by Michel Stone
“Is that right? Who do you know who can hook a person up with quick money? Some bad people out there, Emanuel.”
“You’re telling me about bad people?” he said, shaking his head and looking up at the multicolored bottles on the wall above the bar. “You wouldn’t believe shit I’ve seen, girl.” He took another sip of his beer, and Ana María walked over to the Americans’ table. All their plates were empty except for one of the boy’s. He continued to eat french fries.
“Do you have a dessert menu?” the other boy asked.
“Oh, let’s not do dessert here,” the mother said.
Ana María began clearing the dishes.
“Let’s go for ice cream down the street. I saw a cute place…” the mother was saying, but Ana María retreated with their dirty plates before the woman finished telling the family her plans for a sweet finish to their evening.
She returned to their table with their bill and had turned to walk away when the father said, “Wait, por favor, señorita. I’ll have some dinero right here in uno momento.” He fished a credit card from his wallet and passed it to Ana María with a wink.
When she’d run the card and delivered it to the man, she returned to the bar where she noticed Emanuel had switched to red wine. He was the only man she knew who enjoyed wine as much as or more than beer or tequila. She wondered how much he’d already had before he arrived. She suspected that swagger he wore like a cloak tonight came from plentiful alcohol flowing through his body.
“So who’d you connect Héctor with? You don’t seem like you’d know the seedy types.”
“Who’s seedy?” he said, tapping his fingers on the bar to the beat of the music the bartender turned up as the last table of diners, the fat Americans, cleared out. “I didn’t say anything about seedy people.”
“You said you were trying to help him make quick money.” Ana María knew about quick money. She’d had a brother killed working for a cartel up in Hermosillo. Nothing good came from quick money.
“Diego the Magnificent knew some guys. Some fishermen. Far as I know they are just catching fish. I didn’t ask.” He shrugged like this made sense, and maybe his words did fit together in a way that meant something decent and acceptable, but Ana María didn’t think so.
“Who are the guys? I know all the guys around here,” she said.
He looked at her sideways and tilted his chin. “You do, eh? Maybe you should get to know this guy right here a bit better.” He tapped his shirt over his heart.
“You think so?” she said, unable to suppress a grin, even if Emanuel was too sure of himself like the cock that crowed each sunrise outside her window. She’d awoken every day for years with her first thought being of killing that rooster.
He leaned close to her, his mouth at her ear, and placed two fingers under her chin. “Yes, that is what I think,” he whispered. His breath warmed her ear, and his lips brushed her earlobe.
“So he’s still at your place?” she said, lowering her voice. Maybe Emanuel was drunk, but he smelled citrusy, like fresh limes, and she suspected he didn’t come to Señor Juan’s Texas Rib Shack just to sit and drink alone. He’d come to see her.
He took a big sip of wine. “He’ll be here until Santiago and Ignacio finish with him.”
“I know those guys. That’s who he’s working for? Santiago and Ignacio?”
Emanuel nodded, bobbing his head to the beat of the drums playing over the restaurant’s stereo.
“A bad bunch,” she said. “No telling what those guys are into. But don’t say I said that, because what do I know? But I hear things. If your houseguest is working for them, you’d be best getting him out of your space tonight. My sister used to run with Santiago and his bunch.”
“You got a sister?” He raised his eyebrows. “She looks as good as you?”
Ana María knew he wanted a reaction. She’d not give him what he prodded her to get. “I had a sister,” she said.
Emanuel studied her face. She expected him to say “Had a sister?” and then question her about Isabella, and she’d be ready with her response, with tales of Isabella’s fondness for dangerous friends and drinking, a fondness Isabella shared with their brother, Marcus. Instead, Emanuel nodded, as if he understood everything without her explaining anything. He ran a finger around the lip of his wineglass, and suddenly Ana María felt more compelled to tell him about Isabella than if he’d asked her to do so.
“She was two years older than me, and our brother, Marcus, was a few years older than her.” She paused. “Was,” she said again. “No more, neither of them. And that Santiago is bad business.”
Emanuel sat up and took a gulp of wine, finishing off the glass, at once seeming sober and serious. “I don’t know Santiago or Ignacio. But Héctor needed money, and Diego said he knew these guys. I hooked up a friend with what he needed, and now I’m out of the deal.”
She studied him. Ana María wanted Emanuel to be one of the good guys. “But he’s still staying at your place?”
“He is, but just a while longer,” he said.
“Then you’re not out of the deal at all, are you?” she said.
“I owe the guy that much,” Emanuel said.
“Why? Why do you owe him anything?” She stood, needing to get back to work refilling sauce bottles and wiping down her station.
He looked at her as if he weren’t sure whether to answer, order another drink, or leave. She gazed into his eyes, hoping to learn more about him from something she’d see there.
“Just one of those debts, you know? I’m tired of talking, Ana María, and I’ve got to get up early.”
“Okay,” she said. “I’ll see you around, then.”
“Yes, sure you will, beautiful,” he said, kissing her on the cheek, his expression dull, subdued. Then he slipped out the door.
Ana María watched him go, detecting a slight unsteadiness in his gait. She wondered what she’d said to darken his mood.
Chapter 19
Héctor
Héctor perched on the handlebars like some wild, hard-clawed bird weathering a storm, his grip curled tight with knuckles white, as Emanuel roared down the hill toward the setting sun and the bay. Héctor considered that his head could split like a ripe melon if a weary mongrel stepped out in front of them or if Emanuel’s tire hit a pothole. He tried to focus on the beauty of the Pacific as the sun melted into the sea at the horizon, but his mind jerked back and forth between the uncertainty of the job he’d soon do for Santiago and the very real possibility that he’d fly from Emanuel’s bike, his skin sloughing behind him along the pavement.
When they reached the boat dock, Héctor hopped off, his legs wobbly.
“So whatever you’re up to, don’t get yourself killed,” Emanuel said, a slight grin on his lips.
Emanuel was always funny like that, saying what he meant, but disguising his concerns with playfulness. In a flash, and not for the first time, Héctor imagined the moment Emanuel talked Lilia into accepting his offer to arrange her crossing. Naïve Lilia, only recently did Héctor feel empathy for her and the struggle she’d endured when he’d left her behind with Alejandra during his trek to el norte. The past couple of weeks with Emanuel, a man he’d hated more than anyone he’d ever known, had exposed Héctor to Emanuel’s personality and habit of skirting the fringe of things. Héctor couldn’t quite shape in his mind a coherent description of Emanuel’s ways, but he understood him to be wily, knowledgeable, and connected, but maybe shadowy in his dealings. Or not. After all, he hooked up trusting Lilia with Carlos and got her across the border, though with the highest price imaginable, and within two days of Héctor’s arrival in Acapulco he’d introduced him to the famous Diego the Magnificent who had set him up with Santiago and Ignacio. All the while Emanuel remained in the background, not really involved in any of these arrangements other than introductions.
Héctor’s hatred of Emanuel had thawed since he’d helped Héctor find work for quick money, and he’d allowed Héctor to sle
ep on his floor the past couple of weeks, but his distrust of Emanuel lingered.
“I plan to keep living a while longer yet after tonight, but thanks for the positive thoughts,” Héctor said, looking down the dock at a couple of young boys fishing.
“So what’re you doing tonight exactly?” Emanuel said. He was staring at the Gabriela, securely tied in her berth, with no sign of Ignacio or Santiago on the boat or around the dock.
Héctor had only told Emanuel that he had to go out on the Gabriela this evening for work, but nothing more. Emanuel knew enough to know the fishing charter trips departed in early morning, never at sunset.
When Héctor didn’t answer, Emanuel said, “What are you catching in the dark? Sharks?” He cocked his head sideways and grinned broadly now.
“No sharks,” Héctor said. “I’m supposed to be meeting someone out there.” He nodded toward the open water.
“Meeting someone?” A shadow crossed Emanuel’s face. “Where? Out on the ocean?”
“On the rocky shore, a cliff actually, a ways from here,” Héctor said, his voice sounding oddly childlike.
Emanuel planted his feet on either side of the bike, like he’d not be leaving Héctor just yet, not until he had a few more questions answered.
“Who?”
“I don’t know. But when I get there, I’ll know who when I see him,” Héctor said.
“Is this where your quick money comes into play? What are you doing out there?”
“I’m meeting a guy, okay? He’s handing me a cooler. I’m bringing it back here where I’ll deliver it to Santiago. That’s it. That’s what I’m doing.”
Emanuel stared at him as if he were trying to make up his mind about something.
“I’ll see you back at your place later,” Héctor said over his shoulder. He could feel Emanuel watching him go, and somehow that sent a shiver through him, as if this moment mattered more than the moments leading up to it. Héctor wondered what thoughts Emanuel had as he watched him. Did Emanuel think he’d never see Héctor again? Maybe no one Héctor knew would ever see him again. How could he know? Upon what kind of crazy journey was he embarking?
“Well, what’s in the cooler, Héctor?” Emanuel said.
Héctor turned back toward him and took a few steps in Emanuel’s direction so he wouldn’t have to speak too loudly. “I don’t know what’s in the cooler, man.” Admitting as much aloud made him feel even more like an innocent little boy. “I think I prefer not knowing.”
“So you won’t take a look inside once you’re alone with it?” Emanuel asked.
Héctor shrugged. “Probably not. Anyway, Santiago told me not to discuss this with anyone.”
Emanuel’s hands flew wide. “Then why the hell are you telling me?”
“You asked,” Héctor said, turning back toward the boat. “Besides,” he said, “you’re the one who introduced me to Diego, and he hooked me up with this job.”
“You’ve got to be careful, smart. You know?”
Héctor gave him a thumbs-up without looking back.
“Don’t let the sharks eat you!” Emanuel hollered as he pedaled away.
Héctor hoped Emanuel would go drinking at the rib shack where that pretty girl he fancied worked. If Héctor were lucky, this evening would go by without a glitch, he’d be back asleep at Emanuel’s place before Emanuel got home from his night of carousing, and tomorrow he’d have eight hundred pesos in his pocket.
That knowledge and the very real possibility of earning eight hundred pesos for a night’s work bolstered him, and he untied the Gabriela’s bowline. The engine cranked on his first try, and Héctor took this to be an indication that the rest of this excursion would go as easily. He took one last look around the dock to be certain no one watched him, though even as he did so he wondered why that mattered. Plenty of people took sunset or moonlight boat rides. Nothing should seem odd to anyone strolling this area as Héctor puttered away from his mooring. The only people within sight were the young boys at the far end of the dock, and they busied themselves with a small, flopping fish one of them had just landed.
Héctor had been their age…what?…maybe ten years ago? The old-timers always spoke of the quick passing of time, but Héctor had dismissed their musings as the meaningless babble of old men. Now he saw the truth in their words, and an unexpected yearning for days long gone filled him with melancholy like he’d never known.
The ride to the rocky promontory, Héctor’s destination, would take about twenty-five minutes or so. The seas were calm, and the sky, though cloudy, portended no impending storms. He’d seen the spot from the boat in the daylight, but he’d not attempted to locate the place in the dark. He wondered why whatever he was now doing had to be done at nighttime. He wondered many things. Whom would he meet? Had Ignacio and Santiago met this person on other moonless nights, or was this the first time such a meeting had been arranged? The biggest, most pressing mystery of all centered on the cooler Héctor was to obtain. This question had been burning in Héctor’s curiosity since he’d agreed to make this run for Santiago: What was in the cooler? Why couldn’t Santiago just get it himself? Why the secrecy? Why the mantle of darkness? Héctor tried to concentrate on a single star low in the east where the sky was darkest. The job he would perform tonight hung as mysteriously as did that pinhole of light so far in the distance he could only guess its shape.
He wondered what Lilia was doing, was thinking, this evening. What did she see this very moment as Héctor rushed toward the calm expanse of sea before him? The realization struck him then that Lilia would never have attempted a crossing had Héctor not gone before her. An obvious fact, but a truth he’d sidestepped in his anger and grief.
Once Héctor cleared the bay he gunned the Gabriela’s engine, the shoreline shrinking behind him. A few minutes later, about fifty meters ahead of him, a mother whale and her baby breached, and Héctor slowed to watch their silhouettes rise twice more before resuming his steady course. He wondered how long young whales stayed with their mothers before setting out on their own. No other boat disturbed the water’s surface this evening, and for this he was grateful. He prayed he’d have no one to whom he must explain his actions as night settled over the coastal waters of Acapulco.
By the time he neared his destination everything about him lay hidden in darkness, and the lights of the land had faded to nothingness to the southeast. He shifted the engine to neutral and coasted toward the bluff until the tide slowed him, pushing him in the opposite direction, and he began to paddle the short stretch toward the rock face where he believed the wooden ladder lay against the cliff like some strange, leafless plant, snaking its way toward the top. He’d brought along a flashlight in his pocket, but he’d hoped not to use it. He listened, wondering who may be waiting in the darkness just a few meters above him, but he could hear only wind and the lapping of the water against the boat and the rocks.
When the bow bumped against the scarp he felt with his hands the slick wet stone for a place to wedge his anchor. He poled along with his paddle, running his fingers across the crag. The boat banged against the rocks as Héctor pushed along the wall, squinting into the darkness for the boards Santiago had promised ran up the cliff, but Héctor couldn’t find them, and he began to doubt himself. Maybe he’d pulled ashore too early, or perhaps he’d run too far to the north and passed the spot altogether.
The wind began to kick up and with it Héctor’s unease. His shirtfront felt damp from either sea splash or sweat, and as he fingered the rock surface, groping for the wooden slats of the promised ladder, he wondered what creature took its nightly refuge among these crannies. The Gabriela knocked against rock hidden just beneath the water’s surface, jarring Héctor, and he steadied himself with the paddle. He imagined that sunken boulder, once a part of the rock face looming above him, splitting from where it’d been for thousands of years and crashing down into the water below. He wondered how long ago that had happened and if another jagged fragment might sheer from the
cliff and crush him here. Who would find him? Maybe he’d lie pinned to the stony bottom forever, entombed in seawater, destined to be the food of crabs and sea snakes and the small sharks that darted about these gravelly shallows.
His hand clumsily struck a weathered board, and he grabbed it, pulling the boat with nearly imperceptible headway against the lapping water. Everything about him seemed electric, holding more potential for danger than he’d known in daylight on these waters. He wedged his anchor among some rocks and tied his bowline around the lowest wooden slat fastened there. He wondered who had secured this makeshift ladder and how sturdy these steps could be. He fingered the wood for nails. Someone had gone to great trouble in drilling these nails into the cliff side to secure the steps, each about a third of a meter long, and perhaps that someone waited above for him now.
Héctor craned his neck, studying skyward, but the ladder and the rocks were veiled in velvety darkness. He inhaled a deep breath and hoisted himself from the boat, careful not to slip on the slick, wet rocks, and mouthed a silent prayer before ascending. He noticed—or thought he noticed—two quick pricks of light maybe fifteen or twenty meters above his head where he believed the cliff’s edge to be, but then the seamless darkness returned, and he doubted he’d seen any light at all.
Chapter 20
Karolina
The small child showed all the signs of malnourishment. His hair, discolored and dry, looked dull as straw, and his soft belly protruded with no muscle strength to hold his abdomen tight. Karolina knew, without a doubt, he had worms. They always had worms.
“Any idea of his age?” she asked the police officer, though she kept her eyes on the listless child, his arms thin as sticks.
