Just The Pits (Hetta Coffey Series, Book 5) (26 page)

BAIL OUT (Nautical term)
: Remove water from (assist or rescue)...but how?
 

We had almost an hour until all hell broke loose, but we had work to do.

On the way back I locked Po Thang in a marina shower room, much to his dismay. I couldn't risk him on the loose for the time being. Since I was the only one in the marina who used that bathroom, and there was never any hot water anyway, I figured the chances of someone letting him out were nil to none.

Now that I had no way to see what was going on inside the boat, I opted to return to the swimming pool area and at least keep an eye out on the docks. I was rewarded with the satisfying view of Vargas flat out on the sundeck, his head back, trying to staunch an ever-increasing flow of blood.

I needed a way to get to the boat unseen by Vargas, but couldn't figure it out without swimming and there was no way in hell I was going into
that
harbor. Raw sewage had flowed in for centuries, along with God only knows what in the way of mining chemicals.

While Rosario and I were at the Internet café, the ferry had arrived and was unloading. Armed marines milled about as people and cars disembarked. I looked longingly at the soldier's weapons. Vargas's gun was the only thing that worried me. If he were not armed, I'd gather a posse and storm the boat. Oh, for just a little grenade or two.

Rosario showed up with the binoculars I'd sent him to buy, and a large sack. "I bought them all, Hetta. The vendor was very happy."

"I'm glad someone is." I glanced at my watch. "You're certain you set it up for 4:30?"

He looked indignant. "It was slightly harder to get into the Mexican government system, but certainly not impossible. What is the saying, the impossible only takes a little longer?"

"Do you have your cell phone? Mine is showing low batteries and my charger is back at the office. Or what's left of it."

"It looks fine to me."

"Not my phone, the office." I told him about the building disappearing into an old mine shaft, and my wild drive down the back roads to Mex 1.

"Oh, that was you? I heard people talking about this large yellow machine on the highway while I was buying the binoculars."

"I doubt I'll be up for woman of the year."

"Actually, they are all laughing. Anything that annoys the
federales
is good for us."

"Right now we could use a few
federales
."

He looked suddenly sad and gazed out to sea. "Do you really think my friends died out there?"

"I don't know. Probably."

"I will never forgive myself. I set them up."

"You were set up, as well, don't forget. What will you do when this whole thing is over?

"I have been sending money to San Francisco and plan to go there."

"To your dad? Huh, Baja Gamer?"

Rosario's jaw dropped, then he gave me a wide smile. "Oh, you women are so good. Julio is in big trouble."

"Yes, he is. Tell me, what was the plan? For the money?"

"We were, all six, to fly to Belize. Julio had set up accounts for all of us, but he had to sign them over. Once that was done, he would return, as we said, then resign in a reasonable amount of time."

"But he double-crossed you. How is it you trusted him?"

"He was the only one in my senior year at the American School who was my friend. He is not from a rich family, but a diplomatic one. We kept in touch through gaming, and when he was hired as comptroller, he called."

"So he actually recruited Bert into his scheme early on, and Bert hired the right men, those in need of money, as his accomplices. Then Vargas sent you here to set them up as suspects so you two could take the money and run. To put the icing on the cake, he hires me so I can further incriminate the four men with evidence fed me by you. Pretty slick. Except it's not, because if that Julio harms my friends, I am going to do him in. And you, as well, and this time you're going to stay dead."

"I do not blame you. I will kill myself and save you the trouble."

"All hell is about to break loose in a little while, but before it does, I've been meaning to ask you where you hid for so long after your so-called death."

"A mine shaft way up in the hills behind San Bruno."

"How did you find it?"

"Julio. Oh, Hetta! I think I know where Bert, Safety, John and Ozzie may be!"

Every siren in town went off at four-thirty-five, minutes after the Port Captain was notified by Mexico City of the tsunami coming our way.

We watched as the ferry hastily left port, and fishermen on the beaches began dragging their pangas to higher ground. Several boats left the old marina, headed for the safety of open sea.

Marines boiled out of the navy installation on the hill above my marina, and the nuns constantly tolled the bell at the old folks home they ran. Curiosity seekers began lining the hills and bluffs, waiting to see what happened.

Then the sound trucks began their patrol, their loud speakers echoing through the town, repeating the now terrifying international word, tsunami. No one had forgotten Phuket and Japan, or the horrifying images we witnessed for days after those disasters. 

The guy running the Pemex station at the marina locked up and started running toward the main street, but stopped short and turned toward the docks. He made a beeline for my boat. Crap, I'd have to remember not to tip him so well.

He knocked on
Raymond Johnson's
hull, yelling, "Tsunami!" but when no one answered, he took off, evidently satisfied we were not on board.

I handed Rosario the bag of stuff he bought in town, and yelled, "Okay, you're on. Go!"

Rosario raced down the dock, only stopping momentarily to light the paper bag and launch it over onto
Lucifer
. Then he jumped onto
Raymond Johnson's
deck, and above the sirens and several pounds of fireworks going off, which sounded very much like automatic weapons fire, I heard him shouting dire warnings to Vargas. He disappeared inside the boat and my heart arrested a couple of minutes later when Julio emerged, alone.

White faced and probably nearly in shock from blood loss, Vargas slammed the door behind him and made his way, painstakingly, onto the dock.

I lost sight of Vargas as I scrambled down the stairway to the Ladies' room and grabbed Po Thang's leash, but knew I could cut the bastard off since he was having trouble keeping his balance.

As he passed by the building, I let Po Thang go and yelled, "Kill!"

Po Thang looked puzzled, but then gave me a dog style shrug and ran out to jump on Julio, his new best friend. All Julio heard was, "Kill," before the dog blindsided him and knocked him down, face-first, on that nose. As he howled in pain, I grabbed the gun from his waistband and yelled, "Freeze!"

Man, did it feel good to have a gun in my hand again. Until I realized the damned thing was plastic, which pissed me off so bad I kicked Julio in the balls. Now
that
felt really good. I looked around and spotted a wrought iron chair. Unlucky for Vargas, I didn't have anything to tie him with, so instead I hit him over the head with the chair.

Satisfied that the jerk was good and out, I raced to the boat, praying Rosario wasn't hurt. At least I knew he wasn't shot with anything worse than a pellet.

I rushed to my bedroom door, removed the chair jamming the lock and flung it open. Everyone was there, safe and sound.

"Jeez, Hetta, what the hell took you so long?" Jan yelled. "We gotta get out of here, there's a tsunami coming!"

Rosario and I burst into gales of laughter.

When Nacho rushed into the marina parking lot to find Topaz straddling Vargas, and bopping the slimeball in the schnoz every time he moved, he was so smitten he made certain the rest of her vacation was very rewarding, in a shadowy, criminal sort of way.

Julio was overwhelmingly grateful when the police arrested him and hauled him off to jail for possession of drugs and weapons. Somehow his plastic gun had morphed into a real .45, and paperwork found on his person suggested he was the head of a drug cartel. He offered to give up a huge amount of cash for immunity, but when authorities tracked down the Belize account, the money had vanished. He's being held in a Mexico City prison and knowing the system down here, he'll probably walk eventually. He protested long and loud when they charged him with the death of his friend, Rosario Hidalgo Pardo, but this being Mexico, he's guilty until proven innocent. Unfortunately for him there are no plastic surgeons available to prisoners.

Fortunately for him there is no death penalty in Mexico, but it didn't matter anyway, because Rosario reappeared at the job site and told the acting project manager, me, that he had left suddenly to claim a big inheritance from a long lost grandmother, and he was surprised he was considered missing. Hadn't Ozzie gotten his email with his resignation and request to hold his personal belongings until he returned? And no, he knew nothing of someone taking the company boat out the night he fixed the radio.  

By the time the cops and marines showed up at the marina, Rosario was long gone in Safety's pickup. He'd found the keys in Julio's briefcase when he lifted Vargas's passport. Certain now that his friends were imprisoned in that mine shaft, he planned to liberate them and beat feet to the airport where a perfectly good plane waited to take
someone
to Belize. I sincerely hoped there would be five passengers in total.

Two weeks later, Safety, Bert, Ozzie and John were rescued, in amazingly good condition, on an island a hundred miles south of where the burned out
Lucifer
was found abandoned. All of them claimed being traumatized by Mexico and resigned their positions.

I am still on the payroll at the mine, at least until they find a new project manager to replace Bert. As a dubious reward for all of my good work the Trob has stuck me with that job, and Ozzie's as well, until replacements can be found. I immediately implemented measures to beef up security to prevent the likes of me and Rosario from playing loose with the equipment and computers, and ordered ten brand new 777G's from a bona fide Caterpillar agency in Monterrey. Turns out the first five were shoddily refurbished models from some outfit in Nigeria, no less, and bought for less than twenty percent of new list price. The repairs and spares on these money pits accounted for most of the cost overruns on the job, which had cleverly been spread about into other departments by persons unknown, but Vargas took the rap.

Having Laura now in what was Rosario's job helps me put up with the scores of bean counters, investigators and the like who showed up the first week after the earthquake. It is a half-hearted attempt, at best, since whatever money was lost, it was well balanced out by the vast amount of gold and Boleite found in the old mine shaft the office building ended up in. Besides, letting anyone know that at least seven million bucks had walked off the job was not something the company wanted to share with the stock-buying public.

The Mexican Tourist Bureau issued a statement to the world press to the effect that while there had been a slight earthquake in the Baja resulting in the closing of one measly highway for a few hours, the rumors of volcanic activity and tsunamis were unfounded. They also said there was an investigation underway to find the source of the false tsunami report.

I gave myself a few days off for my birthday so Jan and I could take
Raymond Johnson
to Conception Bay for the much dreaded event.

As Jan, Po Thang and I lounged on the sundeck at anchor in front of Café Olé, we discussed the events of the past few weeks. We planned on going to shore for a hamburger later, but for now I was content to spend the worst day of my life with my best friend and a dog.

I had received all sorts of calls and emails before we left the dock, and I appreciated them, but this birthday was better spent in private mourning. However, one of those presents was really good news. Craig had hired a private detective to check out the scuzz who wanted to sue me for a hate crime and, due to his findings the suit never made it off the ground. Turns out bacon rind boy is still part owner in a
carnitas
stand in Hermosillo and when that information somehow leaked out, his Muslim jailhouse buddies dropped him like a hot porker.

We'd wasted away the uncommonly warm afternoon hanging out in the water in the shade of the boat's hull, beers in hand. Po Thang happily dog paddled around us, occasionally swimming off to chase a gull or a fish. Even with the water hovering at eighty, we ultimately were chilled and pruned up, so moved onto the boat and upgraded to champagne.

"Nacho and Topaz, who'd a thunk it? An odd combo if there ever was one," I commented. I had to admit I was slightly jealous of that relationship. "I mean, we suspect he's a hardened criminal of some sort. Maybe she's uncovered his soft side."

"More like she's discovered his
really
hard side."

"You are sooo bad!"

Po Thang's ears drooped. "Not you, Furface, your Auntie Jan."

"Hetta, I wasn't talking about
that.
"

"Well then, neither was I."

We shared a giggle and took sips of champagne.

"Think we should call the guys?" I asked. "I have the WiFi password from the café. Cell doesn't work down here, but we might get through on Skype."

"Nah, maybe after dinner. Wanna dress up for your birthday?"

"What for? We look fine. Or rather as fine as two women can look after swimming around with a dog all day. I kinda like this look." I grabbed a handful of stiff salt-encrusted hair and pulled it straight up, where it stayed. "Very punk."

"Your birthday, your call."

"I'm gonna declare Happy Hour a little early."

"What have we been having for the past two hours?"

"Pre-Happy Hour?"

Jan opened another split of champagne. "We're breaking the rules, you know. We're at anchor and getting drunk."

"It's my boat, my birthday. I take full responsibility."

"That'll make me feel sooo much better if the wind comes up and puts us on the beach."

"Geary said if there is any wind, it'll be from the south. We can handle that. You gettin' hungry?"

"What time is it?"

"Does it matter?"

"Not any more."

I should have picked up on that comment.

We pulled the dinghy up onto the beach. Po Thang had already launched himself into the water and was now tearing up the sand, playing with the café's collection of adopted strays.

Jimmy Buffett's "Tequila Sunrise" wafted from the outdoor speakers, and I heard some chatter inside the bar. "Well, Jan, at least you won't have to spend my birthday with only mopey old me."

"That's a relief."

"Some friend you are."

"Hey, I'm here for you in your darkest hour, ain't I? Go on in, I gotta hit the head. Order me a Tequila sunrise."

The first person I saw inside was Geary.

The second was Rosario, who had an arm possessively draped over Doctor Diane Powell's lovely shoulders.

Chino and Granny Yee held signs declaring:

LORDY, LORDY, LOOK WHO'S FORTY!

CHAOS, PANIC & DISORDER

HETTA'S WORK HERE IS DONE

HETTA'S IMMORTAL.

WAIT, IS THAT MISSPELLED?

Craig and his cowboy, Roger, were there, as well as ChaCha, my newly appointed trainer for heavy equipment, and her husband, the new Mechanic Shop manager.

All wore tee shirts reading, WE SURVIVED HETTA'S TSUNAMI!

My hand flew to my hair and I rued not taking that shower. I smelled of Coppertone and salt, and the sarong wrapping my bathing suit had seen better days.

But none of that mattered when I spotted the next person: JENKS!

He was wearing a tee shirt that declared: HETTA NEVER GETS OLD TO ME.

It was the bestest birthday ever!

NOT THE END...YET!