Goodbye Mexico

by Phillip Jennings

  I matched his sotto voce. “She is crazy, Rodrigo. When she returns, you must remember to look only at her face. If she sees that you are looking at her … her woman parts, she will shoot you.”

  Rodrigo’s grinning mouth snapped shut. He looked toward the kitchen doorway and then back at me. “Perhaps I should go. My son is waiting for me downstairs.”

  He rose as Marta carried in a tray with coffee. The open pajama top made her look even more naked if possible. Rodrigo raised his chin to a point where he had to look down his nose to see Marta’s face. He was practically facing the ceiling. “Gracias, Señorita. I am afraid that I must go.”

  A noise from the front door caused the three of us to turn. Unmistakable sounds of someone trying to jimmy the lock had us pull three pistols out.

  “Hey, coffee,” Gearheardt said as he burst open the door. “Hello, Rodrigo. Long time no see. Marta, gorgeous outfit. A good night’s sleep always helps. Jack, aren’t those my clothes you’re wearing?” He hung his coat on the hook.

  “Well, looks like pistola inspection. Jack, yours could use some oil. Rodrigo, is that rust I see? Marta, you have … well I’m not speculating on what you have on your barrel.” He took a cup of coffee from the tray and turned to shake Rodrigo’s hand.

  “Ola, Rodrigo. How’s the detective work?”

  “Señor Gearheardt, the last time I saw you I say that I will kill you next time, no?” But he was smiling.

  “Just a misunderstanding, amigo. Just a misunderstanding.” He stepped past me and plopped down onto the couch. “Pardon me, Jack. I didn’t make it to bed last night.”

  Marta went to the kitchen for more coffee. I noticed that Rodrigo had forgotten the curse of only looking at her face. It made me slightly angry although I had no right to be.

  When the four of us were comfortably sipping coffee, I turned to Gearheardt. “So how do you know Rodrigo? I mean other than me talking about him.”

  “Rodrigo helped me, although he didn’t know it at the time, to set up the network in Mexico City before I contacted you, Jack. Over a year ago.”

  “You mean you were coming down here for a year before you called me? Damn it, Gearheardt, that’s unforgivable.”

  “What difference did it make if you thought I was dead a few more months, Jack? I knew where you were. Knew you were safe and gainfully employed. I didn’t want you worried about my networking problems.”

  “The union,” Rodrigo said. He didn’t sound as if he liked the word.

  “Yes, the union. You probably don’t know this, Jack, but I worked for a humanitarian organization that was trying to unionize the prostitutes. You know, just give them some bargaining power with the johns and pimps. Rodrigo had some buddies who didn’t think that was a very good idea.” He tipped his cup toward Rodrigo.

  “You mean the IS—” I started to say.

  “Yes, the Eyesis organization.”

  The way he said it told me that Rodrigo didn’t need to know about the International Sisterhood of Prostitutes. But then I caught a look between Gearheardt and Marta that I almost wished I hadn’t seen. Marta? Damn, that might explain a lot of things. Not all things, but some. I tried not to stare at her.

  Rodrigo was saying “… so my friend was telling me that a gringo was in Las Palomas. Upstairs with ten women. And when he finish, he ordered ten more women. He pays for all of them. And they come down with the smile and arranging clothes. But twenty women. My friend call me to tell me that he wanted to kill the gringo, but only if it was okay with the policia.”

  “You know, Rodrigo, that’s a system that we could use in the states. You call the police before you shoot someone. Just check out their reaction. Kind of like filing a flight plan.” There was an edge to Gearheardt’s voice.

  Rodrigo shrugged. “It’s my job, Señor. I keep the peace. The owner was a business man. You cause the trouble in his business.” He paused and looked at Gearheardt. “When we came to keep the peace, the owner he has disappeared. Maybe you know where he goes?”

  “He was beating the girls when I found him, Rodrigo. If you want to find him, you should look where they employ eunuchs.”

  “So you are CIA also?” Rodrigo said, nodding toward me.

  Gearheardt shook a cigarette from a rumpled pack. “Lots of men have tried to find that out, amigo. A lot of men tried. A lot of men died.” He lit the cigarette and blew the smoke up away from his face. “Sounds like a song doesn’t it?”

  Rodrigo finished his coffee with a slurp and then rose. “Jack, you will call me after Cinco de Mayo. We will find the drug people.” He nodded at Marta, taking a good look as he did, and left.

  “He’s not a bad guy, Gearheardt,” I said. “He’s been helping me with the Colombian bombers, who now turn out to be drug runners.”

  “I’m sure he’s a good guy, Jack. Just don’t miss a payday with him.” He paused and looked at the door where Rodrigo had just disappeared. “Before they threw him off the police force, he worked the prostitute market with a pretty firm hand, shall we say. I’m surprised he still needs money.”

  Marta rose suddenly, gathered the juice glasses and coffee cups and went to the kitchen. We heard her start to wash the dishes.

  “I’m using him to find the guys supplying the money and weapons to kill Americans, Gearheardt,” I said.

  “I’m not saying you shouldn’t. Just remember what bastards some of these guys are.” He put out his cigarette. “I was recruiting in South America last year. These business men took me to a place where we watched a teenage boy attack a teenage girl in a cage. The winner got to be free. Sent back to his or her village. She was a virgin. He was hopped up on drugs. The men thought it was hilarious that the girl won.”

  “So she got to go free?”

  Gearheardt’s laugh wasn’t funny. “Sure, Jack. Some of the men used her and then she was to be sold to a whorehouse somewhere. You knew that didn’t you? You just always like to hope for the best for people, Jack. I know better and they say I’m the one who’s nuts.”

  “Where was this?”

  “I’d rather not say, Jack. They kind of think I might know something about the three missing businessmen. The ones who took me to the show.”

  “You—”

  “Jack. You know me better than that. I got the boys drunk. Stripped them naked and took them to a whorehouse near the coast. I might have mentioned to the girls who they were and what they had done. That’s all. I think the girls took them swimming. Probably had a hell of a time.” He smiled at the thought.

  “You know why I like whores so well, Jack. Aside from the obvious. They are in the only business in the world that has any honor in it. A whore says, ‘I’m going to fuck you and take your money. I will humiliate you and force you to come down to the scum bucket level I live on. In the end you will feel like you’ve been screwed, you’ll be poorer and feel like a dope. So come on in.’ How many business propositions start with that kind of honesty?”

  My face must have told Gearheardt what I was thinking, that he had lost me.

  “Jack, here’s the point. Focus on the mission. Remember who you’re working for and why you’re doing it. But never forget what bastards some of these guys are.”

  I heard the shower start, reminding me of my house guest.

  “Marta?”

  “President of the Havana chapter of ISP.”

  “But you’re not sure we can trust her, right?”

  “I’m not sure that she is convinced we’re going to win this one, Jack. I think she’s hedging her bets. Keeping in contact with the bad boys. Hoping we’ll pull it off. I can’t really blame her. She was just a kid when the Bay of Pigs happened, but all Cubans know the U.S. of A. backed down at the last minute.”

  “It wasn’t quite that simple.”

  “It never is, Jack. Not when you’re trying to explain your sniveling ways to the survivors.” He searched for a cigarette, not finding one. “Every country has its Rodrigos and Argo Buzzards, Jack. We throw ou
rs in jail when we discover them. They promote theirs. That’s the difference. Rodrigo was kicked off the force because he caused a lot of people to lose money. Not because they didn’t approve of what he was doing.”

  “I’m not as stupid as I look, Gearheardt.”

  “Not by a long shot, Jack.”

  “I mean I’m not as naïve as you think I am.”

  “You couldn’t be, Jack.”

  “You’re not going to let me talk, are you?”

  “Nope. You’d just say something patriotic and stupid. Just get the job done. That’s my motto. That and find women. And strong drink.”

  I waved away his return to foolishness. “Before Marta gets back out here, Gearheardt, I need to go over this plan with you. Given all we know now, does it still make sense to try to fake the assassination of the president so that we can blame the Cubans and hope the U.S. invades Cuba?”

  “We have to make some adjustments. And I need to fill you in on the ‘taking over Cuba’ aspect. But generally speaking, we need to press on. We’ve only got today. Take your shower and then you and I will head out. I have another mission for Marta this morning. One that will help us decide if we can count on her. I’m not worried about her in Mexico, but she’s critical to my plan in Havana.”

  I began unbuttoning my shirt as I stood up. “Did you really go to Fordham?”

  “Naaa. I just told that to Crenshaw because I knew how he would react to a Jesuit.”

  “When I first met you in Pensacola, in flight school, you told me you were home schooled through college. I knew that was bullshit, but it wasn’t important at the time. So where did you go to school?”

  “Princeton.”

  “You went to Princeton?”

  “Yep. I didn’t mention it after you told me you went to some dipshit cow college. You’re smarter than I am, Jack. Doesn’t matter where we went to college.”

  “Princeton,” I muttered as I headed for my bedroom to get fresh clothes. I met Marta coming out of the bathroom, a towel around her head, only her head. “Did you know that Gearheardt went to Princeton?” I asked her.

  “When will he return?” she asked before she looked in the living room. “Que passo?” she asked.

  Behind me I heard Marta as she went into the living room. “Gearheardt, you are here. Jack says that you are gone.”

  After my shower I joined Gearheardt and Marta. We went over the situation with Victor and Marta’s role. I watched Marta closely, because she was lovely and because I felt uneasy about her being alone with Victor. I was curious to see if she was apprehensive. She didn’t seem to be.

  “Gearheardt, what about Crenshaw? We can’t just ignore the fact that Cuban’s have a CIA agent captured up in the mountains. What are you going to do about it?”

  “I’m working on it, Jack. You saw him up there. Did he look in any real danger of being shot? By now he’s probably converted the rest of that lot.”

  “I get the feeling that you would just as soon he stay there for a while.”

  “Well, it might be—”

  “Forget it. I’m not going to have that on my conscience. Either get cracking or I’m taking some Marines from the embassy and going after him myself.”

  “I’m working on it, Jack. What more can I say? And I don’t think even Crenshaw would like to see the embassy involved.”

  He was right of course. “Just make sure that you get him back. Soon.”

  “We should have some lunch and then head to our headquarters, Jack.”

  “Which are where?”

  “Jack, did you ever dream of a work environment where you were surrounded by beautiful scantily clad women?” He paused and looked at Marta. “Of course having Marta naked around here for the past few days has been pretty damn good I’ll bet. But—”

  The phone rang.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  PYGMY DOWN YONDER

  “You’ve got to help me, Señor Jack,” Rodrigo pleaded. “I am go crazy and kill everyone. Those bastardos and their own mothers.”

  “Slow down, Rodrigo. Tell me what happened and what you want me to do.”

  “The Colombians have taken my son. He was on the campus, waiting for me. I will kill all of them, every one!”

  “Where are you now?”

  “I am near the Universidad de Mexico. They are still in this area. These are the people who are angry that we took their courier. You and me should find them.”

  It made a sort of sense. Although I wasn’t sure how I could help more than the Mexican police.

  Gearheardt was watching me from across my apartment. He wasn’t a fan of Rodrigo, that much I knew. He rolled his eyes and looked at his watch. We were supposed to meet the Pygmy in fifteen minutes. Gearheardt had agreed to talk the Pygmy out of killing me. And to find out what the heck the Pygmy’s mission was in Mexico. We were to meet him in Chapultepec Park.

  I put my hand over the phone. “Gearheardt, can you get hold of the Pygmy and tell him we’ll be late?”

  “He’s already in the park.”

  “He’s in the park? How do you know?”

  “He sells cigarettes there. I thought you saw him.”

  “That’s the Pygmy? How in hell would I know? Damn, Gearheardt, you spring these things on me like they were nothing. What if he had decided to go ahead and kill me like he was threatening to do?”

  “I’d of run the little bastard out of town on a popsicle stick, Jack. But I knew he was all mouth. He wanted to run Cuba and thought he had a deal with Crenshaw, but the Pygmy also knew that you worked for Crenshaw, so he wasn’t sure whether or not he could kill you.”

  “Does he have deal with Crenshaw?”

  “Not since Crenshaw found out the little twerp was an animist. You know Crenshaw. That animal worshipping stuff doesn’t cut it with him. He also found out that the Pygmy took the burro tail from the ambassador’s office and cooked it in the embassy parking lot in some kind of animist ritual.”

  “Wait a minute. We’re talking about that little cigarette kid that you always buy from in Chapultepec Park, right?”

  “Holy smoke, Jack, you really should look into a career selling bibles door to door. Didn’t you ever notice the kid had a hell of a five o’clock shadow? Not to mention, he smelled like a roasted goat. Yes, the kid in the park selling cigarettes is the Pygmy.” “Where in the heck is Marta? We need to get a move on.” I could deal with Gearheardt later. But now I needed to help Rodrigo first. I spoke into the receiver.

  “Rodrigo, I’ll meet you at Chalupa’s in an hour. I’m going to bring Gearheardt.”

  Rodrigo was silent. Then, “If Gearheardt can help me get my son, I will forgive him. My son, Manuelo, is on his way here. It will take him maybe one hour. Only he and you do I trust, Jack.”

  I hung up and looked at Gearheardt.

  “Don’t get me involved in your operations, Jack. I’ve got work to do. Remember this meeting with the Pygmy was your idea.”

  “You’re going with me. And maybe we take the Pygmy. If he’s so damn set on killing someone, he can shoot the Colombian drug dealers.” I tried to get Gearheardt to be serious. “Can we trust him?”

  “You mean can we trust a three-foot aboriginal wild man? Sure, why not?” He leaned back in the easy chair and picked up his coffee cup. “But I ain’t going.”

  “Yes, you are. Get your butt up and grab your coat.”

  “Jack, this is your operation. You don’t see me begging to have you help me out all the time.”

  I stood over his slouched, coffee slurping, figure. “I won’t even dignify that bullshit with an argument. Get up.”

  Gearheardt grinned as he rose. “Well, I guess now and then I have asked you to lend a hand. Let’s go find the Pygmy.”

  Gearheardt filled me in on the latest about the Pygmy as we left my apartment building. The Blame-O-Matic™ policies had once been wildly popular, but senior agency management had recently begun an investigation. The Pygmy had gotten cocky and sometimes didn’t both
er to read the mission objectives. A failed CIA mission to destabilize the Kobe beef market in Kyoto had the excuse No One Spoke Italian scrawled across the OFR (Official Failure Report) with Bernard Ruffkowski’s signature underneath. Bernard Ruffkowski was one of the Pygmy’s registered and official aliases.

  The unwitting new DCI had boasted that he was going to ‘cut this Ruffkowski down to size’ when he found him. When the three-foot ‘Ruffkowski’ appeared in front of his desk, the DCI knew he was about to become the laughing stock every agent in the field so he promoted him on the spot from Midget to Extremely Short Person, increasing the Pygmy’s pay by one third.

  In recent years, the Pygmy’s importance was on the decline. The Agency had officially adopted a policy of ‘no failures’ and although his imprimatur was sometimes sought as insurance (mostly in Democratic administrations) the Pygmy had put in for an in-grade transfer and was accepted as an assassin pro tem. No one was sure what that actually meant.

  “So he’s not in charge of the Goodbye Mexico operation,” I said to Gearheardt.

  “I’m pretty sure he’s not, Jack. I just told you that to lend some credibility to my proposal.” We crossed Reforma, the main thoroughfare running by Chapultepec Park. “But I’m confident I can talk him into shooting Rodrigo. If he doesn’t assassinate someone by year’s end, he has to reapply.”

  “You really don’t like Rodrigo, do you?” I asked Gearheardt as we walked into the park. “We’re surrounded by assholes in this business. Why do you have a hard-on for him?”

  Gearheardt stopped and purchased flowers from a small girl at the entrance to the park.

  “I don’t like or dislike Rodrigo, Jack. Liking or disliking is not in my job description. I didn’t help old people across the street when I was a Boy Scout either.”

  “I think there’s more to it than that. But I don’t care. Where the hell are you going?”

  Gearheardt stepped to the side of the broad walkway and approached a young woman holding a baby while keeping an eye on a toddler playing nearby in the grass.