Anacacho, An Allie Armington Mystery (25 page)

It’s dark when the sound of Paul’s footsteps
awaken me. The rush of his shower plunges me into action and when
he finally appears in the living room, I’m enjoying my first sip of
Scotch.

I raise my lips to meet his welcoming kiss
and lie. “I missed you at lunch.”

Paul settles beside me just as Miguel
materializes with his martini and disappears. “Better get used to
odd hours and interrupted evenings. The crew goes into action the
minute the shipment arrives.”

Dinner is devoted to a rundown of Paul’s
plans for our wedding day. Masses of fresh-cut flowers will be
flown in and only Roederer Cristal Champagne will be served to wash
down Adelena’s celebrated broiled quail.

When I venture to ask how many guests will
be sharing our “special moment,” Paul evades the question by
saying, “How do you like the dress?”

I don’t have to lie. “It’s beautiful.”

He places his hand over mine. “I knew you’d
like it. I bought the two matching mantillas last year with you in
mind.”

I lower my head to hide my true thoughts.
The man is delusional if he thinks I’m spending the rest of my life
in this godforsaken hellhole.

We finish our coffee in silence, take a
brief stroll around the house, and end the evening with a long
goodnight kiss at my bedroom door.

Paul travels the few steps to his room and
turns. “Sleep well, my darling. I want those black circles gone
before our wedding day.”

I force my brightest smile. “You can bet on
that.”

After checking to be sure my “alarm stool”
is in place, I plump my pillows and sit against them, then spend
the second night fighting a losing battle with sleep.

I jerk awake at first light, body aching
from the horseback excursion, eyes bleary from catnapping, then
drag myself into the bathroom and yet another hot shower.

I’m almost dressed when I hear the Piper
buzz overhead then fade in the distance. Hoping Paul might be a
passenger, I quickly twist my damp hair into a knot and hurry to
the dining room.

The table is set for one. I push open the
swinging door to see Adelena seated at the kitchen table sorting
pinto beans.

“
Did he go?”

She puts her finger to her lips, and points
toward the pantry. Once the door is closed, Adelena says, “Jefe
never leaves the ranch. He told Miguel it’s too dangerous for him.
Everyone is down at the barns. A second big shipment came after
dinner and they worked through the night. The first lot has just
flown out. Miguel tells me they will transport until sunset.”

I can’t hide my disappointment and when
Adelena sees this, she begs, “Please don’t give up, Señorita, you
are our only hope.”

I force a smile and pat her hand. “Don’t
worry. I’m getting out of here any way I can.”

After several cups of coffee, I wander
through the house to the entry hall, then onto the covered front
porch. The wind is still from the north and, though not quite as
strong as the previous day, has set the rocking chairs in
motion.

Forty-eight hours have lapsed since Luke
snatched me from the taxi. By now, news of my disappearance should
have reached someone’s ears. Surely, the law offices in New York
where I was to hold my deposition have called Perkins, Travis to
ask where I am.

I plop into the nearest rocker, survey my
surroundings, and sigh. Adelena’s right. There isn’t a stand of
mesquite in sight and the road from the barns to the house is wide
open. Any attempt to make contact with Jed would be suicidal.

Only eight-thirty. If I don’t find something
to do, I’ll go nuts. Midmorning, Adelena brings me a large glass of
iced tea and some news. Miguel and Jed have talked. There will be
an “electrical” problem at the house. Since Miguel knows nothing
about electricity, he will wait until Luke and Paul are busy, then
ask Jed who’s apparently Luke’s second-in-command to come to the
house. It’s a simple plan, and may work if Paul and Luke are
preoccupied with preparing the next outgoing shipment. My spirits
rise a little just knowing there is a plan and that I haven’t
misread Jed.

After lunching alone on a small salad washed
down with two generous glasses of white wine, I stare out the
window into the never-ending wasteland. This tedium must have
driven Reena to sleeping late and drinking two or three Bloody
Marys before lunch. If this is to be the usual routine around here,
I can easily picture myself diving into the bottle by
midmorning.

My lids suddenly grow heavy and the thought
of much needed sleep drives me from the table toward my bedroom.
When the living room couch beckons, I accept. Best to be close to
the pantry in case Jed can get away.

Paul’s kiss awakens me. He sits back on his
haunches, keeping his face even with mine, and whispers, “You’re
beautiful when you are sleeping. I’d forgotten that about you.”

It’s late afternoon. The mantle clock reads
five. No Jed.

I mask my disappointment with a stretch and
a yawn. “I decided to wait for you here. I can’t believe I’ve been
asleep so long.”

Paul rises and looks down at me smiling. “In
just a few more days, we can take our siestas together.”

I awaken well past nine the following
morning and take my time dressing. By the time I get to the dining
room it is almost ten.

Over seventy-two hours gone. I stare at my
empty coffee cup and sigh. Hearing Adelena’s quiet movements in the
kitchen, I realize if I can’t escape, she and I will be sharing a
lot of lonely mornings.

The kitchen door swishes open, my cup is
refilled, and I look up to see Adelena’s retreating back. So far,
she and I have traded only the barest of conversation: Huevos, por
favor. Café negro. Gracias. De nada. All this in polite monotones
as she looks from window to door in furtive surveillance.

It’s warmer this morning and a gentle breeze
lifts the curtains from their sill. Through the open windows I hear
doves calling. The setting would be almost idyllic except for the
lack of trees and the drug operation going on a half-mile away.

I empty my cup and shove back from the table
just as the Piper Cub passes low overhead, preparing to land. There
were two runs yesterday. This is the first today. I have gauged the
take-off and landing intervals and they’re pretty much the same. I
figure it’s two hours out and back with an hour to unload, load,
and refuel. If I’m calculating correctly, that means there must be
at the least a hundred miles from airstrip to airstrip, but I could
be way off since I have no clear idea of the maximum speed of a
Piper Cub.

Low voices from the kitchen drift into the
room. The door cracks and Adelena motions for me to come. Once I
enter the kitchen she motions toward the pantry, then hurries past
me into the dining room.

I open the door to see Jed. Once the door is
shut I settle beside him. “Thank you for coming. I know it’s a
great risk.”

“
I don’t have long.” He
looks at his watch. “Have to watch the schedule.”

“
I won’t waste words. Can
you get me out of here?”

“
That’s been the plan.
We’ll have to wait until after midnight to make the break. If
there’s no shipment expected, most of the men are drunk by sundown
and passed out by ten. It’s safer that way.”

“
How can I
help?”

“
You’ll have to help push
the plane from the hangar to the far end of the runway.”

“
No problem. Just tell me
when and where.”

“
It’s not that easy. I’m
talking about a runway that can handle large jet aircraft. It’s a
pretty fair stretch. But the Cub only needs two hundred feet to
take off fully loaded. With just us, we should be off the ground
and far enough away to avoid gunfire.”

I suppress thoughts of a gun battle and
voice my enthusiasm. “Sounds like a piece of cake.”

“
Let’s hope it is.” Jed
cracks the door to check the kitchen, then pulls it shut. “I’ve
gathered all the evidence I need here. The problem is getting
Carpenter across the border.”

I gasp. “You’re a Fed?”

“
I work directly for Bill
Cotton.” “He knows where I am?”

“
Yes. Your capture wasn’t
part of the plan, but now that you’re here, he’s sure if we can get
you ’cross the river, Carpenter will follow.”

“
You mean I’m the
bait?”

“
I guess you could say
that.” He leans forward. “The man is a hopeless addict who’s lost
all touch with reality. Thinks he’s created the consummate ‘world’
with you at the center. As far as he’s concerned all he needs is a
wife and children to make life down here about perfect.”

Paul trying to recreate the life he lost.
The house. Cocaine. And me. But I have to give it to him, up to now
everything’s gone pretty much as he planned.

“
How could he be sure I
would come to the border?”

“
The letter in the safe
deposit box. He knew you couldn’t pass it up. I gotta say he’s a
very patient man. You were tailed for months. Phones bugged, too.
Gibbs’s secretary alerted Cotton the day you made the appointment.
He tried to stall you. That’s why there were no Feds at the
meeting.”

“
Then Gibbs is in on
this.”

“
We’re not sure. His
secretary is. She’s married to Ramón’s second cousin. She went to
work for Gibbs a few months before Paul’s ‘death.’”

The family, no last name ever mentioned, but
clearly one of the powerful Mexican cartels holding the border in
their grip.

“
Do you know who the
family is?”

Jed nods. “But you shouldn’t. The less you
know the better.”

“
How did you manage
to...?”

“
Get in on the operation?”
He smiles. “Cotton and I met at Quantico. One Texan can usually
spot another. We were just the guys the DEA was looking for. Cotton
was assigned to his home town Uvalde and they sent me to Laredo.
New territory for me since I was raised in Amarillo. But there was
a natural connection. Cousin Luke. We saw each other over holidays
when we were kids, then we grew up and went our separate
ways.

“
I looked up Luke, said I
served a little time and produced a manufactured record. He needed
a sidekick. Knew I flew. Figured my stint in prison was enough to
hold me hostage. He never bothered to check it out.”

He looks at his watch and stands. “Gotta
go.”

I get up and beat his hand to the door knob.
“When?”

“
Not tonight for sure. I
have another run and won’t be back until after six. Hopefully we
won’t get another shipment for a few days. The men are zonked as it
is. They need a few nights to get drunk and laid.”

“
They keep women
here?”

He laughs. “Are you kidding? Women are
nothing but trouble. There’s a ‘Boys Town’ full of cantinas and
brothels about five miles south of here. The men pile in the truck
that picked us up last Saturday. They stay for a couple of days.
It’s the only way to keep them happy.”

Jed puts a hand on my shoulder and gives me
a reassuring squeeze. “Adelena will get word to you in plenty of
time. Don’t bring luggage. Just be sure you have your driver’s
license and any cash you have in case we run into trouble.”

THERE WAS A DRUG SHIPMENT late Tuesday that seemed
to take everyone by surprise. Paul has been at the barns around the
clock, sleeping in snatches, trying to keep some semblance of order
among the already exhausted men.

Since I knew a Tuesday escape was out, I
slept like a log, but I spent Wednesday and Thursday nights beneath
the covers fully clothed, Nikes at the ready, and one ear cocked
for Adelena’s signal.

It’s amazing that I have been able to get
through the last forty-eight hours without going mad. The stark
contrasts of Paul’s new world border on the schizophrenic. Life at
this end of the ranch seems to move no faster than lava, while the
other end hums with frenzied activity in the race to get drugs
across the border.

After a sponge bath I change into a fresh
shirt and head for a hot cup of coffee.

The dining room is vacant. I push open the
swinging door hoping to find Adelena. On the large center table I
see enchilada fixings, but the kitchen is empty as well, its
silence broken by the sound of a softly playing radio coming from
the temporary servants’ quarters.

In the dining room, I jockey some coffee and
pop two pieces of Adelena’s fresh-baked bread in the toaster. After
slathering the steaming slices with butter, I carry my breakfast
onto the verandah and settle at the nearest table. Before me lies a
monotonous vista of flat, endless Sahara broken by heat waves
warping low, brown brush.

Late morning brings catcalls and yahoos in
the distance, then the canvas-covered truck pulls into view and
heads down the dusty road. The men have been liberated. Tonight,
hopefully, so will I.

Minutes later Paul bursts onto the porch. “I
need a hug, woman.” It’s obvious he’s relied on cocaine to keep
going. His lower face is covered with a fine dusting of white.

His lips savage mine, then he murmurs, “You
look and feel so delicious I don’t know if I can wait another
night.”

This is definitely not what I want to hear,
but I curb my anxiety. “You look exhausted.”

As though given permission, his smile fades
and he slumps. “That’s the understatement of the year. I’ll pop a
few ‘ludes.’ They’ll treat me to a few hours of sleep.”

I force myself to kiss him again, then
offer, “What you need is a hot shower and a nice long nap.”

“
Sounds like a great idea,
but Adelena’s making red enchiladas.”