Tequila Sunset
Page 10
They stripped each other. Flip was aching when she reached down between them and guided him into her. She was heat and wetness and she groaned when he pushed in.
She made love to him slowly, but with urgency. Flip wanted to put his hands everywhere at once, to feel her skin under his touch. When she kissed him again he couldn’t hold back and he finished inside of her.
For a while she lay atop him and they breathed together. Eventually she slipped free of his embrace and he heard her dressing in the dark. “Do you have to go?” he asked.
“It’s not our bedroom,” Graciela whispered. “We can’t stay here forever.”
He got up and fished for his clothes, but she was already dressed. “Just a minute,” he said.
Graciela kissed him. “Don’t forget to call me this time,” she said.
She opened the door and the sounds of the party poured in. Then she closed it and was gone.
FIVE
CRISTINA OVERSLEPT ON MONDAY MORNING and nearly didn’t get Freddie to the bus on time. Traffic to the command center was bad because of a road accident. She got to the squad room a half an hour late.
“Nice of you to join us,” Robinson said.
“Can it, Bob. Not this morning.”
“Rough day at the office?”
“I need a new alarm clock. Christ, I didn’t even get to have breakfast yet.”
“I think there’s doughnuts by the coffee machine.”
“Okay.”
Cristina sorted through her messages and checked her email, but it was hard to focus. A wrong start to the day could put her into a tight spot all day and she couldn’t allow that. When Robinson returned with doughnuts she ate two almost without tasting them and then went for coffee.
The door to Captain Cokley’s office was closed. When it opened, Cokley cocked a finger at Cristina. “Salas, Robinson, come on in here.”
Cokley’s office was not grand, but it was large enough for a small meeting table to fit in with his desk. He pointed them toward chairs and Cristina saw the woman in the black suit for the first time: she sat with her back to the wall, a laptop open in front of her and a scattering of printouts at hand. She looked tall even sitting down and her hair was perfectly straight to her shoulders.
“Special Agent McPeek, these are my detectives, Cristina Salas and Bob Robinson,” Cokley said. “You two have a seat.”
McPeek got up to shake their hands and Cristina saw that she was maybe as tall as Robinson. Her suit looked expensive. “Pleased to meet you both,” McPeek said. “You can call me Jamie if you want, I don’t mind.”
“Salas and Robinson are my go-to people when it comes to Barrio Azteca,” Cokley said.
“Is that so? Then I’m definitely talking to the right folks.”
“What’s going on?” Cristina asked.
“I’m with the Safe Streets Gang Task Force,” McPeek said. “I’m new, so I’m still getting to know everybody. I’ve only been in the El Paso office for three months. From what I understand, your unit has coordinated with the task force before.”
“Sure,” Robinson said. “Special Agent Gorden was our last FBI guy.”
“I’ve met Special Agent Gorden. He did a very nice job here, made it easy for me to get up to speed. He’s out in California now.”
Cokley sat on the edge of his desk. Cristina felt him hovering over her shoulder. “Special Agent McPeek is here to talk about something new that’s coming down the pipeline. As soon as she told me all about it, I knew you’d have to be brought in.”
“What is it?” Cristina asked.
“Well, I should start out by saying that this is an operation that’s only affiliated with the task force and isn’t actually part of its usual function. This particular undertaking involves the FBI, DEA, ATF and the federal police in Mexico.”
“That’s a lot of alphabet soup,” Robinson said.
“It’s a delicate balance,” McPeek replied. “And now we’re looking to draw in some members of the El Paso Police Department. Specifically: you.”
Cristina leaned forward in her seat. “Why us?”
“Your captain tells me that you’ve been regularly surveilling a capo in the Barrio Azteca power structure by the name of José Martinez. Is that correct?”
“We like to keep tabs on him.”
“So do we.”
“We’ve been trying to keep track of José’s lieutenants, sergeants and soldiers,” Robinson added. “Guys on that level have been easier to bust and sometimes they’ll roll on other Aztecas, but it’s never José.”
“What would you say if I told you that we’re building a case against José Martinez that he won’t be able to wriggle his way out of?”
“I’m interested,” Robinson said. “Cris, you interested?”
“Yeah,” Cristina said. “Tell me more.”
McPeek closed her laptop firmly. “That can wait until tomorrow,” she said. “I’d like to invite the both of you down to our offices for a full briefing on what we’re doing.”
“What, that’s all you’re going to tell us?” Cristina asked.
“I wouldn’t want to spoil the surprise.”
“But—” Cristina said.
“They’ll be there,” Cokley interjected.
“Ten o’clock tomorrow,” McPeek said. “You know where to find us. Don’t be late.”
SIX
THE EL PASO FEDERAL JUSTICE CENTER WAS on the northwest side of town not far from the mall. Cristina and Robinson arrived by nine-thirty and spent a half hour waiting in the hall outside a conference room. A secretary came to unlock the door and let them in. They were the first ones at the table.
As people began to file in, they saw familiar faces. The Safe Streets Gang Task Force pulled in some of the same people from the same agencies. Cristina nodded hello to Michael Staff from Department of Public Safety and Madge Crompton from the DEA.
McPeek was five minutes late and by then the table was full. She took a spot at the head and plugged her laptop into a projector set-up. A picture of her desktop flashed on a broad screen on the wall. “Good morning, everyone,” she said.
The same secretary returned, this time with a rolling tray topped with a carafe of coffee and a plate full of danishes. There was a general shuffle to collect food and drink before everyone settled down again. The secretary sat down at a side table where a laptop was already set up. McPeek was ready then.
“I guess we should start by going around the table,” McPeek said. “We have two new people with us this morning: Detectives Cristina Salas and Bob Robinson from the El Paso Police Department’s Central Tactical Gang Operations Unit. I know some of you know each other already, but let’s make it official for the record.”
They went one by one around the long conference table introducing themselves. As McPeek had promised, there was complete representation by all the major federal agencies – DEA, FBI, ATF – as well as the state. The only people missing were the Texas Rangers. Cristina took notes in a little book, jotting down names. Robinson did the same.
When they were finished, McPeek brought up a PowerPoint slide that depicted the interlocking agencies in graphical form. “I’ve explained to Detectives Salas and Robinson that what we do here overlaps somewhat with the Safe Streets Gang Task Force. Where there’s deviation it has to do with our international cooperation with law enforcement agencies in Mexico. This is a true cross-border operation coordinated between this group and the Ministerial Federal Police of Mexico. They’re not represented here today, but all of the minutes of our meetings are transmitted to the point man in Ciudad Juárez. We’re also scheduled to have bi-monthly contact meetings in Juárez with a core from this group meeting with our opposite numbers.
“I called this meeting today because I wanted to bring local law enforcement up to speed with what we’re doing at the state and federal levels. It’s overdue. I want to apologize to the representatives of the El Paso Police Department for not including them until now.”
“About six weeks. We’re still putting things together on the ground floor, but we’re moving fast.”
“And this is gang-related?”
“We’re just coming to that.” A new slide came up. “The people in this room were selected because of their involvement in anti-gang law enforcement or because their agency has a vested interest in some aspect of the operation. The initial push for a new operation came from the Mexican side of the border. They brought their case to the FBI and the DEA and that got the ball rolling.
“We have one focus: Barrio Azteca, both on our side of the river and the Mexican side. In some respect this group resembles the one that coordinated Operation Knockdown, which pulled in fifty-four Aztecas, and the operation that reeled in the US Consulate murderers. We’re after big game.”
Another slide. Cristina noted José Martinez’s name at the top of a pyramid of other names, all linked by different-colored arrows.
“Barrio Azteca in El Paso and Los Aztecas in Juárez are the same entity, trading across the border in guns and drugs. This is nothing new. What we want this time is to roll up a whole section of Azteca operations from top to bottom. The guys on the streets and the man at the top.”
“How do agencies like ATF get involved?” Robinson asked.
“I can answer that,” the ATF rep said. Cristina checked her notes: his name was Gerald Muir. “We’ve been picking up noises of increased gun trafficking by members of Barrio Azteca. Preliminary investigation ties that trafficking to the Martinez outfit. We’re just not sure how it all fits together. Part of our job is to start feeding his people firearms that we can document and track.”
“But in the end this is just laying the groundwork for RICO charges, right?” Cristina asked.
“That’s the idea,” McPeek said. “But we’re taking things a step further by involving the PFM the way we did last year on the consulate operation. Guns smuggled into Mexico by Barrio Azteca on our end will be snapped up by federal police forces in-country. We’ll be able to draw a direct line from the US to Mexico.”
“And the DEA?” Robison inquired.
“The same thing, only in reverse. When the Aztecas send drugs north in exchange for guns and money, police forces in Mexico will track them as they can and build cases on their end.” McPeek shuffled through a couple slides. “We get both ends working against the middle.”
“Who’s the capo you’re targeting in Mexico?” asked Cristina.
“His name is Julio Guerra. He does all his dirty work through his lieutenants. With luck, we’ll be able to put both men and their outfits out of commission at the same time.”
“We’ve been putting together a picture of what José’s outfit looks like,” Cristina said. “We’ve run surveillance on him, kept track of known associates, put pressure on low-level Aztecas when we bring them in.”
“So you’re as close to the ground level as we’re going to get,” McPeek said. “Every piece of intelligence feeds the operation. To get José Martinez we need you, and you can use us. Coordinated right, this could be the single biggest bust of Barrio Azteca members we’ve ever had. Think about that when you think about safe streets.”
Cristina glanced at Robinson. “Okay,” she said. “Tell us more.”
SEVEN
MATÍAS SLEPT UNTIL THE SUN FELL THROUGH the open curtains directly onto his face. He covered up with a second pillow for a little while, but the heat made him itch. Out of bed, he went to the bathroom and had a shower. Shaved and with fresh deodorant on, he felt new.
Elvira came into the bedroom while he was getting dressed. She still wore her robe, which looked as good on her as any dress. “It’s about time you got up,” she said. “I thought you were dead in here.”
“How long were you going to wait to check?”
“Only a little while longer. You want breakfast?”
“Okay.”
It felt strange, not wearing a tie, but it was his first day off in four weeks and he was not going to spend it stitched up. He put on a short-sleeved shirt and left the collar open, but he didn’t wear shorts. Barefoot he went down the hallway to the kitchen where Elvira was already frying eggs. He pulled her hair back and kissed her on the ear.
“What was that for?”
“No reason.”
They had been married three years. Matías met her at a fútbol match with a bunch of other members of the PF and PFM. At the time she was with another man, but that soon ended and she began seeing Matías. They married after six months together.
Their apartment was small, but it worked for two people and the rent was well within their means, with his salary from the PFM and hers from a law firm in the city. From time to time they discussed finding someplace bigger, making room for a family, but the discussions went nowhere and they stayed right where they were.
He found the paper in the living room on the coffee table. El Diario. He was still reading it when Elvira brought him the eggs, larded with tomato-chili salsa. “Eat up,” she said.
The eggs were gone in a few minutes. Matías put the paper down long enough to go to the kitchen and pour himself a glass of grapefruit juice. He stood at the sink drinking it. Elvira entered, still wearing her robe. “Aren’t you going to get dressed?” Matías asked.
“What should I get dressed for? We’re taking the day off together, but what are we doing? We haven’t even talked it over.”
“What do you feel like doing?”
“We could ride bikes at the park. Pack lunch. Eat under a tree.”
Matías put his arms around her and inhaled her smell. “That sounds like a good day,” he said.
“Well, you’re not dressed for it. Change into some shorts.”
“You know I hate shorts.”
“I’m not going to be seen cycling with you if you don’t dress properly.” Elvira squirmed in his embrace and her robe came off her shoulders. She was naked underneath. “And now you have a reason to get undressed.”
They made love in the bedroom on top of the sheets. Matías could not remember the last time they had been together and he went too fast. Elvira kissed him on the chest and held him back from her so they wouldn’t finish too soon. The sun fell across them both and made them perspire.
“Me encanta,” Elvira whispered in his ear. “Te amo.”
This time she let him fulfill himself and they lay side by side under the sun and let the thin film of sweat evaporate. Matías let his hand roam up and down Elvira’s body, touching her breast, touching her hip.
“I didn’t get my turn,” Elvira said.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right. But you owe me for next time.”
Matías soured. “Whenever that is,” he said.
“What do you mean?”
“Nothing. I’m only being bitter.”
Elvira tousled Matías’ hair. She smiled at him. “You let them work you too hard. You don’t even have time to get a decent haircut.”
“I knew what I was getting into,” Matías said. “Long days. Long nights. Los Aztecas don’t keep a regular schedule.”
“Don’t talk about them here,” Elvira said. “Right now it’s just you and me.”
“I love you,” Matías said. “You do know that, don’t you?”
“Of course. Don’t be silly.”
“It’s just sometimes when we’re apart for so long, I wonder if…”
“If I will fall out of love with you?”
“Something like that.”
“You don’t have to worry,” Elvira said and she kissed softly him on the forehead. “I’ll never love another man. I promised you.”
“And if I were gone?”
“Don’t say things like that!”
“I’m sorry.”
Elvira caught his gaze with her own and held it. “The truth is that you aren’t going anywhere and neither am I. We’re in this together. For life. I
f you wanted a wife who would leave when things got tough, you should have married someone else.”
“I worry about you. This city.”
“This city has survived. I will survive.”
Down on the street three stories below, a car horn suddenly blared and there was the shriek of tires. Matías braced for the sound of a collision, but there was none. Tension formed in his shoulders. He tried to shrug it away.
“So,” Elvira said, “are we going to go to the park?”
“Yes.”
“Then smile for me and say we’re going to the park.”
Matías smiled and hoped it was real enough to fool her. “We’re going to the park.”
“Now… make love to me again.”
“I thought we had to leave. The park is waiting.”
“The park will still be there. You wanted to know the next time we would be together and this is it.”
Matías touched her and felt the skin tighten beneath his fingers. He roved lower, between parted legs, and felt the heat there. “I do love you,” he said.
“I know. You said. Oh, that’s it.”
EIGHT
ALFREDO BROUGHT FLIP HOME FROM WORK and parked his truck out on the street. Flip looked at him. “I’m coming to see your mother,” Alfredo explained.
Flip thought it was strange, seeing her mother hug and kiss a man. All of his life she had never seemed interested in such things, but now she had Alfredo and everything had changed. He let the two of them settle down in the kitchen and went to his room.
The walls were still bare. He hadn’t thought of anything to hang on them yet. It had been the same way in prison. Daniel liked to put up pictures of girls in bikinis because nothing more explicit was allowed within prison walls. Flip did not like the reminder of what he was missing on the outside. It was worse when he heard Daniel masturbating at night in his lower bunk. That was when Flip knew he had fallen as far as he could go.
He heard his mother laugh. Alfredo was good to her. Neither of them had explained where or how they met and he hadn’t thought to pry by asking. Maybe they simply used the same grocery store. Stranger things had happened.