Haunted asc-8

by Jeanne C. Stein

  “I’ll call you” is all I say before trotting off, summoning the vampire to the surface. Both of us are happy to leave the confines of a mortal existence and the dark antagonism of the man I feel staring after me.

  Freedom is in the rush of wind on my face as I pick up speed. Darkness is close, which makes tracking easier. Just as animals distinguish the tracks of predator and prey, I distinguish the marks of Culebra’s vehicle in the dirt. The right front tire has a nick in the outer rim. I pick up the smell of oil and exhaust.

  I welcome full darkness when it falls. There is no moon, which makes senses more acute, vision sharper. The truck I follow goes deeper into the desert, shuns the lights of Tijuana and the scattered shantytowns on its outskirts. There are many smells here—animal and human. Cooking meat. Frying lard. Offal. Nothing tempts the vampire. I am well fed.

  There are roads here, too, but the truck travels on none of them. It continues on dirt and hardscrabble going east. It will make the going harder and slower for the vehicle, faster and easier for the vampire.

  It only takes thirty minutes to spot it. In the distance, a plume of dust. I run to catch up, careful to stay out of sight and when I see the silhouettes of two men inside, catch Culebra’s scent from the open window, only then do I stop to let the human Anna return.

  I pull out my phone, call up Max’s number and hit send. He picks up on the first ring.

  “Where are you?”

  I look around. “I’m not really sure. About forty-five minutes east of Tijuana. The truck is a mile or so ahead of me.”

  “Any road markers?”

  “No road. Staying to the desert.”

  There’s a pause. “That doesn’t make sense. The terrain is going to get too rough for Culebra’s old truck. They must be afraid someone’s watching the main roads.” Another pause while I assume he’s checking the map. “What are your GPS coordinates?”

  I touch the “maps” app on the face of my phone, find the GPS coordinates and read what pops up on the screen. Max sends me his location and I scroll to it on the map.

  “Look,” Max says finally, “this may be a long shot. But I think they might be headed for Tecate. There are a couple of private airstrips there.”

  “What kind of private airstrips?”

  “The ‘no questions asked’ kind of private airstrips. The kind you’d use if you want to reach the interior quickly and quietly. Do you know Tecate?”

  “Not really. David and I tracked a skip to the border crossing at Tecate once, but we caught up with him before he made it across.”

  “It’s not that big. Keep following them. If I’m right, they’ll be stopping soon. Call as soon as they do so I know where to meet you. If I’m wrong and they head in another direction, let me know that, too. I’m starting out now. Sticking to the main roads will make the trip much shorter. I can be there in forty minutes tops.”

  The last thing I hear before he disconnects is the rumble of the Ford’s engine as he cranks it over.

  Culebra’s truck is still moving. But I begin to realize Max may be right when the lights of a city I can only guess is Tecate blink in the distance. He’d better make it fast. I can track anything across the ground, but if Culebra and Ramon take off in a plane, for us, the trail comes to a screeching halt.

  CHAPTER 16

  TO A VAMPIRE’S ACUTE SENSES, TECATE IS A TOWN caught between ocean and desert. Close enough to catch the sea breeze, smelling of sand and brine, far enough away to have a desert landscape of cactus and sand. The perfume of the ocean is often swept away by the smell of hot dust and decay. A dichotomy that tickles my nose.

  The way is rough, but rougher still for the truck. It bounces and lurches, slow going.

  Not for me. It gives me a chance to catch up, to get so close I see Ramon smoking in the passenger seat and smell the smoke drifting out through the open window.

  So close I could speed up and ride the rest of the way, hunkering down on the rear bumper of the pickup.

  But I don’t.

  There’s too much about this scenario I don’t understand. I don’t trust.

  Finally, with the city in sight, Culebra steers onto a dirt road that appears abruptly out of the hardscrabble and curves away from Tecate. He picks up speed and we begin to pass an area of industrial buildings—warehouses, if I had to guess. The parking lots are nearly empty, only one or two cars scattered in front of the few buildings with lights still burning.

  I look around out of a human’s eye now, trying to pinpoint something to let Max know where we are.

  I get my chance when the truck veers again, this time onto a paved road. A sign says CUCHUMA. He keeps going. I stop and call Max.

  “We’re on a road called Cuchuma,” I say when he picks up. “Here are the coordinates.”

  Max waits to reply until he sees what I’ve sent. “Good. I know where you’re headed. I should be there in fifteen minutes. Cuchuma connects with a road called Del Carmen. They’ll take Del Carmen south and turn onto an unmarked road. Keep following. You’re almost to the airstrip. There’s an abandoned outbuilding about a half mile from the airstrip. Meet me there.”

  I snap the phone shut and let the vampire surface again. Now that I know where we’re going, I can enjoy the freedom of the run. I let my animal senses pick up the smells of rock and desert, vermin and predator. Fox is here and snake and rabbit and coyote. Coyote spies me and lowers its head, growling. Its rumble attracts its brothers, hiding in the brush. It’s the way coyote hunts—one to lure an unsuspecting victim, then the others to attack as a pack. They smell human but something else, too. Animal.

  My growl convinces them to go on to easier prey. They back off, deep-throated rumbling changing from challenge to irritated submission.

  Vampire bares her teeth in a smile.

  The truck is at the junction to Del Carmen. It turns as Max predicted. Vampire relinquishes control to the human Anna. Pace slows, thought processes center now on what to do when Culebra gets to the airstrip. Should I try to stop them if they have a plane waiting to take off? How far behind is Max?

  The airstrip is ahead. I follow out of sight until the truck comes to a stop beside a ramshackle building. There are lights on inside and the two men go in.

  A quick look toward the runway and one decision is made for me.

  There’s no plane.

  I backtrack and wait at the abandoned building for Max. I scramble up the wall to the roof so I have a clear view of the area. If a plane approaches, I will see it. In a matter of minutes, both Max and a plane arrive simultaneously. I launch myself off the building, landing by Max’s Explorer. The move is quick and from the look on Max’s face, I may have taken ten years off his life.

  “Jesus, Anna. Do you fucking fly now?”

  Maybe.

  “Go.” I jump into the passenger seat. “A twin-engine plane just landed.”

  Max pushes the accelerator to the floor but his eyes are still wide, his breath coming in startled gasps.

  We slow when we get within sight of the building where Culebra and Ramon are waiting. The approach of the Explorer is silenced by the noise from the plane. Max kills the engine and coasts to a stop behind a cluster of bushes. I expect Culebra and Ramon to come out to meet the plane. But instead, the pilot shuts down the engine and disappears into the building, too.

  Max and I look at each other. He unclips his gun and motions to the car door. We let ourselves out quietly, approach in stealth mode. The door to the building is open, the light spilling out offering a clear view of three men inside.

  Culebra’s back is to us.

  He turns, eyes narrowing.

  I clamp down on my thoughts, hoping I haven’t inadvertently given myself away.

  He steps out before Max and I can take cover.

  “Come out, Anna. You, too, Max. I could sense you were following. We’ve been waiting for you.”

  CHAPTER 17

  MAX AND I LOOK AT EACH OTHER.

  My sudden aware
ness that Culebra knew I was tracking him makes my first reaction, confusion, veer quickly to anger. “If you knew I was following you, why didn’t you stop?”

  “I’m sorry, Anna.”

  “You’re sorry? If you wanted us to come with you, why didn’t you simply ask Max and me? Why chase me away in Beso and then make me track you like a damned bloodhound?”

  He doesn’t react to my anger with anger of his own. Instead, his body and face reflect a willingness to endure whatever taunts I choose to fling his way. He stands quietly and waits.

  Which, predictably, takes the wind out of my vitriolic sails and leaves me staring back at him feeling like a kid who just threw a tantrum in a toy shop.

  After a moment, he says, “I know how angry you were at Christmas. Because I hid certain things from you. The anger is justified. I also know if I told you the reason Ramon came to see me, you’d feel obligated to help regardless of your personal feelings. I wanted to give you and Max a chance to decide on your own if you want to get involved.”

  He looks at me, dark eyes piercing and intent. “This is cartel business. It won’t be pretty and it won’t be easy. Once you hear the story, you can come with Ramon and me or go back home. Either way, I appreciate the trouble you’ve taken. You came after me. You’ve shown your loyalty and concern.”

  “But now that we’re here, you intend to ask more of us than a show of loyalty and concern.”

  He lets a cold smile touch the corners of his eyes and lips. “I do. Yes.”

  At least now you’re being honest. The same bitterness that sparked my outburst moments before is back.

  Again, Culebra doesn’t reply in kind. It’s frustrating. I realize I’m spoiling for a fight, looking for an excuse to pull out and leave Culebra to his “cartel business.” But Culebra knows me too well. He’s not giving me the chance.

  Ramon has come outside and stands beside him. In the doorway, the silhouette of the pilot is outlined against the bright interior. He has what is clearly recognizable as a rifle in his hands. It’s cradled in his arms and not pointed at us. I suppose that’s another good sign.

  Culebra motions to the door. “Let’s go inside. Please. We have much to discuss.”

  I look at Max. He shrugs and holsters his gun. We follow Culebra and Ramon into the building. Once we’re inside, Culebra pulls the door closed and snaps the deadbolt.

  “Is that to keep someone else out or to keep us in?” I ask.

  “Both.”

  It’s said with a half smile and hopeful spark of humor.

  I don’t smile back.

  Culebra drops his eyes and the smile and takes his place at the head of a long table. The surface is scattered with maps and charts. He beckons for us to join him.

  Max does. I take a moment to look around. The inside of this place is bare wood—walls and floors. No furniture except for the table and a couple of folding chairs that look like they’ve spent a good deal of time in the elements. The paint is scoured and peeling. No windows. The light comes from a single, high-wattage bulb suspended from a ceiling joist, wires dangling down the side of one wall and plugged into the only outlet I can see.

  That’s it. Not much in the way of a hideout.

  I take the step to the table. The pilot doesn’t join us. He leans his thin frame against the wall opposite the door, his eyes shifting continuously from Max to me. I can’t tell how old he is, his complexion is as scoured as the furniture, but his face is gaunt and severe, his lips pressed in a hard line that emphasizes the frown lines etched around his mouth. He has the animal magnetism of a Benicio Del Toro. The same hooded dark eyes, the same heavy eyelids. He’s dressed in khaki pants and a black hoodie. I think he thinks he’s generating an air of watchful vigilance when in fact, his posture screams “bomb with a short fuse.” He hasn’t leaned the rifle against the wall, either. It’s still at the ready in his arms.

  I keep him in my line of sight as I turn my attention to Culebra.

  He and Ramon are talking with Max. When I look at Ramon, I remember how Max said he and Culebra met. Max found Culebra wandering in the desert. I found Ramon wandering in the desert. Somehow I doubt Ramon and I are headed for the same kind of relationship. He hasn’t said a word to me. He hasn’t even looked at me. Is it because I’m female or is it because he knows I’m vampire?

  Culebra draws my attention with a wave of his hand. He points to something on the map. When I take my place beside Max, Culebra says, “We’re headed here—outside Reynosa. About twelve hundred miles as the crow flies, almost to the Gulf.”

  “There’s some fierce infighting going on in the area,” Max says. “Between the old drug lords and members of Los Martillos.”

  I know the name. Everyone who lives on or near the border knows the name. Los Martillos are a band of ex-military thugs used as enforcers. Probably learned their trade at the same “school” as Culebra. “I hope that isn’t what this is about,” I say.

  “Indirectly, it is.”

  Once again, a spark in my gut flares out as indignation. “You aren’t seriously telling us that you’re getting involved in drug shit again.”

  His eyes snap to mine. “It’s not that simple.”

  Max holds up a hand in a conciliatory gesture. “Hear him out, Anna. We’ve been after some of these guys for a long time. Particularly Pablo Santiago. He has bounties on his head in Mexico and the United States. If there’s a chance we could nail him or one of his cronies, it’s worth a shot.”

  “What’s worth a shot? We haven’t heard what Culebra wants us to do.”

  Ramon may not completely understand the words passing between Max, Culebra and me, but there’s certainly no misunderstanding my tone or expression. He barks something to Culebra. Culebra replies quietly and Ramon turns on his heels and stalks off to join the pilot.

  I feel a flush of color creep up my neck. “Tell Ramon I know what puta means,” I snap.

  “I did,” Culebra replies. “He’s sorry.”

  Right. Neither Ramon’s expression nor tone was apologetic.

  “You might also remind him that I saved his life.”

  “I did that, too,” Culebra says. “Listen, Anna, just hear me out. I was serious when I said I wouldn’t force you to do anything you don’t want to do. This isn’t just about a battle between cartels. This is a family situation. Ramon’s family. His wife and kids. They’re in danger. He saved my life once. I owe it to him to try to save his.”

  “So what happened? His count turn up short? He steal a bag of coke?”

  Culebra skewers me with eyes like steel knives. “Worse. He killed his boss’s son.”

  Max whistles under his breath. “Santiago’s son?”

  “No. If he had done that, he’d already be dead,” Culebra replies, his tone sharp. “No, this is the son of one of Santiago’s lieutenants. A banking official in the government and an important link in the narco money chain. His son’s death is causing problems for Santiago.”

  “So, what did the kid have to do with anything? Why’d Ramon kill him?” I ask.

  Culebra casts a glance over at Ramon who responds with a nod.

  “First you have to understand, growing up here is not the same as in the States. A good education is not available to all, prospects are few. One does what he must to provide for his family. Ramon’s parents were poor farmers. When Ramon saw a chance to improve his situation, he took it.”

  I cut in with an impatient wave of my hand. “I don’t know where this is going, but if you’re about to tell me Ramon became a hired killer to put food on the table, I will tell you right now I don’t care. I came because I thought you were in trouble. If it’s not your life in danger, I’m out of here. I couldn’t care less what happens to your cartel buddy.”

  A spark, dangerous, threatening, flashes in Culebra’s eyes. He says so softly, I almost miss it, “So you pick and choose the monsters you fight now, huh? Your vow to protect the weak applies only to those you deem worthy.”

  An an
gry reply leaps to my lips, but I stifle it, aware that there are others here who don’t know who or what I am. I turn my bitterness inward, projecting it to Culebra through my thoughts.

  Don’t do it, Culebra. Don’t play the guilt card. You of all people know what I’ve done since accepting responsibility as the Chosen One. I sent my family half a world away. I hold my few human friends at arm’s distance. I’ve given up a lot. I won’t be coerced into helping a stranger who’s in trouble because of his own stupid choices.

  Max is unaware of what I’ve said to Culebra, but he interjects himself into the tense silence. “Maybe you should at least hear him out, Anna. If not for Ramon, then because this may be an opportunity to take a major player out of the game. Santiago is a big fish. Landing him would be a coup.” He looks at Culebra. “For both our governments.”

  Resistance to getting involved still churns my stomach. “But he didn’t kill Santiago’s son,” I remind Max. “How do you think going after this bank official will get you close to Santiago?”

  “Because it’s Santiago who is gunning for Ramon now,” Culebra says. “Just as the boss came after me thirty years ago. Ramon inconvenienced Santiago. He doesn’t care about the kid Ramon killed. The kid doesn’t matter. He’ll wipe out Ramon’s entire family to send a message. Unless we can stop it.”

  Everyone in the room is looking at me. The pilot and Ramon with overt hostility, Culebra and Max with patience. As if they already know I’ll give in.

  I kick one of the chairs away from the table and sit, arms crossed over my chest.

  “Okay, I’ll listen. But this better be one motherfucker of a compelling story.”

  CHAPTER 18

  CULEBRA CALLS RAMON TO JOIN US. “DÍGALE.”

  Ramon looks at me, frowning. “¿Por qué? Ella no los ayuda.”

  “Confíeen me. Tell her what you told me,” Culebra insists. “Tell her your story.”

  Ramon shakes his head. His expression is stony, unconvinced by Culebra’s urging.