A Dubious Terrain (A Colton Banyon Mystery Book 4)

by Gerald J Kubicki

  “Quickly, get in,” Manual ordered with a wave of his hand.

  No one had to be told twice. They clambered down the metal steps and found themselves in a short hallway. A metal door led to a kind of barracks. It was approximately one hundred feet long and twenty feet wide. It was carved out of solid rock. There were five bunk beds located in the back of the room. Ten men could sleep comfortably. There was also electricity. Several lights beamed along the walls. Near the front of the room there was a complete kitchen with a refrigerator and microwave. In the center of the room were several tables with a variety of computer equipment covering most of the surface. Grey stood in awe.

  “How can you have electricity?” he asked.

  “We have a generator behind that wall,” Manual pointed to an alleyway. “The bathroom is also there. We can only run the generator during the night, but we also have large batteries to store the electricity for the day.”

  “How do you know of this place?” Grey inquired curiously.

  “It belongs to Danta Lopez,” Manuel casually replied.

  “I never knew of this place,” Grey commented with a hint of suspicion.

  “It is a need to know place, my friend,” Manuel answered with a grin.

  “But the Border Patrol will be able to follow our tracks to the bush up above us?” Grey noted. “We didn’t cover them?”

  “No they won’t, Amigo.”

  Before Grey could ask another question, the door to the shelter opened. Six men came down the steps carrying machine guns. One also had a rocket launcher strapped to his back. The men were all dressed in black and looked very physically fit. Their faces were covered by black ski masks. They did not take them off. They did not speak and set about cleaning their guns around the large tables in the middle of the room.

  “The guards covered our tracks. We are safe here,” Manuel informed Grey.

  “Manuel, I have been across this desert many times, but have never seen anything like this. What is this place? Who are these men? How did you find it?”

  “Grey relax, I knew where to find this place. We have several camps in this part of the desert. The shots you heard earlier were fired by these men. They fired two shots which warned me the Border Patrol was on the way and I was to use this camp for shelter. I knew exactly where to go. I have used these facilities before.”

  “How did they know that the Border Patrol was on to us?” Grey continued.

  “See these computers, we are able to monitor the radio traffic and we also have sensors along the route we use. The men noticed the Border Patrol was looking for us so they warned us. All I had to do was get us in the right direction.”

  “But, who are these guys?” Grey asked.

  “They are our Border Patrol, of course.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Eric Grey was fascinated by the sophistication of the outpost. The hooded men said nothing yet seemed to know what to do and when to do it. The place was run like a military outpost. Manuel also seemed to be fully in tune. How was this all possible?

  “I need to call Lopez and report in,” Grey announced as he pulled out his cellphone from his jeans.

  “You can’t,” replied Manuel.

  “Why not, he needs to know what is going on?” a suddenly confused Grey asked as he hit his speed dial for Lopez.

  “Cellphones won’t work down here. You have to go up top to use one and now would not a good time, my friend.” Manuel laughed as he said it.

  “So what are we going to do?” asked Grey as he noticed there was no cell reception on his phone.

  “I don’t know about you, but me and the boys are going to take a nap. We will continue our journey in a few hours — just as soon as the patrols leave the area.”

  He then ordered the two remaining boys to the bunks. Neither boy had said anything since their brother had been shot, but Grey could see they were very frightened and crying. Grey wondered how this would change Lopez’s plans. He had a bad feeling about this mission.

  Eric Grey was too nervous to sleep. He sat down on one of the chairs at the computer desk. He had to think. All this didn’t seem right. He had always had a cavalier attitude towards the illegal alien issue. He also never cared about drug trafficking. He always thought if people wanted drugs to fill their day, so what. It all was a big game to him. It was a way to make money, a lot of it. The adrenaline rush of the game was what he was after. Now, all of a sudden, he was questioning his profession. This was not a game, he thought. He suddenly realized this was a huge industry that preyed on the weak and poor. The deck seemed to be stacked against law enforcement, weak willed people and even the future of his country. He was not an American hero, but he did want life to be good for everyone, especially himself. He always had dreams of success, but had not envisioned the enslaving of others to get there, particularly young people like these boys who had no choice. His mind reeled with the impact.

  As he sat at the table, he idly turned towards one of the computer screens. It showed a map and outlined several overland routes across the desert. Grey now realized everything that went down in the desert was watched by one of these outposts. It was like the French Foreign Legion in Africa. The hooded men in the hidden room were also mercenaries, but their cause was money, not some nationalistic or altruistic goal. To make matters worse, the benefactor was a sleazebag named Danta Lopez, the head of a drug cartel. The awesome power and profitability of the Lopez cartel now scared Grey. He understood the true ruthlessness of the man. Something needed to be done to stop the ever grinding cartel.

  As Grey perused the computer screens he realized how deeply Lopez had infiltrated Homeland Security and the Border Patrol. One computer screen showed the names of the officers on duty in the area. Various markings were listed next to the names. Grey was sure that some of the markings showed who was on the payroll and who could be trusted by the cartel. Another screen listed the resources available in the area for the cartel. It listed ATVs, trucks, people, and weapons. A third computer listed future shipments of drugs and people across the desert. Nothing seemed left for a chance encounter with law enforcement.

  From nowhere he sensed motion and Grey heard, “No”.

  One of the hooded men was quickly on him and knocked him to the floor. He man stood over him and pointed to the computers. “No,” he once again voiced. He then lifted Grey like a leaf and propelled him to the bunks.

  “Sorry,” Grey said throwing up his hands. It was very clear they didn’t want him to see how the operation worked.

  As Grey sat on the edge of a lower bunk cradling his head his confusion started to clear. He was slowly reaching a new decision. Somehow he needed to bring the Lopez cartel down. Lopez ran the cartel like a fascist organization. This he hated. Everything was ‘need to know’. Grey had been like a political officer ensuring everyone toed the line and yet was not fully informed. This was not how he wanted to live.

  Grey hated fascists with a passion. His Grandmother, Sally Hand had taught him all about the evils of fascists. She had been born in Poland and had been a causality of her beauty. She wasn’t even Jewish, but had suffered a parallel fate. During the first stages of World War II, during the Polish invasion, the Nazis had used and abused her and then threw her into a concentration camp when they were done playing with her. There she hatched a plan for survival. She had been an expert with knives and convinced the Nazis she would help them by being an assassin for them. Her real goal was to find the men who had destroyed her family. She then killed them. Once that was done she disappeared in America. She had taught Eric all her skills and attitudes. Eric Grey was now turning into his Grandmother.

  He was not worried about the cartel coming after him. He knew that no one knew his real name, Eric Hand. No one could use his family as leverage. Grandma Sally had died ten years ago. His mother died at child birth. His father was unknown. Eric Hand was alone in the world. Lopez had no way to get to him other than killing him. Eric was not going to let that happen, at leas
t until he cut off the snakes head.

  He decided this mission would be the catalyst to bring down Lopez. The boys were being brought into America to do some killing. That much was clear. Grey was sure it wasn’t other drug dealers that were the target. Lopez could just get some local muscle to do that. The assassinations had to be people not involved in the drug business. Probably people fighting against drugs, he reasoned. Was it law enforcement people or maybe it was politicians? Grey needed more information to be sure. He decided to continue the mission and turn it against Lopez. But how would he do that? He had no idea what Lopez had planned.

  His thoughts were interrupted by Manuel. “It is time to go,” he announced as he roused the boys from the bunks.

  “How do you know that?” asked Grey.

  “Our lookout has sent us an email,” replied the Coyote. He pointed towards one of the computer screens. In large letters the message said, “all clear”.

  Grey was stunned by the efficiency of the organization. “Well, it is about time. My butt was getting sore on these bunks,” he blustered.

  The hooded men went first and the smaller group of travelers followed up the ladder. When they were outside the cactus ring, Grey quickly pulled out his cellphone. He opened one of his apps and noted the GPS location of the hideout. Before Grey could dial Lopez, Manuel had called him on his cellphone. He looked at Grey with a stupid grin and nodded his head while talking to the boss. Their conversation went on for several minutes. Then he turned to Grey.

  “Here, the boss wants to talk to you,” he said as he passed the phone. The look on his face was suddenly filled with suspicion.

  “Yeah, boss,” Grey said with as much energy as he could muster.

  “Eric, good to hear that you are still alive and kicking,” Lopez offered.

  “What the hell is going on?” Grey exploded. “You told me there would be no trouble from the Border Patrol.”

  “It was just a slight problem with the duty officer for the Border Patrol. He will never be a problem again,” Lopez replied with the hint of a squashed threat.

  “One of the boys was killed during the raid,” Grey announced. “I couldn’t stop it. He pulled his gun on one of the Border Patrol cops.”

  “I know, but no matter. There will be a slight change of plans. You can cover for him,” Lopez retorted.

  “What do you mean?” asked Grey.

  “He was your responsibility. Someone has to replace him. You will do his work now,” Lopez casually responded.

  “What was his work?”

  “You are going to assassinate a political figure that is not kind to me.”

  “When?” Grey nervously asked. He knew that if he balked, he would die right there in the dark cold desert.

  “Tomorrow night in Las Vegas. You don’t have a problem with that do you?” Lopez tested Grey with his question.

  “No, of course not,” Grey quickly replied with as much indignantly as he could manage. In truth, Eric Grey had never killed anyone outside of his secret Navy Seal missions, but didn’t want Lopez to know that.

  “A wise decision,” Lopez responded with the clear threat of violence attached. “Now let me talk to Manuel again.”

  Grey handed the phone back to the coyote and looked over his little flock. Something major is going down tomorrow night, he thought. I will be ready.

  Manuel grabbed the phone, “Si,” he said.

  Lopez wanted to be clear. “Listen Manuel, We don’t need any more trouble. You know how much is riding on these boys. Don’t let them out of your sight until they catch the ride.

  “Si,” the coyote replied.

  “Jose will pay you then,” Lopez continued. “You remember him. You brought him over a month ago.”

  “I don’t remember him, sir, but I will stay with the group until we find him.” Normally, the coyote abandoned his charges just after they crossed the border. This ensured that he didn’t get caught in the U.S.

  “And another thing, keep an eye on Grey. I don’t trust him. Make sure he gets drugged before he gets here.”

  “Si,” the coyote said as he eyed Grey.

  “Now get going.”

  “Si,” the coyote replied one more time and closed the phone. He slipped it back in his pocket. He signaled to the boys and they started off for the mountains.

  It took them another two hours to finally reach a dirt road. A white van was parked in a clump of trees out of sight from any prying eyes. The front doors opened as the small group neared the area. Two rough looking men stepped out and yanked open the rear doors of the van. It looked dark and cold inside as the group piled in. Grey was the last to go in and could hear Manuel talking to the other men in Spanish.

  “Here is your money,” one said as he handed Manuel a letter sized envelope.

  “Si,” Manuel said.

  “The boss docked you two hundred dollars for the bullets we had to use,” he added.

  “It wasn’t my fault,” protested Manuel. “Somebody else slipped up. I did my job. Why should I be docked?”

  “Hey, I just follow orders. The boss said to dock you, so I’m docking you. You got a problem with that, take it up with him.”

  “It wasn’t my fault,” Manuel continued to protest.

  “You lost six mules and four hundred pounds of dope,” the man replied. “You’re lucky I didn’t have an order to kill you. Why didn’t you just get rid of these couple of boys? Why are they so special?”

  Manuel smirked then replied. “They are going to assassinate some politicians Lopez wants dead. We are using the boys because they will not give Lopez up or their entire families will die. They come off of some farm in Mexico. They are your problem now, my friend, goodbye.”

  Eric Grey sat in stunned silence. The cartel wanted the innocent young boys and himself to assassinate some politicians. Lopez held their families hostage and would kill them if the boys didn’t perform. What will he do to me? Grey decided that he needed to notify the Mexican authorities and get their family free before the assassination. Then he needed to break away from the cartel people. His first act in a new life would be to save the boys.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Once he was done with his conversation, Manuel wheeled on his heal and started back towards Mexico with more than a slight feeling that a bullet might find him at any second. After a hundred yards, he began a slow lope and picked up speed on the downhill side of the mountains. His thoughts were of getting back to Mexico and having a cold beer. Because of his lack of attention, he didn’t notice there were other noises in the desert. As he passed a small group of trees, some men stepped out and grabbed him. At first Manuel wasn’t too frightened, he had been caught before. The border Patrol would process him and then send him back to Mexico. Suddenly he realized the men were not the Border Patrol.

  “Well, well, what have we here? You must be a coyote,” Spike grinned. “Do you know what we do to Coyotes?

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Eric Grey sat in the back of the print truck headed to Las Vegas. He pondered the information he had overheard from the discussion the two cartel men had as the boys were loaded onto the truck. He suddenly understood the boys were sacrificial lambs for Danta Lopez and he had been added to the mix, because one had died. This meant he was expendable too. Grey had no intentions of dying.

  He was usually very resourceful, but seemed unable to focus. As he looked at the boys he realized they were a little too relaxed and quiet. He was sure they all had been drugged and he knew how. Manuel told them there would be water for them in the truck. Grey was sure the water was drugged. He was also sure Lopez intended to keep them drugged up to the time of the assassinations. If Grey was going to do something, he needed to do it soon, before he drifted into la la land.

  He forced himself to concentrate and soon was able to function almost normally. He reached over and started to shake the nearest boy. He could barely make him open his eyes. Grey slapped him in the face and poured some of the tainted wa
ter on his head. The boys’ eyes finally opened.

  “Why are you working for these people?” Eric asked.

  “If we help them,” he muttered. “I can go to school.”

  “So they are giving you money?” Grey questioned.

  “They will pay off the farm and my family would have enough money for all three of us to go to school,” the boy explained from a dreamlike trance. Grey realized the boy didn’t seem to understand one of his brothers was already dead.

  “Are there men from the cartel at the farm watching your family?” This was a common procedure when the cartel “borrowed” someone. As soon as the task was complete, the entire family was normally killed.

  “Yes, I think so,” the boy replied while slurring his words.

  “Quickly, give me your name and address,” Grey had to shake the boy to make him open his eyes.

  “Our family name is Ortiz….”

  Eric Grey now had all the information he needed, but the drugged water was digging deeper into his consciousness. He struggled to open his phone and find the number he was looking for. Suddenly the phone slipped from his hand and dropped to the floor. He got down on his hands and knees. Grey began to feel dizzy as he attempted to find it. He bumped his head on a crate and lost consciousness. His phone lay under his body.