The Long Run, page 23
Gustavo glared at him. His cheeks puffed as he pursed his lips. Wariness. The survival mechanism of the street person. Trust nobody. Always look for the angle. What did that person have to gain? That was what Gustavo was doing. The look grated on Bang’s last nerve. Pretty quick it would snap. Gustavo’s lips parted into a smirking grin.
“I feel that,” he grinned. “Taking care of your homeboy.”
Bang shrugged. He wouldn’t divulge any information to this guy. Not yet anyway. He needed to give up some of his own information first.
“Israel Cortinas,” Gustavo said, breaking the silence. “He’s my homeboy too. Told me he trains here.”
“Small world. What about him?” Bang said, dropping any pretense of formality.
“FBI visited me this morning asking about him.”
Bang’s brow lifted in surprise.
“She’s been here too. Hasn’t she?” Gustavo said. “Yo, our boy is in trouble, and I’m looking for some help.”
Bang sucked his teeth. He didn’t know this guy from Adam. Could be any gangbanger off the street. He should turn his cholo ass out. But the comment about the FBI visit weakened his defenses. A female agent at that. And Israel was in trouble. Israel had been in the life. It made sense he would have a friend or two still inside.
“Let’s talk.”
Bang turned and strode to his office. Gustavo followed beside him, his head tilting left and right as he continued his reconnaissance. Bang closed the door and sat behind his desk. Gustavo stood with his back to the wall, facing the window. Being a gangster was exhausting. Always searching for threats. It reminded Bang why he got out.
“So,” Bang said, “what did she ask you?”
“Wanted to know where Izzy went.”
“Do you know?”
“Yeah. He’s in Mexico.” Gustavo delivered the news with a nonchalant glance. But it landed on Bang like a hammer blow.
“What? Why?” His conversation with Agent Dominguez flashed through his memory. She was trying to connect Israel to Sofia’s kidnapping. Bang had dismissed that possibility. But if Israel had followed her to Mexico, it made his involvement possible.
“I tried to tell him. But that fool wouldn’t listen.”
“Tell him what?” Bang said, frustrated by the non-reply.
“He’s trying to find her. Like he could rescue her his damn self.”
Bang’s jaw worked for a moment. “Rescue? From a cartel?”
“I know, right? It’s suicide.”
Suicide missions were the province of secret agents and commandos. The type of world beaters Bang paid fifteen bucks to watch in a theater while crunching ten-dollar popcorn. That shit didn’t happen in real life. What would drive Israel to do that? She was just his cousin. Why would…
“Is he in love with her?” he said.
“You didn’t know?”
The puzzle of Israel’s sudden disappearance pieced together in Bang’s mind. Israel’s sudden dash from the gym. The FBI agent stopping to ask questions. And now the cholo leaning against his wall. All thanks to a lovesick young man. It made little sense. Which convinced him it was true.
“Oh, that fucking pendejo!” Bang slammed his palm on the desktop. “What is his plan? How is he going to rescue her?”
“Just said he was gonna find her location and go from there,” Gustavo shrugged.
Bang bent forward with his head between his legs and inhaled a deep breath. “He’s going to get himself killed.”
“I gave him a number to a guy who could hook him up with some heat.”
“Heat? What… a gun?”
“Yeah. He ain’t defenseless. You feel me?”
“Oh, my God. He’s dead.” He imagined Israel face down in a dump surrounded by men in olive drab federales uniforms. Another discarded victim of the cartel. “Why are you telling me this?”
“I need some help.” He lifted his chin and met Bang’s gaze. Admitting that hadn’t been easy. Guys like Gustavo would rather chew glass than show weakness.
“With what?”
“I’m looking for a guy called Centavo. He’s got a connection in the cartel named Big Red. You know either of them?”
“Centavo and Big Red? They got human names?”
“¡Órale güey! That’s what I got! Big Red might be Sofia’s old man, but I ain’t sure.”
“Sofia’s boyfriend? Why are you looking for these guys?”
“Somebody is putting the feds on Izzy. Trying to pin the kidnapping on him. But they’re playing the Uno reverse card. Put the dogs off their scent.” Gustavo filled Bang in with the details of his meeting with Centavo and Israel. When he finished, Bang leaned back and sighed.
“Well, I don’t know either of those guys,” Bang said. “What if Big Red is Henry Carson? What can you do? You told the Agent. She should find him.”
“She ain’t gonna find shit. Guys like Big Red don’t drop breadcrumbs. And he damn sure ain’t gonna confess on his own. The fed is like every other cop. She’s got rules.”
“And we don’t? What are you suggesting?” Bang’s last arrest was over two decades ago. He had no interest in getting sideways with law enforcement. “If you want to work out your fists, buy a membership.”
“You think I could get within a hundred yards of that cracker? He’s rich. Proper. Look at me, man,” he said, spreading his arms like a game-show hostess. “You’re all cleaned up. Aight? White folks trust you.”
“Don’t be so sure.” When scouting gym locations, he first tried leasing an empty warehouse on the other side of the freeway. A dusty two-story building cloaked in the shadow of skyscrapers. He spoke with the leasing agent on the phone three times to make arrangements. But when he arrived to sign papers, she suddenly had a better offer. Fuck it. This location was cheaper. And closer to his neighborhood. “I’ve learned the walk and the talk. But I’m still a beaner to some of them.”
“Yeah, well, I’m a wetback gangbanger to all of them. White folk look at me and think I’m MS-13 coming for their kids. Crazy shit. I’m trying to help Izzy. You gonna help me or what?”
Twelve years ago. That’s when Bang established his gym. Since then, he’d trained a hundred boxers at least. Coached Little League and sponsored food drives. Paid his taxes on time. Helping Gustavo might cost him everything he’d built. But what of Israel? If he needed help, Bang couldn’t ignore him.
“I’ll contact Henry Carson. You’re on your own after that. I’m not doing anything illegal,” Bang said.
“That’s what I’m here for,” Gustavo patted his chest. “Put me in touch with that fool. I got the rest.” He took a sheet of paper from Bang’s desk and scribbled his phone number on it. “Call me when you’re ready.”
Bang folded the sheet in half and slid it into the top desk drawer. “I’ll make some calls. But I can’t make promises. This guy might not want to meet.”
“Then I’ll move to Plan B,” Gustavo said with a cryptic nod, and opened the door. He exited without another word.
Bang rubbed his temples. He was tired, stretched thin by worry and stress. This added an extra layer to handle. “Israel,” Bang said alone in his office. “What the hell did you get me mixed up in?”
CHAPTER 41
Sofia
“I look like a boy,” Dominica said. She stood before a bathroom mirror, blinking away the residue of water splashed from the basin. The curly black locks that once cascaded over her forehead now lay in clumps around the sink. In their place was a thin layer of blond stubble that faded to her skin. She frowned into the mirror with a puckered face. Sofia stood beside her sporting the same hairstyle.
“I’m sorry,” Sofia said with a gentle smile. She held corded clippers in her hand. Their new hairstyle had a dramatic effect on Dominica. Sofia wouldn’t admit it, but Dominica was right. To an extent. A beautiful boy. “You did what you had to. It will grow back fuller next time.”
Dominica nodded, more relieved than pleased. Shearing a glorious mound of hair was a significant occasion for any young woman. It often accompanied some life change, like a new job or an ended relationship. But no woman wanted that change forced upon them. Dominica frowned and cast doleful eyes towards her father.
“You are still my spring flower.” Fermin stood a few feet away, a smile spread across his shaven face. If Dominica’s change was dramatic, Fermin’s was histrionic. A change so complete, Sofia could scarcely believe he was the same person. In place of the shabby hobo stood a sinewy slice of middle-aged hotness. A gray-templed man with washboard abs, muscular shoulders, and narrow hips. A square jaw, set in determination, replaced his bushy beard. “Ven aquí mi amor.”
Dominica stepped towards him and allowed his arms to wrap around her shoulders. A tear leaked from her right eye as they embraced.
“Your mother would be proud of the woman you’ve become,” Fermin said. Dominica nodded in silence.
A lump rose in Sofia’s throat as she watched. They had a renewed chance at life. Her and Israel’s future, however, was far murkier. She glanced towards him, sitting on the edge of the hotel bed behind Fermin. He met her gaze and offered a weak grin. She tried to piece out the workings of his mind. Israel loved her. That was clear. But what type of love? The brotherly love she hoped for? Or a renewal of an unfortunate romance that ended years ago? An inappropriate teenage fling that never went past heavy petting and ended the day her mother walked in on them in the act.
Israel was sent back to his dad’s home that day. Sofia wasn’t sure who felt worse about the whole incident. Israel, for going back to live with his father. Or her mother, who loved Israel as if she had birthed him herself. To this day, only Sofia, Israel, mama, and Israel’s father knew what happened. Mama contrived a story for Sofia’s dad about Israel wanting to move back home to care for his alcoholic father. Sofia’s dad tutted understanding with a pained frown and never pressed for more details.
Sofia still cared for Israel, and not just for the faint trace of blood relations that coursed through their veins. He was the ersatz big brother who stood up for her. A friend she could confide in. She wanted that Israel back. She hoped that’s all he wanted as well. Romance couldn’t be part of that equation again. She returned his grin and looked away.
“We should go,” Fermin said.
His statement energized them. They had stashed the truck in a thicket outside this motel an hour earlier and began their transformations. Everyone had assumed a completely new look, except for Israel. They couldn’t do much, given his baldness. So they bought a Baja hoodie from a roadside stand a mile down the road. He would don the hoodie when they stepped outside and pray the gangsters didn’t see his face. He approached the window facing the parking lot and nudged aside the curtain. Late afternoon sun brightened the room.
“It’s clear,” he said.
“You ready?” Fermin said, standing beside him. They had agreed to a plan. Israel and Fermin would hot-wire a car from the grocery store parking lot across the street. Israel would teach Fermin how so he could stop and start it later. Swap out license plates too. Then they would return in the car and switch out Israel for Dominica. And then the quartet would say goodbye. Maybe forever.
“Yeah,” Israel said. He nodded at Sofia before he and Fermin slipped out the door. It clicked behind them.
“Will this work?” Dominica said. She had returned to the mirror and stared at her new form.
“Yes,” Sofia said with forced certainty. “They’ll never find us.” She squeezed Dominica’s frail hand. Despite the misery of Dominica’s last several months, she stood resolute and hopeful. No longer the frightened child tossed into the jail cell and forgotten. As long as Dominica had her father by her side, Sofia believed she could take on the world. A quiet moment followed before Dominica closed her eyes and hung her head.
“I see his face when I close my eyes,” she said, almost too quiet to hear. Her voice cracked as she spoke. Her face puckered, and she wiped her eyes.
“Whose?”
“The man I killed. I see his face. His big, round eyes and chipped teeth. His mouth had dropped open. I see them. Jagged little teeth inside his scared mouth.” Her chest heaved as she cried. Her palms covered her face, as if hiding the shame of her sadness. Sofia hugged Dominica. Dominica clutched her shoulders as deep, shuddering sobs wracked her body. “I killed him! I killed him!”
“Sh! Sh,” Sofia said in a comforting voice and rubbed her back. “It’s OK. Sh.” Dominica’s sobs ebbed. When she pulled away, her cheeks glistened with moist tears. “You had no choice. You would be dead if you hadn’t. We all would. You saved our lives.”
Now it was Sofia’s own emotions that choked up. The memory returned unbidden. Mario’s death was a fulcrum point of her life. She was a dead woman walking before that moment. A torturous wait for Hugo to end her life with a bullet to her brain. Everything after Mario’s death she owed to Dominica.
“You saved my life.” Tears swelled in Sofia’s eyes. A thank you would never suffice. She pulled away and wiped her face. “Here.” She scribbled her phone number on a fragment of paper and handed it to Dominica. She accepted it with a shaky hand. “Take this. When you make it to Texas, call me. I know all the local aid groups and shelters. I can set you up with housing and maybe a job.”
“Thank you,” Dominica said. A trace of a smile turned up her lips.
Despite her religious upbringing, Sofia wasn’t one to worship or pray. But she prayed now, clasping her palms together and asking God to watch over Dominica and Fermin. They had a fraught journey before them. When she opened her eyes, Dominica was doing the same.
Israel and Fermin returned an hour later in an ancient Chevy Nova. Their search of the grocery store parking lot had proved fruitless thanks to a lone policeman eating dinner in his car. They changed tactics and found the Chevy parked inside a dilapidated warehouse. To Israel’s surprise, it started on the first try. And with a half full tank of gas.
“We should go,” Fermin exhaled as he stood near the hotel’s front door.
The moment that Sofia dreaded. She had known Dominica for a few days. Fermin for less. But their escape formed a bond that would never be severed. She drew a shuddering breath and embraced Fermin.
“Be careful,” she said as she pulled away. “Take care of her.”
“With my life,” he said. “You be careful too.”
Sofia turned to Dominica and gave her one more embrace. They broke from it with tears in their eyes.
They split the remaining cash, leaving each pair with two hundred pesos each. Enough for some street cart tacos. Fermin stashed the AK-47 under a blanket on the backseat floorboard while Sofia kept Hugo’s pistol after a quick lesson in handgun care from Dominica. Then Fermin and Dominica departed in darkness.
Israel and Sofia waited ten minutes before locking the hotel and setting off in search of their own car. Israel found a plain black Nissan Versa behind a gas station and had its little four-cylinder engine purring and on the road in a few minutes. Soon after, Sofia took over the driving to let Israel sleep.
The first road sign they passed showed one-hundred kilometers to Merida. About an hour’s drive. With luck, they would be on the consulate’s front door soon after. Despite her best efforts, Sofia couldn’t help but imagine cartel roadblocks around every curve.
CHAPTER 42
Chucho
Gauzy clouds, dappled and thin, spread like a blanket above Merida. Behind it, stars radiated an eerie twilight glow. Warm breezes, gentle like a lover’s caress, flowed past Chucho without ruffling his hair. He checked his watch. A little after eight. Fatigue cramped his muscles. He’d slept some in the Jeep on the drive here. Hadn’t he? He weaved through his mind fog, trying to remember. Finding nothing, he pulled a fabric sack from his pocket and unthreaded the knot tying its top. He removed another button of peyote and popped it into his mouth. The dry crunch and bitter flavor seized his taste buds. He winced. Although his resistance to the drug was strong, he couldn’t maintain this pace forever. The peyote would take over, eventually. Already he saw strange colors twisting in the sky. Heard whispers in empty spaces.
He shook his head clear.
One full day had passed since his prisoners had escaped. Twenty-four hours in the wind. He’d received one tip to their location. A lookout spotted them gassing up near Chichén-Itzá. They were inside an old brown Toyota truck. Still traveling together. That surprised Chucho. He would have split into pairs at least. The lookout had squeezed off a few shots before they fled. Hoping to capture them and the reward Chucho offered. The escapees responded in kind. The lookout called in the description as he bled out onto the gas station parking lot. Score one more for the prisoners. And one more life they would answer for later.
Chucho sat cross-legged on the backyard patio of an eatery on the southeastern outskirts of town. His men had blocked the entrance to the patio to everyone but the waiters who brought their meals. Pistol grips poking out from under their shirts announced they were not to be disturbed. A few nervous diners inside the dining room cast sidelong glances at them. Chucho chose this location because of its proximity to the highway. But his lookouts had eyes on every entrance into town. The escapees were mistaken if they thought they could slip into the city unnoticed.
His phone buzzed on the patio beside him. He glanced at its glowing screen. La Doña. He grimaced. He called her soon after cell service returned and gave her the bad news. Her reaction had been unkind.
“You stupid bastard!” she had roared. “I told you I didn’t want this to happen. Did you think I was joking? I don’t care how. But find them!”
Nobody disrespected him this way. To hear it from La Doña’s lips still boiled Chucho’s blood. But his station forced him to bite his tongue. Someday he would not suffer such humiliations. He unlocked the phone with a tap and lifted it to his ear.
“Yes?”
“Where are you?” Her hoarse voice croaked. He imagined her spent from a long day of luxuriating in her spacious suite and waiting for her men to clean her condo. Now she had to complete one last meddlesome task before drifting to sleep.
