Everybody Pays (36 page)

“Wow! I bet that’s the first superstretch they’ve ever seen this far south of the border,” Tanya said, watching through the heavily tinted back window as they passed the masqued faces of the pre-paid Mexican police.

“How long a drive is it, anyway?” Candy asked Cross, who sat on one of the rear-facing seats.

“About another eighteen hundred miles,” he replied. “Two days, driving straight through, me and Rhino switching off.”

“Yeah? Well,
I’m
not sitting in this seat for two days without . . . you know. Why can’t we stop off and get a room?”

“We need to be there in
six
days,” Cross said quietly. “Two days is about the best we could do, hugging the coast like we are. But we’re not going for the max. The plan
is
to stop over. At least one, maybe two nights. Just relax.”

“All right,” Crystal interjected. “But remember, you promised I could call—”

“Call anybody you want,” Cross told her. “You’re wasting everyone’s time with all this crap. Once we crossed that border—hell, once you got into this car—we could do whatever we wanted, and you know it. This isn’t a van with a couple of guys in the back seat with a roll of duct tape and a broomstick handle, get it? We’re professionals. You’re supposed to be too. How about acting like one for a change?”

“There she is, mate,” the middle-aged man with a regulation RAF mustache said to Buddha, gesturing with his finger. “One Harrier GR7, all spec’d as agreed. Take a look for yourself.”

Buddha strolled over, saying nothing, taking several tours around the plane as the man next to him kept up a running patter: “Runs about nine tons, ready to roll, and she can carry another four-plus external. Good for maybe six fifty at sea level, around six at thirty-six thousand. I wouldn’t want to go beyond that much myself, although you can climb up to fifty if you need to. You don’t want any extra fuel, so you’re looking at a tactical radius of around one hundred and eighty kilometers, not much more. Now, you see that FLIR on the front? That’s how you can tell it’s a seven, not a five. This one’s really brand-new, built in ’94. But they’ve been flying these jump-jets for almost forty years—you couldn’t find a more reliable design anywhere.”

“Sure. What’s FLIR?”

“Forward-looking infrared seeker. You attach it to your night-vision goggles, you can work at night if you need to.”

“I won’t.”

“Fine. All right, see the pods? That’s where the rockets are. You’ve got nineteen in each one, configured in rows. When you’re done, you hit the big fat white button—I’ll show you where it is inside—and the guts will pop out too. Then you close them down with the same button, only you hit it twice.”

“Okay.”

“Be a trifle cold on the return, but it shouldn’t be a real problem. Mind, with the extra pod, we had to lose the Sidewinders. That’s the way Cross said to do it.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“So what you want to do is—”

“Get in and get the fuck out, right? Sure.”

“And the money?”

“A million bucks for a rental, that’s what you’re asking?”

“Oh, I’m not
asking
for anything, son. Cross made a deal. A million for the rental, the loads, any shakedown runs you want to make to test her out, fuel, and a ride to this little airport I know about when you come back. He said you had a good sense of humor . . . and I can see he was right, you acting as if you want to bargain.”

“The money will be here in twenty-four hours,” Buddha said, turning away. “I have to—”

“Ah, we have telephones here, my friend. Very civilized. At your pleasure . . .”

“It is as I promised,
sí?
” the Mayan asked Cross, a sweep of his arm indicating the plush foyer of the four-story house located on the fringe of the capital city’s most upscale neighborhood.

“It looks fine,” Cross assured him. The women were upstairs, arguing over which bedroom each would occupy as work space. Rhino was prowling somewhere within the house.

Tiger sat next to Cross, watching the Mayan, but not speaking or moving.

“Your . . . customers, they will start to arrive at the end of the week. Once word has been spread discreetly in certain circles.”

“We’re almost there,” Cross told him.

“Almost . . . ?”

“One problem you got: You don’t trust us. That’s okay, I understand. But you’re not taking any risk until we deliver, that was the deal.”

“You believe there was no risk in—?”

“
Real
risk. You’re not putting any troops into the field until that radio tower goes down.”

“I tell you . . . my
compadres,
they think I am insane to even go this far. Especially with a man like you. That tower, it is guarded like it is the life of Torrando himself.”

“Torrando is—?”

“He is El Presidente today. Tomorrow, he may be
muerto
if God wills it. But if he goes, those with him go as well. And so the guards are
good
ones. Not the fat, lazy swine who worked in the dungeons. They are soldiers. The elite. The best he has. It will be impossible to reach the tower with the kind of explosives you would need.”

“Sure. Whatever you say.”

“In any event, you did not bring explosives with you. You could not bring even a pistol across our borders on the main roads.”

“That’s one of the two things we need from you,” Cross told him. “We need weapons. That’s our problem. And you need to watch us. That’s your problem. So here’s how we’re going to do it. You give us enough men to watch the door, all right? They do all the talking. What’s the most anyone charges for whores around here?”

“I would not know this.”

“Sure. Anyway, you can find out. Whatever that price is, ours is double, understand? So the guys at the door, they don’t have to
be
hard, but they got to
look
hard, understand? Like they was hired to protect the place, watch the money, check on the girls. We want no phone in the place. No appointments. All word-of-mouth. Everytime someone shows up, your guys, they pat him down—no weapons allowed in here—tell him the price, ask him which girl he wants. We got photos, and if they’re not with a customer, they’ll be lounging around in that room you got in the back. We need someone on the front door around the clock. There’s a door in the back. You got two choices with it—seal it up or put a man on it. Your own man—we’re not dealing with it.”

“What else do you require?”

“Weapons. We need an Uzi, a pair of MAC-10s, three shotguns, twelve-gauge, and”—looking across at Tiger, catching her nod—“a Sig Sauer nine. With plenty of ammo for each one. And we need a suppressor for the Sig. A real one.”

“Those are expensive weapons. Especially with a silencer. And very dangerous to possess here. I do not know if—”

Cross handed the Mayan a plain envelope. “What you got in there is twenty thousand, American. That’s enough to buy everything we want a few times over. We came over the border in a limo. Your guys go back and forth whenever they want. Buying pieces like we need in Guatemala is about an hour’s work.”

“Very well.”

“Good. While you’re there, I got a couple of other things I want picked up.”

The Mayan looked a question, but did not speak.

“One’s a present. For you all. It’s a bit too bulky to carry in a suitcase, so make sure you’ve got a truck.”

“What is this . . . present?”

“Your broadcasting booth,” Cross told him.

“There’s three of us,” Cross said, looking at Tiger and Rhino. “Everybody works overlap until this is done. Five hours straight sleep every twenty-four, so there’s always two of us awake. I’m not worried about the girls making a break for it, but we have to watch none of the customers gets stupid. And if they do,” he said, looking meaningfully at Tiger, “we have to handle them
sweet.
We don’t know who’s coming, but Jorge said they’d all be big players. We total the wrong one, we might get visitors. And, remember, none of the girls can see you, either.”

“I don’t know how to count this damn money,” Tanya whined, looking at a stack of bills on the coffee table in the beautifully appointed waiting room.

“You don’t need to count it,” Cross told her. “We’ll exchange it once we get back to the States.”

“You said—”

“—that you could keep all your tips, right? And you can. Nobody’s taking a penny from you. They pay us at the door. Whatever they give you, it’s yours to keep. What’s your beef?”

“Well, I just like to know what I’m getting. I mean, I don’t know if these guys are tipping me a C-note or a fiver, do I?”

“Fine, all right, give it to me,” Cross said, leaning forward. Tanya handed it over, reluctantly, as if worried it would not be returned. Cross riffled through it, spinning the stack against his thumb. “You got about six grand here.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“You said this place would be paradise; I guess you weren’t wrong. That’s only for two days. I only turned—”

“Nobody cares,” Cross told her.

“You
have
to come to the house,” Cross said reasonably. “Rhino has to show your guys how to work the thing, right? And there’s no way he can leave—we won’t have enough manpower to cover the place if something happens.”