The Surge - 03 (34 page)

By the time the two rangers were pulling into the outskirts of Tampico, it was difficult to tell the duo from the locals.

Zach’s three days’ worth of stubble did a lot to hide his lighter completion and served to make the rogue lawman look like anything but a traveling gringo tourist.

It was hard to estimate when BB had last shaved, his salt and pepper stubble providing a grizzled accent against his sun-darkened, leathery skin.

There were plenty of men who looked like they’d just ridden into town after spending the day on horseback. Other than their height, the two rangers could easily pass for a pair of charros, in town to bust a bronc at the local rodeo.

Given the information passed along by the general at Fort Hood, Zach didn’t want to waste a second and asked BB to pilot them to the local marina.

While Tampico was a large city, the fleet of local pleasure boats was a bit disappointing.

Zach had visited the huge facilities along the Texas coast, places like Clear Lake, the Galveston Yacht Basin, Port Aransas, and others. There he’d found mammoth yachts by the dozens, some well over 100 feet in length and worthy of the most discriminating taste.

Even the sports fishermen had been impressive vessels, their tall bridges and stout outriggers catching the eye of a land-loving cowboy like Zach.

Instead of a fleet of glittering, white pleasure craft stretching off into the distance, they found a short section of finger piers, most of which were empty. The few boats that were docked hardly seemed fit for a man of El General’s wealth and reported taste.

“I don’t see but a handful of boats here that could safely handle you and me, let alone a drug lord and his security detachment. Are you sure we’re in the right place?” BB quipped.

“There’s only one marina listed in Tampico,” Zach replied, now disappointed. “I guess our man isn’t here.”

“Maybe he’s left town?”

Zach had thought about his partner’s question. There was a possibility Vincent had flown the coop, but the ranger doubted it. “He was born and grew up here. My read on the man is that when the going gets rough, he’ll want to stay on familiar ground. The Gulf Cartel supposedly owns this burg from skyscraper to sewer pipe. I think he’s here; we just have to find him.”

BB shrugged, “It’s not like we have anyplace else to go. Let’s get something to eat and think this through.”

The older ranger had worked in the area and knew of a place to grab some coffee and a couple of sausage and egg tortillas.

Despite taking turns driving and catnapping throughout the night, the warm food made Zach’s eyes heavy. “I need to get out and walk for a bit,” he announced.

“Good idea. Wouldn’t hurt to get the blood flowing from my ass to my brain.”

There was a city park not far away, a place where BB felt like the truck, and its arsenal within, would be safe from prying eyes. As the two men stretched their legs, Zach asked, “So if you were one of the most powerful drug kings in the world, where would you hang your hat in this one-horse town?”

“Well now that’s the $64 question, is it not?”

“Normally I would assume this guy would be surrounded by luxury digs of the highest quality. From what I read though, El General is one smart cookie. He’s been the first of the major crime bosses to put together a super-cartel of sorts. He managed a ceasefire and has run this latest scheme like a maestro conducting an orchestra. I would think he would be wise enough not to flaunt his ass around town while there’s an all-out war brewing, especially one that his name written all over it.”

BB tilted his head, “So you’re saying we should start by searching the slums?”

The question made Zach grin. “No, I don’t think we need to go to that extreme just yet. Tampico is a lot bigger place than I imagined. I had it in my head that we would just drive around, looking for a bunch of gangsters riding around in black SUVs and follow them back to the criminal mastermind’s lair.”

“Should we go visit my friend the cop?”

The ranger had already considered contacting BB’s acquaintance, finally concluding that would be their last resort. Conducting a successful business transaction with a bounty hunter didn’t preclude the local officers from being on someone’s payroll. “It’s not time yet. We just got here.”

With their circulation somewhat restored, they left the park and headed toward downtown. Zach had a thought, “If there was a civil war brewing in Texas, what would you be doing?”

BB pondered the question for a moment before answering, “I’d stock up on beans, bullets, and whiskey.”

“Exactly,” Zach said. “No matter where El General is going to ride out the storm, he’d need a goodly amount of supplies for his security detail and business entourage. It takes a lot of grub to feed 8-10 beefy bodyguards, a couple of señoritas, and a handful of middle management types. Maybe we should be checking the local grocery stores and seeing if anyone has noticed a bunch of heavily-armed guys buying several tons of food and tequila.”

“I’d think he’d also need access to good communications as well. If your snitch was right, and El General is hoping to pull off a coup, he would want to stay in touch with the boys. After all, he has to be able to issue orders if he wants to overthrow a government.”

Grunting, Zach nodded his agreement. “He’ll also want a back door … an escape route. One thing I learned about chasing Ghost all over the Middle East – the man always had a Plan B that is damn near as good as the first choice.”

“Airport?” BB pondered. “A hacienda near a waiting plane?”

Zach nodded, “Or a hotel suite close to the runways. Still, that would expose the man to a lot of eyeballs. I wonder if there’s any way to find a list of all of the private airstrips around Tampico?”

“What we need is some local expertise,” BB said. “Let’s go visit my friend.”

Still having his doubts, Zach disagreed. “Let’s drive around a bit more, and let me think this through. We’ve only been in town a few hours.”

“Suit yourself,” BB shrugged. “I promised my Izzy that I’d get her a surprise from the big city. You care if we stop up here so I can get my shopping out of the way?”

“No problem. It will give me some time to think.”

The pickup managed a few turns that brought them into an area of shops, sidewalk cafes, and other businesses that obviously catered to Tampico’s upscale residents. After finding a parking spot, BB said, “I’ll be back in a few minutes. Keep an eye on that cargo in the back, would ya?”

“Sure. Take your time and get her something extra special.”

Zach watched his friend walk away, the ranger’s mind weighing the positives and negatives in visiting the local cops. After 10 minutes, he’d decided they didn’t have much choice, the marina being a wild goose chase.

The ranger’s analysis was suddenly interrupted by a stunningly beautiful woman strolling down the sidewalk, a brawny, rather antisocial-looking fellow at her side. Her skin tone was remarkable, with unusual features and a body that drew the Texan’s eye.

There was something more … something familiar about her.

A lightning bolt of realization shot through Zach’s mind. He knew that girl! He’d seen her picture! It was the missing woman Gus had been hunting, one of Cheyenne’s co-borrowers at Trustline.

The ranger’s hand reached for the door handle, his first instinct to rush up to the woman and launch an interrogation right there on the sidewalk. He then paused, reason entering back into his road-weary brain.

Zach’s eyes never left her sexy, little swagger as she casually strolled down the street, occasionally stopping to gawk in a window or scan an advertisement. The Texan tried to remember her name, but he couldn’t. He did remember Gus and the image of the El Paso cop’s body lying in the street with half of his head missing. “Payback,” he hissed.

Three blocks away, the ranger spied BB’s gangly stride heading back, a small paper bag in his hand. Zach jumped out of the truck and began stepping briskly to meet his friend halfway.

The moment the senior lawman spotted Zach hurrying his direction, he instantly knew something was up and paused, not sure what to do.

Trying to keep a discreet eye on the wandering woman while explaining his discovery to his friend, Zach and BB kept their own leisurely pace through the shops and markets.

“I’ll go back and get the truck,” BB said after the debriefing was finished. “You follow them on foot, and I’ll be close by. Try to stay where you can see her and me at the same time.”

Zach wasn’t sure. “Maybe we should snatch her right now. I’m sure we could convince her to tell us where El General is holed up.”

“Maybe. Maybe not,” the older man countered. “That’s some serious cartel muscle keeping an eye on her, and besides, what’s that hostage syndrome where the victim becomes attached to the kidnappers?”

“The Stockholm Syndrome,” Zach answered, his eyes never leaving the short head of dark hair now about a block ahead of them.

“Let’s just follow and hope they lead us back to the nest. I’ll keep the truck parallel on that side street. When you see that they’re finished with their little shopping excursion, come running.”

Nodding his agreement, Zach moved on while BB rushed to retrieve the pickup.

The little Miss continued browsing for another hour, most of the time spent in a boutique that specialized in beachwear. Her cartel escort never wandered away from the store’s entrance.

Her spree made it easy for BB to keep in sight, a parking spot opening up less than half of a block away. When she finally emerged, Zach realized that she was done for the day.

In addition to the two packages under Mr. Muscle’s arm, there was an extra briskness in her step, a subliminal message that the day’s fun was over, and it was time to head back.
But back where?

The two subjects reversed direction, a tactic that made sense to their watchers. Their car was no doubt parked at the other end of the area, where the shopping had begun.

Zach heard BB start the old pickup’s engine as the woman sashayed right past him, so close he could smell her hair. For a fleeting moment, he hoped she hadn’t smelled him.

Then the chase was on, BB rolling along at a snail’s pace on the side street, Zach subtly trying to keep up without being noticed. Six blocks later, the suspects cut off the main drag, right toward the spot where BB was idling. Mr. No-neck produced a key fob and pressed the button, the lights of a blue SUV blinking as the doors unlocked.

Zach was just jumping in the cab when the woman and her driver pulled away from the curb. He was relieved that BB held back, even happier that traffic was nearly non-existent.

It quickly became clear that BB had tailed a suspect or two in his day. Zach had to admit the old ranger was good – damn good.

Only occasionally was their truck in the SUV’s rearview mirror, and then only for a short period of a block or less. BB spent most of the journey one street over, sometimes behind, sometimes ahead of the unaware cartel chauffeur.

“They’re heading toward the river,” BB noted, cutting hard to make the traffic light at a cross street. “Maybe your sources weren’t so full of shit after all.”

They entered an industrial section of town, the lack of automobiles making it difficult for BB to remain unseen.

Zach couldn’t figure it out, the area they were travelling almost the exact opposite of where he thought El General’s lair would be housed. At one point, the ranger was worried they had been spotted and were being led into an ambush.

“This doesn’t look like the sort of place where an ultra-wealthy drug lord would hang his hat,” Zach noted. “Matter of fact, it looks damn dangerous.”

Pointing to the burned out shell of what had once been an enormous warehouse, both of the lawmen shook their heads in concern.

The sole remaining wall of blackened concrete blocks was leaning heavily as if about to collapse. BB wondered why the last windstorm hadn’t already toppled the death trap. Zach pondered if the spooky looking skeleton was a harbinger of what was to come. Both of them were relieved when the pickup passed through without being crushed.

The scenery didn’t improve much as they followed the cartel SUV further in. It was obviously a district that had seen better days, a relic from an era where ships had been the preferred method of moving cargo. Now, over the road trucks hauled most freight, and the local real estate market had suffered badly. Again, Zach wondered why Vincent would have picked this section of town.