by Stuart Woods
“She cut his dick off and stuck it in his mouth. He was still unconscious and didn’t feel a thing, but there sure was a lot of blood. We packed up and beat it out of there.”
Cupie blanched. “Do you have any idea who this fellow was?”
“Does it matter?”
“It may matter a very great deal.”
“I don’t remember his name; I just remember that he bragged about having a brother and an uncle who were policemen.”
“Well,” Cupie said, “I think that answers pretty fully my question about why the police want you.”
“Frankly, I think it’s the traveler’s checks,” she said. “There was no way to connect me with what happened back then. I had a different name then.”
“Maybe somebody recognized you.”
“Who could recognize me?”
“Somebody who remembered you from your first visit.”
“But I stayed in a different hotel this time.”
“Workers—waiters, desk clerks, maids—move from hotel to hotel.”
“That seems pretty far-fetched to me.”
“Far-fetched doesn’t even begin to describe what’s already happened.”
She looked at her watch. “Let’s get to Tijuana; I don’t want to spend another night in this country.”
“I don’t blame you,” Cupie said, starting the car. “Neither do I. Get in the backseat.” She climbed over the front seat and lay down. He turned the car around, headed down the hill, and turned north again.
VITTORIO SAT UP at attention; the Toyota had just passed his location, headed north at moderate speed. He gave Cupie another minute to gain ground, then he started the Chevy and followed, waiting for an opportunity.
Forty-one
EAGLE TURNED OFF THE PAVEMENT OF TANO ROAD ONTO unpaved Tano Norte, toward Susannah’s new house.
“You think they’ll ever pave this road?” she asked.
“Who knows? I thought the county would never pave Tano Road, but they did. Anyway, a lot of people in Santa Fe think dirt roads are charming.”
“Really? I think they’re dusty in summer and muddy in winter.”
“Your opinion is unassailable, but add icy to muddy. I’ve seen eight inches of snow on this road. You’re going to need snow tires.”
“And a stock of canned and frozen food, too.”
“Not really. The county plows the roads in good time.” Eagle turned in through her front gate and pointed at the garage. “You’re going to need a private contractor to plow your parking area, though. It’s uphill from your garage to the gate. I’ll give you a name.”
“It’s very convenient that you have this stock of people to do anything needed,” she said.
They got out of the car and walked down the steps to her front door. She unlocked it and stepped inside. “Oh,” she said. “It’s so much better without the seller’s furniture. I hated his furniture. And it’s spotless.”
“I sent my housekeeper and half her family over yesterday.”
“Ed Eagle, you are an angel.”
Eagle pointed at the mover’s truck that was pulling in through the gate. “It’s going to look even better with your furniture in it,” he said.
THE SUN WAS SETTING as the mover’s truck departed, and Eagle sat on a sofa in the handsome study while Susannah poured them a drink.
“God, I’m tired,” she said, handing him a newly unpacked glass and flopping down beside him.
“All you need is a drink and some dinner and a good night’s sleep,” he said.
“I don’t even know which box the sheets are in,” she replied, taking a big swallow of the bourbon.
“Don’t even look for them. Sleep at my house tonight and officially move in tomorrow. My housekeeper and her sister, who is going to be your new housekeeper, will be here to help you get things sorted out.”
She rested her head on his shoulder. “What would I do without you?”
He put his arm around her and pulled her closer. “I hope you don’t find an answer to that question anytime soon.”
CUPIE HIT THE OUTSKIRTS of Tijuana just as it was getting dark. He pulled over and consulted the map from the rental car agency, looking for a place to leave the car. “Good,” he said, “there’s a drop-off point very near the border crossing. We’ll be there in ten, fifteen minutes.”
“Let’s get some dinner first,” she said.
Cupie turned toward the backseat and looked at her. “Barbara,” he said evenly, “are you out of your fucking mind?”
“I want food,” she said.
“You want to die,” he replied.
“Oh, relax, Cupie.”
“Barbara, I know very well that it was you, not your sister, who cut that guy’s dick off, but I can only imagine what his uncle, the policeman, is going to do to you when he finds you.”
“You’re being melodramatic.”
“I’m being wise,” he said. “This is what is going to happen: We’re going to drive to the drop-off, leave the car, take our bags out of the trunk and then I’m going to escort you into the United States and we’ll say goodbye. But I’ll buy you dinner on the other side of the border, if you’re interested.”
“Oh, all right.”
Cupie put the car in gear and, after checking the map again, headed for the border.
VITTORIO WATCHED CUPIE drive away. He would be going straight for the border crossing and the rental car drop-off there, but Vittorio knew the town better. Driving quickly, he cut through back streets and emerged a hundred yards from the border. He drove into the rental car drop-off, got his bag out of the trunk, marked down the mileage and tossed the contract on the desk of a dozing clerk. Then he walked across the street and stood in a doorway. Two minutes later, Cupie drove up, removed luggage from the car and went inside. Barbara did not appear.
CUPIE APPROACHED THE DESK and laid the car contract on its surface. “How would you like to buy a couple of very nice guns, amigo?” he asked the clerk.
“Guns, señor?” the man asked.
“Maybe you don’t need them, but they’ll sell quickly on the street.” He laid his 9mm and Barbara’s. 25 on the desk, first popping the magazines and checking the breach to be sure they were unloaded.
The man quickly examined both guns and put them back on the desk. “How much?”
“Six hundred American for the two of them.”
“I’ll give you three-fifty.”
“Five-fifty.”
The clerk looked doubtful.
“Five hundred, and that’s my best price.”
“Are they clean, señor?”
“Of course, amigo. I brought them from the United States myself,” Cupie lied.
“Momentito,” the man said. He went into a back room and came back with two hundreds and six fifties. The money changed hands, and the guns disappeared into the clerk’s desk drawer. “Vaya con Dios,” the clerk said.
“You betcha,” Cupie replied. He went back to the car and opened the rear door. “Okay, sweetheart,” he said, “here’s how we’re going to do this.” He pulled the towing handle out from her large case. “You’re going to walk ahead of me down the street to your right, then turn for the border crossing to your left. It’s very brightly lit, so you can’t miss it. I’m going to be about fifty feet behind you.”
“Why can’t we go together?”
“Because if our policeman friend is watching and he sees you with me, he’ll know who you are. Alone, he may not spot you; I doubt if he has a picture.”
“I suppose that makes sense,” she said, taking a scarf from her purse and tying it around her head.
“Good idea,” he said. “You look different already.”
She got out of the car, took the handle of her rolling suitcase and began walking.
Cupie gave her a head start, then followed. He had no idea what he would do if the police turned up, except deny that Barbara was who they were looking for.
VITTORIO WATCHED from the doorway across the
street as the two left the drop-off and started toward the border. He fell in ten yards behind Cupie. There was a line of pedestrians at the crossing, perhaps fifty people, some carrying luggage, some drunk, all brightly illuminated by floodlights and waiting patiently to speak to the border patrol officers. He watched as Barbara joined the end of the line and Cupie held back, to allow a few others to separate him from her. Vittorio waited, then he joined the line, too.
As he did, a police car rolled slowly around a corner and toward the border crossing. Another patrol car was already parked next to the line of pedestrians, with two officers inside, watching them shuffle past.
Vittorio was glad he had the. 45 Colt on his belt, and then he wasn’t glad. He wasn’t going to get into a shoot-out among all these people, and neither was he going to attempt to carry the pistol across the border; he had to get rid of it.
The second police car came to a stop next to the first, and Vittorio could see his friend, the police captain, sitting in the rear seat, less than twenty feet from where Barbara, then Cupie, would pass him.
Vittorio had to do something now.
Forty-two
VITTORIO PICKED UP HIS BAG AND WALKED STRAIGHT toward the police car, moving to put himself between the police captain and Barbara. He wanted her for himself.
The captain leaned toward his open car window. “Señor Vittorio,” the policeman said, smiling broadly and displaying his gold teeth. “You are leaving us?”
“Yes, capitán,” Vittorio replied, putting down his bag and placing his left hand on top of the car, bracing himself as he bent down to talk.
“I see you have reunited with your friend Señor Dalton,” the policeman said, nodding toward the line.
“Where?” Vittorio asked turning to look at the line, but still keeping himself between the captain and Barbara. “Oh, yes, there he is. Perhaps I’ll buy him a drink on the other side.” The line was moving more quickly now. “Capitán, I wonder if you might accept a small gift?”
The captain smiled again. “I would not be so rude as to refuse your generosity, Señor Vittorio.”
Vittorio pulled back his jacket to reveal the. 45 in its holster. He removed it, popped the magazine, handed it to the captain, then locked the slide back and inspected the pistol to be sure it was unloaded, then handed it to the captain.
The broad smile continued. “It is a very beautiful weapon, Señor Vittorio,” he said, slapping the magazine home, releasing the slide and thumbing back the safety. “I am most grateful.”
Vittorio unbuckled his belt and handed over the holster, as well.
“And surely there must be something I can do for you, Senor Vittorio,” the captain said, being well informed in the business of tit for tat.
Vittorio decided to surprise him. “Nothing, capitán. Perhaps some other day when I am back in Mexico you will remember me.”
“How could I forget after so generous a gift,” the captain replied, offering his card. “Here are all my numbers; please do not hesitate to call on me at any time you are in my country.” He offered his hand.
Vittorio shook it, then glanced over his shoulder. Barbara was speaking to the American border patrol officer, and Cupie was half a dozen people behind her. “I hope to see you again soon, capitán,” he said. “And now I think I’ll catch up to Señor Dalton and buy him that drink in El Norte.”
“Vaya con Dios,” the captain said, giving him a little wave.
“And you, capitán,” Vittorio replied. He picked up his bag, turned, and walked toward Cupie, still keeping himself between the policeman and Barbara, who was putting her passport back into her handbag.
Cupie spotted him. “Well, hello, Vittorio,” he said. “Somehow, after I found your bag gone from the car, I expected you might turn up.”
Vittorio shook his hand and glanced at Barbara. “Oh, I couldn’t let her get away.”
“What happened on the ferry?” Cupie said. “For a while, I thought you were a goner. When I couldn’t find you aboard, I went to the captain, and he started a search of the ferry and radioed the coast guard.”
“I was picked up by a fishing boat,” Vittorio replied, staring at Barbara. Suddenly she turned and their eyes locked for a moment. She grabbed the handle of her suitcase and walked quickly into the United States.
“I want her,” Vittorio said.
“What happened on the ferry?” Cupie asked again.
“She did her very best to murder me,” Vittorio replied. He waited impatiently while the line moved forward, then he presented his passport to the border patrolman.
“You are a citizen of the United States?” the man asked.
“Native born,” Vittorio replied.
“What was the purpose of your visit to Mexico?”
“Business and pleasure.”
“Are you carrying any firearms?”
“No, sir.”
“Did you purchase any gifts for people at home?”
“No, sir.”
The patrolman handed him back his passport. “Welcome home.”
Vittorio took the passport and hurried across the border, just in time to see Barbara get into a taxi and pull away. Vittorio cursed; the taxi stand was empty; she had taken the last cab.
Cupie hurried up to him. “What are you going to do?”
“Find her,” Vittorio said. “Just as soon as I can get a taxi. She was giving me a blow job, and she grabbed the bottom of my trousers and tossed me over the rail. She knew I didn’t swim.”
“Well, Vittorio,” Cupie said, “I don’t think I’ll want to be there when you two meet again. I’ll bid you goodbye.” The two men shook hands. “Maybe we’ll work together again sometime.”
“That would be my pleasure, Cupie,” Vittorio replied, then watched the older man walk away toward a bar, towing his suitcase. He looked back toward the taxi stand in time to see two cabs pull into it and discharge passengers, and he ran for the first one.
EAGLE LAY NAKED in bed, Susannah’s head on his shoulder. They were both panting and sweating copiously. “That was wonderful,” he said.
“It was better than that,” Susannah replied. “But at least I was able to begin to repay you for all your kindnesses.”
“You mean there’s more to come?”
“Oh, yes.”
“I’m not sure if my health can stand it,” Eagle said.
“You’re pretty healthy.”
The phone rang, and Eagle jerked reflexively toward it, then sank back onto his pillow. “Fuck ’em,” he said, “whoever they are.”
“No,” she said, “fuck me.”
“You’re going to have to give me a few minutes,” he said.
“Oh, all right, a few minutes.”
The answering machine clicked on, and a voice said, “Mr. Eagle, it’s Cupie. If you’re there, please pick up.”
“Excuse me,” Eagle said to the woman on his shoulder, “but I really have to get that.”
“Go ahead,” she said.
Eagle picked up the phone. “Cupie? Where are you?”
“In San Diego,” Cupie said. “I crossed the border right after Barbara, but she got the only cab available and lost me.”
“I’ve been trying to reach you. What happened?”
“Lots and lots,” Cupie said. “Barbara was being chased by the Mexican cops, because of an incident with a knife a few years back. The victim was the nephew of a police captain. She asked Vittorio and me to get her back to the States, and since I didn’t think you wanted her dead, we helped her. On the ferry across the Gulf of California, she took the opportunity to shove Vittorio overboard; she knew he couldn’t swim. I thought we had lost him, but he was picked up by a fishing boat and caught up with us at the border. He’s after her now; when he finds her, it isn’t going to be pretty.”
“Swell,” Eagle said. “When he finds her, I hope the authorities don’t think I hired him to kill her.”
“You’re okay on that point,” Cupie said. “I can testify what the a
rrangement was and why Vittorio went after her. I’m sorry it took so long to call you, but my cell phone disappeared—I suspect Barbara. I’m calling from a bar.”
“Where are you headed now?”
“Home. I’m exhausted, and I have no idea where Barbara went, so I can’t chase her any more. If you hear where she is, I’ll go after her again.”
“I got the papers I thought I wanted, but they were blank. Why?”
“Blank? Vittorio got her to sign them, and I watched him FedEx them to you. I guess Barbara must have…”
“Yeah, I guess she did. Go home and rest, Cupie, and send me your expenses. I’ll call you if I need you.”
“Oh, one more thing: she converted the three hundred grand she stole from you into traveler’s checks. They’re in her purse.”
“Thanks, Cupie.” Eagle hung up and flopped back onto his pillow. “What’s happened?” Susannah asked. “Barbara’s back in the country,” Eagle said. “Is that good or bad?” “That remains to be seen, but I’m not optimistic.”
Forty-three
BARBARA EAGLE GOT INTO THE CAB AND SAID, “LA JOLLA,” then she dug into her purse and came up with a cell phone, Cupie’s as it happened. What the hell. She tapped in a number she knew well. As the number was connecting, they passed a corner shop with several signs: PAWNSHOP • GUNS • GUNSMITH. She made a note of the intersecting streets.
“La Reserve,” a smooth woman’s voice said.
“Let me speak with Mrs. Creighton,” Barbara said.
“I’m sorry, but Mrs. Creighton is out for the evening; may I connect you with Mr. Wilson?”
“Of course.”
The extension rang twice, and a soft male voice said, “Front desk. Mr. Wilson.”
“Mr. Wilson, this is Barbara Eagle.”
“Good evening, Mrs. Eagle,” the man said, with enthusiasm. “I hope you’re well.”
“I will be if you can accommodate me for a few days, perhaps a few weeks.”
“Of course, Mrs. Eagle; Pine Cottage is available. Will that be suitable?”
“Pine will be perfect.”
“And when may we expect you?”
“Within the hour. And no one except Mrs. Creighton is to know I’m there.”
“As you wish. We look forward to welcoming you soon.”
