The Mexico Run (30 page)

    He dropped us off near the center of the town, in front of a new and rather fancy motel. I looked it over and decided I didn't like the set-up. The cars were parked in front of the individual rooms.

    We walked a block and a half and found a second motel, a rambling, two-story building.

    This one had a regular parking lot attached to it. It also had a parking attendant, a long-haired, lanky youth with a pimply face. He was sitting outside a small booth.

    I told Angel to wait on the corner for me and I walked over to the motel and entered the lobby and went to the men's room. I took five one-hundred-dollar bills put of the money-belt around my waist and then I went outside again and walked over to the booth in the parking lot.

    The boy looked up at me indolently, and then turned back to the comic book he was reading.

    I said, "I'd like to talk to you for a minute."

    "Yeah?"

    "Yeah," I said. "How would you like to make five hundred dollars?"

    This brought him to. He stared at me and then said, "Who do I have to kill?"

    "You don't have to kill anybody. You just have to do one thing. Where do you keep the keys to the cars?"

    "You gonna give me five hundred dollars for telling you that?"

    "I'm going to give you five hundred dollars for telling me that and then going and taking a little walk by yourself. But only after you've pointed out a couple of the cars whose owners are over visiting in Mexico."

    He shook his head.

    "Man," he said. "You must be nuts."

    "I am not nuts," I said. I took the five hundred-dollar bills out so he could see them.

    "I want a car. I want it for the next few hours. And then I'll just drop it somewhere. I want you to take a walk. Just let me know where the keys are. Then I want you to come back, and you're not to notice that the car is gone until some time late this evening."

    "I'm not here late this evening," he said.

    "In that case, just don't notice that it's gone. Go to the bathroom. Come back and just do what you're supposed to do. Nobody's going to know whether you were here when the car was taken or not. Now are you interested in this five hundred dollars?"

    He just stared at me. Finally, he said, "You know, I never saw five hundred dollars in one piece before."

    "You're seeing it now, and I haven't got much time. You want to do business, good. If you don't, I'll find somebody else that does. Make up your mind."

    He reached out his hand. "Let me have a look at it," he said.

    I handed him the five bills, and he examined them on both sides. He shook his head.

    "And all I gotta do is take a little walk? Is that it?"

    "That's it," I said.

    Again he looked at the money and then he slowly folded the bills and stuck them in his pocket.

    "The keys are under the floor mat on the driver's side," he said. "What kind of a car you want?"

    "I want a fast car. A Cadillac or a Lincoln should do."

    He stared around the lot and then turned back.

    "Black Caddy coupe. Third down on the right. The owner left for Mexico in a cab about an hour ago. Shouldn't be back till sometime late this evening. I think he goes over there every night to get laid."

    "Good," I said. "Now how about taking that walk."

    He stood up, and I reached over and took hold of his jacket.

    "Be sure you earn your money," I said. "I'd hate to think that you'd double-crossed me."

    He looked frightened for a minute and started to shake his head.

    "It's no skin off my ass," he said.

    "Then move your ass."

    Three minutes later, I slowed down to pick up Angel at the corner where I'd left him. I looked at my watch again. Ann's lead had stretched to more than an hour.

    I wanted to catch up with her as soon as possible, but I still had to waste a few more minutes. I found a hock shop which was still open in the center of the city.

    I would have preferred a gun, but they didn't carry any. I settled for a pair of bowie knives and a set of brass knuckles.

    

    

    I could have saved time by taking Route 80 directly to the intersection where Route S2 cut in going north, but I decided to return to Calexico and follow the exact route which I had outlined for Ann.

    There was a possibility that I would find the camper somewhere along the road. I prayed that I wouldn't. I knew what it would mean if I were to see the Volkswagen stalled on the highway. Driving south out of El Centra once more, I reached Calexico and then turned west.

    I found it hard to resist the temptation to push my foot to the floorboard. But I could take no chances. The car was hot, and so were we. An encounter with a speed cop would be fatal.

    "You know," Angel said, "it might be wise if I were to conceal myself in the trunk for the next few miles, at least until we hit that road going north from Ocitilo. It is possible we will pass an immigration inspection station sometime soon now. It is also possible that my escape will have been discovered, and the alarm will be out. They will be questioning anyone who looks Mexican."

    I swerved over to the side of the road. He was right, of course. While I was taking the key out of the ignition to open the trunk of the car, he spoke again.

    "I don't believe Morales will make bis move until your friends have reached the inn."

    "Why do you think so?" I asked.

    "Morales is a greedy man. He will want the narcotics. It will have occurred to him also that the people who are to pick them up at the inn will arrive with the money to pay for them. It is very possible that he will also want the money."

    "I hope you're right, Angel," I said. "It will give us those few extra minutes that we may very well need."

    "I will stay in the trunk until we are a few miles up on S2," he said.

    Angel's hunch had been correct. The immigration check point was at the intersection of Route 98 and Route 8. When I pulled to a stop beside the customs official who was checking all cars heading west, he didn't even bother to speak. He saw I was alone in the car, that I was American, and he casually waved me through.

    The interruption turned out to be fortunate. As I started forward, the engine hesitated and coughed a couple of times and then caught again. Quickly I looked at the dashboard to check the gas gauge. It showed empty.

    I was doubly lucky. There was a station less than a quarter of a mile ahead on the right hand side of the road.

    The engine again began to cough out as I stopped beside the pumps. The lone attendant finished putting gas into the tank of a decrepit Ford sedan and walked over. I told him to fill it up. He started to lift the hood, and I told him that everything was all right and not to bother with the windshield. I was in a hurry. He came back to the side of the car.

    "Your right rear wheel is almost flat, mister," he said.

    "You probably have a slow leak."

    I swore.

    "You want me to repair it? I'm alone, but I'm not too busy at this time of night."

    "I'm in a hurry," I said, "and can't waste the time. Supposing you just put some air in and bring it up."

    "How about I put your spare on? That'll only take a minute or two," he said.

    I started to tell him to go ahead and then I remembered Angel concealed in the trunk, which held the spare tire.

    Again I shook my head. "No, just fill her up. I'll just have to take a chance on it," I said.

    He shrugged, and while he was putting air in the tire I took out my wallet. When he came back I asked him if they had flashlights for sale, and he said they did, I told him to get me one and be sure it had batteries in it.

    Three minutes later I pulled out of the station to head north on Route S2.

    I drove for some fifteen minutes before I pulled over to the side of the road. Angel was glad to get out of the cramped confines of the trunk. While he was stretching and getting the kinks out of his legs, I examined the right rear tire with the flashlight. I took the valve cap off and put a wet finger over the valve. I could see the bubbles of escaping air in the light from the flash.

    Again I swore. At the rate the air was escaping, I figured the tire would be down again within minutes. I didn't want to take any chances of running it completely flat.

    We were in luck. There were tire tools and a jack in the trunk, and we took less than twelve minutes to put the spare on. I hated to waste the additional time, but I wanted to take no chances on that twisting and tortuous road up ahead.

    Driving north again, I no longer worried about the possibility of being stopped for speeding. There was virtually no traffic on the highway, but my speed was held down by the winding and dangerous road itself. I knew now that I had little chance of catching up with the camper before it reached the inn. I could only hope and pray that it did reach the inn, that Morales' plan had been not to intercept it before its arrival there.

    As I" drove I tried to concentrate on the road and not think of Ann and her sister somewhere up ahead.

    "You know, Angel," I said. "You would have been smart if you'd have gotten out. It's not too late, in case you don't want a part of this. I've already given you plenty of trouble. When we catch up with them, you realize that Morales will not be alone. Whoever is with him will be armed. And we have nothing but knives."

    "All the more reason I should be with you, my friend," Angel said. "I have a debt to settle with that son-of-a-bitch. He had no intention of freeing me all along."

    "I only hope that we can get there in time," I said.

    "And what are your plans, if they have arrived at the inn before we get there?"

    "We must play it by ear," I said. "One thing is sure. The only thing in our favor will be surprise. We will be the last people that Morales will expect to see. In case they are there first, we will stop well before we come to the inn. That is one reason I wanted the flashlight. We will have to cut our headlights some distance from the lodge and drive in slowly and quietly. We will case the place and try and find out exactly what is happening. It is possible that Morales may be satisfied with merely getting possession of the camper. It is hard to say what we will encounter until we get there."

    Cortillo lighted a match and checked his wristwatch.

    "We have not passed them yet," he said, "and if your figuring is right, we are not more than a half an hour from the turnoff. If that camper has averaged twenty-five miles an hour or better, they will already be there."

    I didn't answer him. didn't like to think about what might be happening some miles up ahead.

    Another fifteen minutes passed, and again Angel spoke. "If you are correct,
amigo,
and Morales has followed the Volkswagen all the way to the end, I think it's quite possible he will not make his move immediately. I think he will wait until the contact arrives to pick up that package. You say it has a street value of a half a million dollars?"

    "That is what I was told," I said.

    "In that case, the purchase price could be in the neighborhood of a quarter of a million in cash. Morales would not be inclined to pass that up. He will want both. The package and the cash. The contact who is to make the exchange will not be expecting trouble. Morales will be able to take him by surprise."

    "My concern right now," I said, "is not the package containing the narcotics, nor is it the money to pay for it. It is not even Captain Morales. My concern is two girls whom I have put in a very dangerous position. If I could only be sure of their safety, I would be more than willing to let Morales have both the package and the money."

    "I share your concern for your friends," Angel said, "but I have another concern as well. I have a little matter to settle with Captain Morales."

    We were silent for the next few minutes, and I concentrated on the road. It was a clear night, and there was a slender slice of moon showing, which did little to illuminate the dark and craggy country through which we were passing. My bright lights were on, and I cut my speed. I checked the mileage on the speedometer and saw that we were approaching the spot where I was told I would find the turnoff on the left which led to the Rancho Grande Inn.

    We had driven some sixty-four miles, and I was getting a little nervous. That is when I spotted the small billboard on the right hand side of the road. I was doing about thirty miles an hour and I caught the words Rancho Grande in the headlights, just as I passed them.

    I put on my brakes and backed up and swung the car, so that my headlights picked up the full sign. It read,
Rancho Grande Inn-One Mile
. There was a small cardboard notice tacked to the sign, -with a legend I was unable to read. I got out of the car and approached the sign with a flashlight. The smaller sign read Closed Until Further Notice.

    I approached closer and examined it carefully. From the rust-encrusted tacks which had been used to attach the weather-beaten notice, I knew that it must have been on the sign for several months at least.

    I stood there, baffled. I had been told that the lodge was open. I couldn't believe Dr. Constantine would have been careless enough not to have been sure when he relayed directions to me. Why had I been told that the inn would be open and they would be expecting us?

    I thought about it and once more I had misgivings.

    Was it possible that my original hunch had been right? That Morales and Dr. Constantine were working in concert? Had Dr. Constantine known in advance that I was going to be stopped at the border after the camper crossed over?