Warriors in Paradise (37 page)

“Thank you, Doc. Thank you very, very much.” Santi took out his wallet and put five one-thousand-peso bills on the gurney. “To cover the cost of the supplies,” he said.

Santi carried Zulu out of the hospital and laid him down gently in the back of the CR-V.

He drove Zulu carefully back home.

He was thinking more clearly now.

Seven deadly sinners

Santi parked the car in the garage and carried Zulu down to his bedroom. Zulu was still out from the anesthesia.

Sandra’s body had been covered with a sheet.

Santi took Valentina’s mattress to his bedroom. Valentina was sleeping or resting with her eyes closed. He placed the mattress next to his bed and laid Zulu on it.

Santi went down the stairs to look for Charlie and Caleb. He had not seen any of the bodies of the gunmen killed during the assault on the house. Charlie and Caleb were sitting around the dining room table, sipping beers. Santi went to the kitchen, opened the fridge, and grabbed a beer. He joined his friends.

“How is Zulu?” asked Caleb.

Santi replied, “I got there just in time. Ten more minutes, and he would have bled to death. The bullet went through his leg and into his stomach. He should be fine in a month or so. However, he might end up walking like a chicken—you know, with a limp—because the bullet took some muscle mass from his leg.

“What did you find out?” Santi asked.

Charlie answered, “Apparently, our friendly prosecutor had the great idea of coming after you and me. He didn’t know about Caleb, or he might have brought more men. He came with six because he had heard what happened in our cell when I had to deal with the meanest inmate. He wanted to come prepared. But, as you once told us, ‘they were outnumbered by a smaller force of men.’

“When Jacinto Cienfuegos disappeared, Pedro—the prosecutor—suspected that we had something to do with it. With Cienfuegos and Toro gone, there was confusion on the streets of Acapulco. Animosity, rivalry, and scattered shootings took place among competing crime syndicates.

“Pedro decided to eliminate us and then take over Toro’s organization. Apparently, supplying drugs to tourists is a very profitable enterprise.”

“Where are the bodies of those sons of bitches?”

“On the boat,” answered Caleb.

“And how and where is Pedro the prosecutor?”

“He is alive and well, tied up in the garden next to the mango tree. We thought you might want to ask him a question or two,” Charlie responded.

Santi looked at his friends and said, “Thank you for covering Sandra’s body. I’m going down to have a friendly chat with Pedrito. See you shortly.”

Santi went down the stairs to the garden. The corrupt prosecutor had been restrained with his wrists behind his back and his ankles securely flex-cuffed.

Santi put a knee down close to the prosecutor’s face and said, “You only have one opportunity. If I don’t like what I hear, if I think that you’re lying, I will kill you. We have already killed six dirty cops; killing a dirty prosecutor won’t make any difference. So think carefully before you respond.”

The prosecutor swallowed, looking intently at Santi.

Santi said, “Look at me. I am talking to you. Look at me!” He slapped the prosecutor’s face hard. Santi was making his point.

Santi asked, “Who else knows about us?”

“Nobody. Just Cienfuegos and me.”

“Who knows that you are here?”

The prosecutor answered, “Nobody.”

“You’re lying!”

“No, it is the truth. Not even my wife knows that I am here.”

“What about the men who came with you?” asked Santi.

“They work with me at the police station. I offered them two thousand pesos each. They were just hired muscle.”

Life was cheap in Acapulco.

“Please, I am very sorry, I know that what I did was wrong. Please let me go. I promise you, I won’t do anything about it. I have money. I am also the only support for my five children and wife. Please let me go! Please!”

Santi said, “Do you know that your men killed my godmother? Your men were not leaving witnesses behind. You sent them to kill everybody while you stayed waiting in the boat. That wasn’t very manly of you. Do you really think that you should live?”

Santi placed one hand on top of Pedro’s head and the other below his jaw, made a little twist to the right and then a sudden, powerful twist to the left, breaking his neck. The prosecutor died with a surprised look in his yellow, jaundiced eyes.

***

Santi went upstairs and found Charlie and Caleb sipping their beers.

Santi said, “We were lucky nobody heard the shooting. Most of the neighbors’ houses are empty.

“We have to dispose of the bodies and the boat. I suggest we take them to Revolcadero and let the currents take care of the seven bodies.

“Seven?” inquired Charlie.

“Yes, seven. The prosecutor trembled so hard that he shook his head off his neck.”

Caleb looked at Charlie and said, “Yes, Santi can be very, very frightening.”

Charlie said, “Yes, he is so ugly that he can make blind people cry!”

Their attempt at lightheartedness fell flat. Too much had happened in too short a period of time. Humor helps soldiers who are dealing with combat fatigue during an impersonal combat situation, but this was personal—and becoming more personal with every twist and turn.

Santi said, “I have to go on the boat because I know the currents, but somebody has to stay here.”

Caleb said, “I’ll go with you. Charlie can stay here.”

“Sounds like a plan,” said Charlie.

Santi turned to Charlie and asked, “Could you pick us up in two hours at the entrance of Barra Vieja?”

Charlie said, “I’ll see you there in two hours.” Then he added, “Godspeed.”

“Caleb,” Santi said, “bring your diver’s knife. We are going to need it.”

On their way down, Santi hauled Pedro’s body over his shoulder and carried it down to the boat. Santi checked the fuel tank. It was almost full. He started the boat, opened the throttle, and headed toward Revolcadero.

Santi said, “Caleb, we need to undress them and cut them so they’ll become attractive fish food. The undressing we can do while in transit and the cutting up when we are there. Then we will dump them into a nice current to China.”

Caleb started undressing the bodies while Santi steered the boat across the bay and toward the open sea.

They reached the same area where Santi had released Cienfuegos’s body several days before. He turned the motor off, unsheathed his knife, and made several slashes on each of the bodies. Caleb did the same. They dumped the bodies into the sea one by one. The bodies stayed afloat for a short while and then were suddenly drawn by the current toward the open sea.

Santi started the motor and headed toward Barra Vieja. Twenty minutes later, they were pushing the boat onto the beach. They left the boat stranded on the sand. Tomorrow morning, a lucky fisherman would be the owner of a fine new boat to which he would give a different name and perhaps a new paint job.

They walked up to the highway, and five minutes later, they saw the lights of a vehicle approaching. Charlie stopped, and they boarded the CR-V. Charlie drove them back home. There was little traffic. Twenty minutes later, they were parking inside the garage.

Good-bye, lover

Santi went down to check on Valentina. His bed was empty. Zulu was wagging his tail while lying down.

“Hello, boy. How are you doing?”

He squatted down and scratched Zulu behind the ears. The anesthesia had worn off, and even though Zulu was in pain, he was happy to see Santi.

Santi stood up and went to the next room. He saw a folded note on top of the sheet that covered Sandra’s body. He picked it up, unfolded it, and read it:

Santi, I have to go. I cannot face another incident like the last one.

Violence seems to follow you around. I am sorry, but I cannot be with you any longer.

Good-bye, Santi.

Please, don’t contact me, and don’t look for me. I am fine, and I will be fine.

I am sorry about Sandra.

Valentina

Santi felt a terrible emptiness in the pit of his stomach. His mouth was dry, and a pounding headache started to build up behind his eyes. He wanted to go down to the kitchen and get the bottle of tequila from the freezer and drink all his sorrow into oblivion. However, he knew that he had to hold it together. He needed to call his mother, make funeral arrangements for Sandra, and repair the damage to the house.

He didn’t have the luxury of feeling sorry for himself. There was too much to do. The solution was not at the bottom of a bottle.

He would mourn later.

He came out of the room and walked down the stairs to the dining room. Charlie and Caleb were waiting for him.

They saw his face, and Charlie asked, “What happened?”

Santi handled the note to Charlie.

Charlie and Caleb read the note. Charlie said, “Sorry to hear that. I am speechless. I don’t know what to say to you except that she is being unfair. We didn’t ask for this. If anything like this had happened to any other people, they would be dead by now. We saved those girls, and now they don’t want to have anything to do with us. No good deed goes unpunished. Go figure!

“It is not that violence follows us around. It is that we are not afraid of committing violence against those who commit it against us.”

“Yes, I agree with you, but being right doesn’t help how I feel right now,” responded Santi.

The sunrise was amazing. It was as if the universe was renewing their faith in the future and love for life. The spectacular beauty of the sunrise made them feel a little better.

A bright day took over from the nightmare of the night.

Dealing with chaos

Santi didn’t know how he would have coped with the issues of the day without Charlie and Caleb.

Santi gave Charlie and Caleb Sandra’s address book with the phone numbers of the maintenance workers who had done odd jobs for them before. If a worker said that he was not available, Charlie would offer to pay him double the going rate.

They took measurements and made estimates of the construction materials that would be needed for the repairs, and then they called the building supply stores to order the necessary materials. Given the situation in Acapulco, everybody was busy and wanted to charge prices that were much higher than normal. Charlie and Caleb did not mind paying more as long as the work would be done well and rapidly. They offered to pay double the going rates to ensure immediate delivery of the materials.

Masons came to repair the walls and floors. A glazier came to replace the frames and broken windows. A window treatment expert came to replace all the wrecked blinds. New mattresses were bought and delivered. A carpenter came to fix the damaged furniture.

A cleaning crew came to clean up and remove the debris.

***

Santi’s call to his mother took everything out of him. He somehow felt responsible for Sandra’s death. He felt his mother knew that too. She was understanding, warm, and affectionate. He knew that it was just a front; she must have been hurting as bad as, if not more than, he was. He was heartbroken.

The only access to Acapulco was by military aircraft. She would try to get to Acapulco as soon as possible. “Carry on with the funeral arrangements,” she said. “Sandra wanted to be cremated. We will spread her ashes along the Costa Chica, as she wanted, as soon as I get there.”

The funeral arrangements took a chunk out of his self-control. A doctor needed to sign Sandra’s death certificate. He didn’t know whom to call. It was going to be a big personal favor. The certificate couldn’t state that the cause of death was seven bullets to the chest.

The worst thing that could happen was that the doctor would say no.

He finally settled on Dr. Willebaldo Goyeneche, the doctor who had operated on Zulu. The doctor already knew about the gunfight.

Santi called him and invited him over for drinks. Dr. Goyeneche arrived at Santi’s house at 5:00 p.m.

There were still workers around, and the house now looked half decent.

A farewell for Sandra

“You have beautiful views of the bay and La Roqueta. They are absolutely stunning. The house is huge. I have seen it many times from the sea. They say that it once belonged to the famous comedian Chin Chan. Is that true?”

Charlie answered, “Yes, it is. His bedroom actually had a chimney—not to warm up the room, but to have a sweat-lodge ceremony with his favorite Acapulco Gold.”

Dr. Goyeneche laughed. He said, “Yes, I am now certain that this was his house. He was well known for his proclivity for that particular brand of smoke.”