‘Was Manny after the money?’ Ben asked.
De Silva clicked the remote and a photograph of the bank’s exterior appeared on the screen.
‘I think it was a hit, pure and simple. Rocky was trying to make a getaway when Manny unloaded his Glock into the car.’ The picture was replaced with an image of the bullet-riddled Chrysler lying on its side. ‘We’ve also now established that Rocky made a regular cash deposit at this branch, into an account in the name of Alamo City Cleaners, a legitimate laundry and dry-cleaning business based on San Antonio’s south side. We think that Alamo City Cleaners is a front for the Árbol cartel in Texas.’
‘A money-laundering laundry,’ quipped Tex Austin, generating laughs around the room. ‘They put the proceeds of crime through its books.’
‘Captain,’ said Charlie, ‘could you fill Sergeant F and myself in on the Árbol and Estrella cartels and their leaders?’
‘Sure thing, Sergeant,’ De Silva responded. ‘Árbol is Spanish for “tree”. The Árbol cartel has been around for more than forty years, and its name reflects the fact that it has branches above ground while its roots spread unseen everywhere underground. Seven or eight years ago, when competition between cartels was intensifying, Árbol recruited the Estrella boys from the Mexican Armed Forces to be their muscle. The Estrella boys acted as the bodyguards for Árbol leaders and kept their low-level operatives in line. If there was conflict with other cartels, it was Estrella pistoleros, or gunmen, who were on the firing line for Árbol.’
‘But the Estrella blokes fell out with their Árbol masters?’ said Charlie.
‘Right on the money,’ said De Silva. ‘The Estrella boys decided they wanted more than the thousands of dollars they were being paid. They wanted the millions that Árbol was raking in every week from their criminal activities.’
‘What kind of criminal activities?’ Ben asked.
‘Protection rackets, kidnapping and extortion, robberies, gambling, prostitution, gun-running, drug-running – you name it. Árbol also had a kind of code of honour, where they didn’t get involved in anything that was harmful to kids. Estrella don’t abide by that code.’
‘Crooks with a code of honour are still crooks,’ Charlie remarked.
‘Árbol’s code is like a smoker doing loads of exercise, thinking that will make up for the damage they’re doing to their lungs,’ De Silva agreed. ‘Twisting logic to justify the harm they’re doing.’
‘And to justify the money they’re making,’ Ben added.
‘Estrella don’t care who gets hurt,’ said De Silva. ‘They’re trained killers, with no scruples. And they wanted Árbol to get more heavily involved in narcotics, to make more money. When the Árbol leadership wouldn’t agree, the Estrella group broke away and set up on their own.’
‘Captain, where did the Estrella name come from?’ Charlie asked.
‘Estrella means “star”. They consider themselves the stars of the Mexican crime world. After the split, in 2004, there was a brief and bitter war between the two cartels until the Green Parrot organised a truce with the chief of Estrella, Raphael Vicente. It’s been an uneasy alliance but it has held up until now. Our sources tell us that Vicente has recently died from cancer, and this has left Antonio Lopez in charge of Estrella. Let me tell you, Lopez will stop at nothing to bring Árbol under his control. My theory is that he’s the one behind Rocky Marron’s assassination. I think that Lopez is out to destroy the Árbol leadership, to move in on Árbol’s criminal territory.’
‘So, you think the Green Parrot is next on his hit list?’ Ben asked.
De Silva nodded. ‘You got it.’
‘You don’t think that Estrella is just sending Árbol a message, Captain?’ Tex Austin asked.
‘It was a message, sure enough, and the message was “I’m coming to get you, Marron”,’ said De Silva. ‘It was easier to get the Green Parrot’s brother here in the US. But Lopez will be looking for a way to get Carlos Marron in Mexico, don’t you worry.’
‘Tell us about the Green Parrot,’ said Charlie.
‘He’s a fan of Elvis Presley,’ De Silva said with a smile. ‘Marron’s been known to dress as Elvis and sing a few of his numbers to entertain his gang members. He is smart. In fact, he’s cunning as a fox. That’s how he’s avoided jail all these years. It will be interesting to see how he reacts to the assassination of his little brother and to see what he does to protect himself. Will he go after Lopez? Will he launch a full-scale war against Estrella? If he does, that spells trouble for a whole bunch of people – ourselves included.’
A few days later, Sergeant Austin drove Ben and Caesar to Joe’s Doghouse, in the Far West Side of San Antonio, not far from Government Canyon State Natural Area. Ben sat in the back of the sergeant’s station wagon for the drive out along a freeway. Caesar began the journey sitting beside Ben, but before long he lay down with his head on his master’s lap. Every now and then he would lift his head and try to lick Ben’s face. He could sense that they would soon be parting.
Staff were hosing down concrete-and-wire animal enclosures when the station wagon drove up the poplar-lined driveway to the quarantine facility, which spread over several acres. A sign said: ‘Canines and their two-legged friends welcome at Joe’s Doghouse.’ Once the station wagon pulled up, Ben and Sergeant Austin alighted, and their ears were immediately met by barking and howling. Caesar heard this too and, dropping his head, lingered on the back seat.
‘Come on, Caesar, out you get,’ Ben said, clicking his fingers.
But Caesar didn’t budge. He looked directly ahead, as if he hadn’t seen or heard Ben’s instruction.
‘What’s got into him?’ Sergeant Austin asked with a frown. ‘Or didn’t he hear you?’
Ben smiled to himself. ‘He heard me just fine. Caesar’s heard all the barking and knows what’s going to happen. I thought he was being especially affectionate on the drive here. He usually knows before the event that we’re going to be separated for a while.’
‘Doggy sixth sense?’
‘Something like that.’
‘And I guess that all these barking dogs here are telling him that the place is full of lonely mutts?’
‘I’m afraid so. Imagine how we’d feel if we arrived at a hotel and all you could hear was the sound of unhappy occupants yelling and complaining. Can’t be helped, though. We have to go through with this.’ Ben clicked his fingers again. ‘Out you get, Caesar,’ he said, more firmly than before, pointing to the ground at his feet. ‘Right here!’
This time Caesar complied, jumping down to the ground and taking a seat beside his master. He glanced up at Ben with a sad expression, as if to say, Please don’t leave me here, boss.
Ben fixed his leash to the labrador’s collar. ‘Rules are rules, mate. There was a time when war dogs weren’t allowed back into Australia at all after overseas service, so we’re lucky we can get you back.’
While Sergeant Austin waited outside, Ben led Caesar in through the facility’s glass front doors.
A khaki-uniformed receptionist, a girl of no more than eighteen, saw the pair and smiled.
‘Hi there! Welcome to Joe’s Doghouse,’ she said in a chirpy voice. Her eyes dropped to Caesar, who trotted along beside Ben with both his head and tail low. ‘And you must be Caesar. We were expecting you – all the way from Australia, I hear.’ She raised her gaze to Ben. ‘Does he only understand Australian, sir? Or will he be okay with our American attendants? No one here speaks Australian.’
Ben chuckled. ‘We speak English in Australia. Caesar will understand everything your staff say to him as long as it’s not in Spanish,’ he replied. ‘Even then, he’d pick up the gist of what was being said from the tone of the speaker’s voice and their body language. Besides, Caesar knows a couple hundred hand signals, so spoken commands are not always necessary.’
The receptionist beamed. ‘Wow! What a clever dog. I wish my dog would obey hand signals. That would be real cool.’
‘It�
�s all a matter of training,’ Ben assured her.
As they were talking, a tall, bald man with a neat grey beard emerged from a glass-walled office behind the reception desk. Like the receptionist, he wore a khaki uniform emblazoned with the Joe’s Doghouse logo.
‘Howdy!’ he said, advancing toward them with a welcoming smile. ‘This wouldn’t be the famous Caesar, by any chance?’
‘Sure is.’ Ben looked the man up and down. His skin resembled tanned leather – he was clearly an outdoorsman. Ben guessed the fellow was close to seventy years old, but he walked with the sprightliness of a man forty years younger.
‘Joe Levine,’ the man introduced himself, grasping Ben by the hand with a vice-like grip. He then squatted beside Caesar. ‘Howdy, Caesar boy. Welcome to my doghouse.’ He ruffled Caesar’s neck.
Caesar immediately took a liking to the big American. His tail began to wag and he attempted to lick Joe on the cheek.
‘He likes you,’ said Ben.
‘And I like him,’ said Joe, giving Caesar a pat on the flank before coming back to his feet. ‘His reputation precedes him. I’m sorry we don’t have a presidential suite here for a dog as famous as Caesar. But we’ll look after him, don’t you worry, Sergeant.’
Despite the warm welcome from the facility’s owner, Caesar now pressed against Ben’s leg and looked up at him with a look that seemed to say, Let me stay with you, boss.
Ben felt a twinge of guilt. Dropping to one knee, he pulled the labrador into an embrace. ‘It can’t be helped, mate,’ he said soothingly. ‘Unless you want to stay in America for the rest of your days, we both have to go through this separation for a while.’
‘I guess you’ve both been through this a few times before,’ said Joe.
‘We sure have,’ Ben said sadly, straightening again.
‘I had a lab like Caesar when I served in Vietnam,’ said Joe. ‘Had to leave him behind when we pulled out. Weren’t no quarantine arrangements for war dogs back then.’
‘That must have been tough.’
‘It was tough. My dog, Star, went to a guy in the South Vietnamese Government. He had a big French colonial mansion in Saigon with loads of garden space for Star to run around in. But, of course, the North Vietnamese overran the south after the US pulled out, and the South Vietnamese Government fell.’
‘What happened to your dog?’
‘I heard that his new owner disappeared after becoming a prisoner of the North Vietnamese. I’ve been back to Vietnam twice but have never been able to find out what happened to him, or to Star. His colonial mansion in Saigon is a school now. And of course the name of Saigon was changed to Ho Chi Minh City. Everything had changed. And no one knew a darn thing about Star.’
‘Sorry to hear that,’ said Ben. ‘I know how close a military handler and his dog become. Caesar is part of my family, and we’ve been through a lot together.’
‘You got that right, part of the family.’ Joe sighed. ‘Losing Star was like losing my kid.’ Feeling the mood dip, he promptly made a conscious effort to shake off his melancholy. ‘So, you can be sure that we’re going to take real good care of Caesar. He’ll be like part of our family.’ He glanced over at the receptionist. ‘Right, Cindy?’
‘Right, Pops,’ Cindy replied.
‘Cindy’s my granddaughter,’ Joe explained proudly.
‘Did you receive my email detailing Caesar’s dietary requirements and exercise regime?’ Ben asked. ‘It’s essential they be followed.’
Joe nodded. ‘It’s all in the system.’ He held out a hand, to take Caesar’s leash from Ben. ‘You can leave him with us, Sergeant. We’ll take tiptop care of him.’
Ben looked down at Caesar, who looked right back up at him with pleading eyes. Ben always dreaded parting with his canine partner. Apart from the sadness he felt, he was wracked by guilt, even though he knew that this was the way things had to be. Dropping to one knee again, he gave Caesar another hug and a vigorous pat. ‘Be a good soldier,’ he said, ‘and you’ll soon be back home with Josh and Maddie and Nan and me.’
The mention of all the members of the Fulton family waiting for him back home in Australia set Caesar’s tail wagging.
‘That’s it, mate. Enjoy your stay here.’ Ben kissed the top of Caesar’s head, then rose back to his feet and handed Caesar’s leash to Joe. ‘Take good care of him.’
‘You got it, Sergeant. So, to be clear, you won’t be coming back to collect Caesar when his stay here is over?’
‘No, the San Antonio Police Department will be sending someone to collect him and take him to the airport for the flight back to Australia.’
‘Got it, and of course we’ll organise all the veterinary checks and clearances for his trip back Down Under.’
Ben looked at Caesar. ‘Sit!’ he commanded. And Caesar immediately sat. ‘Caesar, stay!’ To emphasise the command, Ben pointed his index finger at Caesar.
Caesar returned his gaze with a pleading look that seemed to say, Don’t leave me here, boss. I want to go with you.
‘Be a good boy for Joe, and I’ll see you soon.’ Ben turned and strode to the door, deliberately stopping himself from looking back. He knew that if he did, it would make leaving more difficult.
Caesar watched the door as it closed behind Ben. He felt the tug on his leash and rose to follow Joe, his tail down.
‘Come, and I’ll introduce you to all your new buddies,’ said Joe. ‘Having said that, you’ll be in quarantine, so there’ll be no fraternising. You get a room all to yourself in the quarantine wing.’
After travelling for close to twenty-four hours, Ben walked through the door at 3 Kokoda Crescent in Holsworthy, New South Wales. Just as he let his kitbag sag from his shoulder and slip to the floor, an unfamiliar sound met his ears – the pounding of drums. He walked along the corridor to investigate and stopped at the door to his son’s bedroom. Ben opened the door.
Josh was seated at a drum kit that had been crammed into his room beside his bed. With earphones in, Josh was singing off-key and drumming along to a tune playing on his iPod. Looking up, he saw his bemused father standing in the doorway, and grinned.
A knowing smile spread across Ben’s face. With a wave, he withdrew and closed the door.
‘Daddy! You’re back from special-opping!’
Ben turned to see Maddie running toward him. ‘Princess!’ he said, scooping her up in his arms. ‘Yes, I’m back,’ he said, almost shouting to be heard over Josh’s drumming. ‘Minus Caesar, sadly. But we’ll have him back with us before long.’
‘Poor Caesar,’ Maddie said. ‘I bet he misses us. Is his doggy hotel nice?’
‘Yes, he’ll get the best of care there,’ Ben assured her.
Maddie frowned. ‘Daddy, I’m worried about him. I was looking at some pictures I took the night before you both went away. Can I show you?’
‘Sure.’ Puzzled, Ben set her down on her feet.
She led him to her bedroom and brought up the photos on her phone. ‘See. Caesar looks evil. As if the Devil has professed him.’
‘Where did you hear about the Devil possessing people?’ Ben asked, inspecting the picture of Caesar. He appeared to be in Maddie’s room in the dark and his eyes glowed red.
‘On TV. People’s heads spin all the way around and everything!’
‘That’s just made-up stuff,’ said Ben. ‘It doesn’t really happen. All dogs’ eyes glow in the dark like that if light shines into them, Maddie. A membrane called the tapetum sits behind a dog’s eye. It reflects light and helps the retina register light that enters the eye. That’s why dogs can see at least four times better at night than we can.’
‘Four times better?’ said Maddie, impressed. ‘So, Caesar isn’t professed by the Devil?’
Ben couldn’t help but chuckle. ‘No, Caesar isn’t possessed by the Devil. He’s just got different eyes to us.’
‘It’s like he’s got a superpower.’
‘I suppose you’re right.’ In the background, Josh was still
pounding the drums. ‘Let’s go see what Nan’s up to.’ Ben took Maddie into his arms and carried her to the kitchen, where Nan sat waiting for a cake to bake.
Nan smiled and laid aside her magazine. ‘Home again, home again, jiggity-jig,’ she said.
‘When did that happen?’ Ben said, nodding toward Josh’s bedroom. He set Maddie back on her feet. ‘He’s good. Where’d the drum kit come from?’ He closed the kitchen door behind him, shutting out the noise.
‘I hired it for him. He’d love one of his own,’ said Nan. ‘He’s started a band at school with Baxter Chung, Kelvin Corbett and a very nice boy called Ash, who is the lead vocalist.’
‘The singer, Nan,’ Maddie corrected.
‘The singer,’ said Nan, winking at Ben.
‘This is all news to me,’ said Ben, sagging down into a chair.
‘You have been away a lot lately. And Josh wanted to surprise you.’
‘He surprised me, all right,’ Ben said with a chuckle.
‘And Caesar is in quarantine in the US?’ said Nan.
Ben nodded wearily.
‘I think it’s silly that Caesar has to be quaramteemed,’ said Maddie. ‘Why don’t people have to be quaramteemed when they go to other countries, too? We can catch diseases and bring them back, can’t we?’
‘We can, and do, all the time,’ said Ben. ‘And years ago people were regularly quarantined when major epidemics broke out. That was before air travel took over from sea travel as the main mode of transport. But these days we all expect to come and go without delay. Imagine having to be stuck in quarantine for ten or fourteen days every time you got off a plane from overseas.’
‘But if it stopped people from being sick …’ Maddie reasoned.
Ben shrugged. ‘It’s the price we pay for the ability to travel anywhere at any time. But at least when Caesar comes back we’ll know for sure that he isn’t sick.’
Maddie thought for a moment. ‘Does he have TV in his hotel?’
Ben smiled at Nan as he answered. ‘Er, no TV.’
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