The Mexico Run (25 page)

    "Right now, at one o'clock in the morning?"

    I suddenly realized that I was being a little foolish, that I was seeing things out of perspective. After all, Ann and her sister were not Sharon. They were conventional, respectable American citizens, legally in the country. Ann was employed by an important San Francisco law firm.

    I still thought that there was an inherent danger in her association with Captain Morales. That it would be best for them to leave as soon as possible. But it would be pointless to frighten them. At the same time, I was hardly prepared to tell Ann about my recent activities on the Mexican side of the border.

    "I'm going to make us both a nightcap," I said. "Then I want you to go back to your room and get a good night's sleep. We can talk about it in the morning."

    "After all those Margaritas, a nightcap will probably knock me out cold," Ann said. "But, Mark, if you're in some sort of trouble, I wish you would tell me about it."

    "We'll have that nightcap," I said, and I stood up and put her on her feet, and then went over to get the bottle out of my suitcase.

    "You said that you had to change your plans and were going to have to return to your office earlier than you expected?"

    "Yes, I should be back in ten days."

    "All right, I'll tell you what we'll do," I said. "Suppose you spend the next few days in Mexico, and then I will accompany you and Lynn back across the border."

    She looked pleased. "That sounds fine, Mark."

    "Good, we'll plan to do it that way. That is, assuming you want my company."

    "You know I would love it, Mark," Ann said. "Now do you want to tell me what trouble…"

    "We are going to have a drink, and then I am going to see that you get a night's sleep," I said. "We will talk about it in the morning."

    We had the drink, but it was another hour and a half before Ann Sherwood got back to her own room. We didn't waste the hour and a half talking.

    I was dead tired, physically exhausted, but it took me a long time to get to sleep. I had a lot on my mind. Until a few hours previously, my worries had been concentrated on how I was going to manage to eventually get Angel Cortillo free. Now I was worrying about Ann and her sister, Lynn. I had to be sure that they returned safely to the other side of the border. It must take priority over everything else. At the same time, I could not simply skip out and leave Angel to his fate.

    It was almost daylight by the time I finally did fall asleep and I probably would have continued to sleep on through the morning if the knocking at the door hadn't aroused me.

    I looked at my wristwatch. It was ten-thirty. I yelled, "Just a moment." I went to the door. It was a small Mexican boy, and he handed me a note. I closed the door, went back, washed my face in cold water, brushed my teeth, and then tore open the note. It was very brief: "Visit your friend Cortillo between eleven-thirty and twelve this noon at the city jail."

    There was no signature. I dressed and went down to the bar and Juanita made me a cup of coffee. I was tempted to stop in at Ann's, but then decided to let her sleep. I left her a note saying I would have lunch with her around one o'clock.

    I was supposed to leave the rental car in a garage in Ensenada, but instead drove it into town and had a good solid breakfast.

    I presented myself at the city jail at exactly eleven-thirty, and apparently I was again expected, because I was immediately accompanied to the cell where Angel was locked up. The iron-grilled door was locked behind me after I was admitted, and Angel looked up and grinned. He was still bandaged up, but when he spoke his voice was clear, and he had apparently been making a rapid recovery.

    "Well,
amigo,"
he said, "it is good to see you. I have been having visitors."

    "How are you, Angel?"

    "I will recover. Or I guess I will. And things seem to be happening."

    I looked at him quizzically.

    "Yes, an old friend has stopped by,
amigo."
He smiled at me wryly. "Captain Hernando Morales. I am surprised he had the courage to step into this cell with me. On the other hand, I dare say he realizes I am in no condition at the moment to murder him."

    I was surprised. "Captain Morales?"

    "Yes, Captain Morales,
amigo.
He had some information for me. But I strongly suspect that the information is for you."

    "What did that son-of-a-bitch want?"

    "He was most cryptic,
amigo.
He told me two things. First, he told me that they had dug up some additional information on the murder which I was supposed to have committed. Information which, as he put it, might completely vindicate me. They are checking it out."

    "Why would he tell you that, Angel?"

    "Perhaps when I tell you what else he said, you may be able to figure it out. He no sooner told me that than he also said there was a certain question in his mind as to whether he should make use of this information. It presented a problem to him, a very severe problem."

    I looked at him, baffled.

    "He told me that he was in somewhat of a quandary. That unfortunately unless he brought a definite charge within the next few days, he might be forced to release me. In short, my friend, what he was saying was that it was virtually up to him as to whether I would be freed within the next few days or whether I would be charged with a murder on which, according to the faked evidence, they have an open and shut case."

    I took a deep breath and moved over and sat on the seat beside the bed on which he lay. "And did he have any suggestions, Angel?" I asked. "Any suggestions as to which course he might take? Did he give you any reason for telling you this?"

    Angel shook his head. "He only said one other thing. He told me that nothing I could do would really make any difference and that my fate was in the hands of the gods. And then just before he turned to go he said one other thing. He said that perhaps my fate was not really in the hands of the gods. Perhaps my fate was in the hands of a friend."

    "Did anyone overhear this conversation, Angel?" I asked.

    He shook his head.

    I thought for several moments. I got the picture.

    Angel looked at me for a long time and then he said. "Tell me,
amigo.
Just what is it this man wants you to do?"

    "I don't know," I said. "I don't really know. But tell me. Does he really have the power? Can he arrange to set you free? And, if not, how strong a case does he actually have?"

    "This is Mexico,
amigo.
The case is a federal case and he is a federal official. If he can frame evidence to have me convicted, it is very possible that he can also frame it so that I am vindicated. He is right about one thing. Once I have been formally charged, it will be, as you say, a different ball game. But again I ask, what is it he wants you to do for him?"

    "I have already done a couple of things for out captain," I said. "This time I don't know exactly what it is. But, Angel, I can tell you one thing. Whatever it is. if it means your freedom, I will do it. You may count or that."

    "I will count on you,
amigo,
to do the right thing. But you must use your own judgment, let your own conscience be your guide, and you also must remember one thing, You alone are not responsible for the situation in which I find myself. Had I not voluntarily joined you in out original venture, a venture in which I had hoped to make some money, I would not be in this position. It is not your fault alone. And, so, as I say, you must let your conscience be your guide."

    I was about to speak again when I heard footsteps approaching, and a moment later a key was twisted in the door, and the turnkey told me in Spanish that
my
time was up. I stood up and patted Angel on the shoulder, "Don't worry, my friend," I said, "don't worry."

    Leaving the police station, my mind was occupied by
the conversation I had had with Angel, and I didn't notice at first the car sitting at the curb with its motor idling. My attention was only called to it when I heard my name softly spoken by the man behind the wheel. I looked up then, and at first I didn't recognize him. I did, however, identify the car as an official police vehicle from the insignia on the door.

    It took me a moment or so to recognize him behind the dark sunglasses, under the vizor of the peaked officer's cap. I had not seen Captain Hernando Morales in an official uniform before. He beckoned me over and opened the door, indicating that I was to join him. I wasn't really surprised to see him waiting for me, but I was a little taken aback at first by the uniform and the official car. I quickly figured out it was probably a psychological ploy of some sort to reconvince me of his official status and power. I half suspected what was going to come up next.

    "We will take a little ride, Senor Johns," he said. "It is time we had a serious talk. I gather that you have been seeing your friend."

    "I have seen him."

    "And he told you of my visit with him?"

    "He told me."

    "It is a beautiful day, and we'll take a little ride down the coast."

    

    

    Captain Morales waited until we were well outside of town before resuming our conversation. This time when he spoke there was an ugly note in his voice.

    "An unfortunate and very expensive occurrence has taken place, Senor Johns," he said. "I only hope that it turns out you had nothing to do with it."

    "Nothing to do with what?"

    "Your friends, the Hutchinsons," he said. "They were intercepted after they crossed the border. The cargo they were carrying has been confiscated. It seems more than a coincidence that American officials were following their car."

    "I read about it in a newspaper when I stopped over in Mexico City," I said. "It is a miracle that they were not killed." My voice was bitter.

    "I am not concerned with the Hutchinsons. I am concerned that their automobile and its contents have been confiscated by customs authorities. I would hate to believe that someone has tipped off American officials."

    "You suspect me, captain? You're barking up the wrong tree. I would certainly have no motive for tipping off anyone about anything. My concern is confined to freeing a friend from a fake murder charge."

    "In that case, perhaps you will tell me as briefly as possible what took place in Acapulco."

    I told him about my meeting with Dr. Constantine, and he listened carefully as I gave him the details. I ended up by explaining that after a fast, but apparently very thorough investigation, Dr. Constantine had agreed to hire me. I told him of the man who would be checking into La Casa Pacifica within the next day or two.

    I was surprised when he didn't ask for more details, and for the first time a faint suspicion crossed my mind that possibly Captain Morales and Dr. Constantine were working together. Dr. Constantine would represent the brains of the operation and the money in back of it. Captain Morales could merely be the contact man, using his official position and his power to recruit the runners who took the risk in transporting the narcotics into the United States.

    The suspicion became almost a fact in my mind when Morales failed to question me concerning this Carlos Santiago who was to contact me. I thought it odd he didn't show more curiosity.

    An hour or so later, when he dropped me off back in town where I would pick up my car, he only had one comment.

    "When this man, Santiago, gets in touch with you, you must let me know immediately. Just let Billings understand that you want to reach me.

    I told him I would let him know. And as I opened the door to step to the ground, he said one more thing.

    "You will follow Santiago's instructions to the letter, and you will keep me informed every step of the way."

    I didn't bother to answer, but walked over to where I had left the rented car at the curb. Before returning to La Casa Pacifica, I made a telephone call to the place where I had rented the Mustang the day before, in Tijuana. I arranged to keep the car for another few days.

    I would be spending a lot of time with Ann and her sister, and the Jaguar could hold no more than two people comfortably. I had no intentions of driving around the countryside in a Volkswagen camper.

    The following forty-eight hours were the only really pleasant time that I was to spend in Mexico. I spent them almost entirely in the company of Ann, and they were marred by only two things. It was unfortunate, but during most of the time we were together her sister Lynn was with us. I think the girl's presence bothered Ann as much as it did me, but we both had our private reasons for not wanting her wandering around alone in Ensenada. We spent those two days picnicking at the beach and driving in the mountains. We chartered a small boat one of the afternoons, and did some bottom fishing.

    I did manage to get Ann alone on several occasions, and it was like it had been that time before, when I had first met her in the Philippine Islands. It was during these two days that I reached a decision.

    I wanted her and I wasn't going to let her go. But I knew that if I were to have her, I would have to come to her clean.

    I had to get out of the racket in which I'd involved myself. I had to do one more thing. I had to make every effort possible to see that Angel Cortillo would get out of the jam in which I had inadvertently placed him.

    During those two days I was tempted more than once to tell Ann exactly what I had been doing and what had happened. But each time I hesitated.

    Until it was over and done with, there was no point in involving her. I had created my own problems and I would have to solve them by myself. If there was a penalty to be paid, I would have to pay it.