Carr looked at his wristwatch, a habit he had always tried to avoid on surveillances because it seemed to make time slow down.
"We're gonna have to move in closer as soon as it gets dark," Kelly said. "If Teddy slips by we could still be up here with these sea gulls tomorrow morning. Wouldn't that be a goddamn knockout punch? Being up here all day peeing in the bushes waiting for Teddy to make a move and we miss him when he leaves?"
Carr smiled. "Sounds like you're not enjoying our little fishing trip."
"On the contrary!" Kelly said sarcastically. "How could I say it hasn't been just barrels of fun being down here in Baja dodging sea-gull shit. I've particularly enjoyed having a pound or so of sand wedged up the crack of my ass all day. Not to mention the third degree sunburn I've developed on the back of my neck. Golly, I haven't had so many kicks since my double hernia."
A light colored Mercedes sedan made a dust cloud as it came down the road. Carr grabbed the binoculars. The vehicle had California license plates and was driven by a man wearing a wide brimmed gambler's hat. He parked the sedan in front of the bar and got out. Carr guessed him at no more than five feet tall. Having taken a quick glance around, the man proceeded to the trunk of the vehicle. He unlocked it and the lid popped up. Sticking his hand in what looked like a leather bag, he pulled out a handful of small white packets. With one smooth motion he hoisted his pants leg and shoved the items into his sock. After closing and locking the trunk, he strolled into the bar.
"So far, everyone who has gone into the place has looked one-hundred-percent wrong," Kelly said.
Carr put down the binoculars and rubbed his eyes. "Sure seems that way," he said.
Kelly pulled a handkerchief out of his back pocket and spread it out in his hand. Tucking one of its sides under the back of his baseball cap, he allowed the cloth to cover the back of his neck, legionnaire style. "Matter of fact, from the looks of the people so far, I'd say if you wanted to give the world an enema you could probably start by sticking the nozzle right in the front door down there," he said.
Carr grabbed the binoculars and adjusted the focus. "That's him," he said.
Teddy Mora, wearing a tropical shirt, came out of the bar. Ostrichlike, he sauntered across the parking lot and headed toward a green camper truck. Mora unlocked the driver's door and got in. The engine roared as he headed up a road leading to the highway.
The agents jumped up and ran through the chaparral like firemen heading for a hook and ladder. Carr vaulted into the driver's seat and started the engine. Kelly jumped in on the passenger side and slammed the door. Throwing the sedan into gear, Carr hit the accelerator and zoomed toward the highway at full speed. Nearing the main road, he caught a glimpse of Teddy Mora's camper proceeding north at what seemed a leisurely pace. The T-man steered through brush and bumped across rocks and onto the highway. Adjusting his speed, he was able to keep Mora's camper truck barely within sight. As it grew dark, Carr kept up the cat-and-mouse game by turning the sedan's brights on and off intermittently as they rounded curves.
By the time they reached the outskirts of Tijuana, it was dark. The green camper truck wound through the border town's business district, a winding maze of illuminated beer advertisements and winking neon that touted B-girl dives with names like Sailor's Lounge, Rosa's and Hula Girl. At the western edge of the town, the camper made a turn and followed a sign pointing toward the U.S. The vehicle crossed a small bridge and pulled into one of the lines of cars inching up to the border.
"He's going across," Kelly said. "Should we stay on him?"
"We might as well see where he's going," Carr said.
"With our luck, he's probably going across the line to pick up a six pack of American beer," Kelly said.
At the checkpoint, a border patrolman leaned down and said something to Mora. Mora answered. The patrolman stepped back from the camper. He nodded, and Mora drove into the United States.
Carr followed, using other vehicles on the freeway for cover. He sped up as they neared the outskirts of San Diego. Maneuvering the sedan around some vehicles, he pulled up to within three car lengths of the green camper. "We'd better stay close," Kelly said. "He might turn off for town."
"That's not it," Carr said in a worried tone. "I think it's the wrong camper."
"You're right," Kelly said angrily.
Stepping on the gas, Carr zoomed past the vehicle. Ahead on the highway were a couple of sports cars and a sedan pulling a boat.
"Sheeyit!" Kelly said. "He must have already turned off. We missed him!"
Carr jammed the accelerator to the floor. The car sped north on the highway for two miles. Teddy's camper was nowhere in sight.
"Time to backtrack," Carr said.
Carr swung the sedan violently onto the dirt shoulder of the road, threw a wheel spinning U-turn, and crashed across the curb and grass in the middle of the highway. Racing south, he took the next off ramp. Similarly structured motels had been built on either side of the freeway. Slowing down, Carr pulled into the nearest motel parking lot. He drove slowly, scrutinizing the rows of automobiles. It took a few minutes to cover the whole lot.
"Sheeyit!" Kelly said. "We've lost him. We came all the way to Mexico on our day off and lost him!" The Irishman's bear paw hands slammed the dashboard. "Shee-hee-yit!"
"Let's check out the motel on the other side of the freeway," Carr said.
He maneuvered the sedan up the street and into another motel lot.
The green camper was parked under a strong streetlight next to the motel office. "There's our boy," Carr said. "Standing by that phone booth."
"Must be some kind of a deal," Kelly said.
Carr's eyes surveyed the other cars parked in the lot. He made one pass and drove out of the lot and up a grade that led to a residential area. They passed a foreign car facing down the bill toward the motel. It was occupied by two young men.
"Looks like Teddy might be in a little trouble," Carr said.
Kelly nodded. "Now that you mention it, there were some people sitting in cars…"
Carr pulled into a parking space across from a Spanish stucco home. Below, the motel parking lot was in full view. Teddy paced around the telephone booth. He kept looking at his watch.
"This could be real interesting," Kelly said.
LaMonica had been staring out the motel window for a long while.
Sandy stood in front of the bathroom mirror applying makeup. "I'm going to go over there and talk to Mr. Cool," she said.
"Not just yet," LaMonica said, leaning against the window frame. "I want to show you something."
She came to the window and stood beside him. "Just watch for a few minutes," he said.
She gave him a puzzled look. "What am I supposed to be watching for?" she said. "Oh, there's Teddy's camper."
LaMonica grabbed the phone off the table beside him and dialed.
A woman's voice: "Sandstone Motel."
"Mr. Cole's room, please," LaMonica said.
The phone clicked. Mr. Cool said hello.
"This is LaMonica. Sandy wanted me to phone you. We've decided to call the thing off. I just spoke with Teddy. He says there's cops watching the Sandstone. He's got the package in his camper right now the whole thing. I told him to get his ass back across the border as fast as possible. You'd better do the same." LaMonica set the receiver down. He picked it up again and dialed.
Sandy stared at him. "Why did you tell him there was something wrong? Why did you lie to him?" she said angrily.
"Keep your eyes on Teddy," he said. LaMonica dialed the pay booth. The phone rang.
"Teddy's going into the phone booth," she said.
"Hello." It was Teddy's voice.