Oscar took a few seconds to process it. “I’m hearing that you can kill me and take the plane, or that you can pay me and take the plane.”
“Not exactly as I would have put it, but close enough.”
“How is that even a choice?”
“My point exactly.”
The kid stuck out his hand. “Deal,” he said.
They shook. “Excellent,” Jonathan said.
With the engine reassembled, they buttoned up the cowling and pumped in as much gas as the Cessna’s tanks could take.
“This is five hours of fuel,” Oscar said. “Plus a fifty-minute reserve. I wouldn’t depend on the reserve for more than a half hour though. Just to be on the safe side.”
Jonathan looked to Boxers for an assessment. Would it be enough?
The Big Guy shrugged. “It is what it is,” he said.
“How far do you need to go?” Oscar asked. As soon as the words were launched, he held up his hands, as if in surrender. “Sorry. None of my business.”
“Ultimately, it’s Buenos Aires,” Boxers lied.
Jonathan shot him a glare, hoping to sell the deception.
“There’s no way,” Oscar said.
Boxers replied, “We have a refueling stop along the way.”
“How about you shut up?” Jonathan said.
For his part, Tristan remained conspicuously silent, for which Jonathan sent up a silent prayer of thanks.
“I’m not going to tell anyone,” Oscar said. “I swear.” He opened his backpack one more time just to make sure that his windfall was still there. The pouch that used to hold his lunch was now stuffed with sixty bundles of banded hundred-dollar bills.
Jonathan thought of it as ransom money well spent.
“Now comes the hard part,” Oscar said.
Jonathan cocked his head, waited for it.
Oscar took a deep breath. “Yeah,” he said. “Thing is, I like Mexico. Okay, actually, I hate Mexico, but my girlfriend is like the Mexican Chamber of Commerce. She loves it here. I could never convince her to leave.”
Jonathan sensed where this was going, but he had to be sure. “So, how is this a problem?” he asked.
“With that kind of money you could buy any girlfriend you wanted,” Boxers offered. Ever the romantic.
“My boss—the one who owns this plane—is not a nice man. In fact, he’s the opposite of a nice man. He’s also my girlfriend’s father. When he finds out that his plane is missing, he’s going to be pissed. I mean seriously pissed.”
“Just tell him that someone stole it,” Boxers said.
“Well, that’s the thing,” Oscar said. “I’m not just the mechanic. I’m also the security guard. It’s my job to make sure that no one steals the plane.”
The words hung in the air for a few seconds, and then Jonathan and Boxers burst out laughing together. Oscar clearly was offended.
“Sorry, Oscar,” Jonathan said. “But maybe you need to think of another line of work. How did a nice American boy end up in this shit hole anyway?”
Oscar shrugged. “I already told you. A girl. I used to work at a little regional airport in the middle of nowhere—Manassas, Virginia—as a staff mechanic. Even worked on jets—Lears and Gulfstreams, mostly. Anyway, I met this Mexican girl and I fell hard. She was going to school then. When she went home, she told me that her father owned an airplane, and that he would match my salary if I came to work for him. I figured it was a no-brainer. Money goes a hell of a lot farther out here, you know?”
Boxers scowled in disbelief. “What could you possibly want to buy?”
“Well, there’s that.”
“He’s in love, Big Guy,” Jonathan said. “Give him a break.”
Oscar continued as if uninterrupted. “Throw in the fact that her father is a friggin’ gangster and you see my dilemma.”
“Three hundred grand buys a lot of choices,” Boxers pressed.
“Yeah, well, I need to live long enough to exercise them.”
Jonathan planted his fists on his hips. “You seem to have a plan,” he said.
Oscar took a huge breath this time, and he closed his eyes, as if dreading his own words. “I want you to hit me and tie me up.”
Boxers took a step forward. “Okay,” he said.
Oscar jumped and retreated as if he’d touched something hot. “No! Jesus, not you. I said hit me, not kill me.” He pointed to Jonathan. “You,” he said.
“Yeah,” Boxers teased. “He only wants a little girlie tap. Give him the best you’ve got.”
Jonathan ignored him. “So, what’s the longer plan?” he asked Oscar. “Is the story that a stranger sneaked up on you in the middle of the night, coldcocked you, and stole the plane?”
“Right. He’ll still fire me, but I figure that’s okay.” Oscar smiled. “He won’t know that I got a really good severance package.”
His smile turned to a frown. “If you don’t mind, though, I’d like to limit the amount of money I have to dedicate to medical care. I think—”
Jonathan fired a savage punch with the heel of his hand, connecting at the point in front of Oscar’s left ear where his jaw met the rest of his head.
The kid was out cold even before his knees buckled.
Tristan yelped, “Holy shit!”
Boxers grinned like a proud father.
“It’s easier if you don’t talk about it first,” Jonathan said.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Maria Elizondo’s hands tore at the lock, trying to get it open so that she could escape with her life. She’d never dreamed that the security system that had been installed to keep madmen out could actually trap her inside with one.
“Oh, please,” she begged to God. “Oh, please, oh please.”
Between the sound of her own cries and the pounding of blood in her ears, she heard nothing at all. Her only reality was terror. The certainty of her death.
When the hand came down on her shoulder, then, she screamed and whirled around for her last fight.
Her attacker was shorter than she’d expected. And lighter.
And female.
“Maria, stop!” the woman insisted. Her tone and her gestures told Maria that she’d been saying those words over and over, but Maria had not been hearing them
“It’s me,” the woman said. “It’s Veronica. You’re all right. I’m not here to hurt you.”
Realization—and reason—came slowly. How was this possible? “How did you get in here?” Maria asked.
Veronica placed her hands on both of Maria’s shoulders. It was a gesture designed to calm her. “That’s not important,” she said.
Are you insane? “Do not tell me that it is not important,” Maria yelled. “You are in my home!”
“I am here to help you,” Veronica said. She wore her dark hair long, and tied with what looked like a decorative rubber band in the back.
“You are in my home!” Maria insisted. Whatever else was happening, whatever power the Federal Bureau of Investigation might have, this was an important point. Despite the stakes and the danger—despite the fact that Veronica was the very person Maria had been hoping to see—she needed to acknowledge that this was Maria’s home. It was a private place, and Veronica had no right being here.
“Your escape tunnel works both ways,” Veronica said.
Maria’s jaw dropped. “What escape tunnel? I don’t have an escape tunnel.”
Veronica looked confused. “Are you serious?”
“What escape tunnel?” Maria asked again.
“That panel in your bathroom. Under the sink. Did you really not know that it was there?”
Maria felt a sense of dread washing over her. “Where does it lead?”
“To a storm sewer behind your house. How could you not know it was there?”
Maria pushed past Veronica into the living room. “Felix,” she said. Now it was all so obvious. She dropped onto the sofa. “He put in the security for me. The locks, the walls, everything.”
Veronica sat next to her. This sofa, like everything else in her house, had been purchased with her own money, and it had been cleaned and maintained by her own hands. It was a point of great pride that she had refused every offer from Felix to furnish the place and staff it with a housekeeper. It was one thing to sleep with the man she hoped one day to kill, but it was something else entirely to have things of his nearby when she was alone.
Veronica asked, “Why put in a tunnel and not tell you?”
Maria looked at her, waiting for her to get in on her own. “It wasn’t about me getting out,” Maria said, finally. “It was about him getting in.” She brought her hand to her head, as if taking her own temperature. “You need to get me out, Veronica. Felix knows—”
Veronica’s face lost some of its color as she raised her hand and gently placed two fingers over Maria’s lips for silence.
Veronica sifted through the accumulated papers and magazines on the coffee table, searching for something.
“What are you looking for?”
“The remote control for your television.”
“Why?”
“I want to watch it,” Veronica said, but her face said, Give me the damn remote control.
Maria reached behind a throw pillow. She found the remote and handed it over.
Veronica thumbed the television to life, and then cranked up the volume.
Maria brought her hands to her ears. “What are you—”
Veronica held up a hand to silence her, and then sat on the sofa, pulling Maria down with her. “If they have access to your home,” she said softly, “you have to assume that they’ve installed listening devices.”
That sense of indignant horror returned, hitting her like a punch to the stomach. “This is my home,” Maria said again.
“Not for long,” Veronica said. “Tell me what Felix knows.”
“Everything, I think. He knows that someone close to him is feeding information to the Americans. He hasn’t traced it to me yet, but I know he suspects. He all but accused me today.”
“If he thought you had betrayed him, you wouldn’t be here right now,” Veronica said.
“I took the offensive,” Maria explained. “I got angry at him that he could even think such a thing, and I stormed out. He didn’t stop me because he was too startled. I can’t go back.”
“You won’t have to,” Veronica said. “You’re getting out tonight.”
Maria stood. “I’m ready.”
Veronica pulled her back down. “Not now. Later tonight. In a few hours.”
“I can’t wait a few hours. You said that Felix is listening. I never listen to the television this loud. That alone will tell him that something is wrong. Besides, he already heard you—”
“No,” Veronica said, cutting her off. “I doubt that anyone listens in real time. If Felix is recording you, he’s recording many others, too. It’s not possible to listen to so many all at once. You should have enough time.”
“I should? Suppose I don’t?”
“I’m sorry, Maria, but that’s the best we can do.”
“Why do we have to wait? What will be different in a few hours?” It was so easy for American spies to tell others to be patient when the endangered lives weren’t their own.
Veronica took a few seconds to frame her answer. She put her hand on Maria’s. “Tell me that you were not bluffing about the smuggling tunnels,” she said.
The sudden change in subject startled her. “I don’t understand.”
“The smuggling tunnels,” Veronica said again. “The ones that you have been holding out as an incentive for me to get you out of Mexico. Are they real?”
“Of course they’re real.”
“Then tell me where they are.”
This wasn’t right. Something in Veronica’s eyes gave away a bad intent. The rules had been the same from the very beginning: Maria would reveal the location of the tunnels after she had crossed the border into the United States. It was her only bargaining chip, and she dared not squander it.
“There are many of them,” Maria said, stalling for time.
“How many?”
“Veronica, this is inappropriate. First you tell me that I cannot leave the country, and then you tell me that I have to wait a few more hours. Now you want the one piece of information that I will not give you. You know our rules.”
“Your cover’s been blown,” Veronica said flatly. “This is a new day, and it comes with new rules. Unless you tell me where they are, we will not be able to protect you as you use them.”
Her words launched a chill. “What do you mean, as I use them?”
As Veronica shared the details of the plan, Maria felt her life caving in on her. She was to wait for strangers to arrive, and then those strangers would get her out of the country. It all seemed unnecessarily complicated.
“I don’t understand,” Maria said after Veronica was finished. “Why can’t you just drive me across the border? For that matter, why can’t you just drive these other people across the border, too?”
Veronica gave her a long look before responding, “That’s very complicated.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“You’re right, it’s not.” Veronica seemed to be struggling with what she could and could not say. “Let me put it to you this way,” she said. “What is happening here tonight is not officially sanctioned by the United States. In fact, if you are caught in the process, you will be on your own. At best, if you are caught by the police or the Army, you will be arrested. Obviously, if you are caught by Felix Hernandez’s men, you will be killed. For political reasons, I cannot provide you with any assistance until you are on the other side of the border.”
Maria’s head swam. “For political reasons? What does that even mean?”
“That’s the complicated part. These people you’ll be with are being hunted by the Mexican government as murderers. I’m told by my supervisors that they are innocent—that they are the victims of a conspiracy devised by Hernandez—but what is important to Hernandez is also important to the police. It is equally complicated on my side of the border, where the return of these people you’ll be meeting, and your testimony against Hernandez, will bring very bad news to some very powerful people.”
Maria listened intently, hoping that these details would start to make sense. Then, when they did, she wished that they didn’t. “So, when you say we’ll be on our own, what you really mean is that we’ll have no allies. None at all.”
Veronica’s face turned grim. “Exactly. Until you get to the other side. If you give me the address where the tunnel ends on the American side of the border, I can be there waiting for you. I can take you into protective custody and then we can sort it all out.”
This was impossible. The whole idea was impossible. Each of these tunnels was over a mile long, and they were more than mere passageways for the transfer of drugs from one side of the border to the other. They were guarded, and they contained stockpiles of materials. Maria had never visited them personally, but she’d heard from others that processing operations were performed inside some of the tunnels.
“No,” Maria said. “I won’t do it. This is suicide. I will take my chances with Felix.”
Veronica’s entire demeanor changed as her posture hardened. “You will do this, Maria. You must do this.”
“But you’re asking the impossible.”
“Everything is possible. These men who are coming will protect you. I’m told that they are very good at what they do. They will get you safely to the other side.”
“The murderers, you mean?” Maria laughed bitterly. “If my testimony is so important, then you drive me out of the country with dignity.”
Veronica leaned in close. “Understand this, Maria,” she said. “As much as I have come to like you over the years, and as important as your testimony is to our case against Felix Hernandez, these people you’ll be helping across the border are far more important to my boss. I don’t even kn
ow why, but that really doesn’t matter.”
Maria laughed again. This woman was bluffing. Ever since the beginning, the story had always been the same: Felix Hernandez was one of the most sought-after criminals in the United States. He’d killed federal agents, after all. There was no way—
“Lose that grin, Maria,” Veronica ordered. “I would prefer that you do this out of the love of the family members you’ve lost at Felix’s hand. I would prefer that you do it because it is the right thing to do. But if those motivations are not enough, understand that if you don’t do this, I will personally deliver your name to Felix Hernandez. You need to decide if it’s better to risk death by helping others, or face the certainty of death in one of Felix’s torture chambers.”
Maria felt suddenly nauseous. This woman next to her had always been so gentle, so accommodating. Could this monster with the blazing eyes be the same person? “You couldn’t do that to me,” she said.
“I could, and I will,” Veronica replied. “I’ve read reports that Felix can keep his enemies alive and in agony for weeks. They pray for death in the first moments, and the screaming never stops. Imagine how he would treat a woman who he thought was in love with him.”
Maria’s eyes burned as her heart pounded. “I hate you,” she choked.
“That’s fine,” Veronica said. “I need that address.”
The speed and power of the punch were unlike anything Tristan had ever seen. His burst of profanity had erupted out of nowhere. It was just so ... startling.
Tristan marveled yet again at the dichotomy that was Scorpion. After that savage punch to the head, Scorpion moved quickly to catch the unconscious mechanic before he could hit the ground.
“He’ll be all right,” Scorpion said. “His jaw will be sore, and it’ll swell, but that’s what he wanted.”
“How do you know you didn’t break it?” Tristan asked.
“Because I didn’t feel it break. You can tell.”
After Scorpion laid Oscar on the ground, the Big Guy rolled the kid over onto his stomach, pulled his hands behind his back, and bound his wrists together with one of those ratcheting plastic ties you see cops using to arrest protesters.
Damage Control Page 24
