Sufficient Ransom (21 page)

The last time he saw Julio, Max had ripped him for getting Pablo into his rotten business. “You turned my brother’s head with your talk of filthy millions from that damned plot of dirt,” Max had said. “Tell Pablo he’s out, before it’s too late.”

“Cousin of mine,” Julio had shrugged. “Pablo’s not a little kid any more. It’s about time you let him live his own life. Besides, your brother’s learning useful stuff. Like how to run a really big business. Worry not, Max. Pablito will be fine.”

When Max begged Pablo to leave the drug business before he suffered their uncle’s fate, Pablo had laughed. “And give up the mansion on the ocean, the bodyguards, and the women? You gotta be kidding! This is the big time, Maxie baby.”

Pablo’s apparent indifference to their uncle’s murder deeply offended Max. Julio was right—Pablo had to live his own life. There was nothing Max could do to save his brother from the consequences of his poor choices, though he had wanted to.

After Pablo was killed, Julio had the audacity to call Max. “I didn’t think it would come to this,” he had pleaded. “You gotta believe me. Pablo was so angry. He thought he’d been cheated. I tried to explain that the arrangement with the farm was temporary, until things calmed down. But he wouldn’t listen. He tried to sell us all out. Pablo betrayed us, Max!”

Max was in no mood to forgive. The drug cartels had destroyed his family and his country. “This is your fault, Julio,” he had said. “Don’t ever forget that you killed my brother. And if you don’t take responsibility for your part in this I swear one day I’ll kill you with my bare hands.”

Now, facing his cousin, Max’s face was a mask of calm, his nerves chiseled points of steel. He knew if he let Julio lure him into another useless conversation about who was to blame for this or that, he would not get what he came for.

Max pushed Julio’s offer for a drink away with an impatient wave. He spoke to his cousin in Spanish. “I’ll tell you right off, if you don’t do what I ask, you’ll be sorry. After what you did to my brother, you owe me. Big time. So listen carefully.”

Julio’s eyes glittered like black diamonds.

Max knew Julio wasn’t used to being talked down to, much less threatened. Max understood his man. He understood that despite Julio’s bravado, deep down his cousin was weak. That he caved in to El Martillo after his own father was killed proved it. Across the room Julio’s bodyguards were playing cards at a long glass table by the door. “What I’m about to say is for your ears only,” Max said.

Julio snapped his fingers. “Ramόn, Raúl. Outside.”

The two men gathered up the cards, opened the front door, and stepped out. The door shut firmly behind the bodyguards, Max began. “Did you hear about the missing American woman? Ann Olson’s her name.”

Julio’s eyebrows lifted. “There was something about it on the Internet. So what?”

“I have it on good information she discovered a drug tunnel on the border in San Ysidro. You know anything about it?”

Julio’s face darkened. A vein in his neck pulsed as he debated how to respond. He slammed his fist into his hand. “That bastard kept this
mierda
from me!”

Max’s mouth curved up slightly. “Good. I have a job for you, then.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Max pulled a folded piece of paper from his shirt pocket. “After you sign this, I’ll tell you the tunnel’s location. And after that—what you’re going to do.”

Scanning the document, Julio muttered, “You can’t be serious!”

“If you don’t sign that letter admitting your role as enforcer for El Martillo,” Max said, “I’ll send this letter, detailing your crimes and his, to all the major papers in Mexico and in the States. Along with everything else I know about your rotten business.”

“You’re crazy if you think I’m gonna sign my own death warrant. And yours too, by the way. Don’t think you’ll get away with this.”

His brother’s senseless death had sickened Max. All he wanted to do now was punish his killers. That he could be harmed in the process didn’t much matter to him. “If you sign that, you have my word I won’t show it to anyone. It’s simply my insurance against your failure.”

“What do you want me to do, Max?”

“Find your way into the tunnel and get that foolish woman out. Once she’s out, blow up the tunnel. Hopefully with El Martillo in it. If you do all that for me, consider the slate clean. You keep out of my life and I’ll keep out of yours.”

Julio’s face broke into a grin. “That’s it? That’s all you want to me to do? Deal that
hijo de puta
a big blow?” He punched the air to show how big. “And save some
gringa
, in the process?”

“That’s all.”

“And you won’t interfere with my business any more?”

Max sat back. “You couldn’t pay me to get involved. Millions of dollars. Whatever. I’d spit on them.” And you too, he thought.

“Sure, I can handle this,” Julio said. “Wait a minute. What if this American—if she’s still alive, which I doubt. What if she catches a bullet in the middle of things?” He smacked the sheet of paper. “Is our deal still on?”

Max suddenly felt tired. “Yes. But you have to try and get her out alive. You hear me?”

Julio’s face screwed into a lewd grin. “Why are you interested in this woman, Max?” His hands traced a woman’s curves in the air. “Is she special to you or
something
?”

Max shook his head. “It’s a long story.”

Standing up, Julio waved his own question away. “None of that’s important. Let’s get down to business. First, we’ll take a look at some maps, and see what this area’s all about.” He opened the front door and addressed his bodyguards. “Both of you come in. Bring the box of maps to the dining room table. Then you, Raúl, make me some coffee. No whiskey this time. I need a clear head.”

After poring over maps of the area where the warehouse was located, Julio unlocked his phone. “I’m going upstairs to call a few friends. Wait until I get back, Max. I want to give you the details so that you know I mean to keep my end of the deal.”

Tired of the whole business, Max just wanted to go home. But he realized that if his cousin was willing to share his plans to storm the warehouse, he had better stay. Julio could too easily renege on his promise before the rescue was set in motion. He sipped cup after cup of black coffee while Julio was upstairs recruiting his men to service. Max heard an occasional shout, a few laughs, and a lot of loud swearing as his cousin apparently unfolded his plan to his minions.

When Julio finally reappeared, he patted Max on the back. “Hey cousin of mine. As we speak, ten of my most loyal
hombres
are on their way to that warehouse by the lovely border.”

Wired from all the coffee, Max pictured a gang of hoods, like Julio, wielding guns the way children handle toys.

Julio was saying, “After they secure the outside, four of
mis secuaces
will enter the tunnel from that warehouse. Two men will guard the point of entry while two more will search the place for your lady friend.” The lewd smile briefly returned to his lips. “My orders?” He made a shooting motion with his hand. “My guys are to
bang bang
El Martillo’s men on sight. No questions asked. As soon as the Señora is safe and sound, they’re going to blow the place to high heaven. So what do you think, Maxie? Your cousin knows his business, or what?”

It was almost midnight when Max left Playa de Tijuana. Sitting in the back seat of his speeding Mercedes, the cool night air blowing in from the open windows, Max thought of his cousin with a sort of grudging admiration. In no time, Julio had come up with a plan to rid the earth of El Martillo’s drug tunnel. If only men of ability, like Julio, would turn their attention to making money legitimately, Pablo would still be alive. Along with the fifty thousand other victims of the senseless narco wars.

C
HAPTER
12

Thursday, October 11

9:30 A.M
.

W
hen Ann failed to return home, Richard had called Tom Long. When Richard explained that Ann had headed to San Ysidro to talk to the Ramirez family about their missing son, the detective had not hesitated. “I’ll go down there and speak to Martina Ramirez myself,” he said. “See if we can’t figure out what happened to your wife.”

Richard was hopeful Ann would be home soon, though he couldn’t help but wonder if once again she had acted rashly, embroiling herself in more needless trouble. Her story had spread like wildfire. Friends, neighbors, and co-workers alike had called to offer their help. Among the callers was Dr. Aziz.

Now, Seated in the Olsons’ living room, Richard filled the doctor in on the scant details concerning Ann. After they talked about what her disappearance might signify vis-à-vis their missing children, Richard struggled to keep his mind off Ann and on his visitor. Dr. Aziz was apologizing for his wife’s rudeness the day the Olsons visited. “Shahdi’s a kind person with a bit of a temper,” he said.

“Sounds familiar,” Richard answered resignedly.

When Dr. Aziz suggested they review their children’s situations for possible overlooked clues, Richard agreed. Talking about Travis was not as a hard as he imagined it would be; Dr. Aziz was a sympathetic listener. In turn, Richard asked many questions about the evening Hanna disappeared and the efforts to find her.

“The police assured us they’re doing everything possible.” Dr. Aziz said in that earnest way that seemed uniquely his. “My co-workers, everyone at the hospital, have been searching for Hanna. Even my wife’s school, Ridgeview High. The students and staff—everyone’s been looking. Nothing. Hanna seems to have vanished.”

“Your wife,” Richard said. “She’s a guidance counselor at Ridgeview?”

Dr. Aziz nodded.

Richard had a hard time picturing the unfriendly Mrs. Aziz helping teenagers.

His eyebrows lifting in mock irony, Dr. Aziz added, “The students love her because she’s always straight with them. Sometimes too straight.”

“How so?”

“Sometimes parents don’t like the advice she gives. One father even complained to the principal. He said that Shahdi encouraged their child to back out of the ministry commitments he’d made at his church. It seems the boy had too much on his plate and was stressed out.”

Considering Mrs. Aziz’s snide comments about atheism, Richard thought that she would have approved of students’ religious commitments.

“We both feel bad about your visit,” Dr. Aziz said. “Shahdi hasn’t been herself. Since Hanna…”

Richard understood that Dr. Aziz was trying to show how caring, but socially inept his wife was.

When he had nothing more to say, Dr. Aziz stood up to leave. Clasping Richard’s hand in both of his, he said, “I will pray for your wife and your son’s safe return.”

Richard appreciated the kindness.

Two hours later, Tom Long and Agent Julian Fox came to the house. Seeing the regret in the detective’s eyes, Richard imagined the worst.

“Mrs. Ramirez committed suicide,” Tom Long said. “We found her early this morning. She overdosed on sleeping pills.”

“Did she leave a note explaining why?” Richard asked, worried that the sad news boded badly for Ann.

Julian Fox’s voice was calm and a little distant. “No note. Her mother said she was depressed, hooked on prescription drugs. Her son’s disappearance must have sent her over the edge.”

“The bad news keeps coming,” Richard said. The tightness in his neck and shoulders was spreading through his chest. “Do you think Ramirez killed herself out of guilt, because she knew something bad happened to Ann?”

Tom Long’s voice was sympathetic. “At this point we have no way of knowing.”

2:00 P.M
.

P
arked in the front of the Olson home, Kika powered the window down a second time. The air smelled of flowers and a hint of ocean. Slouching deeper in her seat, she pulled her jacket tightly to her chest. Kika was afraid to face Richard Olson after having accused him and his wife of child abuse. But thankfully she had hopeful news to share for her day had been productive.

When Richard Olson came to the door, Kika gasped. Richard had the same prominent nose, angular cheeks, and large hazel eyes she remembered; but now his features were drawn more sharply, as if the pockets of fat in his face had been carved away, leaving skin, muscle, and bones.

“The police said you’d turned yourself in,” Richard said. His eyes were cold. “What do you want?”

After briefly summarizing what she had told the authorities Kika said, “I came here to talk about your wife. I want to help find her.”

Richard seemed at a loss. Kika indicated the house. “Maybe we should talk inside.”

Seated at the kitchen table, Kika told Richard about her talk with Martina Ramirez. When Richard replied that Martina was dead, Kika felt a pang of regret. “When did this happen?

“Early this morning,” Richard said. “She overdosed on sleeping pills.”

Kika shook her head. “I’m so sorry to hear this.”

Richard’s voice took on a pressing tone. “What did Martina Ramirez tell you?”

“She said Ann left her house to go check out a warehouse on the border. A place where her son played with his friends.” Thinking, Kika said, “I didn’t think she would kill herself. Look, Mr. Olson. I have something very important to tell you. It’s about your wife and Mrs. Ramirez.”

Kika explained that she had gone to the warehouse and discovered a hidden ladder in the floor. Her boyfriend, Max, was pretty sure it was a
drug smuggling tunnel. Max thought it was very likely Ann was captured when she went there looking for Jesús Ramirez. Max was getting his narco cousin, Julio Ruiz, to find Ann and blow the tunnel up. “Please understand,” Kika added, “Max agreed to help only
if
we keep the tunnel a secret.”

A feeling of hope pushed Richard to his feet. He walked from one end of the kitchen to the other, thinking. Finally he said, “I want to see this warehouse for myself.”

Kika placed her hand on his arm. “Julio knows how these people operate. If you go down there, you could ruin everything—or be killed.”