by L C Hayden
Mike nodded. “Why are you bringing up the past? It’s over.”
“I know that, but please, allow me to finish. I need to start at the beginning in order to tell you my entire story. Can I do that?”
Mike sat up straighter. He was amazed at how much the past could still hurt. He nodded.
“What do you remember?”
Mike didn’t have to think of the answer. It came automatically. “I remember that you broke my heart because you had to marry some rich dude your parents had promised you to.”
“It broke my heart, too. But you have to have known that I had no choice. I had to marry him to bring peace to my family. If I went against my parents’ wishes, I would have never been able to go back to them.”
“And I told you Egypt was a long way from here, and you could do whatever you wanted to because you were in the United States.” Mike bore his eyes into hers. “You chose him.”
“I regretted it, and so many times I’ve thought about you. But he is my husband, and now I love him.” She folded her hands and placed them on her lap. “And you? Are you married?”
Mike shrugged. “Divorced, actually.”
“Oh, Mike—”
Mike waved his hand to hush her. “It’s okay. Ellen and I still love each other with a passion that will never end. It’s just that she couldn’t stand being married to a policeman—always wondering if I’d come home. She hated the long hours, the missed anniversaries and the holidays. She wanted me to be a full-time husband and father, but my career wouldn’t allow me that luxury. Being a cop is all I know. But soon I’ll retire, and we’re going to remarry. She’s a wonderful woman. You would like her.”
“I’m sure she is, and I’m sure I would like her.” She took in a deep breath, and Mike wondered what she was thinking. “Did you tell her about me?”
Mike shook his head. “No one knows.”
Naunet nodded. “It’s best that way.”
“So why are you—and your bodyguards—is that what they are?”
She looked away, and Mike took that to mean yes.
“Why are you here?”
“Because I need you.”
Mike stiffened.
Naunet smiled. “Relax. I don’t plan to take you away from Ellen, and I don’t plan to interfere in any way.”
Mike leaned forward, still enthralled by her great beauty. “What can I do for you?”
She smiled—that same smile that had so captivated his heart. “We are all business, are we? Some things don’t change.” Back in their college years, when they discussed their future, Mike adopted a formal tone which Naunet called his business voice.
“Naunet.”
She took a deep breath. “Mohamed and I married, just like we were supposed to. It hasn’t been a bad marriage, even though he could never fill your shoes. He gave me only one child, a little girl I absolutely adore.” Her eyes filled with tears, and she sucked in her lips in an attempt to keep from crying. “She’s … dying, Mike.” She covered her eyes with her hand.
Mike stood up and sat beside her. He wrapped his arm around her.
“We live in Houston, now. The cancer center there is supposed to be the best in the world. But a little over a month ago, they told me there was nothing else they could do. I took her to our Houston home … to die.” A sob stemming from deep inside her erupted and the tears gushed out.
Mike held her closer.
For a long minute, Naunet rested her head on his shoulder. “Last week, I asked her if there was anything she wanted. She said, ‘Yes.’ I was delighted. I would give her anything.”
Her tears fell on his bare chest. He wanted to wipe them away. He wanted to— He forced his mind back to Naunet’s sadness. “What did she ask for?”
“She has always been fascinated by anything Egyptian, maybe because of our heritage. She told me she wished she could fly home to Egypt and see the two statues she has always been drawn to ever since she was a little girl.”
“What statues are those?” Mike asked.
“Cleopatra had two figurines made out of Lapis Lazuli, the most treasured gemstone of Ancient Egypt. They always considered that precious gem to be of godly importance. Both statues are of the ancient gods, Osiris and Isis.”
“But those statues are in Egypt and you’re here in America. And your daughter is too weak to make the long flight.” Mike thought for a moment, and then added, “But with your money, your influence, and your power, why can’t you arrange to have those statues flown over here?”
“That is precisely what I tried to do. When I made the call, I learned that our precious museum had been robbed. Most of the Egyptian artifacts were stolen, including the two figurines.”
“So you want me to find them.”
Naunet raised her hand. “Let me finish. As you pointed out, a woman in my position can find things out that others can’t. In three months, all of those artifacts that belong in my country for our residents to see and enjoy will arrive in your country. The drop-off will be in Hobbs, New Mexico. From there, they will be sold to private collectors all over the world. Someone named El Patron is making all of the arrangements. I want you to infiltrate his organization and retrieve our treasures.”
Mike massaged his temples. “Wow. I’m not sure I can—”
She reached over and held his hand. “Please, Mike, for old memory’s sake.”
“I—I don’t know.”
“There’s more.”
Mike waited. She still held on to his hand and Mike sensed a spark of electricity stemming from this simple touch. He moved his hand away.
“If you can arrange to replace El Patron or get close to him, you will have access to all the locations the artifacts will be sent. You are a great detective and working undercover, I know you can do this. Imagine what this will do for your career.”
Mike ran his fingers through his hair as he considered the possibilities. “I know if I could bust that ring, it would mean a great deal, a promotion even. The problem is I don’t have any jurisdiction in New Mexico.”
“Leave that to me. I can arrange that. I know after Hobbs, everything will be taken to Dallas and from there distributed. That is your jurisdiction.”
Mike cocked his head like a dog at attention.
“And the final thing. The favor, if you must call it that.”
There was more? Mike remained quiet.
“You’ve got three months to make your move and become El Patron’s confidant. As such, you will demand payment for your services. You will ask for the two figurines, which, by the way, are worth five-million—and that is little compared to what the other artifacts will bring.”
Mike whistled, not sure if he was shocked at the price of the loot or the demand she was making.
Naunet continued, “On the day of the drop-off, the pilot will demand that you go with him. You will bring me the statues which I will place in my daughter’s—” Naunet choked. She waited a moment and continued, “Hands. When she passes on, I will personally make sure the statues make their way back to the museum in Egypt where they belong.” She looked deep into Mike’s eyes. “Will you do this for me? Because of the nature of this situation, you’re the only one I can trust. Please. Please, help me.”
There was a time when Mike wouldn’t have denied her anything. The years had come and gone, but the desire to do her will had never left him. Still, there were so many factors involved.
She looked at him through those sorrowful huge brown eyes, and he knew there was no way he could not do this. “Let me see what—if anything—I can arrange.”
“Thank you.” She bit her lip.
Mike frowned. “What else is there?”
“Because of my situation, because of who I am, no one can ever know this conversation took place. You can understand that, can’t you?”
“I understand.”
Naunet leaned forward and kissed Mike on the cheek. “You will always be in my heart.” She walked out.
Mike gently
closed the door behind her, closed his eyes, and leaned against the door.
40
Current Time
Throughout the entire narrative, Bronson sat with his knees drawn up and his arms around them. He didn’t look at Mike. Instead, he kept his focus on the ground. Often, Mike glanced at him and wondered what was going through Bronson’s thoughts.
His buddy had betrayed him by not completely believing in him, and now probably Bronson felt the guilt. Good. Let him soak in that guilt.
“Mike!”
Startled, Mike turned his attention to Pablo. “I’m sorry what did you say?”
Pablo rolled his eyes. “I asked you if this mystical Egyptian goddess would be willing to testify on your behalf?”
“I’d rather not get her involved.”
The Special Agent folded his arms, shifted positions, and studied Mike through small slits in his eyes. “You obviously agreed to do her the favor, for here you are. But I need to know the rest of the story. What happened after she left?”
“The next day, I approached Chief Kelley and told him that one of my sources had informed me about the huge shipment that was due to arrive in Dallas. He didn’t question me about my source but he did ask if it was reliable.”
* * *
Mike nodded several times. “Very reliable. Without a single doubt.”
Chief Kelley tapped his fingers on his desk as though considering what to do. “And you want the case?”
As much as he wanted to be shot in the head. He nodded.
“It’s yours, then.”
The simple statement startled Mike. He thought he would have to beg and plead. Mike got the feeling the chief knew about this shipment before he mentioned it, but seeing that would be almost impossible, he dismissed the idea.
“Will Herbert be willing to work with you on this case?”
“I haven’t discussed it with him, but I don’t see why not. We always take the cases assigned to us.”
The Chief leaned back on his chair. “Let’s bring Herbert in.”
Once Herbert had joined them at the Chief’s office, Chief Kelley turned to Mike and said, “Fill in your partner on the case’s details.”
Mike did.
When he finished, both Mike and Herbert turned to look at the chief.
The chief leaned forward. “Here’s how I see this thing going. Herbert makes arrangements to meet El Patron. His story is that Los Muertos need his service. After all, he can provide inside police knowledge enabling the gang to move undetected. He would also provide police protection. In return, he wants to be a member of the group. He’s tired of the small police check, and this is his opportunity to make his dreams come true. Naturally, El Patron is going to be suspicious. So Herbert moves in, giving them a few bits of controlled information. Eventually, El Patron will learn to trust him but will probably hold on to a bit of doubt.”
“What about me?” Mike asked.
“On the day they set up their drop off, you will show up early. They will be expecting Herbert. You will tell them that Herbert plans to double-cross them. To prove it, when he arrives, you murder your partner in cold blood right in front of them.”
Mike’s eyes widened. He turned to look at Herbert who was staring at him. His eyes were as huge as Mike’s.
“Relax.” The chief smiled. “It will be a complete Hollywood setup.” He pointed to Mike. “You will shoot him using blanks.” He pointed to Herbert. “You will take lessons on how to fall realistically and release the bag of fake blood at the precise moment.”
* * *
“That’s how I know Herbert is alive. I shot him, yeah, but I used a blank.” As Mike spoke he stared at Bronson. “He’s with his Mrs. and his son, enjoying a well-deserved vacation.”
“Except that he’s not,” Pablo said.
Mike cocked his head. “Oh?”
“Detective Dave De La Rosa—or El Patron—whichever way you want to think of him—knew ahead of time what was going to happen.”
“That’s impossible. Chief Kelley said only us three would know about the plan. ‘The less who know, the less chance of something going wrong,’ he told me. I agreed.”
The FBI agent nodded. “That’s as good an excuse as any, but we have reason to believe Chief Rudy Kelley was in on it from the very beginning. That’s why he always covered up for De La Rosa.”
“The chief crooked?” Mike frowned. “No, that’s not possible.”
“And yet it is. How else can you account for the fact that De La Rosa knew what was going to happen?”
“What makes you think he knew?” Bronson asked.
“Because he’s the one who switched the blanks for real bullets. He told me so himself. That means that you, Mike, really did kill your partner.”
Mike staggered a few feet backward and a little grunt escaped him. It was the sound of a man who had lost everything. He dropped his shoulders, his face, ashen and frozen.
Bronson went to him and placed his hands on Mike’s shoulders.
A stone-like expression of dread filled Mike’s face. He stared at Bronson through vacant eyes. He shrugged Bronson off and ran deeper into the desert.
41
Bronson followed Mike but did not approach him. He gave him time to digest the information. Once Mike had slowed down, Bronson advanced toward him. “Mike.”
Mike’s eyes had filled with tears of anguish and anger. “Go away, Bronson. I don’t need you.” His voice came out rough.
Bronson inched toward Mike. “It was an accident.”
“A needless accident. Just before the shooting, I remember staring at the gun as though something wasn’t quite right. Then that night, the doubts crept in. I recalled the sound the bullets made. It was completely different than that created by fake bullets. I dismissed the doubt as nerves. I should have checked the gun, make sure it was loaded with blanks.”
“Under the circumstances—”
“No matter how you cut it, I killed him.” He rubbed his forehead. “Oh my God. How’s Adela doing? I should be with her.” He attempted a smile that wilted before it bloomed. “She probably hates me.”
Bronson wrapped his arms around Mike. For a fraction of a second, Mike leaned in toward Bronson, receiving comfort from the stabbing pain. But then he pulled away. “Go away, Bronson. You didn’t have faith in me, and now I know why.”
“I—”
“Go away.”
Bronson stared at Mike and knew Mike could see the pain in his eyes.
“Just walk away,” Mike said. “Nothing matters anymore.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “Nothing.” He walked away from Bronson, deeper into the desert.
* * *
Bronson headed back toward Pablo.
“He really didn’t know, did he?”
Bronson looked up, toward the source of the voice. “No, he didn’t.”
“Did you?” the Special Agent asked.
Bronson shook his head. “I had no idea.”
Pablo pointed to a large creosote bush that provided much-needed shade. “Sit over there and wait for us. I’ll go get Mike.”
Bronson looked toward the direction he had left Mike and then back down at the bush. He nodded and headed toward the bush. He watched as the FBI agent approached Mike. From the look on his face, it looked like he was ordering Mike more than offering a comforting shoulder.
Whatever he said, it worked. Mike and Pablo headed back and Bronson joined them.
“I know I have no reason to ask,” Mike told Pablo, “but now, more than ever, I would like to see this thing through. When I flew to meet Naunet, I found out that El Patron isn’t the one in charge.”
“No, he isn’t,” Pablo said. “This runs a lot deeper. Some higher-ups are involved, but we don’t know who. We just know that this is going to get real ugly real soon. I was hired to infiltrate the gang, but you, Mike, have been doing a better job at doing that.”
Mike raised his head and swallowed hard. “I’d like the chance to find t
he bastard who ordered all of this. After that, I will turn myself in. Right now, all I want is the chance to give Herbert a good reason for giving up his life.”
Pablo shrugged. “I can see where you’re coming from. If I were in your shoes, I’d want the same thing. But this is beyond me. Mike, you’re under arrest, and I have to take you in. What happens from there, I can’t make any guarantees.”
Mike nodded.
“As for you, Bronson,” Pablo said. “Consider yourself really lucky. Get out of here. You were never here. We will cover for you. In return, you go back home and not set one foot anywhere near this case. And not one word as to what transpired here today. Understood?”
Bronson nodded but remained still.
“Go.” Pablo said. “Now.”
Bronson’s eyes snapped shut, and his features tightened like a fist. Through clenched teeth, he hissed. “Mike.”
Mike looked away.
“We need to clear the air between us,” Bronson said.
Mike walked away.
Bronson lowered his head and headed for the car.
Harry Bronson
42
It had been eight long days since Bronson had seen Mike. He scanned the newspapers every day to see if there was a mention about Mike’s arrest or anything relating to the case. So far, nothing.
Even though he knew better, Bronson gave in to temptation. He called Mike, then texted him.
He sat in the front swing of his porch, his right hand gripping the cell as he waited for an answer.
His unseeing eyes stared at the street. Cars zoomed by. Neighbors strolled. Children played in their yards. Above him, birds chirped. Someone was barbequing steak. Bronson’s mind didn’t register any of these. Instead, his numbed senses were gripped by a fear such as he’d never known before. His left hand clenched in futility and despair.
A few days ago, he had stared at Ellen in the eyes and told her Mike was okay. He was working undercover and didn’t know for how much longer. But in the end, he would be okay.
