The Mexican Connection: Ted Higuera Series Book 3

by Pendelton Wallace

  They entered though French doors into an airy saloon. The side of the room facing the garden was entirely glassed in. Soft brocade furniture and maple tables gave the room a casual, yet elegant, feel.

  “Sit. Madame? Our guest has arrived.”

  The short French woman with the hook for a left hand walked into the room with a slight limp carrying a silver tray.

  “Madame has prepared sangria to quench your thirst. It is beautiful, no?” Yves seated himself in an overstuffed chair with highly polished maple arms.

  The man sat on the sofa and watched as Madame Trufaunt set the tray on the coffee table. A blown glass pitcher with a blue rim was filled with a burgundy colored liquid in which were suspended slices of lemons, limes, oranges and pineapple. A silver ice bucket and two blown glass goblets were also on the tray.

  “I don’t drink,” the man said.

  Madame Trufaunt looked at Yves.

  “Would you prefer ice water?” Yves asked.

  “No, thank you. Let’s just get down to business.”

  “Very well,” Yves gave a flip of his wrist. “I have heard of your reputation. You have no vices. Not alcohol, not drugs, not women. You seem to enjoy nothing but your work. That is good, nothing to distract you. I have a job that may be of interest to you.”

  The man watched Yves with cold blue eyes. “Who is it?”

  “It isn’t an it, it’s a they, and I want them alive.”

  “Alive? I don’t do kidnappings.”

  Yves got up from his chair and walked to the windows. He stood for a moment in silence, contemplating his domain. “This is not a usual situation. These two young men have hurt me very deeply. They foiled an operation in Canada and are responsible for this.” Yves turned back to the man and ran his hands down his ruined face. “My body is covered with scars and I live in constant pain. Madame Trufaunt lost both an arm and a leg. They must pay.” Yves took two steps towards the man. “I want them to suffer, death is too easy. They owe me for what they have taken from us. I want them to know who is responsible for their demise and why. I want them to suffer greatly and know that it is their own fault before I dispose of them permanently.”

  “It all sounds very gothic, but I don’t see how I can help you.” the man said.

  “I want you to capture them and bring them to me. Then I can have my revenge.”

  The man stood. “I’m sorry. This isn’t my line of work. You want them eliminated without a trace, no problem. Thank you for the offer, but I only do quick, clean work. What you want is too high risk. There are too many ways things can go wrong and that I won’t allow.”

  “Maybe, if I doubled your fee?”

  “Money isn’t important. I have to get in, get the job done, and get out. With your scenario, the targets can get away too easily. Sorry, Mr. Bohier. I’m out.”

  The man walked out the French doors without a backward glance.

  “Mierde!” Yves exclaimed. He turned to Madame Trufaunt. “I guess we will have to do this ourselves.”

  “Perhaps,” Madame Trufaunt spoke for the first time, “it is better that way.”

  ****

  Peaceful Valley Ranch, Montana

  “Peaceful Valley traffic, this is Cessna three six niner zero Juliet entering final for landing.” Harry released the microphone button on the steering yoke of the twin engine airplane. He pulled back on both throttle levers and adjusted his prop speed, then dropped the flaps to forty degrees.

  Candace watched him look down at the landing gear indicators from the right seat. He turned to her and said “Three in the green.” She had become accustomed to all of this aviation jargon over their five-year marriage.

  Harry could have afforded a private jet. Most of his attorney friends jetted from city to city pursuing lucrative cases, but Harry preferred to fly himself. So what if his plane was only half as fast as the new jets? He had more time to enjoy himself on the way.

  The light twin settled down on a smooth glide slope and crossed the runway’s threshold. It gently kissed the pavement and rolled out.

  Harry taxied the white Cessna 421C Golden Eagle to a halt next to a dust-covered Jeep Cherokee.

  Candace opened the door and lowered the steps. “Hi, Chad,” she yelled to the small cowboy leaning on the hood of the Jeep smoking a hand-rolled cigarette.

  “Hello, Ms. Hardwick,” the cowboy said. “Good to see you again.”

  Chad Easton was a small man with a Wyatt Earp mustache, wearing a black Stetson, blue jeans and cowboy boots. The holstered Colt .45 on his hip caught her attention. He looked leather tough. He moved with quiet ease, the mark of someone comfortable in his own skin.

  Not for the first time, Candace thought that he reminded her of a deadly snake. All coiled up and ready to strike if the occasion arose. Given their current predicament, maybe that was a good thing. They might need a sidewinder to get them through the next few months.

  “Chad, I’d like you to meet Kayla.” Candace almost had to shove Kayla out of the plane’s door.

  “Kayla, this is Mr. Easton.”

  “Howdy, Miss.” Chad tipped his hat. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

  “Hi,” was all that Kayla could manage.

  They climbed down from the plane while Harry and Chad pulled their bags from the cargo hatch. Harry and Candace only had small cases; they already had everything they needed at the ranch. Kayla had two full suitcases. Candace had taken her shopping at a tack shop in Woodinville to get her ready for the Wild West.

  When the bags were loaded into the Jeep, Chad opened the back door and tipped his hat. “Ma’am,” he said and nodded to Candace.

  “C’mon, Kayla, you first.”

  The little girl hesitated; she’d been distressed about taking this trip. Candace had assured her again and again that this was only temporary. That she would be back with her mother in no time at all, but Kayla hadn’t wanted to leave Seattle, where her mother was.

  “C’mon, scoot.” Candace patted Kayla’s back side.

  Kayla climbed into the Jeep and Candace followed her. “After we get you settled in your room, I’ll take you out to the stables and show you the horses. I think you’re going to love Sadie.”

  “Sadie?” Kayla asked.

  “Our dog, she’s a big collie. You’re going to fall in love with her right away.”

  Chad drove the Jeep over a bumpy dirt road into the ranch compound.

  “Mr. Hardwick, I took care of everything you asked me to,” he said. “I’ve alerted all the ranch hands to keep an eye out for strangers. They’re carrying side arms all the time.” Chad rolled down the window and tossed his cigarette butt out.

  “I also spoke to the sheriff. All the people in town know what’s goin’ on. They’ll report anything suspicious to the sheriff right away.”

  “Do you think it’s wise to let the towns folk know that we’re here?” Harry asked.

  “Yep, they’re all like family. Here in Peaceful Valley, we look out for each other and take care of our own.” Chad gave Harry a rare smile. Candace could feel the connection between the two men from the back seat.

  “I also drained and re-filled the pool. I thought that the young’un, might want to use it for somethin’ besides fire protection.”

  Chad pulled the Jeep into the circular driveway in front of the large ranch house. The white paint gleamed in the early afternoon sunshine. “I think my lovely wife might have some lunch ready for you if you’re hungry.”

  “How about it, Kayla? Hungry?” Candace asked.

  While Candace and Kayla made themselves comfortable in the big country kitchen, Dora Easton, a small, square woman served up chicken soup and chicken salad sandwiches.

  Harry and Chad took the bags up to their rooms.

  “Kayla, you stay here and finish your lunch. Get to know Mrs. Easton a little. I’m going to find Harry.” Candace got up from the table and left the kitchen.

  She knew she’d find him in the study. He had already opened
the gun safe and was going over its contents with Chad.

  “We’ll need the Weatherby,” Harry said as he took a walnut-stocked rifle with a telescopic sight from the case.

  Candace loved that gun. It was a work of art. The Weatherby Mark V was a .340 caliber hunting rifle with gold inlays and etching on the barrel. The hardwood stock felt smooth and sensuous in her hands.

  Her father taught her to shoot when she was ten, but she had never handled a weapon like the Weatherby. It was custom built, a gift from the gun maker to Harry for his successful defense in a wrongful death suit.

  Candace knew that if he’d lost the suit, it would ruin the countries gun makers. It was a landmark case and the NRA now thought of Harry as a hero.

  “Candy, you can take the rifle,” Harry said. “I’ll take the shotgun.” He retrieved a Remington twelve gauge pump action shotgun identical to the one in Edmonds. “How about handguns?”

  “I’m thinkin’ you’ll want the Colts.” Chad pulled two Colt .45 caliber Peacemakers from the cabinet. “Here’s the holsters.” They looked like something from a Western movie, hand tooled leather with rawhide straps to tie the bottom of the holster to your leg. “Make sure you keep the safety strap over the hammer of the gun. We wouldn’t want it to fall out and blow your leg off.” Chad chuckled.

  Candace knew that gun safety was no laughing matter. One of her school friends had lost a brother who tried to clean a loaded revolver.

  “Okay, we’re in pretty good shape here,” Harry said. “We have plenty of ammo?”

  “You got enough for a small war.” Chad closed the gun safe and spun the dial.

  “How about the other preparations?” Harry asked.

  “We’re ready.” Chad turned to Harry. “You already know about the guns and ammo. We got horses ready. We’ve packed enough food for five days. There’s a first aid kit in the saddle bags. You’ve got a sat phone and walkie talkies. If you have to take off outta here in a hurry, you’re ready for whatever you meet on the trail.”

  “Good. You sure you won’t come with us?”

  “Nah, I think I’m needed here more. Gotta organize the defense of the ranch if the Indians come calling.”

  “Indians?” Candace asked.

  “Yeah, the bad guys. As I said, all the ranch hands are armed. The house is easy to defend. There’s clear fields of fire all around it. We’ll set a couple of little surprises in case they show up. They won’t know what hit ‘em.”

  Harry took a step towards the doorway. “It looks like you’ve got it covered. Let’s go see what Dora has for lunch.”

  Chapter 29

  Mexico City

  “El Museo Nacional de Anthroplogia,” Ted said as he perused his laptop.

  “The whaty wheyo?” Chris asked.

  “The National Museum of Anthropology,” Ted said. He sat back in the heavy wooden chair.

  Catrina and Chris crowded around his laptop on the table.

  “That’s where we’ll find the answers. If anyone knows anything about a president who worshiped at the foot of Aztec gods, he’ll be there.”

  “Or she will.” Hope reclined on Ted’s bed.

  Ted gave his sister a withering glare, then went on. “I don’t think we all need to go there. I can visit and get the information we need. You guys might as well take in Mexico City’s sights.”

  “You’re not going anywhere by yourself, Junior.” Catrina grabbed Ted’s shoulder. “There’s a hit out on you. Remember?”

  “They can’t possibly know that we’re here.” Ted said.

  “You’re where Yves wants you to be, that’s why he sent you a note to get you here. You’d be a fool to think they aren’t expecting you. That’s why you’re not going alone.”

  Ted and Catrina caught a cab while the others planned their day. The cab dropped them off on Paseo de la Reforma near Chapultepec Park.

  “Papa brought me here when I was a teenager. He said that every Mexican needed to know about their heritage.”

  Walking up the broad steps leading to the museum felt like they were approaching a great cathedral. Ted’s heart rate sped up.

  The gray stone walkway was lined with sculptured hedges and trees. Jets of water shot up on the sign announcing the museum’s name. The lighter gray building beyond covered about twenty acres. The entrance, in the center of the structure, was all glass, with a light gray-colored wall above it.

  Ted’s heart skipped a beat as he spied the huge Mexican flag fluttering in the breeze beyond the fountain. The flag always instilled a sense of pride in him.

  Stepping through the entryway, Ted and Catrina came out into a huge flagstone-covered courtyard. Ted caught his breath when he saw the enormous square stone “umbrella” that covered acres of the courtyard. Made of four triangles that intersected at the base, it was supported by a single, massive carved stone column. Water cascaded from the head of the column to disappear into holes in the stone floor. The “umbrella” gave Ted the impression of an inverted pyramid.

  Signs around the courtyard noted the civilizations that were displayed within portions of the first floor of the buildings. Olmec, Maya, Toltec, etc. All of the civilizations of pre-Columbian Mexico were represented.

  “We need to find the Aztec room,” Ted said.

  “That shouldn’t be too hard. The Aztecs were the dominant civilization when Cortez arrived here.” Catrina turned a full three hundred and sixty degrees, taking in the courtyard and all of its gardens. “Jesus, Ted, this place is amazing. I’ve never seen anything like it”

  To their right, Catrina saw the sign. “There it is, Aztec. Thank God, Aztec is the same in English as it is in Spanish.”

  They walked through the glass doors into a huge room filled with artifacts. “Damn,” Catrina said, “all of the signs and placards are in Spanish.”

  “That’s okay. We’re not here to take in the culture,” Ted said and strutted away.

  “Over here,” Ted pointed to a huge, colorful mosaic on the wall. “This is the layout of Teotihuacan, the Aztec’s capital city.”

  The mural showed a huge lake, in the shadow of towering, snow covered mountains, with a city built on an artificial island in the middle of the lake. Four broad causeways connected the city to the shore. Around the city, floating gardens yielded crops of corn, beans and squash, the staples of the Mexican diet.

  On the floor, in front of the mural, was a model of the city. Pyramids dominated, but large palaces and public buildings filled the squares.

  “You know, Teotihuacan was the largest city in the world when Cortez arrived,” Ted said.

  “That’s all well and good, Ted,” Catrina said. “But like you said, we’re here on a mission. We need to find an expert on Aztec religion.”

  “Let’s ask that girl over there,” he suggested, pointing to a tall redhead with heavy rimmed black glasses carrying two heavy tomes close to her breast. “She looks like she works here.”

  Or did she? Ted took a second to study her. She was tall and light skinned with red hair, obviously not Mexican. Maybe she was an exchange student or something. Whatever she was, she was very pretty. His heart skipped a beat.

  “Perdona me,” Ted said to the girl, “I need to talk to someone about Aztec religion.”

  The woman gave him a funny look. “You’re Americans?” The young woman wore a conservative white blouse and a knee-length red skirt. Her outfit didn’t reveal much, but it flattered her slim figure. She moved with the grace of a dancer.

  “Sí,” Ted said. “We need to find an expert on Aztec religion. Can you tell us who to talk to?”

  “What do you need?” she asked over the top of her glasses. She was wearing flat heels and was just about Ted’s height, five-foot-eight.

  “We have to find a connection between a president and the Aztec religion. Who would be an expert on that?”

  “You want to talk to Dr. Gonzales. The Doctor is Mexico’s leading researcher in the field.”

  “Where can we find him?
It’s really important.”

  The woman stared at Ted for a moment, then turned her name tag towards him. It read “Dra. Maria Gonzales.”

  “You’ve found him,” she said.

  Catrina burst out laughing. “Hey, Higuera, you should have learned about gender stereotypes by now. Haven’t I taught you anything?”

  “Doctora Maria Gonzales,” the woman said and extended her hand to Catrina.

  Catrina noticed the firm handshake. “Catrina Flaherty, and my somewhat chauvinistic friend here is Ted Higuera.”

  “Ah . . . pleased to meet you doctor.” Ted was non-plussed. She was clearly too young to be a doctor, and too pretty, but still . . .

  “You need a connection between a president and the Aztecs?” the doctor asked.

  “Yes.” Ted couldn’t take his eyes off of the lovely face. She had a redhead’s pale complexion, her face filled with freckles, and the deepest blue eyes. He felt like he had been struck by a lightning bolt, then shook himself to get back on topic. “We need to find a place where a president worshiped at the feet of the Aztec gods.”

  “Hmm. . . Let’s go to my office. Maybe I can help.” Dr. Gonzales turned and walked towards a door.

  Ted and Catrina followed.

  “How did you come to work here?” Catrina asked. “You don’t look Mexican.”

  “I get that all the time.” Dr. Gonzales laughed. “My mother and my grandmother were Americans. I get my looks from them. I grew up in La Paz, and have dual citizenship, as does my father.”

  “Aren’t you kind of young to be a doctor?” Ted asked.

  They walked down a long corridor with office doors on either side.

  “Here we are,” the doctor said, opening a door. “My office.”

  The small room was crowded with a steel desk and matching chairs. Books overflowed from the shelves and covered the top of the desk. A laptop was attached to a docking station and, thus, to a flat screen monitor.

  “I got an early start,” the doctor said. “I was home schooled and graduated from high school when I was sixteen. I studied anthropology at the University of the Americas here in Mexico City. I got my PhD from the National Autonomous University of Mexico, the Universidad Nacional Autónoma de México, in Latin American Studies. I just got a job here as an assistant curator.”