West of Laredo by Tom Armbruster (novel24 .txt) 📖

Eagle Pass and Del Rio, Texas. There he meets with everybody on the list. In their hotels, cars, on the street, wherever. He tells them what to say to El Mecanico. He shows them El Mecanico's picture so they won't talk to anyone else. He takes the money. If his clients don't have the money he is supposed to put an "X" next to their name. But that never happens. They always have the money, and he always gets to keep 5%. It's a great job.


Pickert looks at his cellmate. A big Mexican. He'll make friends with him later. Maybe buy him some cigarettes, whatever he wants. But back to the problem. This time, El Mecanico said no, he wasn't giving Darell the list, and nothing Darrell Pickert aka Darrell Marker said could change it. So Darrell went to Boy's Town, got drunk, got laid a couple times, there was even a young boy who was cuter than most of the girls. A little tempting... Then he got picked up by the policia and to make matters worse, for no reason they took a swing at him and connected behind his left ear. Talk about a bad day.


Pickert thinks back to the interview with the girl from the Consulate, the blonde. He had figured then, 95% sure, that she wasn't in on the visa scam. But just in case, he dropped El Mecanico's name. She didn't bite. Better to go back to the cell, get some sleep. Hopefully, get out in a couple of days and go back to work. Pickert was noticing more foreigners too, and they were all $10,000 customers.


All those thoughts. Pickert realizes he'd ignored his cellmate. Oh well, maybe it's better to lie low, keep quiet.

But the real problem is that Pickert has no idea that he had become the Zeta's prime target. They were taking over the visa operation from Los Tecos, and Darrell Pickert was to be replaced by a Zeta. The big Mexican man opposite Pickert stirs. Pickert smiles but the smile soon dissolves. The big man is stepping up to his cot. Pickert doesn't have time to even sit up. The man picks him up like a duffel bag. Lifts him. Drops him on the cement. Pickert sees a big boot coming to his head. He shuts his eyes. His brain instantly tries to rearrange the new information. And then the boot brings an explosion of light.


*6*


Marker was a little fish swimming with big sharks. We didn't really put two and two together and link him with the visa scam because the Mexican cartel, whichever one it was, did a good job of coming up with a cover story. 　They said he punched a Mexicana in the bar in Boys Town. Said he urinated on fellow inmates, basically their story and his own visage as a complete loser fit the profile of a lot of Americans who end up on the border at the end of their rope. He was almost invisible, no friends, nobody came to claim the body and the Consulate could find no next of kin since he gave an alias. He ended up buried in a common grave on the Mexican side, until Penny had him exhumed. He was just a runner for the Zetas until Los Tecos took him out. Unless it was the other way around. In any case, Marker would become the key to my investigation and identify the American selling visas.


*7*


**


So we've got a gang war. It's not just about transit routes for drugs, it's everything. Who controls the Mayor, the Police, the press in Nuevo Laredo. Who bribes US Customs Agents, who ferries across illegals, and who gains control of visas coming out of the US Consulate. Visas are hot commodities. After most hits the triggerman needs to disappear into the US for awhile. Not because the Mexican police are after him, but because the other side wants to take revenge and they likely know where to find him in Mexico. So a visa was seen as a perk for the upper echelon narcos and assassins. In fact, visas were also seen as futures commodities, because the narcos were certain that terrorists would soon be in the market for American visas. So our investigation had plenty of help from the FBI in Laredo. And they were good. They knew, literally, where the bodies were buried and how they were killed. They had seen the change in the character of violence too. No more shots to the head, now it was all torture or massive firepower.


Killing Marker or Pickert or whatever his real name was was just part of the war. He was the intermediary between the Consulate and the narcos for the visas. He didn't know it, but he had one of the world's most dangerous jobs. If the narcos hadn’t gotten him, we would have, and instead of dead he’d be in an American jail.


**


Lee walks onto the courtyard as usual, but not in her barefeet as is her Saturday morning custom. J.O. ambles behind her. Lee is dressed and ready, but determined to give Isola his weekly shot of caffeine and fresh fruit. Lee runs through her checklist, keys, money, documents, satellite phone, water... Lee plans to chat quickly with Isola, then head north for an appointment with the Deputy Prison Warden about Marker's murder. She spots the birdbath first. It's in the middle of the patio. Too hot, Lee thinks, the birds will need shade. I'll fix it later. Instead of Isola there is a good looking young man in his 20's, clean shaven, no shirt. A darker brown than most of the Mexicans she knows. Oh yea, the cunado, the cousin. Lee decides to skip the Spanish class, introduces herself and says she'll be gone all day. He's young enough to know MTV English. His eyes are green, he has a good smile. Says his name is Usman.


"Usman. Nice to meet you. Will you let J.O. in before you leave today? He likes to lay in the shade and watch you work."

"My pleasure. I hope the birds like the bath."

“In this heat, I’d like the bird bath,” Lee says.


Lee walks to her car, dumps out the water from an old ice tea, adjusts the seat and drives off. "Damn." She hits the steering wheel, realizing she had not paid Usman for the birdbath. She thinks about going back and decides she'd better not. She'll tip him later. Everybody on the border with real jobs lives paycheck to paycheck.


She's picking up Sinclair, the retired guy on contract, on the U.S. side, then driving up Rt. 277 through Carizo Springs and Eagle Pass to Del Rio, then crossing back over to Mexico and Piedras Negras. A little longer ride on the U.S. side, but better places to stop for Sinclair's coffee. About the same timewise.


Sinclair is waiting in secondary on the U.S. side where Customs officials pull over suspect vehicles. Two coffees, one black and one with cream and sugar already in hand. He knows every port official in Laredo and can park at Customs and walk onto the inspection area. He gets in without a word. Lee's frustration over Marker's death is evident but Sinclair waits for Lee to express it.

"I made three big mistakes. One, I did not insist he go into isolation. Two, I did not get the names of the guys he fought with in the cell. And three I didn't get next of kin. Three big mistakes. If I was the State Department I would not tenure Junior Officer Lee Penny. I'd send her to the passport office for life. I probably should have listened more too, rather than just blabbing on and on as usual." Lee throws back a strand of blonde hair. "Like I am now."


Dick Sinclair runs his hand through his white hair. His blue eyes haven't changed expression from when he got in the car. Ready for a new adventure and doing what he clearly loves. "Hmm. So you pretty much killed what's his name?"

"Marker."

"Marker. Yea, let's see. Did you accompany Marker to Boy's Town?"

"No."

"Did you tell him to hit the lady in the bar?"

"No."

"Did you tell him to pee on his cellmates?"

"No."

"And did you kick him in the head when he went through the same routine a week later?"

"No."

"Yea, I'd pretty much say you killed him."


Lee smiles. Sinclair has seen it all. He says Americans come to Nuevo Laredo with the express purpose of dying. He's seen drug overdoses, murders, suicides, deaths in the desert. Violent, untimely death is a constant on the border. He was called in from retirement when the drug war was just heating up. Now that it's in full swing, his services are doubly needed.


"What would Gretchen Smith do?" Lee asks. "You know I'm in this business because she came to Northmount High School and told us that the State Department's number one priority is the safety of American citizens. She talked about evacuating Americans from Beirut under fire and sticking up for Americans in every part of the globe. She had passion and she would do anything for an American in trouble. I don't think I'm following in that grand tradition."


"Yea. And where is Gretchen now? Out, because she wasn't tough enough on terrorists. I'll tell you, in this business it's a joy to represent the USA. The only downside is working for the USG. You'll understand that when