The Cartel Strikes Back: The Ted Higuera Series, Book 5

by Pendelton Wallace

  Ted looked at his watch, nine pm, then at Catrina. “You ready?”

  “All systems go, commander,” she said, and gave him a knowing smile.

  “All right,” Ted said. “GO!” he shouted into his microphone.

  An explosion ripped the air. The men with ladders dashed to the wall and set them up. The Special Forces men were over the wall in an instant. Ted and Catrina followed. Rudi was followed by the two men who set up the ladders.

  They dashed to the side of the house and made their way to a back door.

  Armed men were pouring out. The Special Forces soldiers opened fire with their silenced M-4’s.

  In an instant it was over. The group stepped over four bodies as they entered the house.

  The kitchen was empty. They made their way to the dining room. It too was empty.

  Sounds of narco corridos came from upstairs.

  Catrina nodded her head towards the stairs and led the way.

  A man in a white waiter’s jacket stood at the top of the stairs, AK-47 in his hand. Before he had a chance to move, a soft “thwat” sounded and he tumbled down the stairs.

  ****

  Chris and his six men jumped down from the wall and charged towards the front door. Two men opened fire on them. Two of Chris’s men went down before the others dropped the guards.

  One of Chris’s men kicked in the door. They were met inside by a tall, thin man with a scar running down the left side of his face. The man opened up with a Colt .45 Peacemaker.

  A bullet whizzed past Chris’s ear and tore up the molding on the door.

  Another “thwat” and the man crumbled to the floor.

  Chris pointed towards a hallway and two of his men headed that way. He led off in the other direction with the remainder of his men.

  He heard gunfire down the other hallway. “Juanito, do you need help?” he said into his microphone.

  “No, Patrón, we handled it,” came the reply.

  He heard voices behind a door. His men bunched up behind him and he kicked the door in.

  Six men were passing around AK-47s. Before they could react, Chris’s men opened fire.

  Farther down the hallway, Chris smelled cigarette smoke. He raised a hand to halt his men. Creeping slowly to the door he listened.

  English. They were speaking English.

  Chris nodded to one of his men who kicked down the door. Chris and the other man rushed the room.

  A group of six people sat around a large table. A blue haze hung under the ceiling. The table was filled with laptops and dirty dishes.

  “Wha . . . ?” one of the men said.

  “Who are you?” Chris asked.

  A woman in shorts and a T-shirt stood up. “I’m Margaret Meadows, head writer. What’s going on?”

  “Head writer?” Chris was puzzled.

  “We’re working on the script for the El Pozolero story.”

  What should he do? He couldn’t leave them here by themselves. They might be loyal to El Pozolero and raise the alarm. On the other hand, they looked harmless. A bunch of geeks crowding around a table, arguing over who knows what.

  “I’m going to leave you here. Don’t make a sound. I’m leaving Junior here to watch you. If you try anything, he’ll shoot you.”

  Chris turned to the only man in his crew who spoke a little English. “Junior, you stay here with them. If they try anything, kill them.”

  A gasp went up from the writers.

  ****

  Martín was as skinny as his father, but much taller. In his early thirties, his skin was already tanned and weathered by the sun.

  “Kill anyone you find!” he screamed to his men as they charged through the blown gates.

  Fire immediately came from behind rocks and bushes. Two of Martín’s men were hit.

  Theresa dove behind a bush and came up with a mouth full of soil.

  “Take cover,” Martín yelled. “Tomás, we’re pinned down here. Can you help?” he said into his microphone as he crouched behind a rock.

  “No problema.”

  The chop chop chop of a heavy machine gun came from the hills. The large bullets tore up the grounds and front of the house. Martín heard one scream, then another.

  “Move. NOW!” he yelled and jumped up from his hiding place, Theresa right behind him.

  His men moved cautiously foreword. As they got closer to the drug lords defensive positions, the machine gun fire stopped.

  A head popped up from behind a bush. Theresa was the first to react. She popped off two shots with her Smith and Wesson and a fine red mist sprayed from the back of the head.

  Martín stepped around a rock and found a man lying on the ground, hands over his head.

  “Stop. Don’t shoot,” the man said, as he looked up. “Señora, please!”

  “You killed my father. You have to die. You all have to die.” Martín fired a single shot into his head.

  Theresa didn’t wince.

  Martín’s men scoured the grounds, killing everyone they encountered, including a gardener and a young woman dressed as a maid.

  ****

  Catrina took the Special Forces men and headed down one hallway. Ted took the two ladder bearers, Rudi and headed down the other.

  Silence fell on the house. It was eerie, too weird. Ted expected more resistance. Had the villa fallen so easily?

  A man with a handgun jumped out from a doorway. He fired three shots.

  Ted felt a searing pain in his bicep.

  The silenced M-4’s spat and the man pirouetted around and collapsed.

  Ted grabbed at his bicep, his hand was full of blood.

  “Shit.” He reached into his fanny pack and pulled out a package of bandages.

  One of his men wrapped the wound. “That will have to do for now, Patrón,” he said as he handed the pack back to Ted.

  Ted heard gunfire from behind him. “CAT! Are you all right?”

  “Heavy resistance. Can you work your way around behind them?”

  “We’ll try.”

  Ted had found the house’s plans on the Internet. He wished Chris was there. Ted had a vague idea of how it was laid out, but with Chris’s photographic memory, they would have been sure.

  He rushed farther down the hallway, away from the gun fire, then opened a door and led his men through.

  They stepped out onto the deck and headed back towards Catrina.

  They slowed as they approached the gunfire. Ted looked in the sliding glass doors.

  Three men were pouring fire from their AK-47s into the hallway.

  Ted motioned to his two men and then pointed to the room. He slid the door open and they went in firing.

  Ted stayed back and covered his men.

  Rudi snapped off picture after picture.

  The three narcos didn’t know what hit them. They never expected an assault from the rear.

  Ted rushed past the bodies and into the hallway. He saw Catrina, sitting with her back to the wall, blood pouring down her face.

  “CAT! Are you okay?” he dropped to his knees besides her.

  One of Catrina’s Special Forces soldiers stood guard. The other two lay on the floor, bleeding.

  “Where are you hit?” Ted asked.

  Catrina had a dazed look on her face. She tried to rise, then slipped back down the wall.

  Ted took the bandages from his fanny pack again and wiped the blood away from her face. There was a large tear in the skin above her left eye.

  “Here, hold this. I think you’re going to be okay,” he said, as he handed her a gauze pad. “I’ve got to find Maria.” He stood. “You, stay with her,” he said to the soldier.

  “You,” Ted pointed to one of his men, “clear this wing.”

  “You,” he pointed to the other, “come with me.”

  Ted ran back down the hallway in his original direction.

  The two men opened door after door, finding no one in the rooms.

  “She has to be here somewhere.”

&nb
sp; “Patrón,” he heard in his earpiece. “You have to come here. Pronto!”

  “Finish checking these rooms,” he said to his last man. “I have to go.”

  He turned and dashed back up the hallway.

  He looked at Catrina as he passed. She still looked out of it.

  Ted heard sobbing in the distance. He practically flew to the open door.

  He stopped to take in the scene. The soldier stood with his rifle at ready outside the door. Inside Ted saw the love of his life on the floor, wearing only panties and nylons, covering her face with her bloody hands and crying uncontrollably.

  On the chaise lounge above her was El Pozolero’s body. Twenty or more stab wounds still oozed blood. The man’s face was frozen in a surprised expression.

  Rudi stepped past Ted and started taking pictures.

  “No,” Ted screamed and pushed Rudi away. “No pictures of Maria.”

  Ted dropped his gun and rushed to her. He leaned down and lifted her up. “I’ve found you. Are you okay?”

  Maria didn’t answer. He maneuvered her to a cane-backed chair. She was covered in blood.

  Ted found a bar towel wrapped around a champagne bottle and began wiping her off.

  “Are you hurt?”

  She shook her head, crying without pause.

  He cleaned her up.

  She didn’t appear to be injured. All the blood came from her foe.

  Ted gathered up her clothes and helped her get dressed.

  “It’s over querida, you’re safe now.” He pulled her to his chest and held her. “Let’s get you home.”

  He lifted her to her feet and led her out of the room.

  “You coming, Rudi,” he called over his shoulder.

  “And miss this. Not for a million dollars.” Rudi lifted his camera to his eye and snapped of photos of El Pozolero’s body.

  In the hallway, Ted again encountered Catrina. She was still sitting against the wall with her knees up.

  Ted nodded to the soldier to hold Maria while he stooped to Catrina.

  “Cat, are you in there?”

  “Ted?’

  “Good, you recognize me.”

  “Where are we? Why does my head hurt?

  He put his arm around his boss. “You were shot in the head. Good thing you’re so hard headed, the bullet ricocheted off.” He stood and pulled Catrina up with him. “We have to get out of here before the police come. They won’t like finding their boss dead. Can you walk?”

  “Shuure.” She slurred the word badly.

  “Bernardo,” Ted turned toward the soldier. “Help the señora. I’ll take Maria.”

  When they reached the entranceway, Ted could see two vans parked outside.

  Chris, Theresa and Martín met him as he stepped out into the open.

  “Everyone okay?” he asked.

  “No.” Chris had a dour look on his face. I lost two men and have one wounded.”

  Ted felt like he’d been stabbed in the heart. “I had to leave two upstairs.”

  “Likewise,” Martín said, “I have three down, but I think they’ll recover.”

  “El Pozolero?” Chris asked.

  “Dead. Maria already did him in before we got here.”

  “Whew,” Chris shook his head.

  “Is she all right? What happened to Cat?”

  “Cat was grazed by a bullet. We need to get her to a doctor. I don’t know about Maria. She hasn’t said a word since I found her.”

  Chapter 43

  Maria was finally asleep. Doctor Gomez gave her sedatives that seemed to take forever to kick in. Her mother sat at her bedside, holding her hand, with tears dripping down her cheeks.

  Ted got up. The wound in his bicep was superficial, but man did it hurt. The doctor gave him hydrocodone for the pain, but Ted was reluctant to take it. He needed a clear head in case the Baja Cartel struck back.

  Ted got up and walked to Catrina’s room. Doctor Gomez was sitting on the bed, softly talking to Catrina. The doctor didn’t speak much English and Catrina didn’t speak much Spanish, but somehow it looked like they were communicating.

  “How is she doing, Doctor?” Ted asked, as he entered the room.

  “She is going to have one hell of a headache.” The doctor seemed relieved that someone who spoke Spanish finally showed up. “The bullet grazed her skull. She has a concussion. She should not be allowed to sleep for twelve hours. She must have someone with her constantly, in case she has trouble.”

  The doctor stood to face Ted. “She may have problems with her balance. She will be dizzy and will probably hear ringing in her ears for awhile. Expect her to have fuzzy vision for a time and be extremely sensitive to light and sound.”

  “But, she’s okay?”

  “Most people recover from a concussion in a couple of days. It rarely lasts more than a week. She may have a hard time thinking clearly and have difficulty concentrating.” The doctor reached down and picked up his black bag. “I’m a little concerned about her memory though.” He turned back to Catrina. “She doesn’t seem to remember anything about today. She doesn’t know how she was hurt or how she got here. Keep a close eye on that. You may want to take her to her own doctor when she gets home.”

  “But she can travel?”

  “I see no problem with that.”

  Ted walked the doctor to the door and thanked him profusely. He didn’t know whether to offer to pay the doctor or not; that was a part of Mexican culture to which he’d never been exposed.

  After seeing the doctor off, he returned to Catrina’s room.

  “Hey, sleepy head, we gotta get you up. The doc says you can’t sleep for twelve hours.”

  “But I’m so tired . . .”

  Ted threw back the covers and pulled Catrina up to a sitting position. Theresa had helped her with a shower and she smelled so clean. Her blonde hair seemed to glisten.

  He swung her legs to the floor. “C’mon. Upsie-daisy.”

  She was wearing a thin cotton night gown. He looked around and found a terry cloth bathrobe in the closet.

  “Here, put this on.”

  He lifted her to her feet and helped her into the robe.

  “Where we going?” she asked.

  “Let’s go sit on the deck and watch the ocean.”

  With an arm around her, he led her to the deck. The maid appeared instantly.

  “May I get you something to drink?”

  “Sí. Bring us two lemonades please.”

  He settled Catrina down in a wicker backed plantation chair and seated himself.

  “She looks okay,” Chris said.

  Ted jumped a little. He had been concentrating so hard on Catrina that he didn’t notice his friend sitting on the deck.

  “She’ll be alright. She has a concussion. The doctor says we have to watch her around the clock.” He smiled at his friend. “How about you, amigo? How’s that leg doing?”

  “The doc gave me some pills. Better living through chemistry. He says it was a through and through wound. He gave me some antibiotics and says I’ll be fine.”

  The maid reappeared with a tray in her hand. She placed the lemonades on the table between Ted and Catrina and offered Chris a fresh Negro Modelo.

  “All’s well that ends well, I guess.” Chris lifted his bottle towards Ted.

  Ted saluted with his frosty glass. “Let’s head home as soon as Maria’s ready to travel. I think I’ve had enough of these fuckin’ drug lords for now.”

  “Uh . . . Ted, there’s something I haven’t told you.”

  Ted sat up and turned fully to his friend.

  “I didn’t want to distract you from your mission. There’s nothing we can do about it for the next couple of weeks anyway.”

  “What . . . what happened?” The color drained from Ted’s complexion.

  “Your brother, Carlito, was arrested.”

  “ARRESTED!” Ted sprang to his feet. “For what?”

  “It’s a double homicide, but I don’t . . .”


  “HOMICIDE! Jesus Christ, Chris, how could you keep that from me?”

  Chris stood and put his hand on Ted’s shoulder. “Calm down. He didn’t do anything. The police messed up. I bailed him out, but when you called, this sounded more urgent than playing lawyer. When we get home, I’ll get this all sorted out.”

  Ted sank back down to his chair. “Doesn’t life ever get easy?”

  “Don’t worry about it, bro. Carlito was home in bed when it happened. The police botched the whole investigation. It shouldn’t take too much to straighten it out.”

  ****

  Ted, Catrina and Chris were sitting in the great room trying to piece together Catrina’s memory when Maria walked in.

  She looked terrific. Wearing white jeans and a polo shirt that complemented her slim figure, she glided into the room with a dancer’s grace.

  “Maria, you’re up.” Ted jumped to his feet.

  “I am, thank you.”

  “How are you feeling?” Catrina asked. “The boys were just telling me about your horrible experience.”

  Maria continued to stand. “I’m okay. Physically. I can’t get the nightmare out of my mind though. Every time I close my eyes I see that filthy pig undressing, putting his hands on me.” She shuddered. “Am I ever going to get that out of my head?”

  “Don’t worry about it, sweetie,” Catrina said. “I’ve been through some pretty horrific experiences. Eventually, they go away.”

  “May I get you something to drink?” Chris asked.

  “No, thank you.” She took Ted’s hand. “Ted, I need to talk to you. Can we go somewhere?”

  Ted couldn’t get the shit-eating grin off of his face. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

  She led him out the sliding doors, through the patio and to the garden. She stopped to smell the blooming desert rose.

  Eventually, she led Ted to a garden bench and they both sat. Ted reached for her hand, but she pulled away.

  “Ted, I need to be serious now. I need to be strong.”

  Ted’s spidey sense was going wild. “You’re okay now. You’re safe. El Pozolero can’t hurt you anymore.”

  “This isn’t about El Pozolero.” She turned to face him. “It’s about us.”