The Return: A Novel (22 page)

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Marder could only assume that his fiesta had proceeded accordingly to plan, for he remembered little of it, or about as much as he recalled of that firefight on the Ho Chi Minh Trail. Small vignettes had been somehow recorded through the blear of alcohol.

Two men carrying a sheet of plywood upon which the meat of two dismembered piglets sat smoking; Skelly, stripped to the waist, feeding mesquite fires at the pits, grinning at him from a smoke-blackened face, like a devil; Amparo standing in the cool center of chaos, giving orders with magisterial calm, as if she was used to serving a hundred people at a moment’s notice; the music of the mariachi band, with the costumes and sombreros, guitars and trumpets, and dancing to its music with his daughter, and with Pepa Espinoza, who noted that it was a cliché, who wanted to know what he thought he was doing, who disapproved of him, but who still danced with him, whirling in the colored lights; the colored lights shaped like little peppers—Amparo, again, had conjured them out of somewhere. Had he kissed Pepa Espinoza, or was that part of the dream?

He recalled giving a speech. Bartolomeo Ortiz, the blacksmith, a man he now understood was the mayor of the
colonia
, had called on the musicians to play a fanfare and in the ensuing silence had spoken simply and directly, thanking Señor Marder for this wonderful fiesta. Then Marder had to speak in response, and he had spoken, saying that he was gratified to have the privilege of hosting such wonderful people and that unless he was killed he would guarantee that the Colonia Feliz would exist and thrive forever. As he spoke, Marder sought out the faces of the three people he was most interested in. His daughter looked worried; Pepa Espinoza wore a sardonic grin, her head gently shaking in disbelief; Skelly had a grim and determined expression.

How it ended, or how he had returned to his bed, he did not know. Someone had undressed him to his shorts and covered him. In any case, there he now was, with sunlight slatting in through the closed shutters. He raised his head from the pillow, yelped, and dropped it down again. It was impossible to move with that head, yet he had to have water or die. And, indeed, some kind soul had left a bottle of water and a bottle of aspirin on the wicker table at his bedside. He washed down two aspirin and finished most of the liter.

He was engaged in the newly complex task of pulling on a pair of chinos when there came a light knock on the door.

“Yes?”

The door opened to reveal young Epifania in her blue school uniform. “Señor, my mother says to tell you there is coffee ready, if you care to come down, and she has made fresh
bolillos
. Also, Señor Skelly says to tell you that the army has arrived. And they have a tank.”

9

“That’s not actually a tank,” said Skelly. Marder, dressed and with a cup of Amparo’s excellent coffee in his hands, was standing with his friend on the roof terrace of his house, while Skelly studied the approaching column of vehicles through field glasses. “It’s a Panhard Lynx, a budget-friendly armored vehicle suitable for midsized armies whose major opponent is likely to be its own population.”

“It looks like a tank, though,” said Marder, “and that’s a pretty big gun.”

“Yes, it’s a ninety millimeter. I suggest we surrender.”

“I agree. Where are you off to?”

Skelly paused at the head of the stairs that led down into the house. “I think I’ll head down to the
colonia
and see about the septic field. I’m sure you can handle an armored assault all by yourself.”

There were four trucks and a Humvee following the Lynx like obedient ducklings. As Marder watched, they drove in through the open gate, parked on the gravel, and spewed soldiers in battle dress, armed with assault rifles, while the Panhard moved to one side, knocking over some planters, and sat there. Marder could hear the sound of its turret and elevator motors as the long tube of the gun swiveled around to point at the front door of the house.

He turned away and moved rapidly downstairs to the kitchen. Amparo was sitting there with her two children by her, on her face the familiar expression the war photographers love to catch.

“Amparo, take the children to your house and wait there. I will talk to these soldiers and then I’ll drive the children to school. Go now!”

Marder went to the front door and opened it, then went to the kitchen and poured another cup of coffee.

The soldiers entered in combat formation, weapons high. They shouted at him to get down on the floor, which he did, and then they bound his hands with plastic flex. He waited for some time, smelling dust and floor wax, listening to the sound of soldiers rummaging ungently through his house.

Then two soldiers picked him up by the arms and took him into the dining room. They placed him in one of the chairs. There was a plate of
bolillos
on the table, still giving off their delightful odor.

An officer came in and took a seat across the table from Marder. He was wearing a camo uniform with the brass star of a major and the pale-gray band that indicated he was a member of military intelligence. He seemed young for a major, mid-thirties perhaps, and Marder was glad to see that the eyes set deeply into his thin, angular face had a bright and curious expression.

The two men stared at each other for a long minute. When the major spoke, his voice was low and cultivated. He said, “Señor Marder, I’ve looked into your background, and what I find there surprises me. I’m curious as to why someone like yourself should have come here to Playa Diamante and immediately become involved in the operations of not one but two dangerous narcotics-trafficking gangs. Perhaps you could enlighten me.”

“With pleasure, Major,” replied Marder. “I purchased this house and the surrounding land both as a retirement home and as an investment property. This is a common event in Mexico, I believe, and is not discouraged by your government. I had no sooner taken possession than some men arrived and ordered me to leave. They showed weapons. I was able, however, to disarm them and I sent them on their way. Later, I was in town, at the hotel, when I observed a kidnapping in progress. Happily, I was able to thwart it and escaped here with the victim. A little after that, three vehicles full of armed men arrived and fired automatic weapons at my house. Again, I was able to discourage them and they left.”

“I see,” said the major, with a smile of the type conferred on small children when they claim that their dollies come to life at night. “And how, exactly, did you accomplish this discouragement?”

“A colleague and I returned fire. It is the right of every citizen to defend his home, I believe.”

“Yes, it is. You know, I command a unit that is part of the effort of our president to eliminate the domination of drug gangs in this region of Mexico. In many parts of Michoacán, as you may be aware, civil government has entirely collapsed. The municipal authorities and the local police are either bribed or murdered, and the gangs rule. This cannot be allowed to happen, and so the army has been sent in to restore law and order. I have seen many odd things in my time here, but I was not prepared for the report that three vehicles belonging to La Familia had been destroyed by a cannon. This struck me as a dangerous escalation of violence, and so I decided to investigate. Have you any comment?”

“Yes. There was no cannon involved, only an exceptionally powerful rifle. I am what we in America call a ‘gun nut.’ I collect weapons of various calibers, which I daresay your men have already located, and one of these was involved in discouraging the invaders.”

The major opened his mouth to speak but was forestalled by a shriek from the upper parts of the house.

“Get your hands off me, you pigs! Bastards! Homosexuals!”

“My daughter,” said Marder. “I trust your men are not accustomed to abusing women, Major.”

The major stood, shouted an order to one of the soldiers—a sergeant—standing by. The man snapped a quick “Yes, Major, right away!” and ran out.

“Who else is in the house, Señor Marder?”

“My daughter, as I said, and my friend Patrick Skelly, and the victim of the attempted kidnap, Josefina Espinoza.”

The major’s thick eyebrows rose at the mention of this name. “Not
the
Pepa Espinoza, surely.”

“The very same. I believe La Familia objected to some of her coverage of their war. Major, my wrists are uncomfortable. Could you…?”

The major snapped his fingers and pointed, and a soldier came over with a knife and cut Marder free.

“Thank you, Major. I hope you’re now satisfied that—”

“What the hell’s going on, Dad?”

The two men turned and observed the entrance of Statch Marder, dressed in shorts, a stained T-shirt, and a bad attitude, accompanied by the sergeant and two embarrassed-looking young soldiers.

Marder rose and put an arm around his daughter. “The major here was just trying to determine if this household was a danger to the peace and security in the state of Michoacán. I believe he’s almost ready to decide in the negative.”

The major looked back and forth between father and daughter, with somewhat more attention on the daughter, whose T-shirt was thin and revealing of what it covered and who was exhibiting an extraordinary length of leg below her very short shorts.

The major smiled. “There is the matter of the cannon.”

“The rifle, actually. Major, let us not fence. I understand your position. This land is mine. I intend to stay here. The gangs want me to leave. They want to build a casino resort on this island and dispossess me and the people who have come to live here. This I will not allow, and I have the means to resist them, I hope. I also hope that the army will see me as an ally and not as a menace.”

At this moment, Pepa Espinoza walked in. She was dressed in a terry-cloth robe that had obviously come with the house, her hair was wet, and her eyes were flashing mad.

“Well, Major Naca, we meet again,” she said to the officer, who stood and lost his smile on seeing her.

“Señora Espinoza. Always an enchantment.”

“Your men practically dragged me naked out of the shower.”

“I regret the inconvenience, of course.”

“Oh, please don’t! It will fill the second paragraph of my story. The headline will be—let me see—
ARMY ABUSES DAUGHTER OF WEALTHY AMERICAN INVESTOR
. The subhead—‘Beachside Residence in Playa Diamante Assaulted by Tank.’”

Major Naca’s face darkened. “There was no assault and no abuse, Señora. As you well know.”

Marder moved to stand between the reporter and the soldier. “That’s right. It was a simple mistake, of the type that often occurs when soldiers are charged with civil operations for which they are not trained or equipped. I was once part of such an operation some years ago, in Indochina, and so I can appreciate the major’s difficulties. Innocents are roughed up, property is damaged, and so on. But I believe there was not much harm done in this case, and I believe that the major is perfectly satisfied as to the nature of this household and will soon be on his way.”

Their eyes locked briefly, then a little smile played on the major’s lips.

He nodded, turned, snapped orders to his men, demonstrated his good manners by taking formal leave of the household (but without apology), and in ten minutes the soldiers were gone. The Lynx in leaving collided with a large jacaranda tree by the gate, shaking down a blizzard of violet blossoms that briefly covered the road like an imperial carpet, until the following vehicles ground it into pulp.

“That was nicely handled, Marder,” said Pepa Espinoza when the door closed behind the last trooper. “I admire your skills at negotiation. It was not what I had expected from a book editor.”

“That shows how little you know of the New York literary scene. I would much rather face a Mexican intelligence major than a literary agent pushing for an unreasonable advance. And, in any case, you were the critical factor. Even the army quails before the power of the press. I’m sure he would have torn the house down and hauled us all off to prison had it not been for your presence. Now, for almost the first time, I’m glad I saved your life.”

She pasted an unpleasant aggrieved expression onto her face, which Marder thought was a relic of Mom, and then, to his relief, she laughed. He hadn’t heard her laugh much, so it was like seeing a rainbow, joyful.

“Are they all gone?” This from Skelly, who strolled in from the kitchen holding a cup of coffee.

“Yes, you missed our writhing under the military boot. Where were you?”

“At Chiquita Ferrar’s. I was stashing my cannon in her pigpen.”

“I’ve never heard that particular euphemism before,” said Statch. “Did you just make it up?”

“That was a
literal
description, dear. She’s a lady of the
colonia
, married, four children. Her husband is in our employ, and we ate some of her pigs last night.” He asked Marder, “How did you ditch the army?”

Marder told him, and Skelly gave Pepa an appraising look. “You’re going to be a useful guest,” he said.

“I’m not going to be a guest at all. I have to be back in Defe for a taping day after tomorrow. I’m going up now to get dressed and call a cab.”

“I wouldn’t advise that,” said Marder. “As you told me yourself, Cuello owns the cab company. I don’t think his drivers are going to take you to the airport.”

It was clear to him that she had never thought of this possibility, and he wondered how the woman had stayed alive this long. A look of panic started to gel on her face, so he said cheerily, “I have a much better idea. I promised Lourdes I would take her to Defe if she stopped being a pain in the ass, and she has—so far—so we’ll
all
go to Mexico City. We’ll charter a plane, preferably not one owned by La Familia. You, me, Lourdes, Skelly—Statch, you’re welcome too. We’ll take Lourdes for her shopping trip and to launch her career as a big star.”

“Sounds great, but who’s going to provide security?” said Skelly. “There’s a single two-lane from the foot of the causeway into town, and they have people watching it. You can see them from the roof. I mean, we could take your truck and maybe blast our way through, but that’s a little risky. Or we could buy that boat we were talking about and take it to the Cárdenas marina, but then we’d have the problem of getting from there to the airport. Cuello probably has the port sewed up and, as you just said, cabs are out.”