The Mexico Run (28 page)

    

    

    Friday was another one of those glorious Mexican days, and the sun was high over the horizon when I got up. It would be clear and hot and dry. After a late breakfast, I climbed into the rented Mustang and headed for the main highway.

    Passing the cluster of shanties before turning onto the highway, I noticed a dark-blue sedan. It pulled out behind me as I approached the road to Ensenada. Some minutes later I pulled into the airport south of Ensenada. I left the rented car in the parking lot, retrieved my XKE and started back to La Casa Pacifica.

    Ann had given me the keys to the camper, as I had told her I wanted to take it in and have it gassed up and the oil changed before she took off later in the day.

    Again I headed toward the main highway, and this time when L turned into it the same dark-blue sedan was parked at the side of the road. There were two men in the front seat. I had gone less than a quarter of a mile when I looked in the rear-view mirror and saw that the car once more was following me.

    I knew that sometime during the night either Santiago or someone working with him must have planted the narcotics in the camper. They would have had plenty of time to do it, and I was vaguely curious as to exactly how they had managed to conceal the package this time. It wouldn't be any place as obvious as a spare-tire well, that was sure.

    Again I looked into the rear-view mirror. My tail was still with me.

    Someone was taking no chances.

    Was it Dr. Constantine?

    Or, perhaps, was it Captain Morales?

    A few minutes later I pulled into a gas station in Ensenada. The driver of the blue sedan made no effort to conceal his presence. He parked directly behind me while I was having the car serviced. Fifteen minutes later as I left the gas station to. return to the inn, he was again tailing me. I suspected we would be having company on our trip north to the border and possibly beyond.

    Billings was behind the desk when I again entered the lobby, and I stopped to tell him that Miss Sherwood, her sister and I would be checking out shortly after noon.

    He merely nodded and said, "Yes, I know."

    Back in my room I had misgivings about the.45 automatic I had packed in my suitcase. It is illegal but not risky to bring weapons into Mexico. It is also illegal and very risky to take them out. I decided to take no chances. There would be little likelihood I would need a gun on this side of the border. No one would want trouble until that camper was safely through customs. Reluctantly, I opened the suitcase and found the automatic. I took it out and tossed it in a bureau drawer. I would take no chances on a luggage inspection at the border. I wanted to be very sure that I was directly behind Ann's camper when she crossed into the States.

    The three of us had a late lunch, and while we were finishing up our coffee I saw it was already after two thirty. I began to cast nervous glances at the face of my wristwatch. I was wondering if Captain Morales would keep his word.

    Ann herself seemed nervous and tense, and we'd spoken very little. At one point, Lynn had told us that she wanted to ride with me in the Jaguar when we left, but I explained that I had already arranged to have a passenger.

    Leaving the dining area, we stopped in the lobby and settled up with Billings. Then I went with Ann to her room to pick up the luggage which would be stored in the camper. It was ten to three by the time we were ready to leave.

    There was still no sign of Angel Cortillo.

    Another fifteen minutes went by, and Lynn wanted to know why we had to wait. I explained that my passenger was meeting me at La Casa Pacifica and he hadn't shown up.

    She was suggesting to Ann that they go ahead and I catch up with them, when the police car swung into the yard.

    It stopped several feet away from where I was standing, and the uniformed officer driving the car didn't kill his motor.

    The door opposite him opened, and Angel Cortillo stepped onto the courtyard. His face was unbandaged, but was still badly swollen, and he walked with a limp as he approached. He smiled at me, but he didn't say a word. I opened the door of the Jaguar and helped him in.

    The police car didn't wait. It was already wheeling out of the yard.

    I walked over to where Ann was sitting behind the wheel of the camper.

    "I'll follow you," I said. "Take Route 1 straight through Ensenada, and some five or six miles out of town you will hit El Sauzo. That's where you pick up Route 3 going off to your right. I will be right behind you."

    She nodded and said nothing, but there was a questioning look on her face as she glanced over at the Jaguar and then turned back to turn the key in the ignition of the Volkswagen.

    Two minutes later, I was following the camper as it left the courtyard. I was not surprised to see the dark-blue sedan in my rear-view mirror after we reached the highway.

    Angel Cortillo spoke for the first time.

    
"Amigo,"
he said, "I didn't think you could do it. Where are we going?"

    "We're heading for the border, Angel," I said. "We will cut off for Tecate and then take Route 2 into Mexicali where we cross over. I will explain while we are driving, but in the meantime, tell me what happened at the jail."

    He shrugged.

    "I don't know what happened. I only know that shortly after daybreak this morning, I was awakened and told to get dressed. I was given breakfast, and then less than a half an hour ago, I was put in a police car and I was handed my identification papers, my wallet, and the possessions I had on me when I was arrested. I started to ask questions, but I was told to shut up. And here I am. I can hardly believe it."

    He hesitated a moment and then said, "Are we following that car ahead? And who is in it?"

    "It's a long story," I said. I began to explain. It took a long time, and we were well up into the Rumorosa Mountains, not too many miles from Tecate, when I finally finished.

    He was quiet for a long time, but finally he spoke.

    "It seems almost too simple," he said. He turned then, looking behind.

    "You know, of course," he said, "that we are being followed."

    I looked into the rear-view mirror, and the blue sedan was perhaps a quarter of a mile behind me.

    "I know," I said. "Our friend, Captain Morales, probably is making very sure that nothing happens until we come to the border. You see, it probably occurred to him that I might have a change of heart and cross over at Tecate. After all, he has a great deal riding on this trip. And he is a man without too much trust."

    "He is a man who is not to be trusted,
amigo,"
Angel said. "We shall probably have company until the transfer is made. Just what do you expect to do…"

    "Once we have crossed the border," I said, "if we are still being followed, I will have to play it by ear. I can only say one thing at this point. I have no intention of letting that camper out of my sight. I'm reasonably sure there will be no trouble until after we are safely in the United States."

    Angel was thoughtful for several minutes.

    Finally he asked, "Just what are your plans once we are in the States?"

    "I will drop you off in Calexico," I said. "And I have something for you. You still have to be paid for your part in that little thing we did before you landed up in jail. I think you have a bonus coming."

    "I will be able to use the money," he said. "I had to leave everything behind. But I wasn't thinking of that. I was thinking that perhaps it might be a good idea if I stayed with you. In case of trouble, two are better than one."

    "I have already given you enough trouble, Angel," I said. "I appreciate your offer-a great deal. But it would not be a good idea for you to come with me as far as the lodge where we will be spending the night. It might create a certain amount of suspicion. After all, I have said nothing about having a passenger. If those are Dr. Constantine's men behind us by any chance, they are probably already alarmed at your presence."

    "But so long as they already know about me…"

    "There is another thing. Something I haven't told you. I shall be making a telephone call soon after we cross over. A telephone call to the American customs office."

    He jerked in his seat and turned quickly toward me, his face showing shock.

    "You mean, my friend, you mean you are going to…"

    "Right," I said. "Once you are across that border, I am going to resign from this business. I am going to get straightened out."

    "But you can't…"

    "Don't worry, Angel," I said. "I will keep you out of it. Completely out of it."

    He didn't speak for several minutes.

    
"Amigo,"
he said at last, "you are making a mistake. You will merely end up getting yourself killed. The best you can hope for is prison."

    "Perhaps, perhaps not. But I am doing it anyway."

    Again he was quiet for a long time. When at last he spoke, his voice was pleading.

    "A telephone call will be fatal," he said. "But if you must do it, you must. Only one thing you should think about. If you call before you reach that mountain lodge tonight, you may very well be putting your two girl friends right on the spot. They very easily could be caught in the cross fire, particularly if the customs people wait until the transfer is made to make their arrests. And you may be sure they will. Why not wait until after, until the girls are in the clear, and then tip them off. It would be a great deal safer."

    I thought about it for quite a while. He was probably right. It would be safer. It wouldn't give the authorities as good a case, but it did make a lot of sense. And even if I waited before tipping them off, at least they would still have a good deal of valuable information on which to move.

    "Perhaps you're right, Angel," I said. "I'll think about it. And you had better be thinking of your own plans."

    "I would still like to stay with you,
amigo,"
Angel said. "Stay with you and see this thing through. You might well need me before this is over and done with.".

    I didn't argue with him. I was, however, determined to drop him once we were clear of Mexico. I had caused him enough trouble, enough misery already.

    

    

    The sun was already well over the zenith by the time we passed through Tecate, and as we came into the outskirts of Mexicali, we had been driving with headlights on for well over an hour.

    It was when we reached the center of the town that the blue sedan made its move. It had closed the distance between us as we entered the congested part of the city, and then, as I reached a point some two blocks from the port of entry into the United States, it suddenly shot forward and passed me on the right-hand side, swerving to pull directly in front of me. The driver closed in so that his hood was no more than ten yards behind the Volkswagen camper.

    I honked my horn, but he ignored me.

    It worried me, but there was nothing I could do about it. One thing I was very sure of, there would be no trouble until the Volkswagen had crossed the border. Once Ann was safely across, they would hardly make an attempt to intercept her, until she was well out of the immediate area. I would have plenty of time to catch up.

    There was a relatively short line of cars waiting to go through customs, because of the time of day. I came to a slow halt, and I could see up ahead where the cars were passing through an inspection point. Mexican customs officials were waving most of the cars directly through, but beyond them the U.S. people were being a lot more thorough. I saw that they were asking most of the drivers to open trunks, and one car was pulled out of line and the driver and his passenger had stepped out, while a more thorough search was made.

    The car ahead of Ann's was a Datsym sedan, driven by a single, elderly man. He was asked a question or two, and they waved him through. Then Ann's Volkswagen camper pulled up and stopped.

    A customs official said several words to her which I was unable to overhear because of the blue sedan which was between us and kept me at my distance. A moment later, he opened the side door of the camper, and a second border patrolman circled the car and poked his head inside. He looked around for several moments and then stepped back and closed the door. He waved the Volkswagen through.

    I breathed a sigh of relief.

    I started to put the XKE into gear, and as I did, the blue sedan in front of me began to move, but instead of going forward the driver swung his wheel sharply and circled out of line and headed in the opposite direction, back toward Mexicali.

    It took me totally by surprise. I had been confident he would be following the Volkswagen into the United States.

    It was almost with a smile of pleasure that I moved the XKE forward and came to a stop opposite the Mexican port of exit, some ten yards from the port of entry on the American side through which Ann and the camper had just passed.

    A Mexican official walked over, looked at me for a moment, and asked where I was coming from. I told him Ensenada, and then he looked over at Angel Cortillo.

    "And you," he said. This time he spoke in Spanish.

    Angel told him that he also was coming from Ensenada. He was asked then if he was a Mexican national. Angel began to reach for his papers, but the official stopped him in mid-action. He ordered both of us out of the car.

    Turning to me, again speaking English, his voice was polite.

    "A mere formality, senor. A moment's delay only. But we must always check when Mexicans cross the border. We like to see that our opposite numbers on the American side are saved the inconvenience, and so we make sure that the papers are in proper order before our nationals go across. Would you please both follow me."