Baca Page 16

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  I went to the back of the Yugo and blocked their view through the rear window. My calf touched the rear bumper and I felt the car move as Blanca slid to the driver’s side.“You son of the bitch,” Mortay said. “You vill get the same as your friend.”

  He was three feet from me, standing in front of one Suburban headlight. The second Russian was in front of the other. I was the point of the V in front of them.

  I opened the Tic-Tacs, shook out a half-dozen, and put them in my mouth. Holding out the box to Mortay, I said, “Want some? They’ll do wonders for your breath.”

  Mortay slapped the box from my hand and it landed near his driver. “Hey,” I said, “There’s no need for that.” I moved toward the box, and when my face was within a foot of the driver I rolled my tongue into a tube, took a deep breath and shot the Tic-Tacs out of my mouth like a candy-dispensing machine gun. They hit the thug in the eyes and startled him. I grasped his arm, pulled him in front of me and ran him at Mortay as the Beretta came up and blossomed flame.

  I heard the Yugo start and the tires squeal. Mortay paid no attention to the car and kept firing. The bullets struck the driver like hard slaps and I could feel him jerk with their impact. One passed through his body and hit me high in the chest.

  It was like a large wasp stung me. When I felt the driver sag, I used my legs to heave him toward Simon, now pulling the trigger as fast as he could. The man fell into Mortay and knocked him backward several feet. I ducked and ran behind the Suburban for cover. I could hear the Yugo’s engine whining as it sped down through the building.

  Mortay yelled, “I kill you now!”

  I dropped to look under the Suburban and watched his feet as he came around the front. I moved to the other side, then saw his hand and one knee come to the pavement.

  The Suburban had a luggage rack on top, so I grabbed it and hopped to the roof, then rolled fast across and dropped on Simon as he rose.

  I kicked his wrist as the Beretta came up and it went clattering across the pavement. Mortay spun with the kick and came to a standing position five feet from me. A long bladed knife glittered in his right hand.

  He said, “I take your head to Carl. He vill reward me.”

  I was in my Bi-Jong stance when he came. I slapped his thrust aside and moved in, hitting him under the chin with the heel of my palm.

  He went down but hung onto the knife. I stomped at his face and got a long slice along the edge of my lower leg for the trouble. I hopped back and Mortay rose as if pulled upright by a string.

  I circled to my right, moving him until his back was to the low wall at the edge of the lot. I said, “This is for my friend,” and went at him with a combination of strikes and feints with both fists and feet in an attack designed for each movement to take him a little farther off balance.

  My last motion was a hard front kick to his chest, and I connected so well I felt the impact all the way through my hip. He was so skinny it was like kicking a bag of sticks.

  Mortay tried to regain his balance but his legs hit the wall and he went over as his arms flailed the air.

  I stepped to the wall and looked at the alley far below. Mortay lay with one leg under him and arms across his stomach. He could have been asleep except for the small red slick under his head.

  I leaned against the Suburban and checked my chest. There was a large bruise where the bullet struck, but no penetration. I looked at my leg next. The blade broke the skin but was not deep. I went to the passenger door, opened it and sat in the seat, suddenly tired. Now that the adrenaline had stopped pumping through me, fatigue was setting in big-time. I could hear sirens in the distance and decided I would take a nap until they arrived.

  **

  After they finished questioning me and confirmed I was a good guy by talking to Vick Best, they let me go. As I left, I heard one of the police officers saying to another, “Guy was so cool he was sleeping when we got here.”

  If they only knew. The taxi got me to the office in good time and I could almost understand his heavily accented English as he tried to make conversation. I tipped him and went to the office. I called the hospital to check on Hondo. The nurse said he was asleep, but doing well. The doctors had downgraded him to guarded. I thanked her, hung up, then called Hunter on her cell phone.

  She answered on the first ring, “Hello.”

  “How’s it going?”

  “Hey, Ronny. They’ve decided to hold off on the hearing until next week.”

  “Good, why don’t you fly back here. I’ll pick you up at the airport.”

  “Can’t,” she said, “They decided to detail me to DC, keep an eye on me. They have me working in Headquarters until the trial. At least while I’m up here I can look a little deeper into Rakes and Mortay.” She changed the subject, “How’s Hondo?”

  “I just talked to the nurses. He’s been downgraded to guarded.”

  “That is good news. How are you holding up?”

  “Hanging in there.”

  “Is something wrong?”

  “Nahh.”

  “What is it?”

  “Nothing, nothing at all.”

  “Ronny Baca, you better tell me or I’m going to get mad.”

  I rubbed my forehead and said, “Mortay’s dead.”

  There was a moment’s silence, “Did you shoot him?”

  “No.”

  “What happened?”

  “Well, I had these Tic-Tacs…”

  **

  I hung up after another ten minutes with Hunter and went to the bathroom. Before I could finish, the phone rang. I hurried to zip up, then grabbed a paper towel, trotted over and picked up the receiver.

  “Ronny Baca, waterproof private investigator.”

  “Baca is dirt under leg of dog.”

  “Hey Rakes, nice of you to have Simon drop in. Get it, drop in?”

  “You make big mistake. I protect people who vork for me.”

  “You did a bang-up job with Ichabod Crane there. Looked like he thought he was a seagull the way he flapped his arms when I sent him off the roof.” I actually heard Rakes growl.

  “The days are numbering for you and friends. Sissy boy in hospital three five-teen room vill be easy, and you, and voman in Vashingtown.”

  “Talk’s cheap.”

  “Is not talk.”

  “What do you think you’re doing then, miming? Words are coming out of your mouth. That means you’re talking. Is it too hard for your pea brain to digest?”

  “Remember vhat I say. Your nose belongs some other place. You leave the veemin alone, or same happenings to you as boy-girl Meekee.”

  My grip tightened on the phone but I kept my cool, “How about if I just put my nose in what the women brought across the border? How about that?”

  “Is not to bother the veemin! Stay away for dem. I varn you to go in other direction or you die from my hand.”

  “There you go again, yabbering like a parrot. Rakes want a cracker? Awwkk!”

  “I ged you!” Rakes slammed down the receiver.

  Boy, some people. But it worked and got me more information, because he was mad than I would get any other way.

  Mortay worked for Rakes. That was interesting. Rakes deliberately let appearances indicate he was the subordinate, rather than Mortay. Rakes was smarter than I thought. He also knew what room Hondo was in, and that Hunter was in DC. He knew the people who had the juice, that was clear. And it worried me.

  I went through the door into Archie’s gym and saw him in his office. I went in and closed the door.

  He said, “I saw what you’ve been driving. What happened, your whale have a guppy? Haw!” Arch was so happy with that little piece of wit he slapped the top of his desk. Pens and a paperweight bounced up in the air.

  “It happens to be a loaner. Gets a gazillion miles per gallon. It’s good for the environment.”

  Arch barked a laugh, “Ronny, don’t give me that crap. You’d drive a tank if it was legal.”<
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  “Hey, I’m all for going green.”

  Arch said, “I know you use recycled paper and save aluminum cans and all that, but you’ve got this thing about what you drive. I think it’s got to do with your –”

  “That’s enough. Stop right there.”

  Archie’s eyes twinkled and he leaned back in his chair. “What’s up?” I told him about Rakes’ threat on Hondo. He said, “What do you need me to do?”

  “You think you could keep him at your place for a while, not tell anyone?”

  “You need help getting him here?”

  “No, but I’ll do it at night and come in through the back.”

  I’ll be watching from there, say about nine?”

  “That’ll do.”

  I went to my office and called Hunter again. She didn’t answer so I left a message on her voice mail telling her of Rakes’ threats and for her to be careful. Then I called my insurance agent and got the news on what they would cover on my house. It was actually very fair and I told him so. The next step would be to find a contractor to clean the lot and rebuild my home. I figured that was for another day.

  I had hours to go before kidnapping Hondo from the hospital, so I went into the storage room and rummaged through some unpacked boxes until I located the novel I picked up at a bookstore and had not read. I sat in my chair, propped my feet on the desk and opened it.

  Talk about hard to put down, I almost decided to leave Hondo overnight so I could finish it, but finally gathered enough willpower to put it down at eight PM. I called the hospital and got Hondo. I told him about Rakes and my plan for him.

  Hondo said, “Drive up to the front. I’ll be there.”

  “You don’t want some help escaping? Those nurses looked plenty tough to me.”

  “Right now they could take me in a fight, but I’ve got cunning on my side.”

  “Cunning who?”

  “Meet me in front.” He hung up and I went next door to borrow Archie’s Corvette. If Rakes was going to chase me, I wasn’t going to be in a Yugo this time.

  **

  I pulled to the front entrance and saw Hondo step out of the hedges still dressed in the hospital gown. He trotted to the Corvette and got into the passenger’s seat.

  I drove away and said, “That gown’s open in the back. When you turned around it looked like a white globe with a crack in it.”

  Hondo rested his head on the seat and breathed hard, “It’s kind of breezy on the nether regions.” He coughed several times, sighed and closed his eyes.

  We were back and in Archie’s apartment in thirty minutes. Archie had the guest bedroom made for Hondo and gave up the Lazy-Boy recliner for him to sit in when we arrived.

  “Thanks, Arch,” I said.

  He gave me shoo-away signs with his hands, “It’s nothing.”

  I said, “Say, you know that purple drink you make, that super elixir? Maybe you can make some for Hondo every day, kind of get him on his feet.”

  Hondo pointed his finger at me from the recliner, “Don’t make trouble. Don’t listen to him Arch.”

  Archie said, “It’s good stuff, you’ll see. Get you back on your feet in no time.”

  Hondo shook his head and said, “I’m going to sleep.”

  Archie said to me, “Don’t worry. I’ll be with him at night, and I’ve got a friend named Waylon Lakes that’ll be with him during the day.”

  “He getting out of the nursing home to come do this?”

  “Very funny, whippersnapper.”

  “Can he handle trouble?”

  Waylon’s a Vietnam vet, tough guy whose first ten days in Nam were in the A Shau Valley at a little place called Dong Ap Bia, then it got worse after that. He can handle trouble.”

  I said, “He’s in his sixties?”

  “Uh-huh. Just now hitting his prime.”

  “He doesn’t need me to bring him some Ensure or anything?”

  “Har-har, funny guy. You tell that to Waylon. Now get out of here so Hondo can rest.”

  I went out the door and walked around the building to my office, thinking, did he call me a whippersnapper? I went inside and fiddled with papers and other items, then with curiosity still itching at me, I turned on the computer, popped up Google and typed in Ap Bia. After reading several of the items I figured Waylon probably could handle himself. I had heard of Ap Bia, but under its other name: Hamburger Hill.

  After doodling on the internet for an hour, I got up and stretched, then walked outside. That’s when I saw the Yugo.

  It was parked ten spaces to the left of the office, with a note under the wiper. I read it under the lights of the parking lot.

  Dear Mr. Baca, Thank you for saving me. I felt terrible leaving you like that, but I was so scared I just drove and drove. I am glad you are all right. I called the police and they told me. I am sorry, but I cannot stay in Los Angeles. I am too afraid. Please find my sister and cousins before they are hurt. I know you can and I don’t believe anyone else is good enough or brave enough to do it. I will call you in a few days with a number.

  Thank you,

  Blanca.

  PS The keys are on top of the left rear tire.

  I got the keys and jangled them in my palm. Sometimes it’s a burden being seen as a can-do guy.

  **

  The next morning Bond Meadows came into my office. She wore a skintight black Lycra dress that showed a lot of leg and a huge amount of cleavage, like something from Frederick’s of Hollywood, the Whip Me, Whip Me section. Her lips were pinched tight and she said, “You are messing everything up and you’re going to get hurt, do you realize that?”

  “Everything? Like The Big Bang theory, the human genome, upside-down pineapple cake?”

  “You think you’re so funny. I’m serious, you could be hurt,” she chewed on her lower lip, “And I wouldn’t want that.”

  “It’s a little late for warnings. Your omnisexual partner Carl already threatened me.”

  She came around the desk and put her hands on my shoulders, her face close, eyes sincere, “I know we had a few problems, but I can make it up – will make it up to you if you’ll give me the chance.” She moved her face closer and I could smell the expensive perfume coming from the dab she’d put between her breasts. Her lips parted for a kiss and I gently pushed her away.

  “Nuh-uh,” I said.

  Bond surprised me by not getting angry. Her eyes teared up and she said, “If you could just give me a chance.”

  I said, “I’m going to find Bob Landman, and I’m going to find out what Rakes is up to. If you and Frank are involved, you’ll go down with him. You have a chance right now. Take what you can and run, far away. It’s the only warning I’ll give you.”

  “I could please you in ways you’ve never imagined.”

  “The only way you could please me is by leaving.”

  Her eyes hardened. “I’m going to enjoy it when Carl gets his hands on you. Nobody can stand up to Carl.”

  I smiled at her and it seemed to make her angrier. She said, “I will tell him to make it especially painful. He is a big, powerful man, much bigger than you.”

  “I’ve got goosebumps from the thought. Now, please go.”

  She left, slamming the door as hard as she could. Ah, the women in my life. I tried to do other things but her perfume was there every time I breathed and images of her body ran through my thoughts. I went into the bathroom and took a long, cold shower.

  I dressed for hiking, then went outside and drove away in the Yugo. I pulled into a store on the Sunset Strip that sold globes and maps and bought a topographical map of the area I wanted, then drove into Pacific Palisades and the start of the trail that Mickey showed us. It seemed like a long time ago.

  I didn’t have a bike but made good time. I reached the bluff where Hondo had scrambled around like a cliff monkey, then I went down the trail to where we found the undocumented Mexican women.

  Past the oaks, there were no more paths, only game trails. I check
ed the topo map and started down the winding slope to the bottom of the canyon, then walked the canyon floor as it snaked northeast. The brush was thick in places, and I had to detour a dozen times. There was little breeze and the afternoon sun was heating the canyon bottom like a furnace. I walked another hour before rounding a long curve and the vista opened to a wider valley.

  The area had opened up but the terrain was still rough, with large boulders and brush. I would have to weave my way through it. I hopped on a boulder and referred to the map, then saw the cave a half mile ahead. It was maybe ten feet above the canyon floor on the east side, the mouth showing clear as it caught the afternoon sun. A small thread of smoke came from a fire pit. Here was the answer to another piece of the puzzle left by Landman on his scrap of paper. It was indicated in small print letters, right at the edge of my topographical map. I had come to Chumash Cave.

  I got to the entrance in ten minutes. The roof was black from ancient fires and the floor was dust and rocks. The cave went back about fifteen feet and from outside it had the shape of a half-opened eye, narrowing at both sides. The roof was twelve feet high at the center and followed the taper down to the corners. A ring of stones showed a fire pit where white ash still smoked. There were several blankets scattered about, along with opened cans of Ravioli, Rosarita refried beans and a trash sack full of Kataki’s Gourmet Kobi Beef Jerky wrappers. A plastic jug still full of water was against the back wall. There were lots of tracks and flattened areas and I could see areas of dark spots scattered here and there, looking like someone had flicked paint off a paint brush. The spots were blood, still congealing. Someone had had the crap beaten out of them. I was no tracker like Hunter, but with all the dust it was easy to see there had been six or eight people in the cave and they were grouped with four having large prints and the other four with three sets of small prints and one average print. The blood spots were always near the average prints. The tracks showed everyone leaving the cave and going farther down the canyon. I noticed a crumpled paper under the edge of a boulder and picked it up. It was a topo map, but not the one I had. I looked around the borders until I saw the name of my topo. Great. It was the next map of the canyon, starting just past Chumash Cave. It showed a clear dirt road a half mile down canyon. I had walked maybe ten miles to get here, and if I’d looked at the very next map, I could have driven to within ten minutes of the place.