The Mexico Run (29 page)

    "But I am an American, and my friend has a passport and. visa," I began.

    "In that case, senor, neither of you will have anything to worry about. Please follow me."

    This time I noticed that when he spoke his voice was slightly less polite, that his hand had almost unconsciously slipped down toward the gun he was wearing in the holster at his waist.

    I looked over at Angel, who shrugged. He didn't seem unduly worried.

    I thought, it is probably only a formality, it will be straightened out in a moment. It was inconvenient, but it wasn't too serious. I felt a sense of relief knowing that the blue sedan had not followed the Volkswagen. I knew that nothing could possibly happen for at least the first few miles. We would still have plenty of time to catch up with Ann and her sister.

    I did, however, curse my own stupidity. I might have guessed that Angel might have to waste a few minutes in establishing his identity. I should have let him out to go through the pedestrian gates and had Ann wait with me until he was on the other side. But it was too late to worry about that now. The only thing was to get this over as soon as possible.

    We followed our guard across two traffic lanes and into a little, one-story building. We passed through a large reception room with a number of desks behind which various uniformed officials sat, and then went down a long hallway and were ushered into a small, private office.

    Our escort invited us to sit down on a bench, at the side of the room. It was a bare room containing little but the bench and a couple of file cases.

    "If you will be kind enough to let me have your identification, I will only be a minute," our escort said.

    I took out my wallet.

    "Will my driver's license be sufficient?"

    He nodded. He spoke quickly in Spanish to Angel, and I gathered that he was asking for his passport and visa. Angel reached into his pocket and took out an envelope and leafed through it. He handed over what I assumed to be the necessary papers.

    The official didn't look at them, but turned toward the door.

    "One moment, please," he said. The door closed behind his back. I turned quickly to Angel.

    "What do you suppose…" I began.

    He shrugged and shook his head. "It could be trouble, but I'm not sure," he said. "We should know in a moment."

    Some two minutes later, the door,again opened, and a second man entered. He was wearing a Mexican officer's uniform. He held our papers in his hands.

    "I am Lieutenant Rodriguez," he said. "I am sorry, gentlemen, but I am afraid I must delay you for a short time."

    I stood up. "Would you please tell me," I said, "what this is all about? Our papers are in perfect order and we are anxious…"

    He shrugged. "I do not know what it is all about, senors," he said. "You are Mark Johns and you are Angel Cortillo, am I correct?"

    "You are quite correct."

    "In that case, I am forced to detain you temporarily. You see, we have been told to expect you, and we have had a request to hold you."

    Angel and I looked at each other, and I think it was then we realized for the first time what was happening.

    "And at whose request are we being held, and for what reason?"

    "I cannot tell you, gentlemen," Lieutenant Rodriguez said. "I only know that a Captain Morales of the Federal Police has asked that you be held until he returns."

    "Until he returns?" I looked up sharply. "And just where is Captain Morales returning from, and when is he expected?"

    Again Lieutenant Rodriguez shrugged.

    "I cannot tell you for sure when he's expected. I only know he was through here a very short time ago, that he crossed over into the States, and that he will be returning. Why he wants you held I cannot tell, but I must follow his instructions. And now if you would care to sit down and be patient, I am sure that whatever this is all about can be straightened out."

    I was too stunned to say anything. I suspected that he was telling the truth, that he probably didn't know what it was all about. It was possible that eventually it all would be straightened out, but by the time it was straightened out, it could be too late, way too late.

    The lieutenant crossed over and sat down behind the desk. He took a cigarette from his pocket and lighted it.

    "You may as well sit back and relax, gentlemen," he said. "There is nothing I can do at the moment."

    I knew then that arguing would be pointless. I had been a damned fool, and once more Morales had managed to outmaneuver me. How could I have been so stupid? I should have guessed what might happen. While I had been congratulating myself on my cleverness, he had been making his plans, and his plans were better plans than mine.

    I looked over at Angel, and I guess he knew what I was thinking. This time he wasn't shrugging, wasn't looking merely annoyed and slightly amused. His face was deadly serious.

    I thought of Ann and her sister in,that Volkswagen, worth a half a million dollars, heading toward the lonely and isolated inn. I thought of what might lay in wait for them.

    There was only one answer. We had to get out of this room. Had to get across the border.

    Again I looked at Angel. His expression was still blank. Then, suddenly as I watched him, one of his eyes closed ever so slightly. Until that moment I had never believed in mental telepathy, but all at once I was sure, absolutely sure, of one thing. I was sure he knew what I had in the back of my mind. He proved it.

    He reached into the side pocket of the jacket he was wearing and took out a pack of cigarettes. Extracting one, he put it in his mouth, returned the pack to his pocket and then started patting his pockets, searching for a match.

    He looked over at me, sort of helplessly. I forced a smile and said, "I'm sorry. As you know, I don't smoke."

    He turned to the lieutenant, who was still sitting behind the desk. The lieutenant struck a match and held it up in his cupped hands, as Angel leaned toward him.

    Angel reached out then, as though to steady the lieutenant's hand, but instead, his hands suddenly shot out, and he grabbed the lieutenant's wrists. As he did, he jerked his head forward, smashing the lieutenant's forehead with his own.

    The officer had half risen from his chair when Angel had reached for his wrists, but as their heads crashed together, he dropped back in his seat. I was on my feet and lunging across the room.

    The blow must have dazed the customs official, because he had not yet started to reach for the gun on his hip when I reached him. One of my arms went around his neck from the back, and my hand closed over his half-opened mouth to stifle the yell which was rising in his throat.

    Cortillo dove across the desk and reached for the gun. He raised the weapon and struck, the barrel hitting the side of Lieutenant Rodriguez's head. Together, we eased his unconscious body to the floor.

    Words were not necessary. Angel took the lieutenant's belt off and bound his hands in back of him while I forced a crushed-up handkerchief into his mouth to gag him. I used a torn piece from my own shirttail to tie the gag in place.

    The whole thing took place in less than two minutes. We stood up and stared at each other blankly for a second, and then I turned and noticed a closet door at the side of the room. I walked over and opened it. It was a small closet used to store office materials.

    Without a word, we dragged the lieutenant's unconscious body over and closed the closet door after we had pushed him inside. We listened then for several moments, but apparently no one had heard the disturbance.

    Angel spoke softly. "Time to leave,
amigo.
You go first, and as I go through the door, I will turn and speak in Spanish, as though we are bidding the lieutenant goodbye. It is our only chance of getting out of the building."

    "And then what?"

    "Once we are outside, we will not attempt to get the car. The pedestrian passage across the border is on the other side of the building. There is every chance that the border patrol there has not been alerted, as they will have been expecting us to arrive by car. I will go first, and you follow me. We will offer them our identification. We must do it as swiftly as possible. There's no telling how long.we have until it will be discovered we are missing, or until the lieutenant is found."

    I opened the door and started down the long hallway toward the reception center at the front of the building. I could hear Angel speaking, as he half turned to close the door behind him. He was speaking in Spanish and reassuring the lieutenant that the delay had not been an inconvenience and that he thoroughly understood.

    I continued down the hallway. I passed an open door, and two uniformed men were sitting just inside at a table. They looked at me without curiosity.

    A second later I was passing through the reception room. And then I was on the sidewalk in front of the building.

    Angel reached my side, but didn't acknowledge my presence as he passed me and went toward the corner of the building. I followed him, expecting at any second to hear the sound of an alarm.

    Three minutes later, we had joined the short line of pedestrians waiting to cross into the United States. There were some dozen or more Mexicans and a scattering of Americans.

    Angel was asked a few questions, but did not have to show his papers until he passed through the portals on the American side.

    I was asked nothing at all on the Mexican side and was barely questioned by the United States customs people. They wanted to know where I'd been and how long I had been out of the country.

    The whole thing took less than fifteen minutes from the time we left Lieutenant Rodriguez's office. But it seemed like a lifetime.

    Once on the American side, we found a cruising taxi cab which had just dropped off some tourists who were crossing into Mexico. We directed the driver to take us to El Centra. I wanted to bypass Calexico. I looked at my watch as we started the trip of approximately five miles.

    Ann had a little more than a half an hour's head start on us.

    I knew what we had to do, and we had no time to waste. I had to have a car, a fast car. It was too late now for any plans I may have entertained for contacting American customs. By the time I would be able to make them understand what it was all about, the alarm about our escape across the border would be out. If I was going to do anything about intercepting the camper, I would have to do it on my own. I was working now strictly outside of the law.

    Yes, Captain Morales had outsmarted me, and it was a perfect double cross. He'd had no intention of seeing Angel Cortillo go free. He'd only played along with me until he was sure that I was able to talk Ann Sherwood into returning to the United States with the camper and its illegal cargo.

    I no longer believed that he and Dr. Constantine were collaborators. His plan was obvious. The camper would be hijacked the same way the Hutchinson's car had been hijacked after they had crossed into the States.

    I mentally rechecked the map which I had studied with Carlos Santiago.

    After she crossed the border, Ann would have some sixty to sixty-five miles to drive before she reached the Rancho Grande Inn. Most of it would be over narrow, winding mountain roads. The trip would take her at the outside a good three hours.

    Should Morales' plan call for intercepting the camper before she reached the inn, I was sure he would not make his move until she was as far as possible from the border. The attempt would be made somewhere on Route S2, probably while the road passed through the Anza Borrego State Park in the Coyote Mountains.

    My only hope was to catch up with her before he made that move. I knew what would happen if I didn't. Morales was not a man to leave witnesses behind.

    I bitterly regretted now that I had not insisted on making the entire trip during daylight. I knew that Ann, not seeing the Jaguar following after she pulled out of Calexico on Route 98, would have either stopped and waited for me, or would have returned to see what had delayed me.

    After dark, she would merely have assured herself that a pair of headlights were following her.

    I regretted also my final instructions to her when we had left Ensenada. I had said, "Once you cross the border, I want you to make the rest of the trip without stopping. It will be dark by then, and it may take me a few minutes to catch up with you, but don't worry. I'll pick you up sooner or later and will be behind you all the way."

    Having no reason to be suspicious, Ann would be concentrating on her driving and wouldn't be worrying over my ability to keep up with her. One set of headlights in the dark would resemble any other set to her.

    I could only hope and pray that she didn't start to worry and decide to stop and wait for me. To verify that I was still following her. It could only precipitate the tragedy that I was sure would take place once Morales made, or was forced to make, his move.

    Yes, I needed a fast car. I needed it immediately. I leaned forward and spoke to the driver of the taxi.

    "I want to find a place to rent a car."

    "Difficult, very difficult. There is a place where you might get a Volkswagen, but then again you might not. El Centra is a small town and a poor town, and they have very few demands for rental cars. You see, the only people in El Centra who can afford rental cars are tourists, and visitors are not allowed to take rental cars. into Mexico. There are plenty of taxis, because a good many tourists leave their cars in the States and take a taxi to the border."

    If tourists left their cars and took taxis to the border, then they would be leaving their cars in parking lots in El Centra, and the parking lots would be adjacent to the motels. I directed the driver to take us to a good motel.