The Governor's wife

by Mark Gimenez

He reached out and gently pulled her hat and scarf off, releasing her red hair.

  "You are the governor's wife. He will come for you. And when he does, I will cut off his head with this machete. I will avenge my son's death. I will have justice."

  He held a hand out to her. She stood without taking his hand.

  "Remove your clothes."

  "Is that what you want?"

  "I want your husband's head on my desk. But I must ensure that you have no gun or knife or phone, and I prefer not to pat you down. Now, your clothes. Please."

  She removed her lab coat then unbuttoned her yellow dress and let it fall to the dirt floor around her pink Crocs. He waited. She unhooked her bra and let it drop. Then she pushed her panties to her ankles. She stood naked before him. His eyes took her in. He inhaled as if smelling a flower. Then he nodded.

  "Yes, he will come for you."

  "How do you know?"

  "Because I would come for you."

  He lifted her dress from the ground with the machete.

  "Please. Get dressed."

  FORTY-ONE

  The governor of Texas sat in his office in the Governor's Mansion staring blankly out the windows at the State Capitol. He sipped his coffee. He had awakened early that morning; it was still before nine when the phone rang. He grabbed the receiver but realized that no lights on the console were lit. The phone rang again. It was his cell phone.

  "Hello."

  "He took her."

  A man's voice.

  "Who is this?"

  "Jesse Rincon. Governor, he took your wife."

  "Who?"

  "El Diablo."

  "When?"

  "Not an hour ago."

  "Where?"

  "Nuevo Laredo."

  The Mexican drug lord who wanted him dead now held his wife. It took Bode a moment to get his mind around that reality. He tried to think out his options.

  "Governor, if you go public, he will kill her. If you call in the Border Patrol or ICE or the Mexican military, he will kill her. If you do nothing, he will kill her. We must go into Nuevo Laredo and take her back-before he kills her."

  Bode sat still for five minutes after he disconnected the phone call. He considered his next steps. Perhaps his last steps in his life. He would change clothes. He would pack his weapons and ammunition. He would fly to Laredo in the Gulfstream. He would cross the border into Nuevo Laredo. He would find El Diablo. He would kill him and save his wife.

  He would not come back.

  Two hundred thirty-five miles south, El Diablo said to the governor's wife, "Does your husband really believe that he will be elected president? Another Texas governor?"

  "Apparently."

  He grunted. They had just driven through tall gates leading into a white compound. Lindsay sat in the back seat of the Hummer with El Diablo. His driver and a bald man named Hector sat up front. She did not like the way Hector had looked at her. Her body still had not stopped trembling. El Diablo must have noticed. He reached over and patted her hand.

  "You have nothing to fear from me, Senora Bonner."

  "Why not?"

  "You saved my son's life. I told you I would not forget."

  "But you want to kill my husband?"

  " Si. He has much to fear. Because he murdered my son."

  The vehicle stopped, and the man named Hector opened their door. She got out, and El Diablo escorted her past armed guards and into the house. She glanced back at the guards.

  "Do not fret, Senora Bonner, the guards do not come into the house where my children live."

  The exterior of the house resembled a prison; the walls were thick and seemed impenetrable. But once through the double entrance doors, she stepped into a magnificent open-air hacienda filled with color and art, soft Latin music and Spanish voices, plants and sunlight and servants dressed in black-and-white uniforms scurrying about. The entry opened onto a stunning courtyard and pool with palm trees and lush landscaping and a grand piano. El Diablo led her into a commercial-grade kitchen where they found a chef, a slender teenage boy, and a young girl dressed in a plaid school uniform fingering a cell phone.

  "Are you texting that boy again?" he asked the girl.

  She quickly ended her message and smiled.

  "No, padre."

  He turned to Lindsay and turned up his palms.

  "Children." He sighed. " Senora Bonner, you met Jesus. I would like you to meet my other children, Julio and Carmelita. Children, this is Senora Bonner. She will be our guest for a few days."

  The children greeted her with good manners. The tightness in her chest lessened.

  "Julio is a talented pianist, and Carmelita sings like the birds in the morning. Perhaps they will perform for you while you are here. Would you like something to eat, Senora? "

  "No, thanks."

  "Perhaps you would like to freshen up, wash the smell of the colonias off. Come, I will show you to your room."

  When they exited the kitchen, Lindsay said, "A few days?"

  "I think it will take that long for your husband to arrive."

  "Mister El-"

  "Please. Call me Enrique."

  "Enrique, this won't end well."

  "Not for your husband, I am afraid."

  "You don't know him. He can be a very hard man."

  "And what? I am a pushover?"

  "I didn't mean-"

  He laughed. "I am just joking. Let us not talk about unpleasant matters that are in the future. Let us enjoy the moment."

  They walked down a gallery fronting the courtyard-"That is my chapel"-and past alcoves holding statues of Jesus Christ and the Virgin Mary, religious shrines, and a massive "Ten Commandments" carved in marble. They arrived at an elevator and rode up to the third floor. They proceeded down another gallery overlooking the courtyard and into a spacious suite.

  "I hope this will be acceptable."

  As if he were the concierge at a luxurious hotel. And the suite was luxurious. He opened the drapes to reveal a sliding glass door leading to a balcony that looked out upon Laredo across the river. They walked outside. He gestured at the river below.

  "The Rio Bravo del Norte."

  A Mexican woman dressed in a maid's outfit stepped out onto the balcony.

  "Ah, Blanca. This is Senora Bonner. She is your only concern while she is our guest. Please bring her anything she desires." He turned to Lindsay. "Food, water?"

  "Water."

  "Blanca, three bottles of Evian. And the lunch menu."

  Blanca departed, and they went back inside.

  "Flat-screen television, all the cable channels. I love Fox News."

  He gestured at a painting on the wall.

  "That is an original Picasso. I have an extensive art collection, perhaps you would like to see, after dinner."

  He showed her the bathroom, which was much larger than the master bathroom in the Governor's Mansion.

  "Jacuzzi tub, shower… all the comforts of home. Everything you need is here. If not, simply ask Blanca, and she will obtain whatever you desire. Anything at all."

  "Thank you."

  She was thanking the man who wanted to kill her husband.

  "I will leave you now," he said. "Until dinner."

  He walked to the door but turned back.

  "Oh, please do not leave the room."

  He shut the door behind him. She went over and locked the door. But there was soon a knock.

  "Who is it?"

  " Soy yo, Blanca."

  She unlocked and opened the door. The maid entered with three bottles of water and a menu. She then left, and Lindsay locked the door behind her. She sat on the edge of the bed and drank half a bottle of water then glanced at the lunch menu. Grilled salmon, char-broiled Gulf shrimp, chicken salad on a croissant, tortilla soup

  … She was abducted by a drug lord only to be fed like a hotel guest. The border was an entirely different world. She lay back on the bed and closed her eyes.

  Bode knocked on Becca's door and ent
ered her room. It was after ten, and she was still asleep. He sat on the bed next to her and stroked her hair. She stirred and woke. She rubbed her eyes and then reached over and turned the lamp on.

  "Daddy… Where are you going?"

  "To the border."

  "To get mom?"

  "Yes. Becca, the man who wants me dead, he took your mother."

  She sprung up in bed.

  "Took her?"

  "Kidnapped. He's holding her in Nuevo Laredo. I'm going down to get her."

  "Get the Rangers to go!"

  "Becca, our military and police can't cross the border without permission from the Mexican government-and that won't happen. And if I sent the Rangers into Mexico, he'd kill her."

  "Go on TV!"

  "He'd kill her."

  "What about our consulate down there?"

  "Useless."

  "But, Daddy-"

  "It's the only way to get her back."

  He saw in her eyes the realization that she might be seeing her father for the last time-and that she might never see her mother again. He cupped her face.

  "I love you, Becca. I couldn't have asked for a better daughter."

  "I'm a lesbian."

  "You're my daughter."

  She stared into his eyes.

  "You're not coming back, are you?"

  "No. But your mother is."

  She threw her arms around him and hugged him tight. When she released him, she wiped tears from her face.

  "Daddy… kill him."

  "Oh, you can count on that."

  Jesse Rincon entered the San Agustin Cathedral on the plaza in downtown Laredo for the first time in over three years. The church sat vacant. He walked up the center aisle and knelt at the altar rail. He gazed up at the crucifix on the wall above the altar. He spoke to God.

  "I will make a deal with you. If you will spare her life, I will give you mine. I will do your work here, and I will never complain or question your will. Take her from me if you wish, but please do not take her life. That is all I ask."

  Just across the river from the cathedral, Lindsay Bonner woke to a man on top of her. Not El Diablo, but a foul man who smelled of whiskey and cigars. The bald man named Hector. She screamed, but he slapped a big hand over her mouth.

  "?Callete, perra! "

  He ran his hands over her breasts and down her hips.

  "I tried to kill the governor. The next time I will succeed. But first I will have the governor's wife."

  "You'll fuck a dead woman!"

  She had been born in Boston but toughened in Texas. She feared this man, but she was not afraid to fight him. She slapped at him and punched him, but he only laughed. He put his weight on her and his hand between her legs and tried to push his finger inside her. He froze.

  "What is this?"

  He raised up with her cell phone in his hand. Which gave her the opening she needed. She drove her knee into his groin. He wasn't laughing now. He groaned and doubled over. She kicked him in the face.

  "?Puta! "

  He stumbled to the door but turned back.

  "If you tell el jefe, I will come back and kill you before he kills me."

  "I won't tell him. But I'll make sure my husband kills you first."

  He cursed and left. She locked the door behind him then wedged a chair under the knob. Then she ran into the bathroom and threw up.

  "He'll kill her," Jim Bob said. "He probably already has."

  Jim Bob stood at the door to the master suite. Bode was packing weapons and ammunition in a duffel bag.

  "No, he wants me. He won't kill her until he has me."

  "You thought this through?"

  "Becca needs her mother."

  "You want me to go with you?"

  "Thanks, but this is what I do."

  "You sure this is the only way? You go down there and kill Mexicans in Mexico-even a drug lord-it'll be an international incident. I don't know how many crimes you'll be committing. Bode, your White House dream ends tonight."

  "Jim Bob, I had a dream when I was eighteen. Her name was Lindsay. Last twenty-nine years, I forgot that. I remember now. I'm chasing my dream, Jim Bob, and it's not in Washington. It's in Nuevo Laredo."

  Bode Bonner zipped up the bag and stood tall.

  "He took my wife. I want her back."

  Lindsay wanted the man's smell off her. She went into the bathroom and started a hot bath. When the tub was full, she undressed and stepped in. She sat then slid down until the water was up to her neck. She closed her eyes.

  El Diablo wanted Bode to come for her. He would lay in wait and kill her husband. Or Bode would kill him. She didn't like Bode's odds against a drug lord on his turf. Bode always said that if you want to beat someone on their home turf, you'd better have a good game plan.

  She needed a game plan.

  She bathed with body wash and shampoo from Paris. When she got out, she put on a thick terrycloth robe. She heard a knock on the door.

  "Who is it?"

  "Blanca."

  She removed the chair and opened the door. The maid pushed a room service cart into the room, then went back out and returned with a rolling cart of hanging clothes and high-heeled shoes below. Evening dresses still in the plastic bags and new undergarments still in plastic wrap.

  "What are these for?" she asked Blanca in Spanish.

  "Dinner, with the senor. I will come for you at seven."

  Blanca left Lindsay alone. She turned on the television and switched channels, searching for news of her abduction. But there was no news. No one in Austin knew she was on the border. And no one on the border knew she was the governor's wife.

  Except El Diablo.

  She checked the room service cart: cheese and crackers and champagne. Hot tea. Coffee and cream. Butter cookies. As if it were tea time in Nuevo Laredo. She ate several crackers with cheese… and a few cookies… and drank the coffee. She hadn't eaten since early that morning. With Jesse. She wondered if he knew yet that she had been taken. Surely Inez would have told him. And he would have called Bode. And Bode would come for her. Soon. Not several days from now as El Diablo had said. But now. He was already on his way to her. She knew that. She also knew that when he came for her, El Diablo would kill him.

  Or he would kill El Diablo.

  The small jet taxied over to the private terminal in a secluded area of the airport. The door opened and a stairway dropped down. Only one man got off the plane.

  The governor of Texas.

  He spotted Jesse's truck and walked over with a duffel bag slung over his shoulder. He appeared much larger in person than on television. When he opened the passenger door and got into Jesse's pickup, he did not seem like the man who would be president.

  Or who wanted to be.

  The governor sat silent for a long moment-as if he were contemplating the final journey of his life. Jesse knew this because he had contemplated the same journey as he sat and waited for the governor's jet to arrive in Laredo. Perhaps they would take that final journey together, the governor and the man who loved the governor's wife. The governor finally stuck out a hand to Jesse.

  "Bode Bonner."

  "Jesse Rincon."

  Jesse started the engine and exited the airport and drove east.

  "We must wait until after midnight to cross the river."

  He took the governor to his homestead. They got out and went inside Jesse's house. The governor glanced around.

  "This is where she's been living?"

  "No. She lives in the guesthouse."

  Jesse led the governor to the guesthouse and unlocked the door for him.

  Blanca knocked on the door at seven.

  Lindsay had fallen asleep from fear and exhaustion. She had dreamed of Bode and Becca, Ramon and Chelo, Lupe and the vaqueros… and Jesse. She had woken with the vague outline of a plan. She dressed and now followed Blanca to the elevator and then to the second floor. They walked down a hallway and into an elegant dining room against a wall of windows fa
cing the lights of Laredo. Enrique de la Garza stood by the windows, wearing a black suit and tie and checking his hair in the reflection, as if looking for gray streaks. He noticed her and turned.

  " Buenas noches, Senora Bonner. My, you look beautiful."

  She wore a black dress and black heels.

  "Blanca, champagne for the senora."

  He seemed oddly happy. So she decided not to upset his mood with Hector's attempted rape. She wanted him to remain happy and relaxed, to feel at ease with her. To enjoy her company. She wanted to appeal to his manhood.

  Blanca returned and handed a flute filled with champagne to Lindsay.

  " Gracias. " She turned to Enrique. "Were these your wife's clothes?"

  "Yes."

  "She liked short dresses."

  "Yes, she had beautiful legs. As you do."

  His eyes went to her legs.

  "Congressman Delgado said we killed her."

  Enrique nodded. "It was a mistake."

  "I'm sorry. There's been too much killing on the border."

  "Yes. Too much."

  He stepped closer and raised his flute as if to toast the moment, but she instinctively backed away.

  " Senora Bonner, I said you have nothing to fear from me. But still you fear me?"

  "Yes. I do."

  "Why?"

  "Because you're El Diablo. The devil. A drug lord. You've killed thousands of people."

  "Who said that?"

  Like a kid on a playground whose veracity had been questioned.

  "Everyone… the newspapers, the government."

  "The American government?"

  "Yes."

  "And, of course, the American government would never lie." He sighed. " Senora Bonner, we live by a code of honor, Los Muertos. We do not kill women, children, or innocents."

  "You sell drugs."

  "Americans sell weapons to the world, but I am a bad guy because I sell marijuana to Americans?"

  He shook his head.

  "Your government, they are telling the American story, so Americans must be told that they are the good guys. They cannot be the bad guys. That is not allowed in the American story. God bless America. Americans must believe that God looks with special favor upon America. But if America is God's protagonist, who is the antagonist? Who is the bad guy? Every story must have a bad guy, is that not true? So your government creates bad guys for Americans to hate so they will not hate their own government. Yesterday it was Osama and the Taliban, Saddam and Gadhafi. Tomorrow it will be North Korea and Iran, although I must agree that those two guys, they do not seem right in the head. But, today it is me. Enrique de la Garza. I am the bad guy in the American story of this border. El Diablo. The devil. Your government gave that nickname to me, you see, so that I would sound like a very bad guy indeed-El Diablo, he must be a very bad hombre. And that is my role in the American tragedy. Because America must demonize its adversaries, anyone who will not submit to American rule. It is so much easier to demonize than it is to understand and acknowledge grievances against America, is it not? So, please, Senora Bonner, save the American self-righteousness for someone else. We Mexicans have heard it for one hundred and sixty-five years. Oh, here is Charles. Let us eat."