The Mexico Run (14 page)

    Angel, of course, was not going to like it. I didn't like it too much myself. It seemed to be at the moment, however, about the only safe way out.

    I found some Mercurochrome in the bathroom and painted the whip marks across her back. I examined her breasts. Her right nipple was badly torn, but it didn't seem infected. I put Mercurochrome and bandages on it, and then she dressed, and we went down and had dinner in the cocktail lounge. We had been back in our room less than an hour when the telephone call came.

    The conversation was brief. The rendezvous was set for the following Saturday night at eleven o'clock. A half an hour later, Angel Cortillo called and said that it looked as though the weather on Saturday night would be clear, and there were no predictions for heavy winds.

    I half expected to be hearing from Captain Morales during those next few days, but there were no messages from him, and he failed to show up at La Casa Pacifica.

    

    

    The next three days we stuck very close to the Casa Pacifica, not going into Ensenada. Sharon spent several hours each day at the beach, and I could see that she was growing restless and bored. I was restless, but I wasn't bored.

    After lunch on Saturday, I took Sharon back to the room and talked to her.

    "Tonight we are leaving here," I told her. "We are not checking out, and you're going to leave your suitcase and everything except the clothes you are wearing. We are driving back to that cove that we visited when we went on a picnic last week.

    "Now you're not going to like it, but you're going to do exactly what I tell you to do. We won't be taking the Jaguar; we'll be taking a jeep. I'm going to leave you at the cove alone for approximately one hour. You are to stay absolutely still. Don't wander off. Don't go, anywhere. Make no noise at all. Nobody will bother you. I will come back at the end of an hour, and then we're going to drive down to the beach, and there will be a boat waiting there, and you're going to get in the boat and you're going to board a fishing-vessel. The fishing-boat is owned by a friend of mine. You're going to stay concealed on that boat for the next thirty-six to forty-eight hours. That boat will then go north and cross into United States waters where it will be met by another boat which I will be aboard and to which you will transfer."

    She started to interrupt, and I told her to shut up and just listen.

    "We will then go into San Diego, and I'm going to put you personally on a Greyhound bus, and you're going to have a ticket as far as San Francisco. I will give you the address of a motel off Fisherman's Wharf, and you are to take a taxi when you arrive and go there and check in under your own name. You will stay there and wait for me, and I will meet you in another day or two."

    "You mean, then, that I can stay with you?"

    I nodded. "If you do exactly as I say, make no trouble, cause no difficulty. Yes."

    She suddenly stood up and crossed over and threw herself on my lap, putting her arms around me and kissing me on the mouth.

    "Then you do like me," she said. "I thought, after these last few days, when you haven't wanted me, well, I guess I just thought that you didn't want me at all any more."

    "I want you enough," I said, "but I just don't want you in Mexico. I'll want you when you're back in the United States and when I'm back in the United States. Let's just let it go at that."

    She leaned back and smiled. "Don't you want me now at all?" she asked.

    It was a little bit of an effort, but I stood up. "We'll wait until you're in San Francisco. Now are you willing to do what I tell you?"

    She looked up, nodded dumbly.

    "And one thing more. Don't give any indication to anyone around here that you are planning to leave. It would screw everything up."

    "I'd like to take my clothes. Anyway, my new bathrobe," she said.

    "You are taking nothing but what you're wearing. Get it through your head. Nothing."

    She pouted. "Then you'll buy me some clothes when we get to San Francisco?"

    I looked at her and smiled. "Yes, I'll buy you some clothes."

    

    

    At eight o'clock that evening I drove the Jag into Ensenada and parked it at the end of the dock. I walked over to the four-wheel-drive jeep which was parked in the lot and found the key under the front floor mat, where Angel Cortillo had told me he would leave it. I carefully checked the gas and water and then drove back to La Casa Pacifica.

    At eight-thirty, accompanied by Sharon, I again left La Casa Pacifica. Billings was at the desk as we departed and he nodded, saying nothing. A moment later, I had stepped on the starter of the jeep, and we drove through the gates of the patio and headed for Highway 2. I checked my wristwatch.

    We had enough time, but little left over to spare.

    I was tempted for a moment to take Sharon with me when I kept the rendezvous on the mountain road leading into the Mission de Santo Domingo, but then I thought better of it. I had told them that I would be arriving alone and I wanted to take no chances of upsetting them.

    When we reached the turnoff which I had taken the previous week to find our isolated cove, I dimmed my lights going through the small village. A few minutes later I pulled up in the abandoned courtyard of the old adobe ranchhouse.

    I took off my money-belt and carefully placed it under the floor mat, next to the driver's seat. I took the.45 calibre automatic from the shoulder holster and checked it to see that it was fully loaded.

    Sharon had already stepped to the ground and she half whimpered as I stood beside her.

    "I'm frightened," she said. "Can't I come with you?"

    "There's nothing to be frightened of," I said. "No one is here, no one knows you are here, no one will find you here, no one will hurt you. I will be back within an hour. Now you must promise me, don't move, don't go anywhere, make no noise at all."

    She nodded, but didn't speak. I kissed her then and held her arm as I walked her over to the side of the wall.

    "Just sit here and wait," I said. "I will be no longer than I can help. There is nothing to be afraid of. I will be back."

    She squeezed my hand, and I thought for a moment she was going to cry. But then she let me go, and I returned to the jeep and started back toward the highway.

    At exactly three minutes to eleven by the luminous dial of my wristwatch I pulled into the narrow place off the road where Juan and I had agreed to make our meet.

    I had passed no other car on either the road south or on the turnoff road. There was no car waiting for me when I got there.

    I cut my light and took a cigarette from a crumpled pack in my breast pocket, but I didn't light it. I took the gun out of the shoulder holster and shoved it in my belt and buttoned my jacket over it. I really wasn't too worried.

    This was not a one-shot operation. The type of men with whom I was dealing would be more anxious for a continuing operation which would show future profits, rather than a quick highjack of a few thousand dollars. My big concern was whether they would show up on schedule.

    I was sure that Angel was already safely anchored in the cove not far from where I had left Sharon, and I didn't want to keep him waiting too long. I knew that he had come in just before the peak of the tide, and he had told me that he thought it was quite possible that he could get out again safely if he could leave no later than one-thirty in the morning.

    He was not anxious to lay over for a second high tide.

    My eye again went to my watch, and ten minutes had passed. I was beginning to get slightly nervous. I started the engine of the jeep and carefully backed the car around until I was again facing the. direction from which I'd arrived. I cut the engine and turned off the lights.

    Moments later, I heard the sound of a car engine off in the distance. It was coming from the direction of the mission.

    I started the engine again, but I didn't turn on the lights. I wanted to be very sure that it was a truck that was arriving and not a sedan or some other type of vehicle. If it wasn't a truck, and it began to slow down and stop, I wanted to be prepared to make as quick a getaway as possible.

    The sound of the engine grew louder, and a moment later I saw the reflection of a pair of headlights in the distance. I waited tensely.

    Two minutes later a recent-model Chevrolet pickup pulled off the road and parked beside me. There were two men in the cab. The driver cut his headlights, and as he did I picked up the flashlight from the seat beside me and flicked it on. I called out as I lifted the light.

    "Juan?"

    "Turn off the light, senor."

    I cut the light, but I had had time to spot Juan behind the wheel of the pickup truck. I'd been unable to distinguish the face of the man next to him.

    Juan opened the door and stepped to the ground. He was joined by the second man.

    It took me less than fifteen minutes to make my examination and determine that everything was kosher. I then reached into the jeep and retrieved the money-belt from under the floor mat. I held the flashlight steady as they counted out the bills. No words were spoken at any time.

    The man beside Juan did the counting, and when he was through he grunted.

    "All in order," he said. "We will transfer the cargo and you can leave first. We will follow after a while."

    I nodded and ten minutes later climbed back into the jeep and started the engine. It had gone almost too smoothly.

    I was pretty keyed up, so I drove very carefully coming down the mountains until I hit the main highway. I just hoped that my luck would hold out and that I would pass no other cars.

    Heading north, I again came to the turnoff toward the cove and I began to breath more easily.

    My luck was still with me as I drove past the scattered shacks of the small town. A couple of windows showed dim lights, but the place was quiet and, apparently pretty much asleep.

    I continued on, and a few minutes later my headlights picked up the deserted adobe ranchhouse. I pulled into the yard and climbed to the ground.

    I started walking toward the spot where I'd left Sharon, when the headlights of the car which had pulled up to the far side of the yard were suddenly switched on, holding me frozen as I was silhouetted in their glare.

    My hand was reaching for the gun on my shoulder, when the voice suddenly arrested my movement.

    "Hold it just as you are, Senor Johns. Don't make a move. You have a machine-gun trained on you."

    As he stopped speaking, Captain Hernando Morales stepped into the glare of the headlights, approaching me. He was smiling. His hands were empty.

    "Do not be alarmed, Senor Johns," he said. "This is not what you may think it is. I am not here to cause you any trouble. I just wanted to be very sure that you arrived safely with your cargo. After all, I have a stake in your welfare."

    I stared at him, saying nothing.

    "Yes, I just wanted to insure your safety, senor," he said. "And now that I know you are all right and prepared to get rid of your cargo on the beach, I will be leaving, and I am sure you will be happy to know that I am escorting the young senorita back to La Casa Pacifica so that you will not have to worry about her. You will have your hands full, I am sure, without bothering your head about anything else this evening."

    "And just where is the senorita now?" I asked, my voice frozen.

    "She is in my car with my chauffeur. She is in good hands. If you wish to say goodbye to her, please do so, as I must leave quickly."

    I walked over toward the headlights. Sharon was sitting next to the driver and she looked at me as I approached and half shrugged, half smiled. She apparently was not worried.

    I didn't have to think what to do. There was only one thing I could do. Get on about my night's work.

    Captain Morales had followed me to the police car.

    "The sea air is really not good for young ladies, senor," he said. "Anyway, we wanted to be sure that you would return. After all we are, in a way, business partners and I have to protect both of our interests. Please rest assured, however, no harm will come to the senorita while you are gone. If you are returning to La Casa Pacifica later this evening, which I gather you will be doing, then you may rest assured you will find her safe there."

    I looked at him then and returned his smile. "I will be returning, captain," I said. "And I am sure I will find her there safe. I appreciate your courtesy in escorting her back. Thank you. And now I had best be about my business."

    A moment later, the police car pulled out of the compound, and I headed back to the jeep. Captain Morales was smarter than I had given him credit for being. He had had no trouble at all in figuring out my every move. I wasn't as much worried as I was furious with myself for having played so beautifully into his hands.

    I jammed on the starter of the jeep and headed for the beach.

    An hour later I stood waist-deep in the water, pushing off the dinghy for the last time as Angel Cortillo prepared to row back to the anchored
Rosita Maria
with his final load. I waved goodbye to him in the moonlight as he started the outboard engine and ploughed through the heavy surf.

    Driving north a few minutes later on Route 2, I was tempted to stop off at the Casa Pacifica and check up on Sharon before going on into Ensenada, but then I changed my mind and went directly to the dock where I had left the XKE.

    Either the captain had kept his word and taken her safely back or he hadn't. There was little I could do about it in any case.