by Steve Curry
My shrug didn’t seem to appease either the little enforcer or his mistress/handler. His scowl spoke volumes but her frown screamed libraries worth of dissatisfaction.
I tried for a little of that diplomacy that I had learned in customer service training. “Look I don’t know any more about this than you people. I just met the little con artist a few days ago. He was referred by someone who I’m beginning to think might not have had my best interests at heart. But he’s got me here. I’ve got a job to do. That’s it. I promised to handle something for someone and they promised to take care of something for me. It sounded like a neatly balanced transaction. Nobody mentioned drug cartels, exploding prisons, weird ranger recon girls and most significantly, there was no mention of huge freaking man-eating jungle cat guards. You wanna know what the smuggler is pulling, ask him yourself. Good luck with getting a straight answer.”
“Mr. Mouse! You wound me.” Perro's voice didn’t sound particularly wounded. In fact, he sounded positively pleased with himself. “If you have had a chance to look over the merchandise from your old acquaintance, is there anything else you would like for our little errand?”
I liked that. A little “errand” that involved psycho drugged-out cultists and professional mercs not to mention a few man-eating cats. But I did need some other things. “Yea Perro, let me write a list of what I’d like. I’m not sure where you can get it all but it’s worth asking right?”
I sat down with a pad of hotel stationery and a very nice pen with the hotel logo on it. At the same time Bubbles, the enigma and her flunky scooted across the room and bent their heads to compose their own list. Pedro apparently had some needs too but he used the burner cell phone he’d produced to type in a list. The only one not occupied with writing was Franco.
He was making a round and repacking some of the weapons and gear that I had already rejected. That left quite a pile of stuff though that I approved or was still considering. “So, Mr...Moose? Have you decided about the long-range guns or do I pack them all away?”
He chuckled and waved a hand to placate my glare when I gave him the annoyed look that occurs when anyone interrupts my sometimes tenuous chain of thoughts. Instead of answering I quickly finished my list to give the smuggler. After that, I joined Franco at his table. “Okay, give me the RAV soft armor, I think the heavier plates would limit mobility too much. I’ll take the tactical tomahawk and the commando dirk with the boot sheath. Toss in the M4 with the grenade launcher. Maybe pack up a few smoke grenades and some flashbangs. I don’t suppose you have frag?”
Franco gave me a mouse eating smirk and produced another crate. “Frag, incendiary and even a couple of flechettes. Of course, if you get caught with them you will be hung from the walls of the prison then flogged and shot for good measure. They might even be able to find a guillotine from good Emperor Maximilian's days. If there were anything left they would undoubtedly set it ablaze.”
I had to shrug. Somehow incarceration paled in comparison to having my soft and tender bits pulled off and chewed by large jungle cats. “Okay, you’ve sold me. Give me three frags, a flechette and two incendiaries in case we want to make s’mores later.”
I turned away from the purchase table and lifted the tomahawk while waving at Pedro with my other hand. I pointed to my list with an afterthought.“That reminds me, amigo. I’m gonna need a metal engraver. Doesn’t have to be expensive. Just a little twenty-dollar toy or maybe a rotary tool with an engraving tip. Put that on your list with a star beside it or something. That’s a fairly important piece to me.”
A clap on my shoulder turned my gaze back to the widely grinning European arms dealer. “Very nice Mon ami. Are you thinking of putting your initials on the highly suspicious and illegal guns and explosives here?”
I grinned right back. “Naw, just need to do a little creative decorating on some of the metal. Don’t worry about gift wrapping it either. I’ll take it as is with just a duffel or two to pack it in for now.”
Behind me, Pedro had his phone open again and was reading off the various lists to whoever was on the other side. My ears tried to swivel and understand everything he was saying when I faintly heard the word “bruja”. It took an effort of will not to turn and stare or even shudder a little bit at memories of such a creature standing over me while I was paralyzed and vulnerable to her cutting blade. But that was weeks ago. And that particular bruja was dead and dealt with by the very being that had sent me down to Mexico on a fool’s errand.
Unfortunately, intensity and interest don’t make up for a lack of linguistic skill. I still only caught a few words of his conversation. It was enough to know that he wasn’t ordering a bruja hit squad though. No, it sounded like some of my list might only be available at a new age or witch’s shop of some sort. I guess that made sense. I was planning on using some of that stuff for purposes very similar to what any good witch would tell you she could do with her magic. The main difference was, mine almost always worked and they tended to be a lot more effective than most Wiccans or santeria practitioners.
Perro broke my train of thought by ending his call and pocketing the phone. In the same instant, he picked up the landline phone and barked some staccato Spanish into it as well. From across the room where they had been whispering with their heads together, the other guy turned and machine-gunned some more Spanish which added to the phone call. This time the language barrier wasn’t so bad. I might not be great with the language but I am completely fluent in food. Old Pedro was ordering a large amount of room-service. Or more likely, someone else was ordering it with their credit card and the little con artist’s voice.
Finally, he hung up the phone and turned to the rest of us. “Very well campanero’s, we have a bare plan laid out. Everyone take some time to refresh yourselves. Dinner will be served at seven this evening in this very room. I will remove any papers that would be better kept secret. If you would be so kind as to clear away your extra merchandise as well Senor Franco. We meet back here at…”
“Got it.” The black-clad tactical bodyguard was apparently very fond of short speeches and shorter replies. He snapped out the acknowledgment and then gathered up his boss, or wife, or little sister for all I knew. They went to the other side of the conference room and went into what I had to assume was a suite that mirrored our own.
Pedro offered me first chance at a nap, but I had other priorities.
“Yea amigo, I’ll take a nap shortly. First, can I use one of those burner phones you seem to be stocked up on? I just want to call Maureen and I’d rather not use a traceable hotel phone to do it.”
Pedro arched an eyebrow but dug into his pocket and tossed me the same phone he’d used for his earlier calls. “Use the international code, you’re not in America now. Don’t take too long. And if any other calls come in just ignore them. I’ll call back later.”
Just like that, he trusted me with the phone and left to pursue his own interests. He might be getting low on other people's’ credit cards or something. I figured it wasn’t really my business.
Fortunately, I come from a time before calculators, computers, phones or cash registers. Numbers stick in my head pretty well. I dialed Maureen's phone and waited until the voicemail came on. Somehow I didn’t want to just leave a message without knowing how things stood. The fact that she seemed to have left me alone with strangers in the desert made any message insufficient for my purposes.
On the other hand, I didn’t want to leave my number on her phone with no explanation at all. “Maureen, I’d very much like to talk to you. A lot happened in the desert and I’m...Well, I don’t know...Look, call me when you get this message, please? We need to talk. I’ll try your number again later. If I don’t pick up your call then I’m not free to do so. I’ll also try to get another phone and get you that number.”
I paused and drew a breath after that long rambling mess of a message. “Anyway, I hope you’re safe and I...I just hope you’re safe for now and we can talk soon.”
/> I closed the call and put the phone on the tiny table by the door. Had I been about to drop the L bomb? Even rattled and uncomfortable I don’t think that was very likely. However, I distinctly got the impression that a certain four-letter word had tried to slip past my lips unbidden. I was probably just tired. That’s what that was. Fatigue and anxiety.
It took a stern effort, but I pushed everything from my mind and devoted myself to a soldier’s primary mission. Sleep.
13
Dinner at one of the top Hotels in Mexico did not resemble warm tortillas in a towel with beans and chilaquiles. There’s something to be said for woodfire grilled fish brushed with spices then served with charred citrus on a banana leaf. It definitely wasn’t bland gelatinized lutefisk or the smoky hard dried fish of my youth. Old Pedro had spared no expense, of someone else’s money. Al pastor shaved pork and thinly sliced carne asada vied with chicken breast prepared fajita style. There was an enormous shallow bowl full of grilled vegetables in a riot of bright colors. And of course, warm tortillas served in their own ceramic warmer.
He’d purchased a small buffet it seemed, although for just a handful of people it was enough to last for days. I’m not sure I didn’t prefer the chilaquiles and beans though.
During the meal, I learned that the enigmatic female of our little conspiracy was named Heather. She was indeed from California although she seemed reluctant to talk about it. She mostly spoke of the foods and various touristy locations she’d seen while down south. Compared to her companion Luis she was garrulous, despite keeping the conversation carefully steered away from herself.
Luis mostly spoke in terse phrases or monosyllabic responses. If nothing else it kept me from determining whether he was secretive or thick-witted. Personally, I was leaning towards a mix of the two; confused and covert or maybe dazed and deceptive.
While we were enjoying our choice of dessert and after-dinner beverages, there was a knock which Pedro leapt up to answer himself. The little man had been animated and charming during the meal. Nevermind that our perfect host was basically a con artist and thief as well as a smuggler.
After a low-voiced conversation through the door, he swung it open to reveal a luggage cart piled with packages. He stepped around it to tip the porter I supposed. As he pushed the cart further into the room I caught a glimpse of the delivery man. The face was familiar, but by the time I placed it, he was gone. I darted to the door and looked down the hall. The elevator was headed down, but there was also a stairwell not that far away.
There was no way to catch the elevator except by maybe racing it down. On the other hand, if he was on the stairs I had a decent chance of catching him there as well. I sprinted for the stairs and pounded into the enclosed space. There was a faint sound when I opened the door. It might have been my imagination, or might have been another door opening a floor or two down.
There was certainly no sound of footsteps pattering down the concrete stairs. I have no doubt my face reflected frustration as I went ahead and pounded down the stairs at a pace most would find foolish. At the worst, I was worried about a twisted ankle or maybe a bad fall. Either of those would be nothing more than a minor inconvenience for a day or so.
I managed to make it all the way down without mishap. I also beat the elevator. In a hotel the size of this one, I’d been willing to bet there would be others pushing elevator buttons at this time of night. I was right.
When the doors parted, I saw a very well dressed older couple step out. There was also a small family with two terribly polite and courteous children. There was not, however, a familiar face that had just finished delivering packages.
I had missed him leaving the stairs, or he’d gotten off the elevator on one of the other floors. Either way, there didn't seem to be much point in knocking on doors at dozens of rooms
I rode the elevator back up and pushed our door open to find a room full of tension.
“Where the hell have you been?” Was the longest sentence I think Luis had ever spoken.
“Well, let us see. I darted across a street full of mind your own business and bought a whole crate full of keep your nose out of mine.” I don’t know why, but this guy set me off just by glaring. It wasn’t some testosterone competition as far as I know. We were just two guys that would have been happy to beat each other to pissed off pulp.
“Look, Moose,” It seemed the girl was no happier than her minion. “We’re all in a tight spot here and don’t need anyone going off-reservation.”
I idly noticed a sly grin develop on Pedro, but at the moment I had other concerns. Like two irate conspirators in a room with a pile of guns and explosives in nearby duffels. My first instinct was to toss her the same kind of sarcasm I’d dealt her sidekick. That wouldn’t have gotten us anywhere though except maybe into a brawl that wouldn’t help with getting this all over so I could go home.
“Okay, this once I’ll answer. Don’t get in the habit of expecting compliance.” I tried to match her glare with my own. I doubt it worked. The girl seemed to have been blessed with some serious glaring genes.
“I thought I saw someone I recognized.” That much was true. “I just wanted to make sure we hadn’t been spotted and if so, well I’d have dealt with it.”
It must have sounded thin to her just like it did to me. But one of the things I’d heard about a good lie is, stick with it no matter what. I was preparing to defend that flimsy deception when Pedro cut in and shut down the conversation.
“ That was one of my associates, Mr. Moose. Even if he did recognize you he is unlikely to go to the authorities over someone he knows I helped escape from prison.” He waved off any objections or concerns although it didn’t completely erase the scowls from our “allies”. I decided not to mention that I recognized that face at the hotel door from seeing it at another hotel. In fact, the last time I’d seen that face had been when I was slamming a forearm against his temple back in a parking lot in Arizona.
Franco had remained at the table and was content with a cigar and snifter of brandy while the rest of us either bristled or nonchalantly tried defusing the situation. My one-time squadmate gave the warm brandy a slow and deliberate swirl and then added his input.
“Come ma Cherie Heather. Ignore the uncivilized baboon and come enjoy an aperitif. I can tell you about Europe and you...can tell me anything you want my dear.” He didn’t actually enunciate the “H” in her name but the girl recognized her name and managed to convert her scowl into a weak smile as he continued.
“Perhaps after this whole distasteful affair is over we can see what kind of nightlife they provide in Mexico? Maybe the Mayan coast for a weekend?” Franco seemed pretty optimistic to me. I mean this valley girl was attractive enough. She was toned, tan, blonde and had almost model-like looks. So far though, she’d had little to say to anyone except her own companion. For all, I knew they were a couple.
Franco wasn’t big on that kind of obstacle though. “You will be completely safe from ruffians with Franco. Your bodyguard can have the night off eh? No-one would dare risk the wrath of a legendary fighter and lover like myself.”
She didn’t seem as impressed by the European charm as he’d intended. “How about we focus on getting through the errands here before we start making other plans? It would be nice if all of us made it out alive. Or at least most of us.”
I decided to let them work out their own issues. I had my own concerns to worry about. Like why was Pedro Perro employing one of the guys who had beat me half to death and left the other half for the desert to finish off? I was also a little curious about which of us Heather wouldn’t mind losing during our foray.
I heard the damsel ask a question that put me on alert. “You say you knew Mr. Moose from a while back? Was it long ago?”
These people didn’t need to know enough about me to start wondering. For that matter, Franco didn’t need to start thinking about how long ago we had served together. I mean, yeah, he’d aged fairly well. He didn’t look any
older than I did now. But before, he’d been barely out of his teens and I looked just about the same as I did now.
“Oh, Mademoiselle! Are you trying to weasel my age or sneak more information about the kind of chicanery we were up to in our misspent youth?” It seemed that Franco had learned some discretion too. Of course, that made sense. Gunrunners and mercenaries rarely got ahead by broadcasting their business. Which raised a sudden question of my own.
“Speaking of chicanery Franco, why are you hanging around? We’ve got the gear settled and packed up to go. So there isn’t any real need for you to be here, unless you can’t resist a girl half your age?”
The jerk didn’t even bother to turn around to address me. With his eyes still on Heather, he tossed a barbed retort over his shoulder. “I had to receive payment. You’ve come up in the world. First-class digs in a fine hotel. Another sugar daddy footing the bill for your weapons. I’m just glad you finally gave up that thin disguise of chasing women.”
Sugar daddy, I didn’t have to guess where he heard that description. Pedro Perro shrugged off my glare with one of his smug little smirks and spread his hands as if to proclaim innocence. I’m not sure how he expected me to buy “innocence” from a guy that carried more credit cards than a small corporation, and each card seemed to have a different name on it. He must also have a ready supply of fake ID’s to match some of the cards. Hotels tend to want identification as well as payment.
In retrospect, worrying about my sexual reputation probably shouldn’t have been a top concern. I was about to try sneaking into a compound full of mercenaries, crazy cultists, and man-eating cats. Once inside I had to fight or stealth my way to find an immortal wolf in the human form and convince him I wasn’t an enemy, preferably without revealing my origins and nature. For allies, I had a smuggler and con-man who employed people I’d already tangled with, and an enigmatic valley girl commando with her tight-lipped bodyguard. I couldn’t forget the mercenary gunrunner either. Any minute now he might realize some things that would be awkward to explain.
