Several times we ended up in a precarious tilt that, had we not been strapped in, would have sent us slamming into the cab's steel interior. As it was, we were still going to show some nasty bruises from our seat belts.
After we bounced over a rise and did a three-tired side-slip—all three tires being on the same side of the rig—into a narrow ravine, we stalled in a cloud of dust and laughed to tears. Nothing like surviving a near death experience during something akin to a disaster film to send you into hysterics. It took some agonizingly slow maneuvering, but we were eventually underway once again, but now at a prudent five miles per hour.
Time ticked away, and constantly in the back of my mind was what was happening on the boat. We lost cell service about what I hoped was halfway into our trip to meet up with Mex 1, sending my tension level even further into the ozone layer.
Another worry was the fuel gauge. I had no idea what the big Cat burned, and certainly no clue how far a quarter tank would get us, even at such low speeds. After an intense two hours of jockeying us around slides, crashing into ditches and plowing through desert growth, I realized we had somehow gone wrong when I made a turn and was forced to halt. A high chainlink fence with a PELIGRO! NO TRASPASAR! PROPRIEDAD PRIVADA! blocked our way.
"Gosh, Laura, you think they want us to stay out?"
She looked dejected. I hadn't told her about the hostage situation on my boat, but she clearly wanted to get home and check on her family. No one at her house had answered her cell phone calls before we ran out of service.
"We must find another way, Mis...Hetta."
"Whose property do you think this is?"
"It must be the Boleo Mine. No one else has money for such a grand fence."
"Oh, goody! A shortcut!"
"What is a short...Hetta!"
That fence, well built or not, was no match for my two hundred ton dumpster of doom.
After we crashed through the fence, it was only another mile before we entered a working section of El Boleo, and a blessedly smooth road. They had evidently suspended all operations due to the earthquake, for vehicles of all kinds were stopped on the road, making me go around them. Several workers, at their peril, tried waving us to a halt.
Once I spotted the Sea of Cortez, shining like a turquoise beacon in the distance, I knew exactly where I was from a previous tour of the mine. That wrong turn had saved us hours. Elated, I sped up to forty miles an hour, racing past large yellow signs warning of dire consequences if one exceeded twenty kilometers an hour and I was doing about sixty. Let them dock my pay. Better yet, maybe they'd take my birthday away? But first they had to catch us.
Making a beeline for the entrance to the mine, I was spotted by the gate guards, who rushed out and began waving wildly for me to slow down and stop. Lucky for us they were unarmed, and the gate was obviously made of inferior materials.
Mex 1 was jammed with parked cars, most empty as their drivers lounged around on the fenders, waiting to hear when the road north was cleared. One unfortunate vehicle had been abandoned in my lane, so I plowed into it and shoved it to the side of the road, much to the amusement of the crowd and even my passenger, who was by now egging me on.
I knew we couldn't get all the way into town with the Cat, but was determined to get as far as possible before blocked by buildings. I didn't think even the big rig could take out a house on the first run.
The decision to abandon ship was made when I spotted a military truck loaded with marines weaving in and out of traffic, headed north. Before they could react to the threat of a large yellow monster speeding toward them, I skidded to a stop, and ended up sideways across both lanes. We scrambled down the side facing away from the marines and fled, leaving the engine running. Hitting the streets on foot, we ran to where Laura said a cousin of hers lived, only two blocks away.
We couldn't resist climbing to the second floor of Laura's cousin's house and looking back down at Mex 1, where Big Yeller was surrounded by marines. It looked as though they thought someone was still inside, and no witnesses seemed at all inclined to report that one of their own and a redhaired Gringa had hared off up the hill. You gotta love Mexicans for such wonderful passive aggression: their way of dealing with any kind of authority.
I called the boat and once again Jan answered. I guess the little turd Julio Vargas didn't want to alert me that anything was amiss, and it was working in my favor. "Everything still okay in Santa Rosalia?"
"Yes. Everything is exactly the same here." There was a shuffling sound, and I pictured Jan with the phone in hand, Julio listening in and covering the mouthpiece, then Jan asked, "Where are you?"
"Still stuck at the ix-nay mine. I guess the road will be blocked for hours."
"Okay. I'll save some amera-cay for you."
"Great. Listen, my cell batteries are getting low, so can't recharge because they've cut the generator power on the job. I'll call when I can."
I hung up and asked Laura if her cousin had Internet service. Nope. They had a quick discussion and Laura told me there was an Internet café on the main street, but she didn't think I should be seen hiking around the streets of Santa Rosalia, in case someone finally ratted us out for leaving a large yellow behemoth blocking Mex 1.
Her cousin gave me a baggy dress befitting almost every old Mexican woman's Sunday go-to-church attire and a large hat festooned with flowers. I pulled the dress on over my clothes and jammed on the hat, and with my scuffed tennis shoes peaking out below the dress's uneven hem, I accomplished a fashion statement like that of the famed Minnie Pearl. The cousin, dressed in similar garb—even including sneakers—insisted on going with me so I wouldn't stand out quite so much as I would alone. I made a note to reward her hugely if I lived through this day.
Laura wanted to go to her own house, so we said our goodbyes. I considered telling her what was happening on my boat so there would be a witness later down the road, but figured she had enough to worry about at the moment.
As we walked through town, it was obvious there had been little damage. Shop clerks were placing some merchandise back on shelves, but other than that the town had emerged unscathed. The same cannot be said for people's nerves.
The Internet café was jammed.
Unlike the States or large cities in Mexico there were no television helicopter crews feeding live shots to a waiting public. It would probably be hours before any coverage of the earthquake and landslide showed up, so everyone was using the Internet to tweet and email family members. Needless to say, with the slide blocking Mex 1 and a volcano thought dormant spewing smoke, people were frantic for word of the men and women stuck at the Lucifer Mine and other outlying areas.
I felt a twinge of guilt at my selfish escape, but if I'd let those people ride in my dumpster bed they would probably be badly injured, or worse, by now. Besides, I had my own big fish to fry, namely why Jan wanted me to turn on the boat cameras again. Something new was afoot and I needed to see what it was.
40
An insincere and evil friend is more to be feared than a wild beast; a wild beast may wound your body, but an evil friend will wound your mind.—Buddha
There were only three public computers at the Internet café and they were occupied. Rather than yank the youngsters playing games on them out of their chairs by their scrawny little necks, I waved a five-hundred peso note under their noses. The first to grab it, a twelve-year-old by the looks of him, quickly abandoned his computer, politely ushered me into the seat and stayed around to see if he could help show the old Gringa granny how to use it.
He was clearly dumbfounded when my adrenaline infused fingers flew over the keys and quickly brought up my security site. He made a comment I didn't understand and others gathered around behind me, so there was no question of privacy, but I knew no one would have any idea what they saw on my screen was live and local.
Jan and Topaz were being tied up, Po Thang was no where to be seen, and that little rat Rosario was doing the tying. I vowed to unfriend hi
m.
I activated the sound, hoping the soft click involved would alert Jan's sharp hearing that I was once again watching and listening. It evidently worked, for she looked straight past Rosario at the camera. "Rosario, listen to me. You can't trust that creep, you know."
"Julio has promised no one will be harmed. He only wants to talk with Hetta in person. To reason with her."
"Like he reasoned with Bert, Ozzie, John Warren and Safety?"
A gruff voice came from off camera, "Shut up, Blondie."
Rosario turned and looked toward the voice. "What is she talking about?"
"We think he killed them all," Jan blurted, but it was her last blurt. Julio Vargas rushed forward and stuffed a napkin in her mouth. One of my embroidered linens, I might add. At least he has good taste.
The people behind me in the Internet café moved in for a better look. I think they thought I'd tuned in to an American telenovella.
"Jan, Julio won't hurt you. He promised me."
Jan, although tied and gagged, managed a rude grunt and shot Rosario the finger.
Being so small in stature, Topaz looked as though she posed no threat to anyone, but I knew better. I didn't remember telling Rosario she was a cop, so maybe she'd have the advantage of surprise. Especially since it was obvious Rosario couldn't successfully secure a shoelace; he'd tied Jan's wrists in front of her and finished off the job with a bow, for crying out loud.
Rosario moved toward Topaz with a ball of what looked like string. I began to wonder if Rosario wasn't playing Julio himself. After all, he knew there were probably three or four hundred feet of line and a bag of at least two-hundred tie wraps on the spare bunk in the guest cabin. And he knew about the cameras, but evidently hadn't mentioned them to Vargas, as they were still running. I began to have hope.
I heard a whine off-camera. Rosario turned and said, "You know, Julio, we must take this dog out for his walk."
"Let the mongrel go."
Po Thang growled. I mean, mongrel?
"We cannot do that. If he is loose the marina personnel will bring him back."
"Then take the pinche dog out, but be quick about it. I'll keep an eye on these two. Damned earthquake. We should be halfway to Belize by now. On second thought, while you're out with the dog see what you can learn about the road. I...uh, we, can't stay around here forever."
"Why do we not just leave? What are we waiting for?"
"I need to know how much Coffey knows, and who she told."
"She won't tell you anything. Hetta is...well, scary. And very stubborn."
I'm scary? Good.
"Oh, yes she will. If she values her friends here."
"You said—"
"You know, Rosario, you were always a wimp, even in high school. I should have known better than to hire you for a job that takes a real man. Look, I know what I said, but if Coffey won't talk I'll make her, you understand? You had no trouble taking the money, did you, hermano? Man up. We will do whatever it takes to get out of here and we don't want a bunch of loose ends."
41
Texas women have an amazing sense of purpose when they lose it. They're the best girls in the world—they're loyal and fun, but when they get mad, they'll try to kill you.—John Cusack
Don't Mess With Texas—Hetta Coffey
Now me and my friends are just loose ends to be tidied up? I knew what that meant.
Anger fueled my feet. I didn't realize I could run so fast.
The minute I heard Julio Vargas tell Rosario to go ahead and take Po Thang for a walk, I knew what to do. I covered the three blocks to the marina in what seemed both seconds and hours. I had to catch Rosario and Po Thang before they went back into the boat. Po Thang is a creature of habit and I knew he'd stretch that walk as far as possible, and as long, sniffing everything and doing at least one or two false squats. This ritual I normally found annoying was suddenly his best trait.
Good dog.
I had to take my chances with Rosario. I didn't dare contact the cops, as they were most likely looking for some Gringa who abandoned a huge yellow monster on Mex 1 by now. I had shot a quick email to Nacho, but had no idea where he was, and anyone else I knew who would help me was definitely too far away.
I had to act now, and alone if I couldn't count on Rosario. And if Rosario interfered in any way, he'd end up badly. I wasn't sure how I would accomplish such a feat, but I can be one very determined, scary, stubborn woman when I have to be.
Man, oh, man, where are my guns when I need them?
When I reached the marina grounds, I entered through a back gate they left open most of the day for delivery and garbage trucks. From there I took the stairs to the second level, where the swimming pool and marina offices were. Luckily, the offices were on the opposite side of the building, and accessed via a different set of steps. Maintenance staff had left for the day and I thanked my lucky stars that I was pretty much the only occupied boat at the marina, meaning no nosy cruisers around.
Hugging the wall, I made my way to where I had an unhampered line of sight of the docks and the grounds. I didn't see Po Thang and Rosario at first, but had a clear view of the Port Captain's office next door. It occurred to me that they could see me, as well, but I knew they wouldn't think twice about a cruiser wandering around the pool area.
I spotted Rosario and Po Thang coming into the parking lot and hoped the dog didn't give me up. Scooting back down the stairs, I hugged the building near the ramp down to the docks. I knew for a fact that there was no way Po Thang was going down that ramp without one last shot at an oleander bush next to the building. I moved behind the bush, taking that dress off as I did so.
Now hidden from prying eyes at the Port Captain's office as well as anyone on the docks, I waited and sure enough, I heard Rosario say, "Oh, okay. One more stop, but that's it, you hear?"
About that time Po Thang either sensed, saw or smelled me. That smelled part was a serious possibility, as it had been a pretty stinky day for me. Anyway, he whined, barked and surged forward, dragging Rosario into range before he could put the brake on the twenty-five foot retractable leash. When he did, he sealed his fate.
Throwing the dress over his head, I grabbed the leash and wound it around his neck and torso. Po Thang, still attached to the leash, was pulled into the mess and ended up bound to Rosario. Both dog and man were struggling, making matters worse. I managed to get Po Thang's collar released before he strangled, but Rosario wasn't so lucky. He stopped fighting, dropped to his knees and began gasping for air.
I kicked him onto his back and rolled him on the ground, unwinding the leash like a top, but not as fast. By the time I freed Rosario and pulled the tattered dress from his head, his lips were slightly blue. Po Thang bravely dashed in to administer his version of CPR, taking full advantage of an inert figure that couldn't reject his overactive tongue.
I was trying to recall my CPR training when Po Thang took matters into his own paws. He jumped into the middle of Rosario's chest, his front paws landing in the right spot to make Rosario cough and gasp.
There was a water hose nearby, so I turned it on and gave the still gasping Rosario a drink. Po Thang took this as a sign it was water toy time, lunged in and took the hose from me, happily spraying us all in the process.
Rosario, resuscitated and sprayed, focused on me with somewhat crossed eyes. "Hetta? How did you get here? I was told the road is still blocked."
"Later for that. Look, I know Julio Vargas hired you and that you're up to your scrawny neck in this embezzlement thing, but right now I have to trust you to help me get Jan and Topaz away from that boat."
"But—"
"No buts. If you help me I might, and that's a big might, let you live."
"He won't harm them."
"Really? And why not? Do you know Bert's and the others' houses burned to the ground Saturday night? And that their boat was found torched on Sunday? Your good friend Julio has most likely murdered four of your coconspirators. Why should he let you, me
, Jan, Topaz, or anyone else involved, live? What's to keep him from taking the entire seven million and disappearing?"
"How did you know about the seven million?"
"Jan downloaded the contents of your laptop, that's how. You aren't the only one hacking into people's stuff."
"She did? You knew I was involved?"
"Yes, we finally figured it out. Tell me this, though, did you fake your own death and then throw suspicion on Bert, Ozzie, John and Safety?"
"Yes, Julio said that once we left the country, they would not be looking for me, and the other four would take the fall, but the mining company would rather take a loss than make such inept management known to the investors. Julio would stay for a time in Mexico City, indignant that these foreigners would steal from them, then he'd resign. No one would be hurt."
Just The Pits (Hetta Coffey Series) Page 24
