Sixty-seven
Armando Hernandez took a slug of water from an Evian bottle, and offered some to Ty, who declined with a wave of his hand. They were in a conference room with long windows that looked out on to the avenue. Posters on the wall advised tourists to be cautious when they were out at night. Hernandez cleared his throat. ‘You and your buddy Lock think you just stumbled into the middle of this fucking mess and worked it all out while we were sitting round here like a bunch of hicks? Mendez was being left where he was for a reason.’
Ty didn’t like getting lectures, not from some college kid like Armando Hernandez, not from anyone. ‘And the girl was what exactly?’ he asked.
Hernandez rolled his neck. ‘No one saw that coming. Not the traffickers, not us, not anyone. In that regard, Mendez had been behaving himself. Anyway, she’s safe now.’
Fists clenched, Ty bit down on his lower lip. ‘And that’s it? She was raped. By a guy you knew was here. But, hey, you’re trying to bust these dudes so what’s a little collateral damage, right? I served, motherfucker, so I know how shit like this goes — people get thrown under the bus so that someone else can make a name for themselves. But don’t try and piss on my leg and tell me it’s raining. You assholes turned to look the other way. If it wasn’t for Ryan and me, she’d be hanging out at that ranch like a frickin’ pinata. Now, what you gonna do about finding my boy?’
‘You don’t even know where he is.’
Ty said nothing.
Hernandez walked over to the window and tapped the glass with the knuckle of his right index finger. ‘In case you haven’t noticed, Mr Johnson, we’re not in Kansas any more. Mexico is a sovereign state so we have to work with the local authorities.’
‘That’s a joke, right? The authorities here? They’re in on it.’
‘And what do you suggest? We call them up and tell them that? This entire situation is a mess and it’s way bigger than me or you or your buddy or some scumbag like Charlie Mendez.’ He gestured for Ty to sit back down.
‘I’ll stand,’ said Ty, irritated.
‘When you first spoke to me, you said that your buddy had Mendez and he’d be heading for the border. If they’re on foot there’s probably only a twenty-mile stretch either way where they’d be looking to cross. If we can find them and if they can make it even an inch on to American soil we can help, but the way things are right now, that’s the best we can do.’
‘If anyone can get across, Lock can,’ said Ty.
‘Then that’s good. Believe me, we want Mendez alive too. He’s the key to a lot of stuff. Now, what’s your plan, Mr Johnson?’
Ty looked out on to the avenue where cops were still massing. Right now the city was a symphony of sirens. The military were out too, along with the local police, the Federal Policia and numerous special units. Moments before there had been a stand-off between a small group of soldiers and some cops. Hernandez had explained that, after it had given up on certain sections of the civilian police as too corrupt even to attempt reform, the government had been using the military instead. But even that hadn’t been without its problems: members of Mexican special forces had been offered lavish amounts of money to work for the cartels. It was one massive pissing contest in which no one had any real way of knowing precisely where a lot of loyalties lay.
‘I go out there, I don’t stand much chance, do I?’ said Ty.
Hernandez folded his arms. ‘You stand no chance and we can’t protect you.’
‘Who are you going to have looking for them?’
‘Border Patrol for Lock. US Marshals for Mendez. We’re pulling some strings.’
‘What about Rafaela Carcharon?’ Ty asked.
‘We have people trying to contact her. From what you’ve said she could be an important intelligence resource. She comes in, we can help her out.’
‘You haven’t heard from her?’ Ty asked, with another glance at the window.
Hernandez seemed to read his mind. ‘One white knight out there is about our limit right now. You step outside the consulate, you’re on your own.’
Ty started towards the door. ‘Way I see it, we’ve been on our own from the jump.’
Hernandez got up, blocking his passage. ‘I already said, there’s a lot more to this.’
‘But you won’t share?’ Ty asked.
‘It’s not a question of won’t. I can’t.’
Sixty-eight
Her service weapon raised, Rafaela nudged the apartment door open with her toe and stepped inside. She waited, listening for the sound of movement, but none came.
Across the border, she would have walked downstairs and called the cops. Here, she was the cops and, in all likelihood, so was the delivery man who had come to take her life. Alerted by the sound of the bell and of another neighbour shouting down to the street, she had watched him walk up the stairs and into her apartment. The only thing that surprised her was how quickly they had moved to kill her. Usually when something big was going down, the cartels waited in the long grass for a while. It was clear from the sicario ’s arrival that they wanted her dead quickly for a reason.
She moved into the living room, anticipating the rush of a body only to be met by stillness. Gun arm out, she moved towards the tiny balcony, approaching it side on so that she never exposed her back to the interior. The balcony was empty. She moved back into the body of the apartment, finding nothing.
Then she noticed the closed bathroom door.
She lowered her weapon. She could shoot through the door and hope to get lucky but even if she caught him it would create one hell of a mess. And she didn’t want the man dead, not yet anyway.
She moved back, gathering her bag and car keys, making sure that it would be audible to the man waiting in her bathroom. She went to the door and slammed it shut then threw the locks but left the chains where they were. As quietly as she could, she took up a position facing the bathroom door and stood there.
Less than three minutes later, she heard a deep sigh followed by the splash of water. A minute after that the door opened. She already had the gun raised and level, the hammer thrown back, her finger on the trigger.
The man she knew as Hector, bodyguard to Charlie Mendez, and one of the most prolific sicarios operating in the borderlands, as well as a serving police officer, stepped out of the bathroom and looked at her. There was no wry smile on his face, no sign of irritation either, but neither was there any fear. If anything, she was looking at what she thought she would never see. Someone who was as world-weary and exhausted by life as she was.
He shrugged. ‘I’ll get rid of my weapon, okay?’
She nodded, watching him carefully as he removed it from the holster, ejected the clip, put both down separately and slid them with his foot across the floor towards her.
‘Raise your arms above your head and turn around,’ she said.
He did as she asked, although it was more of a shuffle than a turn. She knelt down and picked up the clip and the gun. She emptied the clip and made sure the chamber was clear. When she was finished she asked him to turn back to face her.
A silence settled between them.
‘You came to kill me?’ she asked him.
He gave a nod, staring at her with the same sad eyes. ‘Yes.’
At least he was honest, Rafaela thought. Stepping back, she motioned for Hector to move ahead of her. ‘You’re alone?’ she asked, careful not to turn her back to him.
‘That’s how I work. It’s better that way.’
