The Timid Traitor (A Nick Williams Mystery Book 10)

by Frank W. Butterfield

  I nodded. "We were going to put Annie on a commercial flight. She has a passport. Rosa doesn't."

  Running his hand over his face, he said, "I wish you hadn't told me that."

  "Told you what?" I tried to look as innocent as possible.

  He finally grinned. "I'll tell you what. I wouldn't trade you in as a boss for a hundred of Howard Hughes, but—"

  "I know. I can be a real pain in the ass."

  He nodded. "Yeah." He looked down at the floor for a moment. "We have enough fuel to get to Mexico City easy." He yawned. "I don't think we can make it to Europe without an intermediate stop. I'm thinking Havana. I'll need to make some calls and get contacts. Where in France?"

  I shrugged. "I'd say the smallest place you can land that is as close to Paris as possible. We don't want to be too big a plane landing in a small airport like happened in Galveston. But we don't want a lot of official attention like we'd get at a major airport."

  "Right." He yawned. "Wherever we land, we'll need to get fuel for the return trip."

  I nodded.

  He said, "I'm thinking we can go from France to Ireland and then cross over to Portland for a refuel before going..." He looked at me. "Where?"

  I smiled. "San Francisco."

  He narrowed his eyes at me. "All of us?"

  I nodded. "Yep. Time to face the music."

  Captain Morris nodded noncommittally. "How much cash do you have?"

  "The usual fifty grand." We always carried that much with us on the plane. It was surprising how often we'd needed that much on the spot.

  "That's more than enough for the fuel. And greenbacks will be good in Mexico City and Havana. I don't know how that'll work in France or Ireland."

  I said, "Let me know if we need to wire something ahead and I'll arrange that."

  "Will do."

  "Sorry for the inconvenience, Captain."

  He shook his head. "It's always an adventure with you, Mr. Williams."

  "Happy to oblige."

  He laughed as he closed the door. As I walked down the hallway towards the lobby, I heard him say, "Christine! Wake up! He's at it again."

  I couldn't help but smile.

  . . .

  I could see the car's headlights reflect off the whitewashed walls of the hacienda as we got close to the place. Carter killed the main lights and slowed down to a snail's pace. We were riding in Alfonso's '50 Roadmaster. I rolled down the window on my side and began to look for the little dirt road that ran along the side of the walled compound.

  Teresa, one of Marge's housekeepers at the hotel, had been a maid at the hacienda when Nacho was still alive. She'd been reluctantly let go by Rosa after Maldonado had decided he didn't like her for whatever reason.

  She was sitting in the backseat of the car with Antonio, her husband. He spoke English. She didn't. He worked in the gardens and did odd jobs for Alfonso. And he'd insisted on coming along. He had also brought a gun which was good since neither Carter nor I had thought to bring ours.

  Teresa whispered something. Antonio leaned forward and said, "See? Past that tree."

  I leaned forward. I couldn't see it, but Carter said, "Got it." He slowly crept along the paved road and then quietly turned the car onto the dirt road. As he did, he killed all the lights. Moving at no more than 5 miles per hour, we slowly crept along. Before long, the wall ended. Teresa said something in the backseat.

  "It's maybe twenty meters from here. There is a small stairs. That door is unlocked. It is the kitchen."

  "Twenty meters?" asked Carter.

  "Sixty feet," I replied.

  We crept along a bit further. Before long, I could see the steps. Carter slowed the car to a stop and turned off the ignition. Whispering, he said, "Don't close the doors. Leave them wide open." He reached up and turned off the dome light.

  We all quietly piled out. Teresa led the way. Just inside the kitchen was a second door on the left that Teresa carefully opened, revealing a back staircase to the second floor.

  Teresa led us up quickly to the second-floor landing. She whispered something to Antonio and then slowly opened the door and looked down the hall. Waving us back, she disappeared. Antonio quietly said, "She will look to see who is in the bedroom."

  The thought of that pock-marked imbecile sleeping with Rosa made my stomach turn. He was an ugly man, both inside and out. And, while I had no old-fashioned ideas about her purity, I didn't like him making the moves on her. For Nacho's sake. But mostly for hers. I could only imagine how hard it would have been for her. Maldonado had a small private army. They would have been a lot to deal with.

  After two or three minutes, Teresa was back. She said something to Antonio who whispered, "He is asleep. She is awake."

  Teresa motioned us forward. We all filed down the hallway. The door at the end was open slightly. Antonio and Carter stood sentry in the hall while Teresa and I walked in.

  The bedroom was vast. It was plushly carpeted and, even in the dark, looked like something from a magazine. It was furnished in Danish Modern. I couldn't see the colors in the dark, but everything looked very much like it was perfectly placed.

  "Teresa?" hissed Rosa in the dark.

  The girl replied in Spanish. Rosa hissed back.

  "And, Nick," I added in a whisper. We were standing in what looked like a sitting room that opened into the larger bedroom. I could see one figure on the left side of bed. It was snoring but not loudly. A second figure walked around from a dark corner. It was Rosa.

  I said, "Let's go."

  "I have a bag packed."

  "Grab it."

  She quietly opened a closet and pulled out a medium-sized suitcase. As she did, something in the closet fell. It wasn't loud, but in the quiet of the night, it sounded like an avalanche. The sleeper stirred for a moment. We all stood perfectly still. After a long, tense moment, the sleeper began to snore again.

  Rosa crept towards us. As she walked by, Teresa took the suitcase from her. I waited until they were gone before I turned to follow. As I was slipping through the door, I heard a male voice call out, "Rosalinda?"

  I pushed everyone forward. We began to trot down the hall. When we were about halfway to the back staircase, the voice called out, "Rosalinda?" followed by some words in Spanish. This time they were much louder. I heard someone else open a door and call out something in Spanish. An angry reply came from the bedroom.

  By that time, Carter was pushing me down the stairs. Teresa was in front with the suitcase. I was behind Rosa. Antonio was in the rear and had his gun out.

  As we raced down the stairs, I heard a shot fired in the hallway. Teresa called out in a fearful voice. Rosa replied soothingly.

  While Teresa was making her way down the outside steps, another shot was fired. Carter raced around me and jumped down to the ground. He hopped into the car and started it up while the rest of us piled in. Antonio was the last in and he had his gun pointed out the window.

  Carter made a tight circle in the yard behind the kitchen door. He had the lights on. I could see there was nothing but desert behind the house. We headed down the dirt road that ran the sixty feet behind the wall.

  From the backseat, Rosa said, "Don't turn at the wall. This road goes straight to the highway. It's the one most everyone uses."

  Carter sped up a little. I looked over at the speedometer. He was doing about thirty, and the car was bouncing around on the uneven road. As we moved past the wall, I looked over at the highway in the distance. It was empty. So far.

  "How far to the paved road?" asked Carter.

  Rosa replied, "About two minutes, maybe."

  I looked in the backseat. Antonio was sitting on the wrong side of the car. To shoot towards the highway, he would have to reach over Teresa and Rosa. I reached over the backseat and said, "Gimme your gun."

  He looked at me for a long moment. I snapped my fingers. "Come on, kid."

  He shrugged and handed it to me.

  I pulled back the hammer and began to watc
h for signs of headlights on the highway. In the darkness, I could see the dividing line. After a moment of more bouncing around, I saw lights appear on the paved surface. Holding onto the door handle, I leaned out the window and aimed the gun. The white car was speeding forward to intercept us where our dirt road ended at the paved road.

  Suddenly, there was a flash of gunfire from the other car. Teresa called out in fear. I yelled, "Everyone down."

  I reached out and looked at the tires of the other car. I could see the whitewalls spinning as we got closer.

  Time stopped. I remembered something Mike had once taught me about the physics of shooting a gun from one moving target to another. I could also smell cigars. It was as if Nacho was sitting next to me and whispering in my ear. As I began to aim, I heard him say in his sexy voice, "Wait for the other car to be near."

  I did that. As the highway got closer and closer and the other car was bearing down on us, I got impatient and tried to pull the trigger. I could feel a hand on mine holding it back. Then, in the flash of a moment, I heard Nacho say, "Now." I pulled the trigger. The gun kicked, but not much. I heard the explosion of a tire and the squealing of wheels on the pavement. The other driver tried to get control of the car but lost the battle. The Lincoln crashed into a boulder on the far side of the road.

  Right then, our car bounced onto the highway and Carter hit the accelerator. Mentally, I said, "Thanks, Nacho." I was sure I heard a husky reply, "You're welcome, my friend."

  Chapter 17

  Ensenada Airport

  Thursday, January 20, 1955

  Just before 6 in the morning

  When we'd left the hotel, I'd asked Marge to get Sam up and have him, Annie, and the flight crew meet us at the airport. I'd also pressed a couple of hundreds in her hand and told her to send me a bill to settle up.

  She'd smiled and said, "Maybe I'll come see you up in San Francisco one day."

  I'd smiled in return and replied, "We'd like that. You and Alfonso are welcome anytime."

  When we pulled into the small parking lot at the airport, I could see that the starboard propellers of the Lumberjack were already turning. The cabin lights were visible in the darkness.

  The Mercedes was nowhere to be found, which was probably a good thing. Carter parked the car, left the keys in the ignition for Tony, and jumped out to open the trunk.

  The rest of us got out. There was a tearful parting between Rosa and Teresa. As Antonio walked over to claim his gun, I handed it back and put a hundred in his palm. "For bullets."

  He grinned and shook my hand. "Safe travels, Mr. Williams."

  "Thanks."

  . . .

  Once we were in the air, I could feel myself relaxing. Carter and I were in the front row of wide leather seats. Annie and Sam were in the row behind us. Rosa was in the last row, just behind Annie's seat.

  I stood up and walked back to where Rosa was sitting. "How are you?"

  She'd been crying. She wiped a tear from her face. "Better. These are tears of relief. You have no idea how it's been this last year, Nick."

  I sat in the seat across the aisle from her. "No, I don't. If you want to talk about it, I'm all ears."

  She shook her head. "Not yet. It's too recent."

  I looked at her more closely. Her hair was pulled back off her face with a small scarf. She had no makeup on. And she was radiantly beautiful. It was quite a remarkable thing to see.

  Right then, Christine walked up. "John wants to see you up front."

  I nodded and stood. "Do we have any food?"

  She nodded. "Mrs. Rocha gave me a big basket. It's nothing fancy. Bread, sliced meats, cheese, boiled eggs. That sort of thing.

  "I'll take anything. I'm famished. But take care of our guests, first."

  She nodded and knelt beside Rosa. She was asking "Can I bring you some coffee?" as I walked forward.

  I knocked on the cabin door and opened it when I heard, "Come in."

  "How are we doing?" I asked.

  "Fine, Mr. Williams." Captain Morris sounded tired. I couldn't blame him.

  "Were you able to get in touch with anyone?"

  "Didn't want to waste time at the hotel. I'll make calls from Mexico City. The air-to-ground relay only works between San Francisco and Los Angeles."

  I nodded. "Captain Obregon, I'm sorry about this."

  He turned in his seat and, for the first time ever, grinned up at me. "It's OK, Mr. Williams. I haven't been to France in a while. And it's never boring when you're on board."

  "See John?" I said. "I'm not always a pain in the ass."

  Captain Obregon said, "Oh, I didn't say that, Mr. Williams. You're always a pain in the ass. But it's a lot of fun."

  We all laughed.

  . . .

  We landed in Mexico City around 7 in the morning local time. When a set of stairs were wheeled up, we were ready. A man in the uniform of the Federal Police was waiting for us when Christine opened the door. He walked inside and said, "Identification, please."

  Captain Morris was right there and went first. He handed over his passport. There was a carefully folded hundred inside. The man very swiftly pocketed it once he found it. He looked up at the captain and asked, "Origin?"

  "Ensenada."

  "Destination?"

  "Havana."

  The man nodded. After glancing around the cabin, he tipped his hat. "Enjoy your vacations."

  And, with that, he was gone.

  . . .

  "Hello?"

  "Hi doll, it's Nick. Sorry to wake you up so early."

  "Nick! Where are you?"

  "Mexico City."

  "What's going on?"

  I briefly explained what we were doing.

  Her reply wasn't surprising. "Nick! All the way to France?"

  "Yeah."

  She sighed. "I don't suppose you could stop and pick up Alex and me, could you?"

  I laughed. "Sorry, doll. But, tell you what, why don't the four of us plan on going in the spring? From what I hear, you don't wanna go to France in January."

  "That makes sense. When do you think you'll be home?"

  "Hopefully tomorrow night."

  "Need anything?"

  "Nope. Just keep an ear to the ground. I'll call you from Havana to check in before we fly over the ocean."

  "Good. Give Carter a kiss for me."

  "I will. Thanks, doll."

  "You're welcome, Nick."

  I put the receiver down and looked around the small terminal. There was a tiny cafe at one end. Rosa, Annie, Sam, and Carter were all waiting for me there at a table for five.

  Leaving the phone booth, I looked around the room. There was what looked like a weather desk. I could see maps and charts on the wall. One man was standing there, paging through a large loose-leaf book. Next to the weather desk was a rack of hotel brochures. Two men were looking through them. As I watched, three men walked in through the glass doors on the far end of the room. It suddenly occurred to me that those men were Mexican. They were laughing and speaking in Spanish. The other three men were all obviously American. I looked down at their shoes and had an epiphany.

  I slowly pulled my pack of Camels out of my pocket. I tipped the first willing one out and put in my mouth. Like I'd done the day before, I made a show of not being able to find my lighter. I walked over to the man at the weather desk.

  "Gotta light, pal? Can't seem to find my lighter."

  The man looked up at me and smiled. "Sure." He pulled out a well-used Zippo. I leaned over and lit the cigarette.

  After taking in a deep drag, I exhaled away from him and asked, "Where you headed?"

  "Albuquerque."

  I nodded and took another drag.

  "How about you?" he asked.

  "Miami," I lied.

  "Great time of year for Florida."

  I nodded. "Yeah. Thanks for the light."

  He smiled. "Sure thing."

  Turning towards the cafe, I began to whistle my favorite song, "Red River Val
ley." I was never good at whistling, so it usually attracted attention. Carter looked up and nodded slightly.

  I turned left and made my way outside to the tarmac. I casually walked up the steps and then bounded towards the cockpit door. Captain Obregon was the only one there.

  "When can we leave?"

  "We're all topped up. Captain Morris and Christine are making a couple of calls. They should be back any minute."

  "Get ready to go as soon as you can. Something's happened."

  He nodded and pulled down a big clipboard.

  I walked back into the main cabin just as everyone else, including Captain Morris and Christine, were walking in.

  I stopped next to the front row of seats and waited for the captain to meet me. As he did, I whispered, "We need to talk."

  He nodded and walked into the cockpit. I followed him in and closed the door behind me.

  "What's up?"

  "Did you tell anyone we were flying to Mexico City before we left Ensenada?"

  "Sure. I told Mr. Halversen and Mrs. Boudier."

  "Did you tell them the whole route?"

  He nodded and pressed his lips together with a frown.

  "Do you know if either of them made a call from the hotel?"

  "They both did."

  I nodded and thought about that.

  He added, "Should I ask why this is important?"

  I shook my head. "No. What's your plan from here?"

  "We fly to Havana, top off, then fly to Bordeaux. That's not close to Paris, but the airport is close to the ocean. If we avoid flying over Portugal or Spain, then we'll be able to land without any official notice. I've already started charting our flight path. By the time we get to Havana, I should have it all done."

  I nodded and thought for a moment. "If I wanted to land in Miami instead of Havana, how soon would you have to know?"

  "Miami?"

  I nodded but said nothing.

  He said, "About thirty minutes after we take off from here."

  "OK. Let's get going as soon as you can. Be thinking about other places we could land for that refuel besides Havana or Miami."

  . . .

  Once we were in the air again, I stood up from my seat and said loud enough for everyone to hear. "Carter, I need your soothing hands on my back again."