Devils and Dust (15 page)

A group of people sat around the pool in lounge chairs. One of them was Angela. She stood up as he approached. He took a step toward her. He wanted to break into a run, to grab her, to take her in his arms. Then he saw someone else standing up, smiling at him. Keller stopped. “Oscar,” he said.

Oscar Sanchez walked over. He looked thinner than when Keller had last seen him, and he’d shaved off his mustache. The combination made him look younger than the man Keller remembered. There was a bruise on one side of his face, but he was smiling. “Jack,” he said, and embraced Keller. “My good friend. I knew you would come.”

Keller hugged him back, looking over Oscar’s shoulder at Angela. She wouldn’t meet his eyes. Keller broke the hug and held Oscar by the shoulders. “Of course I did, buddy. I owe you. Big time.”

Another man was rising from the farthest lounge chair. He was short and balding. The skin on his scalp was peeling slightly from the sun. He had a slight paunch over the top of his swim trunks. His eyes were invisible behind dark glasses, but Keller thought he looked like an accountant on vacation. He held out his hand. “Mr. Keller,” he said. “I am Auguste Mandujano.”

Keller took the hand. “Jack Keller.”

“Please,” Mandujano said, indicating a nearby table shaded by an umbrella. “Sit. We have much to discuss.”

R
UBEN HADN’T
slept the entire night before. His hands had been toughened somewhat by the farm work, but digging Diego’s grave had still raised blisters on his unprotected hands that pained him all night. He was also hungry. When he’d gotten back, Edgar had tearfully told him that he’d tried to get the other men to save him some food, but they hadn’t listened. Ruben looked around the room. The other men wouldn’t look at him.
I got that food for you
, he wanted to shout at them.
I got them to let us give Diego a decent burial
. But it didn’t matter. To them, he was a collaborator. And he was just too tired to do anything but try and comfort his brother. “It’s all right,” he said. “Did you get anything to eat?” Edgar nodded, eyes still glistening. “Okay,” Ruben said, relieved. If they’d taken his brother’s portion, he’d have to do something about it. He collapsed on his bed. For a long time, he just lay there and looked up at the upper bunk. His hands hurt, his empty stomach tormented him, but it was the memory of what he’d just done that really kept him awake. He remembered the thump of Diego’s body falling into the grave he’d just dug, the sting of sweat and tears in his eyes, the rich smell of the newly turned dirt combined with the cloying, sickening smell of the dead man’s body. He’d paused to mumble a few words over Diego’s body, stumbling through what he could remember of the service for the dead. Dante had just stood there, looking down. Neither of them had spoken to the other since.

It took forever for morning to come. Ruben didn’t know how he was going to get through the day of work, as exhausted and sore as he was, but he got up with the other men. He made sure that both he and Edgar got their morning ration before they were lined up for the walk to work. As they stood there, waiting the command to move, Ruben saw the gates opening and a white van drive through. His heart sped up as he saw what was following. It looked like one of the military armored trucks he’d seen in the streets of Bogota, only larger. This one was painted bright blue. But it was the symbol painted on the door that got Ruben’s attention: A gold five pointed star and the words COUNTY SHERIFF. Maybe the police were here to stop all of this. Maybe the madness was over. But the glimmer of hope sputtered and died as the man who called himself “General” walked out to greet the imposingly large gray-haired man in the brown uniform that climbed down out of the huge truck. The two men shook hands as another pair of men got out of the white van. Both were dark-haired and pale-skinned, dressed in jeans and leather jackets. One of them was carrying a briefcase. The four men conferred briefly and the General took the briefcase. He and the Sheriff went into Building Three while the other two walked toward the women’s building.

“Come on,” the guard holding his gun on Ruben and the other men spoke up. “Let’s move. We ain’t got all fuckin’ day.”

Ruben turned his head to watch what was happening as they walked toward the gate. Several women walked out of the barracks, with Kinney and his rifle behind them. The group met the two men from the van, and the women lined up, just as the men had a few moments ago. Ruben spotted some of the women from the group he’d come with; he didn’t recognize the others. One of the men from the van walked up and down in front of the line. He pointed at one of the older women, then another. Kinney said something and the women walked away from the rest of the group, heads down. The rest of the women were marched toward the van. Ruben could hear some of them weeping.

“Keep moving,” the guard said. Ruben had to turn away to keep walking. The van passed them as they walked to the field, kicking up a cloud of dust that made some of the men cough. Ruben saw Diego’s sister looking out the window as they passed. Her eyes were blank and hopeless. “Where are they going?” Edgar whispered. Ruben just shook his head. He knew where the women were being taken, but couldn’t bring himself to say it to his brother.

Today, it wasn’t field work they were doing. It was construction. Instead of being marched to the fields, they were taken to a broad flat area. There were lots there—and roads—marked off by stakes, string, and small plastic flags on thin metal rods. There were poured concrete foundations on two of the lots, with piles of freshly cut lumber beside them. A few of the men had done construction before, and they had become the de
facto
foremen of the project. They’d told Ruben they were building houses. No one knew for whom, but they all knew it wasn’t for them.

“I
MPRESSIVE VEHICLE,”
the General said.

Sheriff Cosgrove grinned. Surprised you didn’t recognize it. That’s an MRAP.” He pronounced it “Em-rap.” He pronounced the next words with evident relish. “Mine Resistant, Ambush Protected vee-hicle. Now that that whole Iraq mess is over, the Army’s givin’ ‘em away to police departments.”

The General was amused. “Are you expecting that the local blacks are going to be acquiring land mines?”

“It’s a dangerous world, General,” Cosgrove said. “We need to be prepared.”

“You don’t have to tell me,” Walker replied. They had entered the office at the back of the building. Walker placed the briefcase he’d been given on his desk.

“Not going to count it?” Cosgrove said.

“Should I?”

“The Croatians haven’t shorted me yet.”

“No doubt they’re afraid to,” Walker said. “You might run over them with your big Army truck.”

Cosgrove didn’t answer that. Both men loathed each other, and both men knew it. But their relationship had been mutually profitable enough that they would let insults slide, if they were veiled and subtle enough. Plus, Walker knew that the Sheriff enjoyed the fringe benefit of getting to sample the “product” before it was sold to the Croatians. “So, when can we expect another shipment?” Cosgrove said.

“Soon,” Walker said. “I’m told very soon.”

“Good. That last group was a good ‘un.”

Walker kept his face expressionless. “Because of the young girl.”

“Yeah,” Cosgrove said. “See if you can get me some more like that.”

“I don’t control what’s sent north. I only utilize it.”

“To do the Lord’s work,” Cosgrove sneered.

“Yes. You think I’m a hypocrite? The Lord gave us dominion over the beasts of the earth, Sheriff.”
Of which you are one
. “We use them as we see fit.”

“Whatever,” Cosgrove said. “Just let me know when the next one gets here. I’ll notify the Croatians.” He smiled “After I’ve had a little time to sample the merchandise.”

“I will. But there’s something else we need to discuss with you.”

Cosgrove turned back from the door. “What’s that?”

“I hear you’ve hired a black for your department.”

Cosgrove sighed. “Don’t start this with me, Walker.”

“Why would you trust one of them? Knowing what you know.”

“The guy’s a war hero. They gave him a goddamn parade when he came home.”

Walker knew that the blasphemy was intended to make him angry. He kept his voice controlled. “This was not a good idea.”

“Look,
General
,” the Sheriff put extra contempt into the word, “you may not have to run for office, but I sure as hell do. I need the nigger vote. And when I have to go to the churches and smile and pretend I give a shit about them, it helps to have one of their heroes up on the podium.”

“Hopeless,” Walker thought. “Too entwined with the cares of the world. He can’t see the greater picture. God would provide a shield for him if he just believed
.
”

“Just call me when the next load’s due,” Cosgrove said, “and let me worry about my own business.” He turned and left without another word.

“I
DON’T
think we have that much to talk about,” Keller said. “I came to find my friend here. I’ve found him. Now we’ll be going.”

Mandujano shrugged. “As you wish. I have no desire to detain anyone against their will. But there will be a condition.”

“What’s that?”

“That you leave Mexico. That you not come back. And that you stay far away from any of my businesses from now on.”

“Great,” Keller said. “No problem.” He caught sight of Oscar’s face and his heart sank. “Why do I get the feeling that there’s a problem?”

Oscar smiled sadly. “I haven’t found my boys yet, Jack.”

“Ah,” Keller said. “Well, Maybe Mr. Mandujano here can tell us something.”

“Sadly, no,” Mandujano said. He gestured at the table again. “Please. Sit. I will explain the situation.”

Keller looked from face to face. Despite his unease, he walked over and took a seat. The rest followed. It was cooler under the shade of the umbrella, but not much.

Mandujano raised his voice. “Andreas!” he called out. “Have Esmeralda bring us some cold beers.” Keller noticed the fat man standing by the doors. He looked even unhappier as he disappeared back into the house. Mandujano sighed. “My associate does not feel that it is a good idea to take you into my confidence. But Mr. Sanchez tells me you are an honorable man.”

“I do okay,” Keller said. “But maybe your associate is right.”

“Maybe,” Mandujano said. “But this is one of those situations where all our alternatives seem bad.”

“I’m not sure what you mean by ‘our’ alternatives,” Keller said.

A girl came out of the house. She was carrying a tray with several bottles of Sol beer balanced on it. Keller recognized her as the girl from the bar, the one who’d tried to put the tracking device on his vehicle. She was dressed in tight white shorts that contrasted with the rich caramel color of her skin and a black bikini top. She brought the beers to the table and set them down. She didn’t speak, and she wouldn’t look at Keller. As she turned away, Keller saw that her back was mottled and bruised, the contusions striped as if someone had beaten her with a belt. He put the beer down. “Hey,” he said. “Esmeralda.”

She stopped in mid turn and looked back at him. Her eyes were blazing with hate. “
Que
?” she said. She made it sound like a curse.

“Nothing,” Keller said. The girl turned and walked away without looking back. Keller turned to Mandujano. His voice was tight with anger as he said, “Was that supposed to be for my benefit?”

“Failure has consequences, Mr. Keller,” Mandujano said mildly.

Keller stood up. “Okay,” he said. “I get it. You’re a vicious prick who beats innocent women to intimidate people. Message delivered.” He turned to Angela and Oscar. “Come on, let’s go.”

Angela started to stand, but Oscar spoke up. “Please, Jack, hear him out.”

Keller just stared at him for a moment. “What the hell is going on, Oscar? How are you okay with this?”

“I’m not,” Oscar said. “But sometimes we must do hard things to protect what we love.”

That hit home. He remembered Lucas’s words,
You did what you did to protect what you love.
He slowly sat back down.
“Okay,” he said to Mandujano, “I’m listening.”