Border Crossings: A Catherine James Thriller (28 page)

Fernando Ortiz’s phone number returned a match for an upscale home in San Angel, a once-quiet village which had been consumed by the behemoth city with cobblestone streets that was now called home by some of Mexico’s most rich and famous.  San Angel was a hodge-podge of the old and new.  It had a lively night life, yet just down the street from some of the most exclusive nightclubs in Mexico City one might find El Carmen Monastery where the bodies of well-preserved nuns slept in the cellars.  One side of the street might have an old world
hacienda
, while the other held a brand new mansion full of every conceivable amenity to satisfy even the most demanding of well-to-dos.

Catherine and Matt arrived and parked across the street from their target.  Large, black wrought-iron gates stood before them, along with a security guard who sat in a small check-in station, not much larger than an outhouse.  The home itself was like the suburb, a mixture of old and new.  It was built in the
hacienda
style with stucco and stone, but one could tell it had been built in the last 10 years and the security cameras atop its walls displayed some of its modern technology.

“What do you think?” asked Catherine, discouraged.

“Difficult, but not impossible,” said Matt.  “There’s a guard station there at the front and cameras at all four corners of the wall, probably covering all angles, but I think we can make entry there on the east side,” he said, pointing.  “My guess is he has a guard or two inside the wall, too, probably around back.”

“What about the cameras?”

“Basic closed system.  I need a digital video camera and we may be able to get around it.”  She marveled at how he could look at what she was seeing and think that gaining entry with anything less than a tank was even possible.

“And the security system?  I’m sure he’s got a good one.”

“That’s a little trickier.  To be honest, we’re not going to get around it.  We don’t have the equipment or the time we’d need to bypass a bunch of motion sensors.  A twenty-dollar motion sensor is way harder to beat than security guards and cameras.  I could get by the door or window contact, but not the motion sensor.”

“Can we cut its power?”

“No, it’ll all have a backup battery worth several hours, and the moment we tried it’d go off.”

This is crazy,
she thought,
we’re never going to sneak in that place
.  “So what do we do?  Wait for him to leave and grab him while he’s out somewhere?”

“Not necessarily.  Going inside the house gives us a better chance of catching him alone and off guard.  Assuming we don’t set off any alarms, of course.  I’d say our best bet is to get him during the day when he’s home so the alarm system will be off.  We just have to make sure we’re not seen.  This neighborhood probably has a significant police patrol.  If someone spots us going over the wall, we’ll be surrounded before we can get out.  There’s a big soccer game tomorrow afternoon, Mexico is playing Bolivia.  It’ll be the best time
to try.”

Rush the house in broad daylight? 
Catherine wouldn’t even have considered it an option.  Still, it made sense.  Even if the system was activated, they’d at least have the motion sensors inside the house turned off . . . hopefully.

They went back to their hotel room and began making arrangements.  Catherine called Patrick in Playa del Carmen and asked how Julio was doing.  “Oh, he’s fine,” said Pat.  “He and my boy are in there playing on the Playstation.  He just loves that thing.  Took to it like a fish to water.  Leg’s much better now, too.  They get outside and start running around like little monkeys.  He’s gonna be fine.”

“That’s great, Pat.  You all be safe, now.”

“Same to you.  No worries here, we’re all doing just fine.  He’s a good kid.”

“Yes, he is,” she agreed.

Afterward, they went to an electronics store and Matt purchased a JVC digital camcorder with direct connection AV’s, and a converter box.

Catherine had found a rental van that met the specs Matt suggested which they’d pick up the next morning and they’d also put in an order at a local sign shop.  They returned to the
hacienda
in the afternoon, this time parking a few blocks down the street.  “I’m just going to do a quick walk by,” said Matt.  “When I get a block past it, come pick me up.”  He got out and began casually walking down the street.  If anyone took notice, they would probably have assumed he was just another
gringo
tourist enjoying the cobblestone roads or the shade of the leafy trees.

As he neared the first corner of the fence that surrounded Ortiz’s lot, he pulled the small camcorder from his pocket and hit the record button.  The security cameras on the lot looked inward to catch anyone who was entering over the fence rather than outward.  This way, the entire interior of the lot was under surveillance at all times, but there was no visual on who was standing outside the wall.  Matt slung the camera over his shoulder by its small strap, gave a quick glance around, and then, with a small jump and few quick upward motions, pulled his head up level with the ledge where the security camera sat.  There he placed his little camcorder, dropped back to the ground, and continued walking.

When Catherine picked him up, she was a bit confused.  “You’re just going to leave it there?  What if someone sees it?”

“It’ll be okay,” said Matt, nonchalantly.  “I stuck it back a bit.  It’s got
10 hours of video time and an 80 hour battery, more than enough.  We’ll just need to grab it sometime tomorrow and charge it back up.”

Trusting in Matt’s experience, Catherine asked no further questions.  They returned to the hotel, had a few drinks over a conversation about old times, trying to recall how many times they’d slept together, and then turned in for the night - but not before adding another one to the count.

The next day they picked up the van first.  “This one’s on me,” Matt said, pulling out a credit card that read T.S., Inc.  “Company card,” he told Catherine.  “For business use only,” he laughed.  He tried the card, but it was declined.  “Oh.  Well, crap.  I guess I shouldn’t be too surprised.  I bet they’re really pissed off at me right now for taking off.”

Catherine smiled, “It’s the thought that counts.  Step aside, cowboy.”

They returned to the mansion and repeated the process from the day before.  Matt got out and walked down the street, suddenly jumping and pulling himself to the ledge after a quick look around, retrieved the camera, and then continued on his way.  They stopped off at the sign place to pick up the magnet and two iron-on patches they’d ordered, having to pay through the nose for the short notice, and then a uniform supply store and purchased two matching uniforms, both a size too large for them, with matching caps.  Then they visited a hardware store and purchased a ladder, tool belts, and miscellaneous tools.

“I’m never going to pull this off,” she told him, looking at the uniform.  “This will look ridiculous on me.”  Her stomach was full of butterflies . . . or more like hairy gray moths with stubby, prickly legs crawling in her insides, trying to dig a way out, if she’d been asked to describe it. 
We’re going to stick out like sore thumbs.

“Don’t worry about it,” he told her.  “If anybody says anything to us, I’ll do the talking.”

Lastly, they went to another security supply store, something not all too uncommon in Mexico City, and purchased two flak jackets.  The man behind the counter eyed them curiously.  “You try being a
gringo
in this city,” Matt told the man, which made Catherine smirk.

They had lunch at the hotel while the camera recharged.  “You really think nobody’s going to say anything if we put a ladder against the wall and start messing with the security system?” asked Catherine after Matt explained what they were going to do.

“You’d be amazed by the power of uniforms,” he told her.  “People just assume you’re supposed to be there doing whatever you’re doing when you’re wearing a uniform.  And hardly anybody pays attention to maintenance people in these upscale neighborhoods.”  Catherine lived in a pretty upscale condo herself back in Dallas and had to admit, she never thought twice about the comings and goings of the various maintenance people in the building.  She’d pay more attention in the future, she decided.  Assuming they had a future, she also reminded herself.

Matt ironed the patches onto the uniforms.  The custom patches read “Alusa”, the name of a local security company whose decals they’d copied exactly.  He smiled at Catherine while he worked.

“What?” she asked, defensively.  “I told you I don’t iron.  I don’t even do my own laundry for Christ’s sake.  That’s why God invented dry cleaners.  If someone wants their corporation’s contract looked over, I’m your girl.  But if they want their clothes done or dinner made, best to look elsewhere.”

“No problem,” he said.  “I like to do some cooking, if you remember.”  She did.  And he was pretty good at it.

The magnetic sign was a matching logo to stick on the van.

When the camera was fully recharged, they donned their flak jackets and pulled the uniforms up over them.  Catherine kept shifting the vest and trying to get the uniform to look just right.  “I don’t think they make these things for women,” she said about the vest.  Matt just grinned.  He wasn’t too keen on having Catherine in harm’s way, but she was his only support and he couldn’t ask for a better backup.  He still had his duffle bag with his arsenal, supplemented now by Miguel’s additions.

As they made their way through the lobby of their hotel, Catherine was amazed to see that nobody gave them a second look despite the fact she thought they must look entirely conspicuous.  “I told you,” Matt said, not bothering to whisper.  “Uniforms.”

They pulled the van right up to Ortiz’s lot and got out, carrying the ladder and a couple of toolboxes, along with Matt’s electronics and weapons.  Catherine was nervously looking about
, but Matt was whistling as though he was just enjoying the day on his way to work.  They set the ladder against the wall and Matt climbed up.  Catherine handed him the camcorder and converter box, and Matt began splicing the wires of their camera into the wiring of the existing system.

He was just hooking up the converter box when a police car pulled up slowly to the curb.  Catherine tried to look nonchalant, but she felt sure they’d just been busted. 
Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit,
went her thoughts.

“
Que paso
?” asked one of the officers.

Matt looked down with a smile as though he hadn’t a care in the world and told them in perfect Spanish, “Stupid camera acting up again.  Don’t worry, though.  We’re going to fix it up right this time.  Going to put a brand new one in, shouldn’t have any more problems.”

The officers glanced at each other in the car. 
They’re never going to buy that,
thought Catherine.  But then, with a smile and a wave, they drove away.  Catherine’s heart was racing ninety miles an hour. 
That was too close,
she thought.  Matt just kept whistling while he worked.  “Easy, Catherine,” he told her in a low voice.  “You’re looking too nervous.  That’s a dead giveaway.”

“They didn’t think it strange neither of us are Mexican?” she asked.  Matt, she could almost understand, with is tanned skin, dark stubble, and mop of dark hair.  But she didn’t look a bit like a local.

“It’s all about walking the walk and talking the talk.”

Having connected the converter box, he screwed the original camera back in place, but this time it wasn’t connected to the system.  He then turned on their video camera, which was playing a recording of the day before, and flipped the switch on the converter box while quickly fastening his spliced wires together.  “There,” he said.  “Now they’re watching yesterday.”  Luckily the weather hadn’t changed in twenty-four hours, which could have caused a delay in their plan.  He looked around the lot and all was quiet.  “We’re good to go,” he told Catherine, and then quickly scrambled over the wall.  Catherine gave a quick look around and then followed up the ladder.  When she reached the top ledge, she pulled the ladder up behind her and handed it down to Matt before dropping down herself.

“Here,” said Matt, handing her one of the Glocks, which he’d kept in the fake toolbox he had.  “I’ve got the silencer, so I shoot first if we have to.”

“What about the Browning?”

“No, I don’t think a .22 is going to cut it.  The Glock may be loud but it’ll get the job done if you have to use it.  But if we get in a scrape let me take the first shots.”

“I’m fine with that,” said Catherine.

They crept through the lot toward the east side of the house, and thankfully no alarms went off.  Matt quickly set up the ladder and scaled it to the second roof, Catherine just behind him.  This was where they were most vulnerable.  Looking down towards the front, Catherine could see the security guard’s little station, which meant if whoever was inside looked out the window towards the roof, they’d be seen.  She needn’t have worried, though.  Inside the little station, the security guard was watching the soccer match.  He was joined by Ortiz’s other two bodyguards who were supposed to be watching the house, but had snuck away for the game.  The three men sat smoking and cheering the Mexican team.

Matt and Catherine made their way to a nearby window, their feet stable over concrete roof tiles, designed to look like old clay tiles but much thicker and heavier.  Catherine had worried a tile would come loose and fall crashing to the ground giving them away, but they didn’t budge.