The Mexican Connection: Ted Higuera Series Book 3

by Pendelton Wallace

  “Wow. That’s pretty impressive for someone so young.” Ted figured she must be around twenty-five or so. “You must have hit the books pretty hard.”

  Maria laughed. “I had to work my way through school. I studied hard, but I had to work hard too.”

  Dr. Gonzales put her heavy books down on her desk and gestured to Cat and Ted to sit in the steel chairs facing her. “Let me just get my computer running,” she said as she typed in her password.

  “Okay,” she said, typing away at the keyboard. “We’re looking for a connection between a president and the Aztecs. Let’s see what we find.”

  “This sounds pretty obscure,” Catrina looked at Ted. “I hope we come up with something.”

  “Not a problem,” Maria said and turned her monitor to face Ted and Catrina. “Look at this.”

  They saw a picture of a small, bald headed man in a military uniform with gold epaulets and a chest full of medals. An ornate sword hung from a sash around his waist.

  “I think we have a hit.” Maria turned the monitor back to her. “Victoriano Huerta, president of Mexico from 1913 to 1914. He’s one of the most reviled figures in Mexican history.”

  “So, what does that have to do with the Aztecs?” Ted fidgeted in his uncomfortable chair.

  “Huerta was the first president from an indigenous family. He was a Huichol Indian. He hated his heritage and tried to emulate the Europeans while he was in office. He even took baths in lemon juice to try to bleach out his skin and make him look lighter.”

  “That doesn’t sound like someone who worshiped Aztec gods,” Catrina said.

  “Here,” Maria turned her monitor to face Ted and Catrina again. “This is a picture of the garden in his home. What do you see?”

  Ted studied the image then said. “That looks like an Aztec temple . . .”

  “That’s right. In his private residence, he built a replica of the temple of Quetzalcoatl. I remember studying about this. Many of the indigenous tribes never accepted the Catholic religion. Some blended their religious beliefs with the Catholic religion, creating a whole new kind of Catholicism. If I remember correctly, although Huerta condemned indigenous people in public, he still held to some of the old beliefs. It was rumored that he worshiped Quetzalcoatl and sacrificed to him in the privacy of his home.”

  “Holy shit.” Ted nearly came out of his chair. “You mean human sacrifices?”

  “No one ever proved it, but yes, that was the rumor.”

  “I think we have our man.” A smile spread across Catrina’s face. “Now, we need to find the location of where he made the sacrifices.”

  “That shouldn’t be too hard,” Maria said. “His house is still here in Mexico City. I can find the address for you. I think it’s in Coyoacán.”

  ****

  Peaceful Valley, Montana

  Far from the city and the trappings of civilization, the sky was so blue that it almost hurt Harry’s eyes. Puffy little white clouds danced around the tops of the Rockies. The air was so clear that Harry felt like he could reach out and touch the rugged mountains, still thirty miles distant.

  Peaceful Valley was well named. There was a sense of peace and serenity here that Harry never felt anywhere else. Partly because of the isolation out here, Harry could be himself, the kid from the mill town of Springfield, Oregon, who grew up hunting and fishing with his father.

  For a moment he thought about his father. He was a hard man. Harry’s mom said he came back from the war a changed man. Slogging through the jungles of the South Pacific soured him. It was almost a relief when lung cancer took him early. He never praised Harry, or told him he loved him. He showed obvious pride when Harry excelled on the football field, but never gave a single word of commendation. Harry had raised his children with the opposite philosophy. He hoped Chris and Sarah knew how much he loved them.

  He leaned back against the corral, one foot on the bottom rail. “I’m impressed with all the measures you’ve taken Chad. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were spoiling for a fight.”

  The small cowboy laughed. “Mr. Hardwick, they always taught us to be prepared in the Corps. Remember the five P’s? Proper Planning Prevents Poor Performance”

  Harry looked out over the valley. The ranch compound was built on a rise, with a three- hundred-sixty-degree view of the surrounding valley. To his left, a river cut through the low land. How many trout had he and Chris pulled from that stream?

  Then he chuckled to himself. Chris, hell, Candace was likely to make trout an endangered species around here.

  Movement caught Harry’s eye. He turned towards the house and focused. Candace and Kayla were climbing the ladder to the wooden deck around the above-ground pool.

  “She’s a mighty fine lookin’ woman,” Chad said, sucking on his ever-present hand-rolled cigarette.

  “That she is.”

  Candace looked like a young deer, with her long legs and fluid movements. Wearing a blue bikini, she was statuesque and possessed a great sense of self-worth. Harry wondered, and not for the first time, what she saw in a man like him.

  When she first came to work for the Firm, she was just another pretty face. Harry was immune to pretty faces. After his wife, Sally, died, he had no interest in the opposite sex.

  But Candace was different. She was smart, confident and had integrity. She challenged him. She wasn’t afraid to stand up to the boss when she thought he was out of line or correct him if she thought he was wrong.

  Somehow or other, he had fallen in love. It had been five years now, and he was still as in love as the first day he realized it.

  “Chad, Charlie’s on the phone,” Dora Easton, Chad’s hefty wife, called from the kitchen door.

  “Pardon me, Mr. Hardwick, I better take this.” Chad slowly sauntered towards the ranch house. He never did anything in a hurry.

  “Hey, sweetheart,” Candace waved from the pool deck. “Get your suit on and join us.”

  Kayla held her nose and jumped from the diving board, feet first.

  Harry laughed. “No, I think I’ll just watch. What’s better than watching two beautiful women lounging by the pool?”

  “Mr. Hardwick,” Chad hurried back from the ranch house, “I think we got trouble.”

  “What?”

  “That was Charlie Whitefeather, the sheriff. He says that five strangers have been hangin’ ‘round town, askin’ questions about you.”

  “Shit.” Harry kicked the ground with the toe of his boot.

  “They’re beaners, if that makes any difference.”

  “A lot, how long do you think it will take them to find us?”

  Chad looked up at the sky, as if the answer was hidden in the sun. “Don’t rightly know, but I think you better be prepared. It might be a good idea if you and the ladies made yourselves scarce for a while. At least until we sort this thing out.”

  “I think you’re right. We’ll get going first thing in the morning. Put the hands on alert. We don’t want anyone sneaking up on us.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll post look outs tonight. We’ll have your kit ready by sun up.”

  “Hey, Kayla,” Harry shouted. “How would you like to go camping? It’s about time you learned to ride a horse and Mr. Easton here has just the pony for you.”

  Chapter 30

  Coyoacán, Mexico City

  Yves sat back in his Louis XV armchair and glared at the Sévres bust carved from the whitest marble. The intricately carved chair had a high back, and was covered in a rich red and gold brocade.

  “Are there no decent chefs in Mexico, Marcel?” he asked the bust.

  Lunch had started with a shrimp ceviche, which was decent enough. The Mexicans wanted to serve this dish of chopped prawns, tomatoes and onions marinated in lime juice with crispy fried tortilla chips.

  What was wrong with good French bread? He wondered.

  And the wine? The light white wine was horse piss. Why don’t they buy good French wine? He thought to himself.

/>   Yves sat at a highly polished mahogany table with carved lion legs and claws. The furniture was late Nineteenth Century French design, purchased by the original owner of the house, and Yves approved of his taste.

  The tortilla soup was merde. Don’t these Mexican’s know how to make a chicken soup? Why must they put tomato and peppers in everything?

  How he missed Etienne, his chef who was lost when the Pegasus was sunk by Canadian Defense Forces. He cursed the Canadians, and Higuera too, he was the reason for all of Yves’s misery.

  The roast beef sandwich was good, rare and tasty. These Mexicans had some delicious beef, but the bread was pitiful.

  “We are ready, Monsieur.” Madame Trufaunt appeared in the door way

  “Very well.” Yves wiped his face with a cloth napkin and got up from the table. He was always careful to wipe the incessant drool from the ruined side of his mouth. It embarrassed him no end.

  “Our guest is comfortable in his new chamber?” Yves laughed.

  “He is ready for us.” Madame had no sense of humor. In the twenty years they had been together, Yves could not ever remember her laughing.

  Yves led the way through the house and out the French doors from the library to the garden. Madame Trufaunt limped along behind him.

  In the garden, Yves strolled to the replica Aztec pyramid in the center of the property. He looked up and took in the pale blue sky with little puffy clouds. The temperature was perfect. The Valley of Mexico, land of eternal spring, he thought.

  A section of the stone temple was open on the backside, revealing a long, dark corridor. Yves and Madame Trufaunt entered the portal.

  At the end of the corridor a heavy oak door with huge black iron hinges blocked the way. The old-fashioned lock took a large skeleton key. Yves unlocked the door and peered in.

  Madame Trufaunt had prepared the room to his satisfaction. Guillermo hung spread eagled and naked from iron rings anchored in the ceiling. His feet were secured to rings bolted to the floor.

  The only light in the room came from fires in two braziers on either side of Guillermo, casting an eerie glow on his slender body.

  “Are you ready, Madame?” Yves asked.

  “Oui.”

  The pair entered the chamber. Guillermo raised his head to look at his tormentors.

  “Ah, I see you are awake,” Yves said. “That is good.”

  “You’re fuckin’ crazy,” Guillermo shouted.

  “Maybe so my young friend,” Yves taunted as he picked up a poker and set it in one of the braziers. “But I am driven. I know you didn’t ask for this; well neither did I. It was your brother who set this in motion. If he could have just left well enough alone, but no, he’s responsible for this.” Yves turned the ruined side of his face to Guillermo. “Do you want to see what he did to me, to us?”

  “Go to hell,” Guillermo spat.

  Yves casually unbuttoned his shirt and removed it. The right side of his body was covered with angry looking burn scars and unreleased contractures. “Madame, show our young friend what his brother did to you.”

  Without a word, Madame Trufaunt removed her blouse. Her left arm was cut off above the elbow and a metal arm ending in a hook was attached to the stub.

  “Show him the rest.”

  Madame removed her slacks. Her left leg was cut off above the knee. A prosthetic leg cupped the stump of her leg.

  “You see, your brother has much to answer for. I am a great student of psychology. I know what will hurt him the most, and I want him to suffer. I want him to feel all the pain that we have felt. I want him to feel the loss that we have lost.”

  “You’re insane. You’re fuckin’ nuts.”

  “Let me show you how ‘fuckin’ nuts’ I am.” Yves turned to Madame Trufaunt. “Madame. . .”

  Madame Trufaunt ran her hook along Guillermo’s naked body. She pulled at his nipples. She squeezed his penis.

  “Yow!” Guillermo screamed.

  “You like that?” Yves said. “She has just begun.”

  She grabbed loose skin on Guillermo’s belly and twisted causing him to scream. She twisted it more in response to his discomfort and pain, until his skin tore and blood spurted.

  A slight smile spread across Madame Trufaunt’s lips.

  “Maybe it is fortunate that you removed your clothes, Madame.” Yves smiled. “You will not get any blood on them.”

  Guillermo hung from the chains, panting, tears running down his face.

  “Let’s finish up with this pathetic little boy,” Yves said. “I have important business to attend to.”

  Madame Trufaunt took Guillermo’s testicles in her hook and squeezed. He cried in pain.

  ****

  Coyoacán, Mexico City

  By day, Coyoacán is a bustling neighborhood in Mexico City. Once the home of the Tepanec civilization on the south shore of Lake Texcoco, Hernando Cortez used it as his headquarters in the conquest of the Aztec Empire.

  By night, Coyoacán rolls up the sidewalks. Two street lights glared over the home of former President Huerta. Jeff took care of those with two well-placed shots from his silenced Glock. He moved through the night like a wraith.

  He and Catrina, dressed from head to foot in black, threw grapple hooks over the high wall. Jeff pulled himself up and pulled a pair of wire cutters from the side pocket in his combat pants. He clipped the razor wire and sent it falling to the street.

  “I hope Higuera’s done his thing,” Jeff whispered.

  “Don’t worry,” Catrina replied as she pulled herself up to the top of the wall, “If anyone can disable the alarm systems, Ted can.”

  The two silently made their way over the wrought iron spikes on top of the wall, crossed the roof and dropped to the ground below. It was soft earth.

  Catrina looked around; she saw no signs of movement and no guards posted.

  Hmmm . . . This seems almost too easy. She thought to herself.

  The pair tiptoed to the front entrance. The light on the alarm was off. Catrina unlocked the door and opened it.

  Ted, Chris and Hope waited outside. Chris and Hope were carrying the M16s. Ted had his .38 unholstered.

  “C’mon, quietly,” Catrina whispered.

  Jeff moved swiftly along the wall to the right.

  “Chris, Hope, go with Jeff.” Catrina pointed. “Higuera, come with me.”

  Catrina and Ted move to their left.

  “Shit, there it is.” Ted stopped in his tracks. He was staring at the Aztec temple shining in the moonlight.

  “We still need to find where your brother is being held,” Catrina said.

  They made their way through the gardens, looking in the windows as they went. They had gone about halfway down the building when the lights came on.

  “Put down your weapons.” Yves stood with two armed men on either side of him. The men each held MP5 sub-machine guns pointed at Catrina and Ted.

  “Crap.” Ted dropped his pistol.

  “Mr. Higuera, Ted, it is so good to see you again.” Yves motioned to one of the men to pick up the dropped weapons. “And Mrs. Flaherty. You have teamed up with this unfortunate young soul? You have no idea how long I’ve looked forward to this moment.”

  “Screw you,” Ted said.

  “Almost as articulate as your little brother,” Yves said with the tilt of his head, he grinned transforming his face into a grotesque mask. “Yes, I have him here. You will see him soon.”

  “You won’t get away with this,” Catrina said. “We’re not stupid enough to come here and not let anyone know where we are.”

  “And I am not stupid, Mrs. Flaherty.” Yves dabbed at the drool on the right side of his mouth. “You are making an illegal break-in with illegal weapons. You haven’t told anyone you’re here. If the authorities knew about you, they would arrest you. Now come with me.”

  Yves waved his semi-automatic pistol, then turned and walked away. The two gunmen fell in behind Catrina and Ted.

  “Ah . . . I see we have met
your friends.” Yves grinned again.

  Chris, Jeff and Hope were standing in front of the temple, with two gunmen holding assault rifles pointed at them.

  “Chris,” Yves said as he walked up to him, “It has been a long time.” He ran the barrel of his pistol along Chris’s jaw line. “Finally, we can put an end to our little drama.”

  The gunmen herded the five prisoners together, in front of the stone portal on the temple.

  “Madame, please bring out our guest.” Yves bubbled over with glee. “We are going to take a little trip.”

  “Guillermo,” Ted said as Madame Trufaunt shoved his brother through the portal.

  Guillermo’s face was bruised and bloodied. His pants and shirt stained with blood splatter, unable to stand on his own, he crumbled to the ground like a limp ragdoll.

  Hope rushed to her little brother and cradled his head in her arms. “Raton,” she gasped.

  “Get the van,” Yves instructed Madame Trufaunt. He turned to Ted and swiftly backhanded him across the face with the barrel of his pistol.

  “Yeow!” Ted’s head swiveled on his neck and he grabbed his cheek, as blood dripped through his fingers.

  “We will ride together. To Tenochtitlan. You know about Tenochtitlan don’t you Ted? There we’ll find the Pyramid of the Sun. I think it only appropriate that I sacrifice your little brother there, at the next full moon. I will cut out his heart and you will watch. Then I will do the same with each of your friends. I want you to see them, to watch them die. You will be the last. You will know that this is all your fault.” Yves struck Ted again with his gun.

  Ted’s knees began to buckle, but he refused to go down.

  Then they heard it. The loud, deep roar that started low and ominous, then built to an ear-splitting growl, a sound that would forever live in Ted’s memory. Yves and his gunmen froze. Ted tackled Hope and pulled her to the ground. Chris shoved Catrina and Jeff to the side.