The Jaguar (20 page)

Carlos had been deep in conversation with the hotel manager. Seeing the others return from the sand, he sauntered down the steps from the main bar area. “Perhaps,” Carlos suggested to Marcus, “now would be a good time to discuss our plans for the next few days?”

“Certainly,” Marcus concurred. “We're not all present, but I'm happy to fill in the details for the others, later on.

Carlos called over a waiter, who re-arranged the tables and chairs. Laura collected Cesar and David. Once everyone had gathered around, Carlos began.

“The first thing to tell you is that we have a slight change of plan.”

“The coast road is closed further south, due to flooding,” Laura interjected automatically, as the memory of what she had been told by the Mexican couple recaptured her attention. Marcus looked at her in surprise.

“Indeed. That is why we have brought the canoes here. We had intended to drive yesterday down to Puerto Allen and arrange for them to be towed up river to your first campsite, but this is no longer possible. Tomorrow my staff will precede you through the jungle, carrying the boats to the lakeside from another direction.”

Marcus raised his eyebrows.

“Don't worry. There is a boardwalk trail most of the way, so it is not as difficult as it sounds.”

“So where will we be starting,” Felicity enquired.

“We will travel south of Tulum Town, on the road towards the border with Belize. There, well away from the main tourist sites, is a complex of ruins called Muyil. For hundreds of years, during the Mayan period, it was a great trading city on the edge of the marshes. It was Muyil, not Tulum, which was the main port for the Kingdom of Coba. The Mayans dug a whole series of canals to connect a line of lagoons along the coast. Goods like jade, obsidian, chocolate, honey, salt and chewing gum were carried in each direction. It was once the main hub between the peoples of the Gulf of Mexico and the Caribbean. Now it is just a home for nature.”

“Do we camp in the jungle?” asked Hannah.

“By a lake, on the other side of the jungle - it is very clean and clear and a good place to swim. You can fish and we have permission to cook on open fires, provided we carry in our own timber. Perhaps I could show everybody the area on the map?” Carlos looked at Marcus, who seemed a little thrown by the request.

“I'm afraid I'm not sure where the map has got to, at the moment.”

“I found it,” David revealed. “It had blown into the dune. You must have left it outside. I'll go and get it now.”

Marcus was sure David gave him the slightest of knowingly glances, as he hurried away.

There is a moment in the tropics, an hour or so before sunset, when heat no longer piles upon heat and the mood of the day changes. The sea ceases to exhale upon the shore and nature holds its breath. Humidity rises and those still active become listless and lame. Minds empty, conversations labour, and plans are put on hold. Everybody quickly lost interest in the map. Felicity noticed she was nursing a headache, Ethan forgot he intended to shower, and Hannah failed to interest anyone in a game of cards.

Then the mood swings again. The light grows richer and begins to weaken. Colours break free from the beam, objects swell, and shadows creep up on the back of the day. Moisture seeks to return to the ocean and the heavy air settles each wave. The world sits in balance, thoughts find fertile ground, and senses sharpen to hold on to what they reveal. Marcus realised he was in love with Dana, Laura remembered the postcard she must write to her father, and David relived a stolen moment upon a distant shore with Culjinder.

As the air began its slow reverse people were caught, one by one, in the stream. Flick and Ethan headed for sunbeds, one to read, the other to listen to music. Laura sat and wrote by the newly laid bonfire. David, Cesar and Marcus went for a swim. Hannah and Lloyd accosted three local children, including the pair Laura had encountered earlier, and were soon dodging and diving through an improvised game of tag.

By the time the Morgans and the Tanners hailed their return, the beach was awash with shouts and screams, as a roughly formatted international football friendly kicked up the spray and the sand. David volunteered to keep goal for the home team and, wet from a mixture of swim and sweat, stood caked in grit between posts fashioned from the two canoes. Felicity picked up the ball and ran, only to find herself dunked in the sea by a gaggle of young Mexicans. Marcus scooped up both Flick and the ball, throwing the latter to Lloyd, who sped down the beach to score and celebrate loudly. The competition roamed up and down in varying degrees of chaos, until half the players lay exhausted and the sun began its final act of the day.

There is something in a sunset, David mused, as the football slid between his posts, which brings scale to the sky. It's like sitting in front of an orchestra. As the music flows from section to section, so the sun conducts the ensemble of assorted clouds, group by group. Fire yellows and oranges lick and spread across each horizontal stratum, fading to corn and cream at the farthest extremes. A scarlet crescendo consumes the core. An afterglow of pink and then purple marks the slow diminuendo into night.

David slumped to his knees, gasping for breath, his hands raised in surrender like a Mayan priest appealing for the sun's safe passage through the underworld. A shower and fresh clothing could wait no longer.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Rochas Blancas to Chihuahua

There was a loud hammering at the door. Then it opened. Gennaro stood, breathless, in the frame.

“Eusabio has betrayed us: your father is dead.”

Luis was too stunned to answer or to think. He reached out blindly for support. Gennaro grasped his arm and led him back inside.

“That bastard!” Gennaro's neck and cheeks had turned crimson with rage and he almost spat out his words. “It should have been me who looked after Don Paulo, but he would not have it. He told me I'd be bored and that I was needed in the north. He said that you were a businessman, not a fighter, and that your brother was too much of a hothead. Eusabio took it easy with the old man in the sun, biding his time. As soon as Paulo retired, he must have sensed our weakness and awaited his opportunity.”

“How do you know it was him?” Luis could feel himself shaking, and slumped into a seat.

“We're still not short of allies in Juarez. Your father was going to meet Jorge Garcia. Eusabio tried to kill him before he got to your papa, but Jorge escaped and warned our men. They've secured our hotel and are waiting for word from you.” Gennaro emphasised the last word, gazing loyally at his new boss.

Luis used pain to focus his concentration then spoke slowly and carefully. “I know where Eusabio will be now: on his way to Chihuahua. He hasn't got the manpower to hold out in Juarez. He's always liked the ranch and he was there recently, on his way to check our crops. I wouldn't be surprised if he was also making arrangements for a takeover. He'll make Rancho Morales his base and try to set himself up as a supplier. It's an easy place to defend, as he knows the lie of the land. It also makes sense because of the airstrip, as he's a pilot. If anything goes wrong he can use that to escape.”

“So how do we stop him, Luis?”

“You don't - that part's up to me. I can't imagine he's been able to persuade many of our men to change sides. He doesn't know them well enough and I doubt he has the money for bribes. Fighting his way past our guards should slow him down. Give me two trucks and half a dozen people. I can be there in three hours. Get everyone else back to Jaurez, as soon as possible. You need to check every factory, every safe house and every family that owes us allegiance. Accept nothing but total loyalty. Kill anyone who betrays us. That will upset the police, but we can deal with them later.”

Gennaro was half out of the room when he turned and looked back at Luis, who sat grimly clinging to the arms of his chair. “You know, Luis, I thought I had lost Don Paulo, but I hear him still in you. You have his strength. When I talk with you it is like talking with your father twenty years ago. Now you have that scar on your face, you even look the part.” He gave Luis an appreciative and slightly sad smile. “When this is over, you will not need me anymore.”

Gennaro's words echoed beyond his departure. This was not at all Luis' intended plan. He did not want to be his father. He was not the man that Gennaro now saw. He thought of Alex and of their life together in El Paso. Where was she now? He should call her, but had no idea what to say. Trapped on the wrong side of the border, he didn't know how to get home.

As Luis drove out of Rochas Blancas an hour later, he watched the figures disappearing behind him on the main street. These were ordinary people doing their best to lead decent lives. Luis wondered what punishment would be extracted by Xterra. Las Contadonas had brought war to their town. Some people might see them as heroes, but that view would change now they had been abandoned. And when the call came for help again, what would he, Luis, decide? Already he knew the answer, but he didn't want to admit it, even to himself. Doing so would be a step towards accepting that Gennaro's view of him was true.

The route became more circuitous, the land that bit richer and green, and it was beginning to rain. They would soon be at the turn for the estancia. Luis radioed the other truck, told it to hold back then drove slowly past the junction. Nothing caught his attention. A double line of cypress trees stretched up through recently ploughed fields towards the eucalyptus plantation that shielded the main complex of buildings from view. Luis gestured to his driver to turn around. He called again: they would meet up on the tree-line, but each truck should keep its distance from the other, in case of ambush.

Luis dismounted and marched into the wood. From the furthest corner he had a clear view of the gatehouse, a few hundred yards further down the track. There was a tractor in one of the fields and Luis could make out a familiar farmworker chatting with one of the guards, nearby. This doesn't make sense, Luis thought to himself. Where else would Eusabio have gone? He turned and hurried back to the others.

“Get your weapons ready.” There was a bustle of activity and the sound of gun chambers filling. Both trucks broke cover together, speeding down the open slope to the checkpoint. Figures turned towards them, but there was no sense of tension or panic. Slowing down as they approached, Luis shouted ahead through an open window.

“Have you seen Eusabio?”

Both guards shook their heads. The farmworker waved and hailed a greeting. Luis walked forward, followed by three others, his right hand automatically fingering the gun in his breast pocket. He needn't have bothered. A guard beamed at him and shook his other hand vigorously.

“Welcome, Senor Luis. Welcome home. We were not expecting you?”

“Just a passing visit. Who is up at the house?”

“Only the caretaker and his family. We were so sorry to hear about your uncle. How is your father?”

Luis said nothing: he had no idea what to say, or what to think, or how to feel. In all his life he had never felt so alone, or so in need of someone else to explain what was going on. He looked out towards the hill where his mother had died. He remembered the shock of her passing as if it had happened that morning. He could sense the emotional chaos that she had left, like gas churning beneath a marsh. It was beginning to rise and Luis knew he was in danger of losing control. He thought of Alex again, and he thought of his brother. Then he was relieved to feel anger. He addressed the two guards.

“I want you to get in touch with anyone in this area who has ever worked for us. Talk with our farmers too and anyone else who owes us a debt. Offer them money. Get them here and get them armed. In the morning some will stay to guard the ranch and airstrip, and some will come with me back to Juarez. Eusabio has betrayed our family and there are others who may take advantage of his treachery. Gennaro will be waiting.”

“What about Alfredo?”

“He is on his way home. Together we will destroy those who dare oppose us.” Luis leered at his tiny audience. Well aware what he must look like, at that moment he didn't care: hate and revenge were pain-free.

Once settled at the house, Luis tore at the steak the caretaker's wife had hastily prepared. In need of distraction, he turned on the giant wall-mounted plasma T.V. Doubt and curiosity drove him to scan the channels for local news. To his surprise, for the first time in several years, his family featured in an in-depth crime report:

“
Police confirm that Felipe Contadona, younger brother of Paulo Contadona, long suspected of engineering much of the drugs and narcotics trade through the central border region, has been killed in prison. Officials believe that fighting between rival gangs at the high security jail outside the small border settlement of Rochas Blancas was to blame for his death, although no suspects have been arrested so far. Felipe was convicted of a series of extortion and money laundering offences last year. He was also implicated in the assassination of several prominent citizens over a ten year period prior to his arrest, although charges were later dropped for lack of witness testimony. However, some relatives of the dead believe Felipe was able to do a deal with state officials: giving himself up to police and admitting to lesser charges in order to avoid a murder rap. It is thought that this incident may lead to increased tension on the streets of Ciudad Juarez and elsewhere. Police say they are monitoring the situation. Chihuahua state officials add that there is currently no need to involve Federal forces, although these would be made available, if required.

Unusually, Felipe Contadona's death has drawn comment from customs officials in the US. They have warned against another period of border instability, claiming that current uncertainty and security fears may harm trade and investor confidence in the region. The US Border Agency are stepping up vehicle checks in and around Juarez and report that they have already made several arrests related to both wanted felons and smuggled goods
. Meanwhile cross-border commuters are left in limbo, unsure both for how long they will have to queue and whether they will be safe, once they have done so.”