CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Harry Kincaid stepped out of the Café Combate while Pete Von Karmenn settled up with the woman sitting behind the till. He walked over to his rental car and stood in the shade of the Acacia trees. He retrieved his cell phone from the back pocket of his jeans and hit the speed dial number for Bobby Lawson.
“Hola, Señor,” Lawson answered, “Como estas?”
Harry answered in English, “I’m fine but how are you after flying all night?”
“It really wasn’t bad at all,” he said. “Annie was a real trooper. You can tell that she’s Wild Bill Wilcox’s kid. She sat right up front and paid attention the whole way. We stopped in Little Rock to refuel and got back to DCA around seven. I drove her straight to work.”
“I think you’ve got a keeper there, Roberto,” Harry said. “Don’t blow it.”
“You are telling me not to blow a relationship with a woman?” Bobby asked.
“Okay, let’s move on,” Kincaid suggested. Further discussion of him and his love life would not prove either productive or entertaining. “Look, I need you to get me a rundown on someone. We’ve come across an American down here who is procuring arms for al Qaeda, or one of its cells. Get in touch with your contacts at the FBI, or anyone else you can think of. Find out all you can about a Farooq Aziz. All we know is that he is American and he’s down here working between Colombia and Hermosillo.”
“I’ll get right on it,” Bobby said. “Can I call you back on your cell? Or do you want to get back to me?”
“I’ll get back to you in a couple of hours. We’ve got some scouting around to do here.” Harry ended the call and motioned Sanchez and Von Karmenn over to his car. He had Miguel ride up front and Von Karmenn in the back. He turned to Sanchez. “I’ll bring you back for your car when we’re finished. Now, how do I get to Lobo’s place?”
Sanchez directed Kincaid back onto Highway 15, the same road that had brought him to Hermosillo. Again, he headed south and drove for several miles.
“Turn left on Libertad, Señor. It is the next intersection,” Sanchez directed. They drove through a residential district of modest homes, then right onto Templo Mayor, a road leading toward an industrial park that backed up to the foothills that bordered the southern edge of town. They entered the park and turned onto Calle Linda proceeding east, passing several warehouses.
“It is the third building on the left,” Miguel said. “Do not slow down or stop, please.” Harry and Pete took note of the building as they passed by, then made a left turn at the next intersection, and another, to see if they could view the rear of the building. It was a very plain looking structure lending no hint as to the business or activities that it housed. There was a loading dock in the rear with a rolling metal garage door that would accommodate one vehicle. There was another single metal door beside it. Those, along with the front entrance, a single glass door, were the only entries or exits in the building.
“Okay, Miguel,” Kincaid said, “that’s all we need.” He backtracked their route and within fifteen minutes was once again pulling into the gravel lot of Café Combate.
Kincaid parked the Honda under the same Acacia trees he had left almost an hour earlier. All three men got out of the car. Kincaid turned to Miguel. “I will call Lopez tomorrow morning as was agreed. We are to meet with Lobo. Would you expect us to meet at the office?”
“No, Señor,” answered Sanchez. “It is unlikely. They will probably meet you in some other location. Capitán Lopez thinks that no one in our office knows what he is doing with el Lobo. But everyone does,” he smiled. “He will probably suggest La Hacienda. It is a small hotel on avenida de la Huerta, near the university.”
“Do you expect to be with him?” Kincaid asked.
“No, Señor,” Sanchez answered. “When el Lobo is involved, I am never included.”
“Okay, Miguel,” said Harry. “You’ve been helpful.”
The Mexican nodded his thanks. Von Karmenn looked over at Sanchez. “You’ve got one more job to do for me, Miguel,” he said.
“Si, Don Pedro,” I tell you I help.
“And you have. But this is the most important of all, Miguel.” Pete continued to look Sanchez straight in the eyes.
“Si? What is it, mi amigo?”
“Find out where Aziz will be tomorrow night,” Pete said.
Again Sanchez nodded. “I think I know already, Don Pedro. Lobo told my Capitán that Aziz has taken up with a whore that Lobo gave to him. She was a gift to Aziz, a token of their friendship. Lobo told my Capitán that Aziz has made her his slave.”
“Do you know where he keeps her?” asked Pete.
“Si, Don Pedro. This I also hear on the phone when Lobo talk to my Capitán,” he said.
“How would you like to move your family to the United States, Miguel?” Pete asked.
Miguel Sanchez looked at Von Karmenn with eyes wide, “It can happen, Don Pedro? It can happen?”
“Find out where Aziz will be tomorrow night for sure, Miguel. It can happen,” he answered.
Sanchez looked over at Kincaid who nodded a ‘yes.’ He stepped away and got in his dusty Subaru. He started the engine and slowly drove toward the exit of the lot. He rolled down his window when he was near Kincaid and Von Karmenn. “Be careful, mis amigos,” he cautioned. “These men are very dangerous.”
The two nodded to Sanchez and watched him move out onto the highway and accelerate back into town.
“What’s the plan, Harry?” Von Karmenn asked.
“First, let’s get out of this heat,” he said. “Shall we go back inside the café or have you got a better idea?
Pete checked his watch. “It’s lunch time. Let’s go back inside for a taco.”
“There’s no one here, Pete. Do you think the food’s okay?” Kincaid asked.
“How bad can it be?” he answered as they stepped back inside.
The square box fan was still doing its best to keep the small room cool. The woman who had been sitting behind the counter came out from the kitchen as the two reached their table. She came back over and asked, “What can I get for you?”
Von Karmenn spoke up, “dos tacos con frijoles y arroz. Y Coca Light.” Two tacos with beans and rice.
Kincaid nodded, “lo mismo para mi,” he said. The same for me.
She nodded and stepped back into the kitchen.
Kincaid looked over at Pete Von Karmenn. “You know we’ve got to take these guys out, don’t you? All three of them.” he said.
“Yeah,” he answered. “I don’t see any other way around it.”
“Why would we want another way around it, Pete?” he asked. “These guys are pond scum. They are flooding our country with drugs, and that’s the good part. This connection to Islamic terrorists and the plan to funnel them through our Swiss cheese borders strikes me as a big incentive. You and I can’t put an end to it. But we can at least put a crimp in their schedule.”
“I agree completely, Kincaid,” said Pete. “We’ve got a sweet opportunity here.”
Their conversation was interrupted as the woman stepped up to offer two plates. She set them down, one in front of each of her guests and cautioned, “Muy caliente.” She returned momentarily with some utensils and two more Coca Lights.
They suspended talk of their plan while they ate lunch. They were quiet for several minutes, seeming to enjoy the food. It was Kincaid who broke the silence.
“Mind if I ask you a question, Pete?”
“Fire away,” he said.
“This is really none of my business and it doesn’t have anything to do with the operation, but… I’m curious...”
“You want to know about Carol,” he said, anticipating the question.
“Like I said, it’s not any of my business.”
Pete set his fork down in his plate. He leaned back in his chair, contemplating what he was about to say. He looked his old friend in the eye. “She’s been cheating on me, Harry.” He paused. “With Hastings. I kind of saw sparks flyi
ng between them when we met several times after I helped him form Talon.”
“You’re sure, I guess?” Harry asked.
“One night I was piddling around in our office at home. We each have a desk with our laptops in there. It was late and she had already gone to bed. I was downloading a huge file to my machine so I fired hers up to look for a flight. She saves all her passwords so she doesn’t have to enter them when she goes online. Her laptop booted up to her hotmail homepage and I saw a couple of emails from Hastings.”
“Geez…”
“Yeah. Pretty stupid, huh?” he asked. “I read them. They were pretty explicit as to what was going on. So, I forwarded them to myself in case I ever needed them in court.”
“Did you confront her with it?” Kincaid asked.
“No. I left the next day to come down here,” he answered.
Kincaid watched Pete trying to detect anger, resentment, bitterness. He saw all three. “That sucks, pal. I mean… that really sucks,” he said.
“I thought it was odd that Hastings never told me he owns Mesquite. Why would he not tell me that? It’s not like I care that he does.” Pete paused for Harry to respond.
“I don’t know. With Sluggo Decker there, you were sure to find out.”
“So, think about it, Harry. I come down here and make this deal to sell a bunch of Hastings’ guns which I didn’t know were his until Sanchez mentions it in conversation. That night, my motel room gets bombed and to all the world it looks like Pete Von Karmenn is history.”
Kincaid had finished eating and was watching Pete, listening closely.
“So, my so called business partner is boinking my wife... I make him a pile of money by closing the deal and someone serves me a Molotov cocktail. What would you think?” Pete asked.
“I see your point,” Harry said. “So, she thinks you’re dead and thinks Hastings is holding out on her with the insurance money?”
“Who knows?” he answered. “It’s hard even thinking that she might have wanted to cash in like that.”
“It’s bound to be,” Harry said. “Have you thought about how this is all gonna shake out? I mean, with you and Carol. You know part of what I’m down here for is to find the murderer of the woman that landed Hastings in jail. When I do, he’ll be right back where he was as if nothing ever happened.”
“You know, Kincaid, right now we’ve got a job to do. And unless I’m reading this all wrong, it’s not going to be easy. I’m not thinking about anything other than you and me taking care of business.”
Kincaid smiled. “It’s good to be working with you again, Pete. You’re a pro. C’mon, let’s get out of here.”