“He’s out,” Bennett replied. “Gone to see his girl.”
“Was he in my office while I was gone?”
“Can’t say.”
“Think. At any time during my absence, any time, was he in my room?”
“Can’t say.”
“That rat bastard!”
“Well, thank you for the hospitality, sir, ma’am,” the General said as he rose from the table. “But we’ve got a piece of highway to cover before we get home and return that bus to the depot. Planning on getting a used Croatian amphibious vehicle to replace it.” The General winked at Avery. “Don’t worry — we’ll drop the hippy off on the way.”
Private Zulu grabbed his pickles and shoved them in his pocket. The men of STRAC-BOM got up from the table and, one by one, thanked their hosts. Ziggy reached down and picked up his squirming reptile. Max growled again, his stubby tail pointed straight in the air. His hackles were standing up. Nancy ignored him. The General led his militia outside, and they loaded up. He cursed at Private Zulu and Fire Team Leader Charlie as he pulled another parking ticket from the window of the bus.
“Drive safe, y’all.” Bennett and Polly waved goodbye.
Upstairs, Avery stopped at the door to his office. Below the SKUNK WORKS sign, he used a single thumbtack to attach another. AVERY BARTHOLOMEW PENDLETON – PRIVATE INVESTIGATOR FOR HIRE – GOVERNMENTS TOPPLED – TERRORISTS’ PLOTS FOILED – MURDERS SOLVED – OCCASIONALLY, LOST CATS FOUND.
• • •
The Padre wore a jumpsuit. His hands and feet were shackled. His shoulder hurt from the bullet he’d taken from the Ukrainian bodyguard. He sat in a plastic chair in front of a folding table. The rest of the windowless room was empty. His immaculately polished boots, his Italian suit, and Roman priest’s collar were all gone. He sat in the cold room, alone. The door opened. A man with a briefcase came in and stood in front of him. From his suit coat, he produced a thin cigar. He handed it to the Padre. The Padre held it up and looked at it. He smelled it. The man with the briefcase took out a gold lighter and lit the cigar for him. The Padre inhaled deeply. He looked at the man standing in front of him.
“When am I getting out?”
“I’m…sorry, Padre.”
The Padre was silent for a few moments. “So that’s it?”
“I’m sorry.”
The Padre looked at his smoldering cigar. The tip burned red hot. “Carnicero?”
“He’s dead,” the man in the suit replied.
The Padre stared at the cigar. One part was on fire, one part was not, but the whole thing was consuming itself. The Padre held the glowing tip under his nose. The smoke rose in a spiral. He closed his eyes and inhaled.
• • •
Later that evening, in Monterrey, Barquero slipped through the throng of people on the sidewalk. They were lined up for the street vendors who boisterously hawked their food from small stalls to the late-night crowd of revelers. Time and time again, he looked back over his shoulder. No one was following. Barquero was a large man, but no one seemed to notice him. He found a taxi and got in. As the car pulled away from the curb, Barquero closed his eyes. Rosalina.
• • •
A lone coyote sat on a ridge above the Mexican desert. The pale moon cast an eerie light over the hungry animal as its tongue hung from its jaws. The beast wasn’t full. It wasn’t yet satisfied. It just sat, watching. Waiting patiently for the right moment…
EPILOGUE
To: President of the United Mexican States
Dear Mr. President:
You don’t have to thank me. You don’t even have to apologize, although it would be nice. We both know I saved your country and your position in the government. What I want, besides the rest of my rightful reward for locating and delivering to you one of Mexico’s most highly sought-after drug cartel lords, is the full and complete reimbursement of my out-of-pocket expenses. Heretofore, listed in no particular order:
1) Three cases of Mountain Dew. Original flavor only.
2) One new “Bruce Lee” yellow tracksuit. XXL size only.
3) One Motel 9 “All You Can Eat” breakfast buffet voucher.
Sincerely,
Avery Bartholomew Pendleton
P.S. – The New York Yankees won’t lose forever. You should keep my phone number handy. The chupacabra will have its revenge…
Trail of the Chupacabra: An Avery Bartholomew Pendleton Misadventure (The Chupacabra Trilogy - Book 2) Page 29
