Haunted

The medic looks at me, bloodsoaked but apparently unhurt, and raises an eyebrow. “Are you sure you don’t need medical attention, too?”

I shake my head. I can feel four bullets, one in each arm, one in my left shoulder and a fourth (which I didn’t know about until it started moving) in my right thigh. I’ve been shot before, but it’s always been through and through. I don’t know what to expect with these wounds. Will the bullets work their way to the surface of my skin and have to be squeezed out like metal blackheads?

A charming visual.

I’ve had a healthy infusion of blood so I’m not worried about my body’s ability to heal itself. Actually, I’m not even in much pain.

I dip my head in Culebra’s direction. “What about you? Were you hit by any of those bullets zipping about?”

He shakes his head. Out loud, he says, “Lucky, I guess.” Internally, he says, Hard to hit anything when you’re shaking so bad, you can barely hold a gun, let alone aim it. No human is prepared for the sight of a rattlesnake as long as two men.

Adelita wrings her hands. “Max will be all right, won’t he?”

She addresses the question to no one and everyone. I wish I could give her an unequivocal yes, but she’s seen so much death today, unless Max opened his eyes and told her himself, I doubt she’d believe it.

Open your eyes, Max. I want to believe it, too.

Outside the hangar, the agents have rounded up the survivors of Pablo’s gang and have them bound and gagged, awaiting the Federales. Only Pablo and Maria will be flown back to the border. I suspect most of the gang will be back on the streets in twenty-four hours. And with Luis and Pablo out of the picture, they’ll be jockeying for leadership of the cartel.

So what exactly have we accomplished?

I look at Max, lying pale and still on the ground. What did he tell Luis? We might not have made a dent in the drug trade, but we’ve taken two predators off the street.

If he dies, was it worth it?

Adelita is leaning over Max, wiping his face with a damp cloth. She’s alive.

There are four young girls in a safe house—unmolested and alive.

Max’s body suddenly jerks. His back arches, his chest heaves as if his lungs can no longer draw air. The medic shoulders Adelita aside and listens to Max’s chest with a stethoscope. “He has a collapsed lung.”

He goes to work with items he pulls from his bag—a scalpel, a tube, something that looks like a manual suction pump. He makes an incision in the skin above Max’s rib cage, inserts the tube and works the pump. Pale liquid flows into the tube and almost instantly, Max relaxes. The medic places an oxygen mask over his mouth and nose. He drops the suction pump and yells to his buddies by the hangar door, “How much longer ’til that chopper gets here?”

CHAPTER 59

I HAVE MY ARMS AROUND ADELITA’S SHOULDERS. WE watch the medivac helicopter rise into the air. I wanted to go along with Max, but they wouldn’t allow it. Family maybe, but a civilian, no. They’re taking him to a Texas trauma hospital in McAllen until he’s stabilized. Then he’ll be transferred to a hospital in San Diego, near his home.

He never regained consciousness. He doesn’t know that Pablo is in custody. He doesn’t know that Culebra, Adelita and I made it out alive.

We return to the hangar. A mop-up operation is in full swing. Body bags are laid out. Nineteen of Pablo’s men were killed, several Federales, two DEA agents. The injured are on their way by ambulances to Reynosa—under heavy guard. Those forensic reports on Pablo’s men should make for interesting reading. I don’t know what kind of explanation will be offered for the number of broken necks and bloodless bodies or the suspicious fang marks of a huge snake on some of the bodies. Maybe no one will care how the narcos died.

Two rows of weapons are laid out, too, thirty AK-47s, ten Glocks and revolvers, a couple of knives big as machetes. Culebra can’t seem to take his eyes off the rifles. His thoughts are cloaked, but I don’t need the link to feel his despair.

Pablo and Maria are on their way by a second chopper to the San Diego border where both Federales and Federal agents are waiting to take them into custody. And to make sure they stay in custody. The U.S. government made it clear that this time, there will be no loopholes for Pablo to wiggle through. There was another incident of American tourists killed in narco cross fire just this morning. If Mexico is unwilling or unable to hold him, Pablo will be extradited to the U.S. to assure he is tried for his crimes. Baseball cap accompanied them along with a half dozen armed guards. They are taking no chances.

That leaves ten DEA agents, some Federales, Culebra, Adelita and me. The pilot and remaining uninjured narcos have been taken into custody by the Federales. The hangar is heavy with the smell of blood and death.

One of the agents sees us standing by Max’s car and walks over. For the first time, someone asks for identification. Culebra fishes his from the pocket of his jeans. It takes me a minute to remember where mine is—the glove compartment of the Explorer. I retrieve it with my wallet and hand it over.

He examines them. “You are free to go,” he says, handing our passports back. His eyes go to Adelita. “Are you a Mexican citizen?” he asks.

Culebra answers for her. “Yes. I’d like Adelita to come with me. She may be called as a witness against Pablo Santiago. I’m sure you’ve heard how he allowed his brother to kidnap and rape her. Then they destroyed her identification and left her for dead. I would like to assume responsibility for her safety. Agent Avillas made arrangements for her a day or two ago. If you check—”

The agent waves a hand. “I’ll take your word for it. But she is going to need papers. I’ll check with our field office and see what we can do.”

Once he’s walked far enough away, Culebra whispers to Adelita. “Do you want to come with me?”

“Think maybe you should have asked her first?” I ask.

Adelita looks from Culebra to me, her face sad and serious.

Culebra draws a breath. “I’m sorry. You have family here. I should have thought. We can explain to the agent when he comes back. I’m sure he’ll make arrangements to get you home safely.”

Adelita shakes her head. “I do have family here,” she says slowly. “Family that did not raise a hand to protect me when Ramon came for me. No one held them at gunpoint or threatened them. They must have known there were no jobs waiting for us. Other girls have been taken. None returned. Yet they let me go.” She stops abruptly, takes a breath. “You and A

I frown at Culebra. “You can’t expect her to live with you in the cave.”

Adelita’s eyes grow big. “A cave? Like Ramon’s?”

“Uh—no.” Culebra’s shoulders hunch a little. “But it will only be temporary. I’ll get you enrolled in a good boarding school in Tijuana. I’ll come visit you every weekend.”

Adelita hooks her hand in Culebra’s arm and turns my way. “Do you live in Culebra’s cave, too?”

I laugh. “No. More like the bar. Actually, I live in San Diego. My home is right on the ocean.” I give Culebra a glance, realizing he’s never been to the cottage. “We’ll get Culebra to bring you to visit soon.”

Culebra raises his eyebrows, but Adelita has already chimed in with, “I’d like that,” so he can’t argue.

The agent who checked our IDs is coming back. He has a paper in his hand. “This is a temporary ID,” he says, handing it to Adelita. “You were right. Max had already set it up. But this is only temporary. You need to get official papers as soon as possible.”

“I’ll see that she does,” Culebra replies.

“How do you plan to get back?”