The Mexican Connection: Ted Higuera Series Book 3 Page 16

  “What do you want?” Lisa could hardly contain her temper.

  Funny thing, all her life, Lisa had kept her emotions under control. She was meek and mild. She didn’t want to be noticed, so she simply faded into the background like a wallflower.

  She hated it when the teachers in school had called on her. She always knew the answers, but purposefully avoided drawing unwanted attention from the other students by raising her hand. After she married Jimmy, she was more than content to sit back and let him lead. After all, who was she to think that she could run her own life? It was much more comfortable to let others make her decisions for her.

  Not anymore! Look where that had gotten her. She was onto Petrocelli. He had no interest in helping her; he was only out for himself. He wanted to make political mileage out of her situation, anything he offered was purely to further his own ambitions.

  “I have an idea, a plan that can help us both. What do you want more than anything in the world?”

  He let the question hang in the air. Lisa didn’t answer.

  “You want to go home. You want to get your daughter back and just lead a quiet life.” He smirked at her. “Am I right?”

  Lisa just stared at him.

  “You know you are going down for this,” Petrocelli said. “There’s no question that I can get a conviction. You’re going away for ten to twenty years; by the time you get out, your daughter will be a grown woman. She will have been raised by someone else and she won’t know you.”

  Lisa seethed.

  “I can make this easier for you,” he paused for dramatic effect. “I need your testimony. We’re going to get your husband back. When we do, I’ll need you to testify before the jury and explain everything you know about him.”

  “I’m not talking to you. I’m not saying a word until I get to see my daughter.”

  Petrocelli eyed her suspiciously. “I can get you a reduced sentence. You serve two years, then you’re out. You can begin working towards getting your daughter back, and you can be part of her life again.”

  Lisa sat very still, very quiet. She thought long and hard about her options.

  “Listen, you sawed off shrimp, you can take a flying leap.” When she finally did speak, the words poured out of her. “I’m tired of you pushing me around.” She stood abruptly. “You’re nothing but a big bully. Well, I won’t stand for it anymore. You don’t have a shred of evidence against me. C’mon, let’s get it on. Let’s go to court. Jennifer will eat your ass for breakfast.”

  ****

  Juarez, Mexico

  It had been a long, tiring day, followed by a sleepless night. Ted tossed and turned until the sun came up, then he couldn’t stay in bed any longer.

  He had to make some progress. They had been in Mexico for days now and were no closer to finding his brother than they were when they first started.

  Sure, they’d made a couple of contacts and armed themselves but they still hadn’t found the old man who said he could find that José Ruiz dude.

  Maybe they should follow up on the sister lead today. He had it written down somewhere. Ruiz’s sister worked in a restaurant. Maybe they’d go there for lunch.

  His guess was that she wouldn’t know where he’d disappeared to, but at least they would be doing something.

  Ted got out of bed, brushed his teeth and snuck out of the room. No sense waking Chris needlessly.

  What the hell? Chris was the morning person. Ted remembered how it used to piss him off how perky Chris was in the morning. To Ted, it was immoral to be out of bed before 10 a.m.

  Ted wandered towards the hotel’s restaurant, his attention drawn to where a crowd was forming around the front doors. People were excited, screaming and shouting.

  Ted pushed and shoved his way through the crowd. When he finally made it to the front, he stopped and gasped in disgust. It took a moment for his mind to comprehend what he was looking at.

  A half dozen masked men were neatly piling bones on the pavement outside the hotel entrance. They capped each pile with a white skull.

  Narcos, Ted thought.

  The masked men jumped into the back of a pickup and drove off. Ted ran after them, hopelessly trying to make some kind of identification. After several blocks, he had to stop. There was no way he could catch them.

  Ted heard the cry of police sirens. When he got back to the hotel, he saw two federale pickup trucks pull up with six men in the back of each one wearing SWAT uniforms.

  The crowd parted like the Red Sea to make room for the heavily armed men. The police shoved the crowd back, forming a circle around the bones. No one went near them.

  Ted heard more sirens. Uniformed officers and detectives swarmed over the scene. Crime lab technicians showed up and began photographing the scene and bagging the bones.

  Who were these two unfortunate souls? Why had they been dumped outside the hotel? The bones looked very old, very white. They were obviously sent as a message, but for whom?

  ****

  Juarez, Mexico

  The back room at Chili Pete’s was more of a store room than an office. Boxes of liquor, canned goods and paper supplies lay stacked against the walls. The worn old desk, shoved against the back wall, looked like it had seen better days when Juarez was president.

  El Lobo sat at the desk, methodically picking at his teeth. He prospected for a bit with a wooden toothpick, then sucked at whatever he was breaking loose.

  Yves found the man disgusting. He had no education, no sense of style and no class, but he was a means to an end. War makes strange bedfellows.

  "So, you’ve met them then?” Yves said. He prided himself on his soft, sophisticated speech. Since the attack on his yacht, it took much more effort to make the words flow smoothly.

  “Sí,” the slob in front of the desk said. “The two girls, they brought them out to mi rancho. The day Los Conquistadores attacked. I understand that the short one, the Mejicano, was looking for hees broother.”

  Yves smiled, His brother - the bait for the trap. Soon Yves would have the brother, and then his plan could go into effect.

  “Don’t let these two fool you,” Yves said. “They may look like American tourists, but they are very dangerous men.”

  Yves took a silk handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at the left corner of his mouth. The whole left side of his face was ruined, melted by the intense heat of the explosion. Now, he drooled uncontrollably. It was worst than a dog. He had to constantly dab the disgusting stuff from his face.

  “Do not you worry about me, señor. I know men. How do you theenk I got where I am? How do you theenk I managed to escape all the attempts on my life?”

  “How did you get out?” Yves asked. “Los Conquistadores took you totally by surprise.”

  El Lobo reached for the bottle of tequila on his desk and poured a shot. He held the bottle up and gestured to Yves. Yves shook his head.

  “I am always prepared, señor. I always have an escape plan. It cost me some gud men, but they gladly gave their lives to save mine. Now, I need your help to get back at those babosos. I need to put Los Conquistadores out of beezness once and for all.”

  Yves eyed the man at the desk. Could he do it? Would he come out the winner in this war? Maybe with a little help. Yves had friends in the Army. He could pass along information that would cripple Los Conquistadores, make them vulnerable to El Lobo and his gang.

  But how would that serve his interests? This war was good business. He supplied munitions to both sides. No materiel moved in Northern Mexico without his say so. If Los Norteños won the war, would there still be a market for him?

  “How do I know you can win this war?” Yves asked.

  “Because I am smarter than El Posolero,” El Lobo answered. “I change weeth the times. Look at thees.”

  The drug lord turned the large lap top computer on his desk so that Yves could see it. It was a video of Chile Pete’s, from the air.

  “Et ees aerial surveillance, now I have a drone that f
ollows me everywhere. They will never again be able to stage a surprise attack. I am installing motion detectors in my compound in Baja California Sur. No one will approach without me knowing, ever again.”

  “You seem to be taking security very seriously.” Yves coughed into his handkerchief. “I want you to take these two men seriously as well.”

  “The Mejicano, Higuera,” El Lobo said, “He had that look in his eyes. The other one, the tall guero, he is not so dangerous. But the short one, he would keel you in an instant if it got him hees broother back.”

  “Just remember that.” Yves thought for an instant, then decided to make his play. “I want these two. They are ATF agents. They can harm my business.”

  “ATF?” the Mexican drug lord said. “You mean the Americano Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms policia?”

  “Yes. They are very dangerous, to both of us. They must be found and they must be stopped.”

  El Lobo let out a little chuckle. “You do not have to worry about them in Juarez. Thees es my town; I have many soldiers. No one leeves here that I don’t want here.”

  “I want them and I want them alive.” Yves took a gold case from his breast pocket and removed a long, slim cigarette. He tapped the cigarette on the case three times, then lifted it to his lips. “I am willing to pay for them. I can offer a trade.”

  “A trade?”

  “Oui. You bring me these men and I will give you a shipment of guns. I have new M16s. The same assault rifle the Army uses. I am willing to be very generous.”

  “You want these men very badly. Why? What did they do to you?”

  “Let’s just say that we have unfinished business.” Yves lit his cigarette. “But remember: I want them alive. They are no good to me dead. Do you understand?”

  El Lobo poured himself another drink. “Sí, mi amigo. I understand.”

  ****

  Juarez, Mexico

  El Jefe’s office hadn’t changed. The same rustic, antique furniture filled the room. Even through the two-foot thick stone walls the summer heat seared the air. Large ceiling fans created a slight breeze, but it was a far cry from air conditioning.

  The ice in Ted’s glass quickly melted, he drank down the water in a couple of gulps. He needed to do something with his hands.

  Charlie Mendoza was not a happy man. The DEA agent couldn’t sit down. He paced back and forth in front of the steel shuttered window.

  “Crap! I knew it, I just knew it. That goddamned Posolero. I’m gonna put his balls in a cracker that won’t ever let go.”

  “Agent Mendoza, you have our condolences,” Colonel Lazaro said. The jefe got up from his desk and put a hand on Mendoza’s shoulder. “I am sad to say that we too have lost many good officers in this horrible war.”

  “But goddamnit, to be boiled alive. That’s no way to die.”

  Ted winched. He knew about El Posolero. He had heard tales of how he boiled his enemies alive, but these were two people he knew. They were two lovely, smart and attractive young women. How could he? He wasn’t a man, he was an animal.

  “So, you’ve confirmed the identities?” Chris asked.

  “Sí, Señor Hardwick. We got back a DNA match. The two piles of bones in front of your hotel were Angela and Carmen.”

  Ted’s jaw ticked in frustration, hearing the words made it all the more real, more horrendous.

  “I can’t tell you how sorry I am . . .” Ted couldn’t think of anything else to say.

  “Yeah, well you should be sorry,” Mendoza turned on Ted. “You and your friend here have cost me my two best agents.” With each word, his voice rose. “You blew two years’ worth of undercover work. I hope you’re satisfied.”

  The words cut into Ted. He felt the rage building. The world slowly turned red.

  “I’m gonna find the bastard that did this.” Ted lunged towards Mendoza. Chris quickly stepped in his path and held him.

  “I’ll boil his cajones,” Ted yelled.

  “I’m afraid histrionics will not get you anywhere, Señor Higuera,” the police chief said. “The cartel, they are sending you a message. They want you to stop, to leave well enough alone.”

  “Yeah, well that’s not the message I got.” Ted shrugged free of Chris’s grasp. “They just started a war and I’m going to finish it.”

  Mendoza stood flat footed and stared at Ted for a minute, then began to speak.

  “I think it’s time for you boys to go home. Let the professionals handle this. You’ve already done enough damage.”

  Chapter 21

  Juarez, Mexico

  “C’mon,” Chris took Ted’s elbow. “Let’s get out of here.”

  Ted was in such a funk that he didn’t object as Chris led him outside into the overwhelming heat on the street.

  “Man, if you thought the jefe’s office was hot, it’s hotter than hell out here,” Chris said.

  “The old man,” Ted said, trying to focus his thoughts. “We’ve got to find that old man. He says he knows where Ruiz is. Ruiz is our only clue.”

  “You never give up, do you, amigo?” Chris said.

  Ted ignored him and wiped his brow as they continued to walk down the sidewalk towards their rented Jeep.

  Sidewalks in Mexico were an adventure all of their own. Many were two feet or more above street level. If you weren’t paying attention, you could walk off the curb and fall into the street.

  Then there was the damaged pavement, it was uneven and broken. In many places steel rebar stuck up out of it, presenting a tripping hazard. Access holes were often missing covers and if you weren’t watching, you could step in one. Overhangs were everywhere too. Ted thought that all sidewalks should have a sign that said “Warning proceed with caution.”

  Tree limbs, signs, balconies, and other hazards hung over the sidewalks at Chris’s head level. It might be safe for most Mexicans, but Chris banged into steps from a spiral staircase or tree branches on more than one occasion.

  With some luck and a lot of caution, they finally made it to their Jeep.

  “Goddamnit,” Chris said as he pulled a piece of paper from under the windshield wiper. “A parking ticket.” He studied it for a minute, then handed it to Ted. “What does it say?”

  Ted took a quick look at the paper.

  “We parked in an exclusive zone. I guess only customers of that shoe store can park here.”

  “How did they know we weren’t in the shoe store?” Chris asked.

  “Crap, we have to go back to the police station to pay the ticket.”

  “I don’t want to go anywhere near the police station right now. Let’s head for Chile Pete’s. Maybe we can pick up the old man’s trail.

  Parking was easy to find in front of Chili Pete’s on a weekday afternoon.

  Ted and Chris entered the restaurant and headed for the bar.

  “Looks like our old friend ‘Pedro’ is still on duty,” Chris said.

  “Dos cervezas,” Ted told the big bartender.

  “Listen, you.” The bartender leaned over and whispered in Ted’s ear. “You get out of here. I don’t like you or your friend, but you’re in big danger. You need to get out of here and not come back. I don’t want a fight in my place.”

  The words were no sooner out of the bartender’s mouth than three Mexican men approached Ted and Chris.

  “Vayan con migos,” the leader said. “Come weeth us.”

  ”No way,” Chris said, balling his fists.

  “Ju come weeth us and no one get hurt,” the man said.

  “Sorry, fellas,” Ted said, pushing past the man, “We were just leavin’.”

  The other two men stepped into Ted’s path.

  “I’m already in a crappy mood; you don’t want to go and piss me off now, do you?” Ted shifted his weight forward and balled up his fists.

  The first man reached for him and Ted swung a roundhouse right that landed on his chin sending him flying.

  Chris kicked the leader in the balls, doubling him over, then planted a solid
right to his chin.

  “Shit, amigo,” Chris said. “I’ve been in more fights since we got back together than I had in all of grade school.”

  The third man ducked low and tackled Ted’s legs, sending them both sprawling. Tables and chairs flew in every direction.

  Chris grabbed the little man by the collar of his shirt and pulled him off of Ted. Two more hombres came dashing out from the back of the restaurant.

  “I think it’s time we said adios,” Chris said. He lifted the small Mexican off the ground and threw him into the other two’s path.

  Ted regained his feet and they ran for the door.

  The Jeep sat outside, right where they left it. Ted hopped into the passenger seat while Chris dashed around to the driver’s side.

  “Damn it, where are the keys?” Chris fumbled around in his pocket. “Here they are.” He pulled the key ring from his pocket and started the Jeep.

  They pulled away from the curb as the Mexican men came pouring out of Chili Pete’s.

  “Hey, compadre,” Ted said. “I think we’ve worn out our welcome there.”

  “I never liked the bartender anyway,” Chris said as he headed back for the hotel. “You didn’t leave a tip, did you?”

  The hotel felt safe. The parking lot was behind a high wall with a security guard on duty twenty-four hours a day. The hotel itself was well fortified behind a stone wall and was way too public for anyone to try anything.

  Or was it? These narcos seemed to act with impunity. They didn’t care if there were witnesses. Anyone stupid enough to come forward and testify would simply disappear.

  Chris parked the Jeep and they got out and headed inside.

  “Let’s stop by the bar. I think I could use that cerveza now,” Chris said.

  They walked through the lobby towards the bar when Ted noticed someone.

  Standing just inside the front door a tiny old man looked around.

  “Chris.” Ted pointed, “There he is.”