The Sand Trap (52 page)

“Nice slash there,” she spoke English. “I
can see why they threw you out of AA hockey.”

“Not too bad with a shovel yourself, master
gardener. They teach you that in your Masters?”

“Standard revolutionary curriculum at every
Mexican university. What do we do now? Did you take care of
Gorges?”

“Yes to the latter. We clearly have to get
out of here and soon. But I have to figure out how to leave this
place and retain some anonymity. I don’t think Gorges has given me
away. And I would assume his gang will quickly clean up this mess.
They won’t want stories of dead bodies around their golf course.
Gorges won’t be a problem anymore in a couple of weeks.”

He looked down at the three guards. One was
dead from the shovel. Another was slowly gagging to death from the
fractured windpipe. The third was sitting on the tee box holding a
mangled right arm, clearly broken at the wrist.

“What about him?”

Burt looked at the man. It was one thing to
kill or maim in the heat of argumentative passion. Another to just
kill. But if this man lived Burt was sure it would not be long
before the wrong people in Mexico knew about him and Maria. The
man’s gun was lying on the ground only a few feet away and Burt
hoped that he would go for it and justify his death, but the man
just sat there with blood dripping through his fingers where he
held the arm. Burt moved over to the table and carefully picked up
the golf glove and a roll of plastic packing tape they used to put
on the faces of demo golf clubs. He leaned over the man and spoke
Spanish.

“Show me your arm.”

The man warily took his hand away and Burt
saw a clean break from the stick. He motioned with the glove and
tape, placed the golf glove over the broken skin and gently wrapped
the tape around the break to splint it in place. The man was still
in pain but could now move without grinding bones.

“Go,” Burt ordered. “Tell no one about
us.”

“Si Senor.” The man scrambled in pain to his
feet and holding his right arm he shuffled off to the
clubhouse.

Maria was incredulous. “You can’t be
serious! You think one kind little act will earn his silence? He
will be telling all to Gorges within seconds.”

“He can say all he wants to Gorges. Neither
of them will matter in a couple of weeks,” he explained as he took
out his cell phone and dialed.

“Hi Doug! Burt here. Listen Doug, I’m
finished with Gorges and heading to the airport. I’m travelling
light so could you send my clubs to me? I’ll text an address when I
get to California and you can take the cost out of my last
cheque?”

He paused to listen.

“I think he was very satisfied with his
lesson. His future golf will be very different.

He listened again.

“Sure, I’d love to come back next season if
you want me. Let’s keep in touch. Take care, Doug. Stay away from
rich widows!” He hung up the phone and dialed again and waited a
minute for the answer.

“Change in plans,” he announced with no
greeting while he looked at his watch. “It’s now four. Six. Same
place, same routine.”

He listened for a moment.

“Copy that,” and he hung up again.

“Alright. Let’s go. I have to leave first
and look like I am going across the bridge to town and head to the
airport, but I’ll branch off back to the East Coast Road when I
can. The bike will manage an arroyo if it has to. You wait a bit
and head out yourself. I’ll meet you at that little Taco stand in
Cabo Pulmo. They will be after you now, but they don’t have
anything that can keep up to you on a bike so we should have some
time there before they catch up.”

“Ok, get going. I’ll be fine,” she reached
up and gave him a kiss. “See you soon. Be careful.”

Burt walked quickly to the bikes hidden
behind the range and ripped off the tarp. They were both untouched,
as well as his knapsack. He put on his full-face helmet, the pack,
started the Honda and casually drove out of the entrance to the
course without any sign of Gorges or the other guards. He had no
doubt that Gorges was somewhere organizing his gang for an attack
on Maria.

When he arrived at the bridge he stopped and
looked back over the marina to the golf course road and was
relieved to see Maria’s bike following in the distance. “She got
away alright. Now if she could just keep ahead of the men long
enough for us to make our escape,” he thought to himself as he
gunned the bike and headed over the bridge into San Jose del
Cabo.

Maria had indeed escaped before Gorges could
organize his men to go to the range and find her and Burt. They
were coming out of the clubhouse as she raced out the gate and
although she had a full-face helmet on, the men recognized her
bike. Gorges shouted some orders and half a dozen men ran to two
Hummers and started to chase her. Gorges stayed behind. He never
involved himself in the violence if he could help it. The fact that
Van Royan was ready for the assault on the range was a surprise
since, from what he had learned the guy was just a has-been golfer
and obscure teacher. He had to admit the guy was pretty good with a
hockey stick and he picked up some good golf tips from him. Too bad
he would have to die with Maria. Another lesson would have been
nice. But he was Maria’s lover and would be a witness to her death
so he couldn’t live. He hadn’t been able to find out who was with
her that night at the casita, probably a group of tourists who had
now left Mexico with a story to tell to no one who mattered. Van
Royan had probably there as well so for that reason alone he should
go. He hadn’t seen Van Royan leave with her so he was probably back
in his apartment packing in a panic. He called Doug.

“Hi Doug. Jose here. Great lesson this
afternoon. That guy is as good as you say.”

He listened to the response. “Yeah, well I’d
like to leave him a tip personally before I leave and he isn’t at
the range anymore. You know where he is?” He frowned as he listened
to the answer. If the man was at the airport this would be much
more complicated than he thought. “Thanks. I guess I’ll just tip
him more next year! Bye.” He opened the phone again and dialed
another number and described Burt and his bike. He finished the
conversation with the order – “an accident.” Then he hung up and
went to the bar for a drink. All should be done within the
hour.

Burt decided to take the old road to the
airport rather than the new bypass. That would make it easier for
him to just keep going and head north until he could cut back to
the East Coast Road. He quickly circled though San Jose Centro and
headed towards the airport past businesses, gas stations, shops,
stores and half a dozen stoplights. Soon he was outside of the
commercial area and heading north on highway 1 past the airport. He
was careful to keep to the speed limit and not attract the
attention of a stray Policio. There was never a problem with the
police in San Jose del Cabo. They were good men and women and a
couple of hundred pesos for their children’s’ education fund were
sufficient to be on your way. But this afternoon he had no time for
pleasant conversation with a local cop, so he was surprised to see
a police jeep pull out of the airport and follow him as he passed
the airport entrance. He figured he could veer off on one of the
arroyos that snaked its way from the mountains to the sea and he
wouldn't be too far behind Maria.

Ten kilometers up the highway he picked one
that looked promising and headed off the highway. He had checked
his side mirror and saw that the police car was still behind him
but keeping some distance. He was surprised when the police jeep
pulled off the highway and began to follow him down the arroyo.
“Not good,” he thought to himself. The arroyo twisted and turned
its way through the desert but in most places was wide enough for a
jeep to follow. He checked the side mirror again and saw that the
jeep was now trying to catch him. He needed to shake the jeep
before he hit the coast road so he gunned the XL up the side of the
arroyo and headed through the desert. The going was rough but not
impossible for the bike. He figured there was no way the jeep could
follow. He was right; as he looked back he saw the jeep roll over
as it tried to climb the side of the ditch and go after him. He
could work his way back to the easier travelling in the arroyo, but
he had no doubt the jeep driver was calling in some reinforcements.
He had no desire to have a run in with the Federales so he sped up
the bike to the fastest speed he could safely go through the sand
and headed as directly as possible to the coast.

As he connected with the coast road he
checked his watch while he looked both ways on the road. It was now
five p.m. He had lost a little time shaking the police jeep and he
had no idea if Maria and her pursuers were past him. In fact he was
not even quite sure how far up the coast road he was. Time was of
the essence now if he was to make the six am rendezvous he had set
up with Mary and Richard so he gunned the bike and headed north
towards Cabo Pulmo as fast as he could drive. Ten minutes later he
saw the dust of some vehicles in front of him and realized he was
following at least two vehicles. Within a few moments he could see
the two Hummers travelling quickly up the road. He now recognized
that he was about eight kilometers from Cabo Pulmo and the road
from this point forward was very rough and very twisty; good for a
bike but bad for a vehicle so he could easily catch up to the
vehicles. The way Maria drove he was confident she would keep well
in front of them. They were probably calling in her location to
others, maybe the police, but the road to Pulmo from the north was
even longer so none of them would be able to get to Pulmo before
they would. His problem now was how to get past them and catch up
to Maria so the two of them could get to the rendezvous spot he had
picked out. The road was narrow so passing would be tricky, but he
suspected they were focusing on what was in front of them, not on
what was behind. He could have the element of surprise.

There was a fairly straight section a
kilometer ahead followed by a sharp left turn around a steep cliff
over a small beach. He planned his move for this section of road
and used his bike’s agility to catch up to the trailing Hummer just
as it entered the straight stretch and he accelerated quickly to
pass the vehicle. He glanced at the surprised look on the driver,
saw him urgently say something to his passenger and saw the gun
come up as he sped past and approached the lead Hummer. The road
was far too bumpy and the speed too fast for any accurate shooting
so he was not worried about them hitting him. When he heard the
sound of the shots he gunned the bike even faster and fishtailed
past the second car. He was now in the lead and men in both cars
were now firing wildly. He now had the bike going as fast he could
and still keep control. He could see the sharp left turn a hundred
metres ahead and he leaned over the handlebars hoping that some
lucky shot didn’t find him or the bike. He assumed correctly that
the Hummers would speed up as well and a quick glance brought a
smile to his face. And then he was at the corner. He hit his rear
brake, went into a controlled rear end slide to get pointed left,
gunned the bike again and he was around the turn. He repeated the
manoeuvre on the next right turn and he was around the sharp S
bend. He glanced back just long enough to see the first Hummer go
over the cliff and bounce down the rocks to land on the beach
below. The second Hummer stopped for a moment while the occupants
glanced down the cliff and then they sped around the S turn and
were back in the chase; but he was far ahead now and by the time he
hit Pulmo he would have at least a five minute cushion to connect
with Maria and head to the pick up spot.

Within minutes he came around a headland,
saw Cabo Pulmo a kilometer away and he hoped that Maria was on the
lookout for him. She was. As he approached the village he could see
her sitting on her bike beside the road and he simply slowed down
enough to wave her on. Time was running out.

The spot he had picked was only a couple of
kilometers past Cabo Pulmo. The small cove was largely hidden from
the road and the protected beach was a popular spot for fishermen
to pull up their pangas. Larger tourist fishing boats often cruised
the shore in this region so one other fishing boat wouldn’t attract
much attention. He knew they would be right on time and only wait
minutes before heading out into deeper waters. He sped through the
village and just beyond Pulmo headed down the trail that led to the
cove and the cliff above the beach. At the top of the cliff they
both jumped off their bikes and took off their helmets.

“What took you so long?” Maria asked with a
smile as she gave him a quick hug.

“Some of Mexico’s finest tried to give me a
speeding ticket. Let’s go – quickly!” He glanced at his watch and
saw it was 5:52. They should be able to see the fishing boat in a
moment. They started to climb down the goat path to the cove but
when they were in sight of the sea there was no boat to be seen.
“Shit, where are they?” Burt rhetorically asked himself as they
continued the scramble down the cliff. Suddenly they heard a shot
from above and a bullet ricocheted off a rock beside them.

“Get down!” he shouted to Maria as another
shot went wide of their location. “I didn’t think they would make
it this fast! They can’t see us from up top. Watch the trail to see
if they start coming down.” Maria moved to get a good view of the
trail while Burt took off his backpack and rummaged to find the
Glock just as one of the men started to creep down the trail.

“One is coming!” she whispered. “And he has
a machine pistol!”

This time he could see that the man did
indeed have a machine pistol and the others probably did as well.
That was bad in the sense that they could spray their location but
good in the sense they weren’t very accurate from a distance so he
had some advantage with the Glock. He had checked it earlier and
confirmed he had seven shots left after the two he had expended at
the casita so now every one of his shots had to count for
something.