window, it was fine.
“What the hell are we supposed to do with them?” one of the guards asked. The two of them considered it for a few seconds, at which point Bill trotted up out of breath.
“What the hell have you done, Raven? Is he dead?” he asked.
“She shot him,” I said, as though that made it better. “And yes, I think he’s dead.”
Bill pulled his hands over his face and crouched down. He was probably trying to figure out how to explain this all to the ambassador. Or even the president.
“Bill, here’s what we do,” I began.
“Oh, no,” he said, standing up to his full height. “I’ve been listening to you all morning, and look what happened.”
“Seriously, Bill. Just listen. You’re in this as deep as I am now, wouldn’t you agree?”
He shrugged noncommittally.
I pressed on. “So what we do is take her to the consulate. Hold her there for a day or three or however long it takes to get someone from the FBI down here. Once they realize what’s happened, you’ll be hailed as a hero.”
This seemed to perk him up. “Why? Who are these people?”
“They scammed people out of at least seven million dollars and then fled down here before they got caught,” I explained. “There’s another guy back in Vegas, too. It was a classic Ponzi scheme.”
“Raven,” he sighed. “We don’t have the authority to hold American citizens on suspicion of crime. We simply aren’t equipped for this. We have to go through Mexican channels. The State Department doesn’t have its own jail.”
“Be creative. It’s a medical situation, right? I mean, look at her. Put her under armed guard at the hospital. For her own protection, or however you want to phrase it. Be creative! I don’t care. Just don’t let her leave!”
He looked skeptical.
“Trust me, Bill. You will be a hero. Plus, what else can you do? She just killed this guy. She’s a murderer. You going to involve the Mexican police? I don’t think they like you very much right now.”
Bill traded glances with the two security guards. “Raven, I’m starting to believe the Mexican police were right to lock you up. You are easily the most dangerous woman I’ve ever met. And I’ve worked in Tijuana for eight years!”
“I knew you’d agree. Thanks for your help, Bill,” I said. I moved closer to plant another kiss on his cheek, but he brushed me off. “When you get a contact person at the FBI, let me know, and I’ll spill the beans on this whole outfit. Turns out Miranda here wasn’t just a victim, she was a partner in crime.”
He was shaking his head at me in disgust.
“Don’t worry. Carlos and I will walk back and catch a cab to the airport.”
Bill just kept looking at me incredulously. I think he was paralyzed by fear, and it was clear that he was more afraid of me than of the dead body and the murderess before him.
“Oh, one more thing, Bill,” I said, reaching into my pocket to pull out my wallet. “Here’s my business card. If you’re ever in Vegas…”
“Raven,” Carlos muttered. “Let’s go.” He reached his arm out to me and led me back to the resort’s entrance drive. We walked back up the hill together. Halfway up, I turned back to see Bill just standing there, hands on his hips, watching us disappear up the hill. I chuckled.
“Our friend Bill got more than he bargained for,” I said.
“You think so?” Carlos asked sarcastically. “I think he just wet his pants.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
I got back to my room and cleaned up my arm. The blood made it seem much worse than it really was, and with a few bandages from my purse, I was able to make do. I grabbed the rest of my stuff and met Carlos down by the taxi stand.
We headed off towards the airport in silence. I was still dazed from my lack of sleep and the excitement of the morning’s events, not to mention the lack of coffee. For a moment I almost forgot to be afraid of flying. But when we got closer to the airport, my instincts kicked in.
“You think they serve drinks at the airport?” I asked. “I didn’t notice when we arrived.”
He snickered. “You just survived a gun battle, and you’re still afraid to fly?”
I shrugged, blowing him off. We got dropped off, and then I made a beeline into the airport to scope out places to buy liquor.
“Raven!” Carlos called from behind me.
“What?” I asked, turning around.
“Did you see that guy with the sign?”
“No. What guy?”
Carlos pointed. “Him. The short guy in black.”
I walked back to the man holding the sign which read simply, Raven.
“I’m Raven,” I said.
He looked me up and down and apparently satisfied, offered to take my bags. Carlos sidled up behind me.
“And who is this?” he asked.
“This is my, uh, bodyguard,” I said.
The man frowned. “How much do you weigh, sir?”
Carlos was taken aback. “None of your business. Why?”
“I need to know how much fuel we need. We weren’t expecting you.”
“Okay. I’m two hundred ten. Or so,” Carlos said.
The man considered it and then stepped away from us to make a phone call. He returned a minute later.
“That will be fine,” he said. “Follow me.”
The little man led us past all of the security checkpoints and out a small door, the kind of door you never even noticed in an airport. And there we were, right on the hot midday tarmac, the air wavy from the heat bubbling up off the black surface.
“This way,” he said.
We followed him around a corner, and then right in front of us was a jet. I had been on jets before with clients but nothing like this. This was a bona fide business jet, the kind that could seat ten or twelve or who knows how many people. It had sleek lines painted on the side and a tall stairway towards the front.
“After you,” the man said.
“What the hell is this?” Carlos whispered.
“I have a friend in Vegas. Remember the guy you called?” I asked.
“He owns a fricking jet?” Carlos asked, incredulous.
I was huffing from climbing the tall stairway, and then when I turned to walk inside the cabin, I noticed him. Alex was sitting there all by himself, apart from a pair of straight-up martinis.
“Alex!” I yelled, running towards him. He stood up, and I gave him a giant hug. He was wearing a gray sport coat and black trousers, with a crisp blue shirt underneath. I was barely wearing anything, which he probably didn’t mind.
And then I remembered the other man onboard. I turned around to see Carlos, whose face revealed a mixture of wonder and jealousy.
“You know my friend Carlos,” I said. “He just saved my life.”
“Again,” Carlos added. He reached out to shake Alex’s hand.
“Well, then,” Alex said, “we need another drink.” He reached up and pressed a red button, after which a no-nonsense redhead flight attendant appeared from the fore cabin. She took Carlos’s order, and then we settled down to taxi onto the runway. We were seated around a rectangular table that looked to be made of polished mahogany or some other rich wood.
When Carlos’s drink arrived, Alex leaned forward.
“A toast to Carlos!” he said, beaming. “The lifesaver.”
I raised my drink, smiled at Carlos, and tossed back half of it in a few gulps. Carlos smiled but continued to look awkward. He knew he was the third wheel at the moment, and Alex was just being his amazingly gracious self.
We all loosened up after a few drinks, and then somewhere over the Gulf of California, lunch was served. Finally.
“So how did you pull this whole thing off, Alex?” I asked, halfway through a plate o
f lobster tails.
He leaned back and smiled. “A member of our board, or a former member, I should say, now works for the State Department.”
“He must be pretty high up,” Carlos said, stating the obvious.
“Undersecretary of State,” Alex said. “I used to golf with the guy. Anyway, I explained what had happened, and he sent his best man in the area down there.”
“Bill,” I said, unable to resist smiling at the image of Bill having no earthly idea what to do with the situation I’d dumped on him.
“Good guy,” Carlos said. Our eyes met, and his were gleaming with mirth. I chuckled again. If Alex only knew…
When we landed, Carlos graciously parted company. I had never told him much about Alex, but our relationship must have seemed pretty clear on the plane.
He shook my hand. “See you at work?” he asked.
“Nope,” I said. “I’m quitting.”
He looked shocked.
“Why?” he asked.
“I’m sick of feeling rotten about myself. I can do better, even if it’s not better financially.”
He looked sad for a second, but he knew I was right. “I’m proud of you, Raven,” he said. “I know this is what you wanted. I’m just surprised that it’s actually happening. Good luck with Alex here. He seems nice. Even if he’s old enough to be your dad,” he whispered. He was smiling the entire time, so it was hard to be mad at him for the gratuitous crack about Alex’s age.
“Thanks. I’m not sure where things are headed with him. You never know,” I said enigmatically.
He chuckled and then leaned in closer. “It’s kind of hard to compete with a private jet,” he said into my ear. “I don’t like my odds.”
“I don’t know,” I said, patting his shoulder. “It’s Vegas. Anything can happen!”
“So you’re saying I’ve got a chance?” he asked, hopefully.
“No,” I said, looking down. And then I looked back up at him and smiled. “But keep trying!”
*
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