Smoke Signals (A John Tall Wolf Novel Book 4) (11 page)

“What if I see a lady hanging clothes out to dry?”

“Leave the clothes, corral the lady. Any civilians you find, round them up.”

“And then?” Dog asked.

Able turned back to Mateo. “Your call, life or death. Each fatality over the first ten will cost extra. Double for women and kids.”

Sarcasm in his voice, Mateo said, “You’ll throw in pets for free?”

Able laughed. “Cats, sure. Guard dogs, too. Anything else we can negotiate.”

Mateo said, “In the interests of decency and sound budgeting, don’t kill anyone who isn’t an immediate threat to your lives or mine.”

He also didn’t want to stick the CIA with too big a mess to clean up.

Able looked at his men. If there were going to be witnesses left behind, he and his men couldn’t let their faces be seen. They pulled the stocking caps on their heads down over their faces. There were openings for their eyes, noses and mouths. Now, they looked like bank-robbers or terrorists. All to the good for purposes of intimidation.

You hid your face, you dehumanized yourself.

You became a monster capable of inflicting any kind of brutality.

Only problem was, Able had the feeling this move, hiding their features, should have been discussed before they had exited the Navigator. If Able got the feeling somebody might have gotten a look at him and his men before they pulled their caps down, he was going to kill them.

He could argue money for the extra kills with the greaser afterward.

Able was sure Mateo would see things his way.

Charlie stayed out front; Dog ran to the back of the big house they would enter first. Baker kicked in the front door, and Able ran inside, his weapon at the ready. Mateo lingered behind on the front porch. No sense in risking his life, he thought, when he was paying someone else to do his dirty work.

Beebs Bandi, ever the ace photographer, had set himself up in an attic of a house down the street at a curve in the road with an angle on just about every other structure in town. He’d seen the Navigator arrive. Saw the men exit the SUV. Could have killed them all, if he’d had the right firearm and disposition.

Massacres weren’t his thing, though.

Still, he did nail all five of them with his telephoto lens.

Got sharp, clean shots of each man’s face before they pulled down their masks. Photographed the truck, too. Made sure he framed the numbers on the license plate so all of them were in frame. Even the date on the tiny registration sticker was legible.

For the first time since he’d climbed the tree to shoot the young movie stars making love, Beebs felt a sense of redemption. He was going to use his gift for photography to put some bad guys behind bars, and the bastards wouldn’t know until it was too late that Bruno “Beebs” Bandi had brought them to justice.

His sense of confidence flagged when the bad guys started making their moves. Yeah, one of them stayed out on the road, but another ran off behind the house where he, Freddie and Marlene had stayed last night. Then three more of them broke into Freddie’s house.

Jesus, what if Freddie and Marlene hadn’t gotten out yet?

Freddie had still been in bed a few minutes ago and —

Beebs heard the loudest, most awful scream of his life.

He was sure someone had just died.

Able was the first man through Freddie’s door. He was the team leader because he was the best of the bunch. Top marksman, top edged-weapon fighter, top at hand-to-hand combat. He saw the danger while the other guys were still looking for the threat. He reacted faster. He exploited vulnerabilities while the others searched for a point of attack.

Baker, Charlie and Dog followed Able willingly because they knew their chances of staying alive and unhurt were far better with him at the point of the spear.

None of that mattered once the team leader crossed the threshold of Freddie Strait Arrow’s house and the monster leapt out of the shadows. Able turned his head in time to see a pair of fiery eyes and an enormous mouthful of teeth flying at him. He didn’t have a chance to do anything but scream. Baker, seeing the mangled, fallen Able, couldn’t help but recoil.

Able felt, ever so briefly, the agony of his throat being pierced and his cervical spine being crushed. His training never had anticipated an enemy like this one. He was dead before his mangled body hit the floor.

Responding purely by dint of reflex and being cold-blooded killers themselves, Baker, in front, and Dog, at the back of the house, managed to disenthrall themselves and open fire. But the monster that had seemed so huge only a moment before suddenly became too small to draw a bead on, and it moved with blinding speed. The best they could do was fire on full automatic and empty their magazines.

They came closer to killing each other than shooting … whatever the hell it was.

Still, each of them yelled, “You hit it?”

They both answered angrily, “No, goddamnit.”

Charlie ran into the house and with his two comrades looked down at the shredded remains of their late leader. Nobody needed to ask if Able was dead. A moment later, Mateo found the courage to enter the house and see what had happened.

He thought he was going to have to raise the fee the surviving mercenaries would get to continue the job, but he knew this wasn’t the time to talk about money. At the moment, these men needed nothing so much as someone to kill. Mateo didn’t want it to be him.

As it was, Baker, stepping into the leadership role, relieved Mateo of the necessity to talk business. With Charlie and Dog’s unspoken consent, he told Mateo, “The rest of this job is on us. Whatever that thing was, we’re going to find it and kill it.”

The bear had just broken into a run, charging Freddie Strait Arrow, mouth agape, teeth bared, the picture of an imminent and savage death, when sounds of automatic weapons fire filled the air. The shots didn’t sound immediately proximate but were easily heard and held the prospect of drawing nearer and being repeated.

Freddie prayed someone was shooting at the bear, would kill it before —

The beast dug its paws into the ground and skidded to a stop, mere feet away from its intended victim. Animal behavior was not one of Freddie’s fields of study, but as he watched the bear swing its head back and forth he thought he saw fear in the ursine eyes. He also saw a trough in the fur on one of the animal’s front legs. The exposed skin looked raw and red.

Had the animal been shot, Freddie wondered.

Did it understand the danger of gunfire?

Was that why the fusillade had spooked it so badly?

Freddie renewed his silent supplication for more shooting, but it didn’t come. The silence allowed the bear to regain its focus. The animal turned its gaze back to Freddie, looking as if it was deciding which part of him to eat first. While it had the chance.

Possessing the casual agnosticism of a scientist, Freddie nonetheless whimpered, “Oh, Jesus.”

The bear took a single step toward him, and then it stopped, raised its head to gaze at something behind Freddie. The bear seemed confused or at least distracted. It wasn’t used to confronting a creature larger than itself.

Freddie saw the beast look up and asked himself: What the hell was bigger than a bear?

Whatever it was, the growl it produced made Freddie’s hair stand on end and the bear to look for more easily had pickings. It turned away from Freddie and fled, crashing through the underbrush. Leaving its formerly intended prey alone with some new, even more fearsome predator coming up from behind.

That was more than Freddie’s mind could cope with; his consciousness began to slip away. A much better way to go, he thought. Unaware of the end as it occurred. A pang of regret accompanied his descent into darkness, though. He could have done so much more if he’d been given the time.

Freddie didn’t know how long he’d been blacked out, but as the light returned to his eyes he was surprised that he felt no pain. All his limbs seemed intact and responsive. He could detect no source of bleeding. To the contrary, his head seemed to be resting on someone’s lap, soft and comforting. His cheek was being gently stroked.

The blissful comfort was almost enough to lull him back into unconsciousness.

But he wanted to know who was soothing him.

He turned his head to look up and saw Marlene.

She said, “You’ll need to get to your feet soon. We have to find Tall Wolf.”

After patching up Basilio Nuñez the night before with the medical supplies he helped his captors find, John questioned him, testing the man’s claim that he could be of help in bringing his superiors to justice.

Basilio, sitting on his camp bed, told John the drug growing operation in the Cascades belonged to Fausto Zara. He also confirmed the new location of the marijuana processing camp that Ernesto had given to John. He told them how many
campesinos
worked as growers and processors: an even hundred. “No, ninety-nine,” he said, “after that one ran away.”

He pointed a finger at Valeria. Ernesto slapped his hand down.

“Fifteen guards,” Ernesto said. “Fourteen, not counting me. Five to keep the workers from running away; ten to chase off intruders.”

“Just scare, not kill?” John asked.

“Julián said to kill only if we must.”

“Who’s Julián?” Rebecca asked.

“That pig’s cousin,” Valeria said. “He is much smarter, has better manners.”

“But he’s still in firm control?” John asked.

Ernesto nodded. “He could turn that one loose on us, if he chose.” Meaning Basilio. “He told us as much. But if we live within the rules, he prefers things peaceful.”

“You think he might feel differently now?” John asked.

Basilio laughed. “Julián wants to be loved by everyone, the
maricón.”
Faggot. “But if
his
life or money was threatened, he would kill like anyone else. Like me.”

John looked at Ernesto. He seconded Basilio’s opinion with a nod.

“What about the other guards?” John asked. “If the workers tried to flee, would the guards shoot them?”

“Some would,” Valeria said.

Ernesto nodded. “Some, yes … but not without this one,” he pointed a thumb at Basilio. “Not if he and Julián were removed.”

“That or we could bribe them,” Valeria said.

“They’re all corrupt?” John asked.

“They’re all
poor,
señor,” Ernesto said. “The idea of having enough money to start a decent life is a powerful thing.”

Basilio laughed and said,“The growers and the guards both, including Ernesto there, they are all
coños.”
Pussies.

Ernesto thrust the butt of his rifle into Basilio’s gut, knocking him off the camp bed.

John lifted Basilio to his feet, increasing the volume of the man’s moans.

“Always risky to insult a marine,” John told him.

Ernesto nodded, sending a clear message more pain was available.

With that in mind, Basilio told his captors that others from the new camp would come by in the morning to reclaim as many things as they could carry. Julián would not worry about Basilio’s absence. The fact was, Basilio was sure his cousin would be glad to see the last of him.

“So, if you let me go, I will not return to him. I’ll go home to Mexico.”

The plea was directed at John. He looked at Ernesto and Valeria.

Ernesto only shook his head.

Valeria said, “Ask him where the bribe money is being kept at the new camp.”

John relayed the question to Basilio with a look.

The man refused to say another word.

Ernesto inclined the barrel of his rifle in Basilio’s direction.

John said, “It probably wouldn’t look good on my résumé if I let you execute him.”

Valeria asked, “What if we leave him for the bear? Have you seen the bear?”

Basilio hadn’t, but John and Rebecca nodded.

John said, “Interesting idea. If we stake him out and a bear attacks him, that would be pretty much a gesture of fate. Who could be blamed?”

Basilio’s jaw dropped. He seemed to think it would be his captors’ collective fault.

They staked him to a sturdy tent pole erected on open ground anyway. Ate dinner while he watched. Left food on the outdoor dining table where the scent might attract … who knew what? John laid down the conditions under which Basilio would spend the night.

“Each of the four of us,” he gestured to the Batistas, Rebecca and himself, “will take a two-hour shift watching you, in case you look appetizing to any of the wildlife. If something should come along and you need help, just call out where the bribe money is hidden. We’ll scare away or kill any predator.”

Ernesto chuckled.

“You might need to say please for Ernesto or Valeria to come to your aid,” John added.

He took the first watch. Basilio didn’t say a word to him.

Just before John was ready to leave, he told Basilio, “If you think my friend Lieutenant Bramley will be the one to feel sorry for you, that would be a mistake.”

John told him what Rebecca had done to Serge Marchand. “Left him with just one testicle.”

Basilio was greatly disappointed to hear that.

He had been counting on the white woman being his salvation.

John heard a voice behind him ask,
“¿Realmente?”
Really?

He turned to see Ernesto coming to take his shift.

He’d obviously heard what John had said.

“
Es verdad,”
John said. It’s true.

“Qué mujer.”
What a woman. “I think my Valeria might do as much.”

Ernesto didn’t say a word to Basilio as he stood watch. At Ernesto’s insistence, Basilio’s shins and thighs, as well as his wrists, had been tied to the pole. He could slouch but he couldn’t sit. Whenever the bound man started to fall asleep on his feet, Ernesto would grunt or growl. Basilio’s eyes snapped open every time, thinking the bear was coming for him.

Basilio wanted to curse his tormentor, but he was smart enough to know that as bad as things were they could always become worse. He had done worse to others. So he held his tongue. At first, Basilio tried to convey his contempt with hateful looks. The problem with that was he couldn’t match Ernesto’s glare.

He knew now that in any fairly matched contest, the round-faced bastard would kill him.

Un marino?
A marine?
Madre de dios.
Mother of God.

The bastard had fooled everyone.

So Basilio resisted in the only way he could. He held fast to his secret. He didn’t tell Ernesto where the bribe money was hidden. That and prayed silently that if the bear came it would prefer a fat
coño
to a wiry
sicario.

Hitman. Yeah, sure. Basilio didn’t feel much like a killer now.

Basilio’s slim hope was that he would somehow be able to charm the white woman, who under other circumstances he would have found appealing. So tall and every inch something he’d love to explore. At the very least, the time he spent alone with her would be an opportunity to fantasize, and why not? If a man was nearing his death and knew his last time with a woman was behind him, the next best thing would be to imagine a final conquest.

Even that pale pleasure was denied him, though, when he saw the woman, not alone but with Valeria Batista. The two women had decided to share their guard duty. It wasn’t hard to imagine that Valeria had learned of what the other bitch had done to that poor bastard in Canada. Cost him one of his
huevos.

Eggs.
Balls, as the
yanquis
would put it.

Dios,
he could see Valeria taking both of his, if he gave her the least excuse. He didn’t even look at the women when they took their camping chairs opposite him, each holding an automatic weapon. His whole body ached now from being tied to the pole. His feet and legs felt like they were on fire. He resisted saying so, lest he give the
cabrónes
any ideas.

Still, he listened to the women talk.

You put two of them together you couldn’t stop them from doing that.

Valeria asked Rebecca, “Is it
very
cold in your country?”

“In winter, yes. In spring and autumn, about half the time. Summer is wonderful, but it never lasts as long as we’d like.”

“There is nowhere warm?”

“Vancouver is mild compared to most other places, but it’s not really warm, except in summer. Most everyone who can afford it spends time in the U.S. or the Caribbean during the winter.”

Valeria sighed.
“Los ricos
are always comfortable.”

Rebecca understood the meaning by context. “Rich people aren’t always happy, but they usually stay warm, yeah.”

“It is true what Señor Tall Wolf says, you are with the police?”

Rebecca nodded. “Yes, it’s part of my family tradition.”

“Are you important in your police job?”

Rebecca laughed. “I’ll find out how important I am any day now.”

She told Valeria the story of her confrontation with Serge Marchand.

Valeria clapped and said,
“Maravillosa.”
Wonderful.

“Yeah, well, we’ll see about that. I might have to flee to the U.S.”

Just like me, Valeria thought.

“So what’s your story?” Rebecca asked.

“I was a
maestra
,
a teacher. For the little ones. I was happy. The boy next door, I always thought he wanted to be my
novio
.
Sweetheart, yes?”

Rebecca smiled and nodded. “And?”

“I wasn’t very nice to him at all. I didn’t think he was the least bit
guapo
.
Handsome. In school we were always the two best students. He had to work much harder for his grades, though. He was always polite to me, never improper. I was polite to him, never interested. I thought that didn’t matter, but the day came when he left to join the military. He knocked on my door, bowed to me and said, ‘I will miss you very much.’ Nothing else except,
‘
Hasta la vista.’”

“Good bye?”

“Yes, but also until we meet again. I never gave him a second thought while he was away. Not until I was twenty-one and I received a wedding proposal from a much older man. He was the mayor of our town. He was also a …” Valeria searched for the right word.

“A bastard?”

“That, of course, yes. But I want something else.”

Rebecca came up with it intuitively. “A front man for something else.”

Valeria smiled. “Yes, a front man for a drug cartel.”

“Whose cartel?” The question came from Basilio not Rebecca.

He’d been listening all along, interested.

“Cállate,”
Valeria yelled. Shut up.

Basilio opened his mouth to reply, thought better of it and zipped his lip.

“My parents were very worried because the mayor had told them things could go very well for them or very badly. Their lives were in my hands.”

“That’s awful,” Rebecca said.

Valeria said, “I didn’t know what to do. I thought I would have to marry this horrible old man, but my parents had another plan. They went to our neighbors. The parents of my old schoolmate. My parents knew he’d become a marine, something I never took the time to find out. My parents asked his parents if there was some way he might help me. They said possibly.”

“They had to check with their son first, before saying yes,” Rebecca said.

“That and decide how willing they were to risk their own safety. While everyone was waiting the mayor grew impatient. He was not used to being denied anything he desired. He talked to his cartel friends and they sent a
sicario
— a killer — to knock on my door just as my schoolmate had.”

“What did he say?” Rebecca said.

“No one ever found out. Before he could knock a second time he was shot through the head. To make sure the mayor understood the significance of this, he received a note. It was nailed to the door of his house.
Usted y todos los de usted será el siguiente.
You and all yours will be next.”

Rebecca asked, “Did the mayor take it to heart?”

“The man who died at my doorstep was a feared murderer. That he could be killed was like the hand of God reaching out to protect us. The mayor hid in his house. What happened next was even more important. A squad of marines appeared at my parents’ house. All of them were in uniform and wearing masks to protect their identities. Except for one. My old schoolmate. He was wearing a white tuxedo and his face was exposed.”

“That is too cool,” Rebecca said, squeezing Valeria’s hand.

Tears in her eyes, Valeria nodded. “Ernesto said to me, ‘If you would do me the honor, I think you would be safer as my wife.’ He and the marines walked me, my parents and his parents to the church. I was wearing jeans and an old blouse. He told me I looked beautiful. The priest was waiting for us.”

“What a great guy,” Rebecca said.

“There were marine helicopters flying overhead to make sure no one tried to stop the ceremony. After we were married, everyone in the wedding party got on board a helicopter and we left my hometown forever. Ernesto told me he would release me from my wedding vows as soon as he could be sure I was safe. I told him I
never
wanted him to let me go.”

Rebecca felt her heart swell. She realized she felt the same way about John. They wouldn’t need a small army to accompany them, but it was time for them to exchange a few vows, too.

“Ernesto knew he had to leave Mexico. He had exposed his identity and challenged the cartel directly. They would have to kill him or the other bosses would know they were weak and would come to seize their territory.”

“
Sí,”
Basilio said.

Valeria didn’t bother to chastise him this time.

“Ernesto crossed the border and came here,” she said. “A year later, when he had some money, he sent for me, and now here we are. I only hope we can stay or go to your country. Maybe we could buy warm clothes there.”

Rebecca laughed. “I’ll certainly stand up for you, if you choose Canada. If my vote of confidence still means anything at the time.”

“Your friendship will mean everything.” Valeria got to her feet.
“
Perdóname.”

She walked over to Basilio and spoke softly in Spanish, “You heard everything I said?”

He said nothing, only nodded.

“Do you believe I was telling the truth?”