Winning Texas (24 page)

“
Of course,
”
Rob said. He admired Alicia, but Riggins could tell he
’
d always been a little afraid of her. Her reputation as a skilled assassin with an unpredictable temper preceded her.

Riggins walked in the bedroom ahead of Rob to make sure his darling was still awake. The door was open and Alicia lay still
–
too still
–
in their king-sized bed under starched white sheets. Her round dark eyes with their thick lashes were open, but she seemed lethargic. Her long, thick white hair fanned across the pillow. She gave Rob a weak smile.

“
Rob,
que pasa?
”

“
Hola, Tia Alicia,
”
Rob said. He sat at the edge of the bed and gingerly squeezed her hand.
“
How
’
re you feeling?
”

“
Not good,
”
she said with a small sigh.
“
How is my little yellow house?
”

Before she and Riggins had fled to Peru, she
’
d lived in West Texas near Tom Marr
’
s vast ranch. Riggins had built a small home for Alicia where he visited her between foreign trips for the CIA. It was just a three-bedroom, stucco house painted a cheerful yellow, but both Riggins and Alicia had regarded it as their secret, treasured place. In happier days, she
’
d run a pottery business from the house, commissioning pieces to sell at San Antonio
’
s Mexican Market. She
’
d leave the place only for her pottery business or to carry out assassination contracts.

“
Your house is just the way you left it,
”
Riggins said.
“
It will be waiting for you when we
’
re able to come back to Texas.
”

“
Do you want me to go there and pick up anything for you?
”
Rob asked.

“
No, but please don
’
t let anyone break into my beautiful house and steal my things,
”
she pleaded.
“
All of my furniture and pottery and clothes are inside.
”

“
Mi corazon
, I pay someone to come by and check on it,
”
Riggins said. She hadn
’
t mentioned it much while they were fugitives, but he knew how terribly she missed the only home she
’
d known since the Shining Path terrorists captured her as a teenager in Peru.

She made an effort to talk to Rob for a few minutes, but Riggins could see that her energy was fading.

“
Still so tired from the trip,
”
she said.
“
I
’
m glad you came, Rob, but I think I will sleep now.
”

Rob kissed her cheek and walked out of the room with Riggins, who closed the door softly.

They went silently into the small kitchen at the back of the house. Riggins got two beers out of the refrigerator and handed one to Rob. They sat at the square kitchen table and clinked the glass bottles solemnly.

“
To better times,
”
Rob said.
“
I
’
ve never seen her so subdued. Have you gotten her to a doctor?
”

“
I paid a lot yesterday for a good doc to come across the border and examine her. He thinks it might be a brain tumor, but we won
’
t know until she goes to a hospital for a head scan. I
’
m hoping I can get her to the Ojinaga hospital tomorrow. So far, she
’
s refused to go.
”

“
Do you know where she went after she disappeared?
”
Rob asked.

“
She said she
’
d driven all over Texas, but I think she mostly spent her time in Houston,
”
Riggins said.
“
I looked at the stuff in her car. There were a bunch of gas and motel receipts from the Houston area.
”

“
Any idea how she spent her time?
”

“
God knows. I
’
m not sure I want to. She still hates your former newspaper colleague, Annie Price, and has vowed to kill her. That didn
’
t happen this time, but I
’
m dreading the fallout from whatever she did.
”

They drank their beers in moody silence for a while until Riggins said,
“
Can I pick your brain about something else?
”

“
Sure, Uncle Dan.
”

“
It
’
s that Kyle Krause character and his relationship with the German-Texas group.
”

“
The strip-club king in Houston? Didn
’
t you say he wasn
’
t much of a threat?
”

“
Yeah. I was wrong. He
’
s a dangerous troublemaker.
”
He got up, got two more beers and offered one to Rob as he thought out loud.

“
Krause is especially tight with our German-Texan friend, Sam Wurzbach. He
’
s given more money to those Hill Country Huns than anyone else.
”

“
Our patriot members up in Fredericksburg have stirred up a lot of trouble for Sam,
”
Rob said.
“
We hear he
’
s been talking to the cops about the bakery break-ins.
”

“
What did he do when his fancy dogs were poisoned?
”
Riggins asked.

Rob looked down, abashed.
“
I heard his little girls were awfully upset. Was that really necessary?
”

“
You have to learn, Rob, that a psychological blow is the most powerful kind of guerilla warfare,
”
Riggins said.
“
It
’
s a classic CIA move.
”

“
Okay,
”
Rob said.
“
Let
’
s not talk about it. What do you want me to do about Kyle Krause? Our guys in San Antonio did a pretty good job blowing a hole in his gas emporium. Too bad they couldn
’
t get to the pumps.
”

“
Yeah, he was really mad, but he and his buddy Sam managed to get it hushed up. Let me think about it some more,
”
Riggins said.
“
Hold on. Did you hear something?
”

Riggins walked out the back door and looked across the arid yard and beyond, just to make sure nobody was there. Though he was stuck in the boondocks, the habits of a secretive lifetime conspired to keep him vigilant.

As usual, the back yard was devoid of human habitation, but he saw a coyote in the distance sniffing around. The nasty animal was another reason to hate this place. His nephew had become smarter, but Rob still needed toughening up. He shouldn
’
t have been so troubled by the dog caper. But Riggins had to admit that he was glad for the company. Lately, he
’
d had to watch what he said around Alicia for fear she
’
d go off half-cocked again. She was brave but foolhardy and hardheaded, even at her best. What was wrong with her? What were they doing in this godforsaken border town? He felt impotent and miserable.

“
What else do you need from me?
”
Rob asked.
“
I need to get to the other side of the border before dark. I
’
ll have a long day tomorrow driving to Austin.
”

“
Sam Wurzbach is still our biggest problem,
”
Riggins said.
“
Without him, I think the German Texans might just fold their tents and slink away.
”

“
What do you want our folks in the Hill Country to do?
”

“
Stand by, for the moment,
”
Riggins said.
“
We
’
ll watch his next moves.
”

CHAPTER 25

Zogu pulled into the budget motel
’
s parking lot and pulled out the latest load of groceries for the Albanian girls. This time he
’
d purchased only items from the list compiled by his wife Genta and he wasn
’
t surprised that it contained mostly low-calorie and healthy foods. Cottage cheese, yogurt, sacks of carrot and celery sticks, coffee and lots of Lean Cuisine dinners filled the plastic bags. Genta had forbidden him to buy pizza, beer, coffeecakes and other cheaper fare he
’
d brought at first, items he suspected the girls much preferred.

Genta and her two friends, all hairdressers and estheticians from Houston
’
s Albanian community, were a force to be reckoned with. The beautiful mother of his children was taking her role seriously as housemother and stylist to the Albanians. She knew that as soon as the girls began working for Krause
’
s businesses, Zogu would be paid many times his initial outlay for bringing them from Albania. Then Genta could cut back her hairdressing schedule and stay home, perhaps fulltime, until their children went to school.

He was pleased with the reports he was getting from her each night. For the past five days, Genta and her friends had gone each morning to the motel and spent whole days with the girls in what sounded like a quicker version of the makeover shows they
’
d watched together on TV. What were those shows called? The Fattest Loser? Big American Booty Camp?

The Albanian girls weren
’
t all fat, however. Most were slim, bordering on skinny, as if they hadn
’
t routinely gotten enough to eat in Tirana. A couple of them were a bit pudgy, but nothing like the extremely large American girls he
’
d sometimes see strolling with their chubby kids in the mall. The problem was more that the Albanian girls didn
’
t know how to fix their hair, make up their faces or dress in clothes that were cheap, but stylish and flattering.

Genta, who
’
d grown up in Houston, had mastered all of those womanly arts, he thought proudly. Still, what could she accomplish in a week or so before Krause and his girlfriend demanded to inspect the girls?

He walked in laden with packages to one of the three rooms he
’
d visited a few days ago. Right away, he could see amazing changes. The room was neat and smelled clean, instead of encrusted with stale smoke from cigarettes. Genta hated smoking and had banned it from the rooms. There were no clothes piled carelessly in the corner like last time. He could see duffle bags stacked neatly in the closet and the beds were made.

Genta was trimming the hair of a girl sitting in a chair in front of the double mirror and sink outside the toilet room. It was Leka, with softer blonde hair and well-defined eyebrows. His wife had banished the brassy frizz and the awful unibrow. Leka looked almost pretty.

She squealed with delight when she saw Zogu, as did three other girls watching TV from the beds. Genta looked happy to see him, but reproved the girls for their rowdy greeting.

“
Ladies, don
’
t scream. Say hello in a polite, nice voice,
”
she said in a mixture of English and Albanian she
’
d learned at home. They looked at the disgusted expression on her face and instantly complied.

“
Hello, Zogu,
”
they chorused in English, in well-modulated voices.

Zogu beamed fondly at Genta. He put the groceries on the counter of the kitchenette. Two of the girls jumped up to inspect the contents. They looked disappointed when they pulled out cottage cheese and carrot sticks.

“
No cereal or ice cream?
”
Ardita, one of the girls he
’
d met last week, said with a pouty face.