Walking up to the entrance of the apartment building, he tried to put this shift in his thinking to one side. Second chances in his world were a rarity.
He pressed the buzzer above the one he needed. I have a chance to redeem myself, he thought. A woman answered, and he muttered something about delivering a parcel to one of the other apartments. He waited. A few seconds later a window opened above him. He kept looking straight ahead so that all she caught was the top of his navy blue baseball cap. She called down and buzzed him inside.
There were four apartments on each floor, two at the front and two at the back. The one he was looking for was on the front right-hand side if you faced the building from the street. He knew his target was there because he had seen her a few minutes before, watering the plants on the tiny balcony.
He rested his hand on the balustrade at the bottom of the staircase and started to make his way up. After only one flight, he was sweating. It wasn’t hot but the stairwell was stuffy and he’d had to wear a jacket, plus he was carrying the big brown leather bag that usually accompanied him on a job like this. It held his special knives. For the most part there were two broad types of job. In the first they wanted the person dead quickly with the minimum of fuss. This one was of the second type, in which they wished to send a message. Message killings were messy.
On the landing, he stopped to catch his breath. That had been the other problem with babysitting Charlie Mendez. All the sitting around had left him out of shape. Once this job was done, he would change that with a few workouts. He had a friend with a boxing gym in the south of the city. He would go there. He made it a promise to himself. It took more than strength to kill someone, it took stamina as well. People fought, and the ones you least expected to be a problem were often the most difficult to kill.
He took the second flight at a steadier pace. This time he didn’t stop on the landing but kept going. He stayed out of sight of the door and took a moment to compose himself. It was only when he looked over that he saw it was already ajar. Immediately, he was on guard.
He glanced around and saw that the apartment door diagonally opposite was also open. He could hear women’s voices. He tuned into the conversation. One woman was saying how she had to go out of town and would the other take a key.
Hector looked at the two chains dangling by the door and the two deadbolts. He knew better than to hesitate. He walked into the apartment, and pulled the door back to the position it had been in when he had arrived.
Inside, the apartment was neat. A damp towel lay over a stool next to the kitchen counter. He didn’t want the woman screaming if she saw him as soon as she walked in so he decided to wait in the bathroom. Locks and chains worked in two ways: when he heard the apartment door close and the chains go in he would emerge. He crossed to an iPod docking station. The woman’s iPod was already in it. He cued up a track, hit pause and lifted the volume by five or six notches. He found the small white remote control for it on a table next to the couch and picked it up. The music would cover him long enough to place the tape around her mouth. She would fight, he knew that for sure. A woman like her knew where this would end.
The remote in one hand, he retreated to the bathroom. The floor was still wet around a white mat laid on the floor and condensation fogged the mirror. He was glad. He didn’t enjoy looking at himself. He sat down on the toilet and waited for the woman to return.
Sixty-seven
Armando Hernandez took a slug of water from an Evian bottle, and offered some to Ty, who declined with a wave of his hand. They were in a conference room with long windows that looked out on to the avenue. Posters on the wall advised tourists to be cautious when they were out at night. Hernandez cleared his throat. ‘You and your buddy Lock think you just stumbled into the middle of this fucking mess and worked it all out while we were sitting round here like a bunch of hicks? Mendez was being left where he was for a reason.’
Ty didn’t like getting lectures, not from some college kid like Armando Hernandez, not from anyone. ‘And the girl was what exactly?’ he asked.
Hernandez rolled his neck. ‘No one saw that coming. Not the traffickers, not us, not anyone. In that regard, Mendez had been behaving himself. Anyway, she’s safe now.’
Fists clenched, Ty bit down on his lower lip. ‘And that’s it? She was raped. By a guy you knew was here. But, hey, you’re trying to bust these dudes so what’s a little collateral damage, right? I served, motherfucker, so I know how shit like this goes — people get thrown under the bus so that someone else can make a name for themselves. But don’t try and piss on my leg and tell me it’s raining. You assholes turned to look the other way. If it wasn’t for Ryan and me, she’d be hanging out at that ranch like a frickin’ pinata. Now, what you gonna do about finding my boy?’
‘You don’t even know where he is.’
Ty said nothing.
Hernandez walked over to the window and tapped the glass with the knuckle of his right index finger. ‘In case you haven’t noticed, Mr Johnson, we’re not in Kansas any more. Mexico is a sovereign state so we have to work with the local authorities.’
‘That’s a joke, right? The authorities here? They’re in on it.’
‘And what do you suggest? We call them up and tell them that? This entire situation is a mess and it’s way bigger than me or you or your buddy or some scumbag like Charlie Mendez.’ He gestured for Ty to sit back down.
‘I’ll stand,’ said Ty, irritated.
‘When you first spoke to me, you said that your buddy had Mendez and he’d be heading for the border. If they’re on foot there’s probably only a twenty-mile stretch either way where they’d be looking to cross. If we can find them and if they can make it even an inch on to American soil we can help, but the way things are right now, that’s the best we can do.’
‘If anyone can get across, Lock can,’ said Ty.
‘Then that’s good. Believe me, we want Mendez alive too. He’s the key to a lot of stuff. Now, what’s your plan, Mr Johnson?’
Ty looked out on to the avenue where cops were still massing. Right now the city was a symphony of sirens. The military were out too, along with the local police, the Federal Policia and numerous special units. Moments before there had been a stand-off between a small group of soldiers and some cops. Hernandez had explained that, after it had given up on certain sections of the civilian police as too corrupt even to attempt reform, the government had been using the military instead. But even that hadn’t been without its problems: members of Mexican special forces had been offered lavish amounts of money to work for the cartels. It was one massive pissing contest in which no one had any real way of knowing precisely where a lot of loyalties lay.
‘I go out there, I don’t stand much chance, do I?’ said Ty.
Hernandez folded his arms. ‘You stand no chance and we can’t protect you.’
‘Who are you going to have looking for them?’
‘Border Patrol for Lock. US Marshals for Mendez. We’re pulling some strings.’
‘What about Rafaela Carcharon?’ Ty asked.
‘We have people trying to contact her. From what you’ve said she could be an important intelligence resource. She comes in, we can help her out.’
‘You haven’t heard from her?’ Ty asked, with another glance at the window.
Hernandez seemed to read his mind. ‘One white knight out there is about our limit right now. You step outside the consulate, you’re on your own.’
Ty started towards the door. ‘Way I see it, we’ve been on our own from the jump.’
Hernandez got up, blocking his passage. ‘I already said, there’s a lot more to this.’
‘But you won’t share?’ Ty asked.
‘It’s not a question of won’t. I can’t.’