Border Crossings: A Catherine James Thriller (33 page)

In the heart of Cancun a massive force of military personnel and AFI agents appeared on Lopez Portillo Street.  Two hundred Mexican marines amassed, supported by a naval helicopter and two tanks.  All police were ordered to stand down and Cancun was put under military control.  The helicopter hovered over the city as the military force began its march forward.  Cancun now looked less like a vacation resort and more like a city in the heat of battle in Afghanistan or the Gaza strip.

Victor Arismendez quickly caught wind of the incoming assault when first it appeared in the city and ordered his security to call everyone, every gang member, bodyguard, and soldier they had.  By the time the military reached his compound, he had no less than forty armed men holed up with him.

What followed next seemed unreal to Catherine.  She and Matt remained at AFI headquarters watching the assault on the news.  It was all out war.  Armored vehicles rammed the walls of the compound, met by a hail of automatic gunfire.  Grenades were tossed from both sides.  An insane news caster stood on a street corner only a few blocks away narrating the chaos as bombs exploded behind him.

“Jesus,” said Catherine, completely amazed by the spectacle.

“I guess you were right,” Matt told her.  “This guy’s got his own personal army.”

The siege wore on late into the afternoon, with considera
ble casualties on both sides.  Mexican Special Forces soldiers were seen being carried out on stretchers, images of bodies of the cartel members were on every channel, nothing censored.  On and on it went, the multi-million dollar compound being reduced to rubble by the bullets and explosions until finally half of its structure came tumbling down in a cloud of dust and debris.  The Special Forces stormed in.  Marines rappelled down from the helicopter to the roof while a separate assault team followed a tank though a new gaping hole in one of the walls.  More gunfire was heard, then two grenades . . . . then silence.

That evening, Matt, Catherine, Ramirez, and Jim and Amy Woodall all sat a large conference table at the AFI headquarters.  Agent Rojas sat across from them with other military officials and, to Catherine’s chagrin, the governor’s man, Fuentes.  “Shortly after 7:00 this evening our forces made entry into Victor Arismendez’s compound,” he was explaining.  “We encountered several armed men and our forces threw two grenades into the room in which they were barricaded.  Afterward, a search of that room revealed four bodies.  I’m sorry to report that Victor Arismendez was not among them.  We are still searching the premises, but our people found a tunnel located in the wine cellar which led to an adjacent property.  It appears Arismendez was able to escape through this tunnel, possibly even before the assault began.”

A collective sigh of disbelief and disappointment passed among them all.  “No,” whispered Amy.  Matt looked to Catherine, the only one in the room that could look beyond his icy façade to the disappointment beneath - and while his was a face of stone, Catherine’s anger and disappointment was written out neatly upon her features.

“We should have known,” she said.  “Of course he would have an escape route.”

“Don’t blame yourself,” Matt told her, “There was no way to know.”

She wasn’t comforted.  “He’s right,” Jim offered.  “We’ve come this far.  We’ll get him.”

“We have every resource available looking for him and while he may have had a few hours, he isn’t likely to be able to go far,” offered the agent.  “We have military at the airport, the local marinas, and stationed along the main roads out.”

All told, the siege had taken
just over four hours and had netted sixteen AR-15 rifles, nine AK-47’s, 12 handguns, a few shotguns and other miscellaneous firearms, a cache of grenades, nearly two thousand rounds of ammunition, a quarter million American dollars, and a vast assortment of drugs and drug paraphernalia.  But of course, no Arismendez.

They spent some time in the room discussing what would come next.  After the military, AFI, and Fuentes left the room, Amy asked the rest who remained, “What’s your honest opinion at this point?”

Catherine’s heart had sunk when she’d learned Arismendez had escaped.  In her gut, she felt they had the one chance and had missed, but she didn’t have the heart to say it.  Neither did Ramirez.  It was Matt who spoke, instead, “They probably won’t find him,” he told her truthfully.  “He knows better than to just get picked up in some public location.”  Amy began to cry angry, silent tears.  Jim reached over to comfort her.  “But we won’t give up,” he continued.  “The authorities may not find him, but we’ll keep on the hunt.  He’ll run.  He’ll go someplace that he feels is safe, and then he’ll get careless.  It may be a while, but eventually he’ll pop his head up, and then we’ll find him and end this.”

The mood was somber, the group in silent reflection for some time before Ramirez excused himself with his sincerest apologies to all for the turn of events.  Then Jim and Amy left for their room for yet another night of restless sleep and unresolved despair.  “Drink?” Matt asked.

“Let’s have it back in the room.  I need to sit for a while and think.”  She got up to leave, but paused as they were walking out, looking up at him, “When you said he’ll show up again, but it may be a while . . . how long do you think . . . really?”

He put his brawny arm around her.  “Years, maybe.”  He felt her sink in on herself.  “I’m sorry, Cat.  We did our best.”

Zuniga sat with Yesenia after she’d heard the news.  Silvia, Maria, Isabel, and Evelyn were all dead.  She wept miserably.  “You did all you could,” Zuniga told her, trying to comfort her as best he could.  “I know it’s hard, but we were able to save two thanks to you.”

“No,” she said, “I shouldn’t have waited.  It’s my fault.  If I’d gone straight to the police after they chased me in that alley, you would have found them in time.  But I hid!  I hid and now they’re dead because of me.”

“You hid because you were scared, and rightfully so.  Those men were trying to kill you, Yesenia.  Imelda and Catalina owe their lives to you.  Many people wouldn’t have had the courage to come forward after what you’ve been through.  And Trooper Daniel Shoal’s family now has closure because of you.  We now have his killer in custody, all thanks to you.  I know this is hard, unbelievably hard.  But you did a brave thing, Yesenia.  You stood up even though you knew you were risking your life.  That takes courage, Yesenia.”  But still she cried inconsolably.  “You know they have a visa called a T Visa,” Zuniga told her, putting his arm around her in a fatherly sort of way.  “It allows a victim like you to remain here if you help law enforcement, which you definitely have.  We can get you, Imelda, and Catalina an application.  We’ll write you out a reference and I’ll even testify for you if I can.”

“No,” she told him.  “I’m going home.  I just want to go home.”

After leaving the conference room in utter defeat, Catherine and Matt had retired to their room, poured themselves two Jack and Cokes from the little mini-fridge, and were sipping their drinks in quiet contemplation of the day’s events when the room phone rang.  Catherine looked at it curiously before picking it up.  “Hello?”

“Hello, Ms. James.  Bad news this evening, I hear.”

Catherine looked at Matt with a frustrated yet curious expression.  “Who is this?”

“I have a gift for you, Ms. James.”

“And what would that be?” she asked, now wary of this mysterious new turn of events.

“Victor Arismendez,” he said.

The pause was palpable.  “You know where to find him?” she asked.

“I do,” he said.  “He had tried to leave the city, but it didn’t work out for him.”  Catherine listened with keen interest.  “Mr. Arismendez is now sitting in room 403 of the Cancun Palace Hotel, just a few miles from his former residence.”

“That’s impossible,” she said automatically.

“See for yourself,” said the man.

“He wouldn’t be that stupid.  There’s no way.”

“What’s the one place the military aren’t going to be out in full force, Ms. James?”

“The resorts,” she answered.

“Precisely.  He’s hiding in plain sight.  You’re welcome to see for yourself.  There’s a couple of bodyguards in the lobby on lookout.  I’m sure you can spot them easily enough.”

“Who is this?’ she asked again, more fervently.  There was something about the voice . . . something peculiar she couldn’t place.  He spoke with no accent.  He sounded American enough with his deep voice and perfect English, but there was something inexplicable in the way he spoke that just didn’t sound right.

“His men are well armed, but I’m told there’s only about six of them with him.  Good luck, Ms. James.  You and your friend are going to need it.”  The man hung up before Catherin
e could ask anything more.  She looked at Matt with wide eyes, the phone still in her hand.

“What?” he asked, returning her stare.  He’d done his best to try to figure out what she might be hearing on the other end of the phone from her responses, but to no avail.

She put the phone back on the receiver as she spoke, “You’re not going to believe this . . . hell, I don’t believe it.”

Catherine repeated verbatim everything that the mysterious man on the phone had told her.  “There’s no way, right?” she asked him.  “I mean, his face is plastered all over the place.”  She was genuinely confused and stood with her arms folded trying to put the pieces of her recently exploded mind back in place.  “Is it a trap, you think?  One last try to take us out for bringing the military down on him?”

Matt was equally lost in thought.  “Could be.  But then again, could be the truth.  Whoever was on the other end of that phone is right, the resorts are the one place they’re not looking for the guy.  I wouldn’t have thought it, but from what we’ve heard, Arismendez just might be arrogant enough to try it.”

“I still can’t see it,” she said.  “And I don’t like it,” she added, shaking her head.  “This just doesn’t make any sense.  Who the hell was that guy?”  Her blue eyes met his brown orbs under the darkened brow, “What do we do?”

He shrugged.  “We do like the man suggested.  We go see for ourselves.”

They put their shoes back on, grabbed Matt’s bag of toys, and jumped into the latest rental car.

They pulled up to the Cancun Palace Hotel, the fountain in its circular drive sending jets of water upward in a cordial dance.  “If the guy
is right then there’s some guards in the lobby area.”

“It’s not going to be very busy in there at this hour and they don’t know my face,” said Matt.  “You wait here and I’ll go have a look.”  She didn’t like it, but she knew she’d been seen enough with the Woodalls at this point that someone could recognize her.  Matt, on the other hand, was still a ghost.  Except, of course, to the man on the phone, apparently.

He returned only a minute or two later, jumping back in the car with a brisk step, “Yeah, there were two guys in there sitting with line of sight to the entry.  They were dressed down, no obvious necklaces this time, but they’re hired guns.”

Catherine noted something she didn’t like in the information.  “Why are you saying ‘were’?”

He cocked his head to the side.  “They made me.  They went straight for the elevator as soon as they saw me looking at them.”

“What!?  Oh, crap.  I thought the whole point of me staying in the car was so you could check it out without drawing attention to yourself.”

“It was.”

“So what the hell happened?”

“What can I say?  These guys know what they’re doing.  As soon I walked in, they took one look at me, said something to each other, and it was over.”

“
Dammit,” she spat in frustration.  “Now what do we do?”

“We improvise,” he said, reaching for the bag of guns.

“We gotta stop improvising; it’s making me a wreck.”

“Sorry, Cat.  Shit happens.”

“Okay, so do we have anything remotely resembling a plan?  You think he’ll bolt or dig in?”

“He’ll bolt,” said Matt.  “He can’t risk another assault here.  He doesn’t have the manpower to withstand it.  In about
90 seconds he and his bodyguards are going to be running for the back door to this place.”

Catherine looked out on the massive hotel.  “There’s gotta be twenty ‘back doors’ to this place, how do we know where he’s going?”

“We’re not going to let him get that far,” he told her, handing her Miguel’s Mac-10 sans the silencer.  “From what we’ve heard, he’s too out of shape to bolt down the stairs,” he told her.  “They’re all going to hit the lobby by the elevators in a minute.”

She stared at the determined glare in his face and realized what his plan was, “Matt . . . there’s only the two of us.”

“That’s how it’s been most of the way,” he said.  “It’s either this or we let him go underground and hope we get another shot.”  Matt was already pulling on his flak jacket and handing her the other.  “What do you want to do, Cat?  It’s now or never.  There’s no time to call in the cavalry.  We literally have one minute to decide if we do this or not.”

She stared at the Mac-10 in her hand and then at the flak jacket he was holding out.  She snatched it
, and began putting it on quickly.  Matt was already back out the door.  “We need to make a lot of noise.  All we have to do is keep them pinned down long enough for the military to get here.”  He had his Glock in his hand and Catherine’s in his belt ready to be pulled when needed, along with two clips.  Catherine clasped the last fastener of her jacket and jumped out of the car with him.

As soon as they entered the lobby, Matt started shooting the ground.  The desk staff on the midnight shift ran for cover around a corner, immediately dialing for the police just as Matt had hoped.  The military was on alert and were sure to arrive much quicker than authorities did at the Hutton incident just two weeks before.  Matt and Catherine positioned themselves behind a column with a view of the elevators.

“Get ready,” Matt whispered.

No sooner had they put their back to the corner wall than the elevator doors opened up and several men all cramped inside exited.  As soon as the doors closed again, Matt and Catherine made their move.  Matt took the first two out with a quick and deadly accurate
Pop! Pop! 
Catherine depressed her trigger and the Mac-10 sent a sporadic barrage across the lobby, which was now vacant except for Arismendez and his men.  Arismendez, who was behind the pack, was dragged back and away by two of his guards.  The others now had their guns drawn and began shooting back.

The tiled walls cracked and pieces flew as Matt and Catherine ducked back again. Matt crouched down and peered around the corner for just a split second, but long enough to see two men on the ground, three standing, and Arismendez being led out the back way by two more guards.  “He’s running,” he told her.

Catherine swept around Matt and poked the Mac-10 around the corner ever so slightly, and let loose another, more controlled spray.  At the same time Matt popped his head back out again.  The three remaining guards were running for cover, still shooting, but wildly now.  One caught Catherine’s fire in his back and dropped.  Matt took another one out just before he reached the corner, but the third disappeared around it.

“They’re out of line of sight!” he told her, now pressing forward with her following.  They put their backs to the corner the men had just turned.  Catherine pointed to an elevator across from them, and in its pristine façade, they could see the reflection of the last man turning yet another corner.  Arismendez and the three remaining guards would be out of the hotel in seconds.  “Come on,” he told her, running for a closer rear door.

They exited at the same time the last guard exited another door, Arismendez and the other two guards could be seen over his shoulder already heading for the side of the building.  The guard took aim but Matt was already behind a column, but when Catherine appeared a split-second later, his eyes went wide in terror as he realized he’d left her open to gunfire.  He jumped back in front of her just as a bullet struck his back.  Matt whipped her around the column with him and Catherine screamed, “Matt!”

He’d hit the ground behind the column but said, “I’m fine.  Jacket got it,” though breathing hard and clearly in pain.  It was lucky the shot had been aimed for Catherine’s head, at which height it met Matt in the center of his back between his shoulder blades.  He rolled to the left and jumped back up.  The guard was now running as fast as he could.  Catherine took flight as well, but she was no match for Matt as he was already several steps ahead of her.

The guard turned the corner around the side of the hotel and turned to aim.  Matt saw him just as he flew around the same corner in rapid pursuit.  He immediately dove to the ground, another bullet barely missing him.  The guard took aim again and had Matt squared in his sights, but Catherine suddenly blazed around the corner and drew the guard’s gaze.  She’d seen Matt dive and knew there was only a hair’s breadth to spare.  The Mac-10’s clip emptied its last three bullets, one hitting the guard in his pelvis.  He jerked his arm and Matt seized the chance, finishing him off with one to the chest.

Exhausted as they already were in the chase that had spanned less than 90 seconds so far, Matt and Catherine bolted again.  Arismendez had a good head start on them and his guards had managed to push, pull, and drag him quickly enough to the street where they’d stopped a passing taxi by stepping in front of it, guns drawn.  One was now jumping in the driver’s seat as the other pushed Arismendez’s girth into the back, the taxi driver left on the pavement, killed without a moment’s hesitation by Arismendez’s men.  The taxi then scored the road in skid marks as it tore away, Matt sending a few shots into its trunk.

Catherine didn’t hesitate.  There was no way she was letting Arismendez go this easily.  While Matt put a few rounds into the car, she was busy stopping another car, a passing Toyota.  The terrified driver slid over and out the passenger door as she came around screaming for him to exit, a menacingly deceptive, empty Mac-10 in her hand.  She moved the vehicle up towards Matt, its passenger door still open, and he jumped in.  He didn’t have to yell “Go!” or give instruction of any kind.  They were in perfect sync as they gave chase.

The traffic was light but still present as the two vehicles raced along.  As the taxi flew past a patrol car that was racing towards the hotel, it skidded to a halt.  Catherine and Matt raced past it just as it was attempting to turn around.  “Hope he’s radioing someone,” she said.

As they raced along the main road heading out of Cancun, she got her answer in the form of a military helicopter, most likely the same one used earlier, as it appeared overhead.  Soon they saw more lights appearing behind them.

The taxi hit a side road, then an alley, and back out to another side road and went right, no longer on the main road.  “Where’s he going?” she asked.

“Airport,” said Matt.  “They’re trying to lose the helicopter.”

As they neared the airport Catherine looked up.  It appeared the military aircraft either had permission to enter the air space or didn’t need it as it did not turn away.  Arismendez’s ill-fated decision to try and lose the aircraft at the airport was further illustrated when the taxi came to a screeching halt, three military vehicles and a line of soldiers with guns pointed their way blocking the road ahead.  Catherine hit the brakes as did the police vehicles behind her.  Officers jumped out.  The officers in the rear were now pointing their weapons at Catherine and Matt’s car, not knowing if they were friend or foe.  The military soldiers in front were aiming at Arismendez’s car.  Nobody exited the taxi and Catherine and Matt remained in their vehicle, engine running.  Matt chuckled, taking Catherine off guard.  “What the hell could you possibly find funny right now?”

He smirked at her.  “Mexican standoff.  Literally.”

She couldn’t laugh.  “Jesus, Matt, really?”  She concentrated on the vehicle in front of them which was still idling.  “He’s going to give up,” she said, the ramifications of it being quickly calculated in her mind.  Even if he hadn’t decided yet, Catherine knew he didn’t have a choice.

She looked to Matt.  He wasn’t smiling anymore.  “It’s your call,” he said.  Both knew if Arismendez surrendered, he’d have a long trial with a lot of time to plan.  Maybe they’d try him, convict him, and he’d spend his life in a Mexican hellhole.  But the other possibility was that he’d use his money, his scare tactics, all of his contacts and resources to find a way to squirm out of the imminent charges.  They looked at each other, both making sure the other was agreed, both knowing what it meant.  This could easily be considered a severe crime, not to mention it could get them killed.  Arismendez was preparing to give up.  To attack him now would be to interfere with the Mexican government’s judicial system.  But the possible alternative . . . he’d slipped away once already.  The risk was too much for her.  Catherine hit the gas.

There had been a sufficient enough gap between the vehicles that when they barreled into the back of the taxi they were nearly up to thirty miles an hour.  Glass shattered on the road as the stunned authorities closed in but were dazed by what had just occurred.  None of them knew what to think.  “Hold your fire!” someone on the military line yelled out.

To Catherine’s horror, Matt put one Glock on the dashboard and the other in her hand, and then stepped out of the car before she could stop him, completely unarmed.  “Stay here,” he said.  “But make sure you shoot them before they shoot me.”

“What are you doing!?” she cried.  He held his arms high and looked as though he were headed for the taxi’s rear door, over a dozen guns on his every move.

“Get down!” someone yelled at him, but he kept walking.  “Get down on the ground now!”  But Matt kept approaching the taxi.

“Jesus, Matt, get on the ground,” Catherine whispered.  She was halfway tempted to get out and go after him.

"Don't fire!" one of the police officers yelled.

But while the military and police were holding their fire, one of Arismendez’s men opened the passenger-side door and made to point his gun at Matt.  Catherine saw him move just in time and instantly fired her weapon through the windshield.

As he fell back in the car the taxi lurched forward, its mangled rear dragging the exhaust pipe in a cloud of sparks as the last spooked guard, who was driving, tried to take off with Arismendez in the back seat.  As it bore down on the soldiers in front of them, Matt hit the ground.  Catherine knew what was about to happen next and she quickly followed suit, throwing her gun out of the window and holding her hands out for the police behind her to see.