by M C Rowley
“Yes,” I said. “Who is he?”
She turned and took off her thin jacket. I looked at Jairo, who stared at her.
“We’ll find out soon enough,” she said.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Outside, a commotion started up. Lots of voices, hushed but excited, full of urgency. They got louder. Not excited. Angry.
“I have to go,” said Jean Santos. She pointed at Jairo like a headmistress. “You, with me.”
Jairo got up. So did I.
We opened the door and saw the reason for the noise.
Gustavo Snr was walking slowly, surrounded by other men. He was cradling the dead body of his son, Gustavo Jr., long arms dangling down lifelessly, swinging stiffly as rigor mortis set in.
Around Gustavo, people were crying and shouting. Slowly, the procession passed us and eyes turned to the strangers in the village. Jairo held up his hands and walked to Gustavo and put his hand on the man’s shoulder. We couldn’t hear what was said, but Gustavo seemed appeased.
More and more people came out of their houses to join the mourning procession, and the air grew thick with people crying, shouting, asking questions. Jairo, Jean, and I followed behind, through the village, until we reached the small Virgin of Guadalupe shrine that was a definite installation in every Mexican town. Here, younger men took the corpse from Gustavo, and the leader walked up the two steps and waved his hand for quiet. Gradually, the chatter and sniffling and sobbing turned to silence.
“They will come,” he said in Spanish.
Villagers turned to each other. Of course, Jean, Jairo, and I knew very well who Gustavo was talking about.
I decided to walk toward the house. There was no need to stay and listen to this. We were outsiders, not part of this resistance. Jean seemed to get what I was thinking and followed.
“I thought you were off,” I said.
She said nothing and walked alongside me. The ground looked white in the moonlight, like an underdeveloped photograph. Jairo appeared at my other side.
“The village will prepare to fight,” he said. “Depends how long Codigo X take to find this place.”
Not for the first time that night, my hand almost went to touch the wire.
I looked up at the sky and something caught my eye. In the distance, and high, moving fast through the air.
A big plane.
“Look,” I said, and Jean and Jairo followed my gaze.
Jean turned her stare to me. “It’s possible.”
“From the same base?”
Jean nodded. “Can you give us a few minutes?”
“Of course,” I said, trying to hide my slight frustration as I walked through the door. Once inside, I sat on the bed and thought of how much I needed to see Eleanor right now. Where was she? Where would she be? Questions that I could only answer if we got on a plane out of here.
After ten minutes, the door burst open and Jean and Jairo entered.
“Sit down,” said Jean. “We have a plan.”
I felt relief. Jean seemed so in control. Only a few hours ago she had been facing a machete with her neck its next victim, and now she was full of beans.
Jairo pulled up a chair, while Jean moved around the table and spoke straight away, staring at me with teacher eyes.
“We think we can get another plane out of here.”
“Okay,” I said.
And then I remembered the wire. I would have missed it if it hadn’t dug into my side as I got comfortable.
Jean went to carry on, but I lifted a finger and put it to my mouth.
Jean and Jairo looked at me, puzzled.
I looked around for some paper, keeping the shush signal at my lips, but there was none. So I stood and lifted my shirt to reveal the wiretap with its cable duct-taped to my stomach.
Jean’s and Jairo’s eyes widened and they stood instinctively.
We had been silent for too long, I thought, so I said, “I don’t think the plane is an option.”
Jean smiled a thin, calculating smile and said, “It is an option. We’re here, in the Badland, only a rope bridge away from the main road. We aren’t protected.”
Jairo shot Jean a look of fury. I followed his gaze. What the hell was Jean doing?
“We will leave early tomorrow morning.”
Jairo maintained his gaze. Jean held her finger to her mouth.
“Dyce, you can come with us.”
“When? How?”
“We’ll get picked up.”
Piece by piece, I realized what she was aiming to do. Draw Código X here. I shook my head. Bad idea.
Jairo stayed quiet, confused but trusting Jean. I nodded, but questions flooded my head.
Jean stood and said, “Come,” and walked into the back room. I went through and she was standing in the small bathroom. She turned the tap on full blast and ushered me to come close. The noise was loud and was all the mike would pick up for sure.
Jean leaned over to me, her lips almost touching ear, and whispered, “What’s the problem? You worried about these people?”
I turned to her ear and whispered back, “They’ll be destroyed.”
Jean leaned back and smiled. She turned the taps off.
“Come with me,” she said.
We walked back outside. At the end of the village the congregation had become large. And they were drinking and shouting. We walked the other way.
Jean said, “You haven’t figured it out, have you?”
“I guess not,” I said, matching her pace. We were walking away from the crowd toward the last of the buildings. Toward the large building I’d seen from the hill the first morning.
“Gustavo and his people are no innocents,” she said as we stopped at the large double doors. There was a four-inch padlock bolted around about three yards of chain holding it shut.
“Nothing seem strange to you about this place?”
I knew there was. But I had failed to put my finger on it.
“Seen any kids?”
I thought about it. That was it. There weren’t any. And hardly any women either.
Jean turned. Jairo had come up behind her.
“Open it,” she said.
Jairo shook his head. Jean was pointing at the door. Jairo had a key?
“Do it, Jairo,” she said.
I had to admire her authority over my son. If I spoke to him in a similar fashion, I was sure I’d end up on my ass.
Jairo begrudgingly withdrew a key and undid the padlock. The large steel doors opened, and with one last look around we stepped into the darkness. No one had seen a thing, too engulfed by the killing of the leader’s son.
Inside, it was pitch black. Not a single window. I heard Jean or Jairo scuffling for the lights.
Click, and suddenly I was blinded by stark white light. My eyes adjusted and I saw instantly what Jean meant.
The space was new, relatively. And it was best described as a mess of barrels and vats and Rotoplas water tanks. Between them thick hoses and tubes ran along the floor and several portable motors sat amongst the clutter. The smell of ammonia was intense.
A narco-lab.
I’d seen countless in magazines and newspapers and on the news, but that was always after the explosion that had alerted the authorities to their whereabouts. This one was just fine. In fact, it was in full production.
Jean had her arms crossed, a smug grin on her face.
“You see?”
I felt sick from the stench.
“Not exactly the upstanding revolutionary resistance community you’d first imagined.”
“Get out now,” said Jairo. “They’ll see us.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Maybe it was the stench of ammonia mixed up with the adrenalin still swilling around my body from seeing X03 doing his machete demo on stage. Or perhaps it was the fact Luciana was somewhere in the jungle, watching and listening to us. Either way, as Jairo barged past me to head back outside, a fork of anger struck my system and I pushed h
im hard on the shoulder. He stumbled a bit, but turned fast, fists clenched and arms raised in a boxing position meant to block.
It didn’t deter me. “So we’re narcos? Helping narcos fight other narcos?”
Jairo looked as though he were seriously weighing up whether to knock me out. Yet I persisted.
“Well?”
Jean walked up behind me and touched my arm. I pushed her hand away.
I said, “Well, Jairo? Do you have an actual opinion? Or is it all just sulking and kicking things? Why did you rescue me? What was the point? These people are bad. They make drugs. Drugs that ruin people’s lives. And you? What am I thinking? You’re as bad, if not worse.”
As the words came out I wished I could retract them. But still, I couldn’t help but see that same scene again, after we forced the cops to crash and Jairo blew their brains out, a routine task for him. Such violence pedestrian to his life.
“You’d be dead if it weren’t for me,” said Jairo.
I said, “This is useless. Your plan fell to shit. And we’re stuck back here in this godforsaken dump. It’s not even a village, just a glorified crack den.”
“Good luck on your own then,” said Jairo and stomped off through the door back outside.
I walked out of the lab, still needing to get a whole bunch of crap off my chest, but Jean held my arm, not aggressively but with a firmness that removed the need to say: Don’t. Stay.
My head hurt. I was tired. I knew that much. Maybe it was just that. I didn’t know.
Jean turned back to the lab’s door, closed it, and replaced the thick padlock. She then walked back to my side. Jairo had disappeared from sight and likely headed back to the house. I didn’t care. The moon was bright now, illuminating the cloudless sky behind the silhouettes of the tallest trees.
“You should be more thankful, you know,” said Jean. “Your son carries a great burden.”
As she said this, her hand went up my shirt and grabbed the wire and pulled it off, ripping my skin.
“Ouch! What are you doing?”
“Doesn’t matter now. They’re coming. The location will have been passed on.”
Jean threw the wire, with its tangle of cables and little black boxes, deep into the trees.
“Why are you helping us?”
“Him,” corrected Jean. “Jairo asked us to get you out of here too. We agreed. That’s all.”
“Okay, so why Jairo? Who do you work for?”
Jean smiled. “Does it matter who I work for?”
I thought about it. “I guess not.”
“Jairo has information that we need. Information that could save a lot of lives. He also has a particular skillset that we value a great deal.”
I still felt frustrated with him and scoffed.
“What’s that? Washing up crack?”
Jean’s face turned stern, like I’d mocked her favorite cousin or something.
“You’ll see in good time.”
“Well, he’s impossible to talk to. I can’t stand it. We lost him for twenty-two years. My wife never gave up. Me neither. And when I found out he was still alive, I just…”
I felt a lump in my throat.
“Let’s walk,” said Jean.
We started off up the main pathway through the village. Soon the fires at the other end came into view. We saw people drinking, hovering around, talking, praying. The altar was covered with candles. Gustavo Snr was kneeling in front of it.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw movement in the sky. I looked up and again saw a plane, flying almost vertically, gaining altitude.
Jean pointed at it. “See that?”
I nodded. “Yes.”
“That’s the second plane in the last two hours. From the military base. That’s our way out.”
“Oh, great,” I said. “Glad you’ve thought it through.”
Jean laughed a bit.
“Sorry,” I said. “I guess I’m pretty tired.”
“Look,” said Jean. “I need you to keep Jairo calm. This is the critical stage. I need to extract him as soon as possible. Tonight was a screwup and my bosses won’t be pleased. But if he loses his cool and we lose him down here, it’s over.”
“What’s over?”
Jean looked pensive. We were still walking and her expression didn’t change.
“Our chance of getting Reynolds.”
“But how can Jairo help with that?”
“He knows things,” she said.
“Like what?” My frustration was boiling back up again.
Jean sighed and seemed resigned to telling me. “He’s the only person we know who’s seen Reynolds in the flesh.”
“What?”
“Dates are unclear. And he isn’t being forthright with the information either, not until he’s safely stateside. That was our deal.”
We reached the end of the buildings and began walking up the small mount.
Jean continued, “It’s a fragment of information. But Jairo has told us enough to make us believe it’s worthwhile following up on.”
“What’s in it for him? He doesn’t seem to care what happens to his family.”
“Maybe he does. Just doesn’t choose to show it.”
I said nothing.
“All we know is that Jairo has seen this Mr. Reynolds. Up close.”
“How the hell would he have…?”
“He was sent by his former employer.”
“Esteban,” I said. “Jairo saw him? The real Reynolds?”
“That’s right.”
“So you’re flying him out of here to what, locate Reynolds again?”
“It’s not that simple,” said Jean.
“What does Reynolds do? A narco? Politics?”
Jean frowned. “Honestly,” she said, “I don’t know the full extent. But he’s more powerful than you could possibly imagine.”
“And you want him gone.”
Jean nodded. “Yes. We want him gone.”
“What has Jairo told you?”
“Not much. But enough to get my boss excited. They send me. We bring him in. Maybe we catch a most-wanted anonymous crime ring.”
“Thank you,” I said. “For telling me something.”
We walked back down the mount toward the buildings.
“So how do we sneak onto one of those planes?”
Jean said, “I’m hoping we won’t have to.”
“Huh?”
“You’ll see,” said Jean. “You’ll see.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
My eyes opened and the cement ceiling seemed like it was in touching distance. I reached out my hand and my vision readjusted. I breathed in deeply, smelling the hot dirt from outside, dry and dusty. The scent was mixed with something else, but I couldn’t place it. I closed my eyes again. The couch hadn’t been that bad, although I could have slept anywhere. Even X03’s show hadn’t haunted my dreams, although now I was awake again the headless corpse being dragged across the stage, still tied up, stuck in my mind and replayed over and over like some macabre version of a school play. I opened my eyes, spun on my butt, and sat up.
Then the smell hit me.
Ammonia. Sickly and putrid and powerful.
I called out for Jairo and Jean but got no reply. I heard voices outside and suddenly felt hungry. I felt for the wire and remembered Jean had chucked it away.
I stood up and dragged myself outside, still dressed in the cop pants and shirt. People were lined up along the path, talking and moving things around.
I walked up to a younger guy and asked, “Hay comida?”
Is there any food?
He looked at me with what was unmistakably anger. Rebuffed, I was about to ask what his problem was when I realized that the people around us were looking in the other direction. I turned and the source of the stench became clear.
The big building at the end of the village—the narcolab—was fully ablaze. Thick plumes of black and yellowy smoke rose into the pale-blue sky. Below that, the ma
jority of the villagers were throwing buckets of water into the inferno, tripping over each other in an attempt to reach the heart of the blaze. It was pointless. The fire had taken and the chemicals inside the building were fueling the flames with vigor.
I scanned the trees around the village first, looking for movement. Anything. But I supposed Luciana was better than that. I scanned the houses, one by one. Still couldn’t find Jairo or Jean.
What was it Jean had said?
They’re already coming.
Código X.
The villagers’ movements were urgent, rushed, and determined. Men came in and out of buildings holding guns, riot shields, and batons. One guy even held a piece of rope.
They were readying for war. And to protect what? Children? Their families?
No. Their drug production.
Which was no more.
I looked up at the infinite blue sky. The sun was already halfway up its ascent, blazing down on us. Something caught my eye in the distance.
Another plane.
A small black speck, like a grain of rice, it was rising into the air, leaving a jet stream in its wake. Jean was right: That was our way out. But getting to it, let alone getting on the damn thing, seemed beyond impossible.
I got up and looked for Jairo or Jean. I felt anxious to get started on a plan. Anything but stay here. As I did, I saw a small group stomping into the village from the track that led to the bridge.
Four men and Jean. She had a face like thunder. And she looked afraid. Or worried. Very worried.
I got up and jogged down the slope to the main strip and approached them.
“Jean,” I said.
She turned and glared at me like some irritating stepchild she’d been lumbered with.
“Where’s —?”
She cut me off, “We don’t know. Jairo’s gone. His stuff is untouched. Just the clothes he was wearing yesterday are gone.”
The men around her looked a little confused, not understanding the depth of the problem.
“He must have gone exploring. To find a way out for us,” I said, knowing I was clutching at straws.
“No,” said Jean.
“Luciana,” I said.
Jean nodded. “I was hoping they’d take all three of us.”
