Just for the Birds Read online

  “Po Thang is fine.” She handed me the binoculars. “See for yourself.”

  Topaz was body checking the three thugs, Po Thang on her heels sniffing the dead men nervously from a safe distance.

  She started to walk away but turned on her heel and frisked the dude Drew shot the day before, and she’d just put out of his misery. She pulled her cellphone from his pocket, tried to turn it on and gave us a thumb’s down sign. No service, of course.

  The truck driver ushered the girls out of the cage one at a time to keep birds from escaping with them. He gently guided the upset children to the truck, patting them on the back as he did so.

  While I watched, Topaz gave us a two-thumbs up, hand-signed they were gonna roll, and we’d meet down the road. Trouble sat in her bushy hair, preening and singing.

  I made one quick call to Roger while I still had service, left him a messaged update on our much-improved situation, and told him we planned to head for Loreto ASAP. Craig volunteered to lug the camera equipment down the hill, so Jan and I could intercept the taco truck. We would rendezvous at Mission San Javier, so if he saw Drew coming our way, he could stop him. We didn’t ask how, nor did we care.

  Unless there was a miracle of some kind, I knew Jan and I would be out of any manner of contact with either Craig or Roger for at least an hour. My fingers and toes were mentally crossed against the possibility Drew had somehow eluded Roger and was in our area again.

  As we sped toward Rancho Los Pajaros —and a rendezvous with Topaz—we were flying blind, hard information-wise.

  “Hetta, are you still holdin’ your breath? That why your knuckles are white?”

  I exhaled tequila-laced air and relaxed my death-grip on the steering wheel. “I can’t help worrying about where that dirty rotten mule-skinner is.”

  “Me too. I can’t wait to get my hands on him.”

  “I meant I was afraid we wouldn’t get safely to Loreto before he finds us.”

  “I wouldn’t fret much about that, if I were you. When they left the bird sanctuary, Topaz and Po Thang were riding shotgun in the taco truck. And now she has an arsenal she lifted off those thugs.”

  “Yabbut—look! There they are!” A cloud of dust was headed our way. “At least I hope it’s them. Should we hide, just in case?”

  Jan scanned the desert. Not a boulder, bush or tree in sight. “Unless we turn tail for the boulder field, we’re plumb outta luck, Chica. Just stop. If it’s not them, we’ll know soon enough. What’s the worst thing that can happen?”

  “Topaz could shoot us?”

  “And me, flat out of white flags. Put your emergency lights on. Topaz’ll hopefully recognize your pickup through all this dust before she starts slingin’ lead.”

  Despite the tense situation we burst into sniggers.

  The flatbed truck topped a grade and ground out of sight again into a vado—a dry creek—but at least we knew it was them. They spotted us, as well, and started honking.

  As soon as we drew side by side, Topaz let Po Thang out, and he enthusiastically almost flattened me in the dirt. As Jan rushed to hug Topaz, Trouble circled overhead, scolding us with that annoying, “Ack! Ack! Ack!”

  The truck driver watched the scene with wide eyes, shook his head, and left the driver’s seat. He opened the canvas and waved the girls out. They were hesitant until they saw Topaz, Jan, and me jumping up and down and squealing like teenagers.

  “Okay, everyone,” Topaz said in Spanish. “We gotta go! Load up. Hetta, you take the lead. Jan, you ride with her. Let’s get the hell out of here.”

  “Just a second. Did you see Anna and Humberto? They were the caretakers at Rancho Los Pajaros?”

  “No, the house was empty. I opened every door and gave it a quick search. And Po Thang was with me, so I think he would have sniffed them out.” She turned to the truck driver and asked him about them in Spanish. He shook his head. “No, señorita.”

  “Crap! I was hoping they were with you guys.”

  “Hetta, we’ll find them. For now, we have to roll.”

  “I know. Is the driver going with us?”

  “I gave him the option of walking back to the bird sanctuary and telling Drew, when he returns, that he was attacked and the hostages were taken away in his truck, but he wants to come with us. Right, señor?”

  The old man smiled, showing a lot of gum. “How could I leave? I am surrounded by beautiful women. Let us go,” he said, in almost perfect English. We took turns pecking his cheeks, making him glow with pleasure.

  Turns out his name is Eli Garza, and he was born and raised in San Diego.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  JAN AND I were belted in and ready to drive the lead vehicle to Loreto when Topaz hefted two AK47’s, with several extra banana mags, through the window. “I made a withdrawal from Mr. Muleshoe’s arsenal. A gal just can’t have too many guns these days, right?”

  “Oooh,” I cooed. “I almost hope someone tries to make our day!”

  With Jan and Topaz riding shotgun in our vehicles, we slowly drove into the main plaza at Mission San Javier. It was devoid of people, with only an old dog lying on a bench, trying to catch the last rays of the sun. He opened one eye and went back to sleep.

  Craig waited for us behind a building off the main plaza, as he told us when we were within VHF radio range. He was doing his best to blend in, which was a little difficult in his case; the locals, had there been any, might have figured a tall black cowboy just might not be from around these parts.

  I rushed over to him, eager to know if he’d talked to Roger since we left the bivouac.

  “Nope. No luck so far. He must still be on Drew’s tail, but I’m only getting one bar, so I can’t talk to him.”

  Checking my phone I sighed in resignation. “Oh, well. We’ll pick up cell service down the road. I know the perfect spot. Meanwhile, you have to meet some folks. Follow me.”

  We introduced him to the driver, then pulled up the rollup canvas on his truck. When they saw Craig, two of the youngest looked like they might faint, but his gentle voice, smooth Spanish, and large grin won them over. Even so, when we walked away, we heard one ask the other if Craig was their new owner. It broke my heart. And made Jan furious. I was almost sorry for Drew when we caught up to him. Okay, NOT!

  We’d given Topaz a VHF radio and Jan’s cellphone, so we had plenty of ways to communicate if need be. I took the lead again, with a now-armed Craig bringing up the rear as we made for Loreto. Despite the paved road, the going was slow.

  Twice we encountered other vehicles, but they looked to be ranchers. Kids hunkered in the backs of their pickups, along with a dog or two, and Mexican plastic totes, most likely filled with groceries and supplies, were piled high. We waved, they waved, and we went our separate ways.

  As we topped a hill, right before the low water crossing where I’d spent the night, all of our phones started dinging. I looked back to see Topaz waggling hers out the window, so I pulled over as far as I could and the convoy halted. No one got out immediately, as we were checking our messages.

  Craig was the first to let out a whoop and come charging toward the truck. Jan, Topaz and I jumped out to meet him, all of us grinning ear to ear. Not only had he talked to Roger, he actually had some good news for a change. “Roger’s got a pretty good handle on the operation now, and he’ll fill us in when he meets us at the house in Loreto.”

  We were speculating on Roger’s brief report when one of the girls leaned through a split in the canvas and asked, timidly, if they could get out. Craig walked to the back and helped each one down, lifting them gently, as if they weighed almost nothing, which most of them did.

  We walked with them to a place out of view of the road and the men, where we could all relieve ourselves in privacy. One of the girls whispered something to Topaz, who gave me a look, pressed her lips together, and patted the girl’s skinny shoulder.

  “What’s up?” I asked.

  “They want to know what we’re going t
o do with them, Chica”

  “We let them go, that’s what.”

  Topaz shook that mane of hers. “Not that easy. They’re children. Not one of them is even eighteen. And they’re from the mainland.”

  “So what do we do with them?”

  “Danged if I know. Back in Arizona it wouldn’t be a problem, there are agencies to handle this kind of situation, but here in Mexico? And let’s not forget they witnessed me offing those goons at the bird sanctuary. Let’s just take it one step at a time, then get this bunch off the mountain and safe.”

  “To?”

  “Loreto.”

  “To?”

  “Our rental house. Where else?”

  “Hoo-boy, I’ll let you handle that witch who owns the house. She blew a gasket when we brought in Craig and Roger, and now we’re housing an extra ten girls and an old man.”

  “She’s not the owner, she’s the caretaker. Trust me, if we pay her under the table, she’ll love it.”

  “Love might be a stretch, but you deal with her, okay?”

  “When did you get to be such a wuss?”

  “Sorry, I’m just plumb wore out.”

  “You’re tired? I spent the night in a birdcage. I’m covered in droppings, and I’ve eaten nothing but overripe fruit for two days. Uh, have you got any Imodium?”

  I patted her shoulder. “Soldier up, copper. Oh, and stay downwind, will ya?”

  Luckily, the rental house had its own drive-in courtyard, with plenty of parking spaces. Even then, we left the truck on the street and spirited the girls inside under cover of dark. Roger, who was waiting for us when we pulled up to the house, figured a flatbed in the driveway might be a little much for our hostess, who lived right down the street.

  We’d barely gotten the girls inside when she rang the doorbell repeatedly.

  Po Thang and Trouble raised holy hell, and Topaz signaled she’d go out and talk to the woman. Roger handed her a fistful of cash before she went out the door, and within minutes all was well.

  “What’d she say?” Jan asked. “She was pretty adamant about the number of people in the house.”

  Topaz laughed. “Look at me. I’m covered in bird shit and feathers. Would you argue with me?”

  “Hell no! Please, Topaz, hit the shower while we sort out sleeping spaces.”

  “Who wants carnitas?” Craig asked.

  Like, everyone!

  While Craig and Roger drove into town for carnitas and to return the dusty rental cars before the agency closed, we raided closets for sheets, blankets, and the like. And we all took turns in the shower, depleting the hot water before I got my turn, of course.

  The guys returned with huge bags of food, and several sacks of girls’ clothing they bought at a second-hand shop. The girls went into a bedroom, threw their miniskirts, high heels and crop tops out the door, and emerged dressed like schoolgirls, in plaid uniforms.

  “Hey, Roger,” Jan teased, “who knew you were such a fashionista? You a Brittany Spears fan?”

  Craig laughed. “Hey! There’s a method to his madness. We can’t just go driving down Mex 1, through at least two military stops, with a carload of underaged hooker lookalikes. So, let me introduce you to the schoolmistress who is taking her girls on a field trip.” He hooked a thumb at Topaz, who was dressed in sweats. Her wet hair was corralled by a towel turban.

  “Tell me your brilliant plan later. Let’s eat!”

  I’d laid out our dinner buffet in the kitchen and we devoured plates piled high with carnitas, beans, and tortillas like we’d never eat again.

  The girls ate in silence, only looking up to smile shyly at Craig occasionally. Po Thang had cozied up to Topaz, who was sneaking him carnitas, even though Craig was frowning at the idea.

  Catching his disapproval, Topaz asked, “What? You try eating old fruit for two days. He deserves carnitas.”

  “Woof.”

  “Didn’t I see him getting treats and canned dog food?” Jan asked.

  “Yes, but he wouldn’t share.”

  That got a laugh, then I said, “So, Drew sells young girls into slavery and smuggles exotic birds, but makes sure the dog gets fed? What’s with that?”

  No one had a comment.

  Trouble flew to Topaz’s shoulder and she waved him off. “No way, bird. I’ve had it with your kind for some time to come.”

  “Ack! Ack! Ack!”

  Chapter Twenty-four

  AFTER OUR MOB of guests was fed and put to bed, we all settled into the living area for a complete Roger report.

  Jan and I commandeered the couch and sank down with our after dinner beers. My head lolled back on a stack of cushions and Jan was fighting to stay alert, as well.

  “I know we’re all bushed,” Roger said, “but we gotta talk. I already filled Craig in on the latest when we went for carnitas. In a nutshell, there’s a smallish ship at Puerto Escondido, waiting to take the birds north.”

  Jan and I un-slouched, all ears. “Wow, that’s a bombshell. Tell us all!” Jan said.

  “Okay, as you know, Drew went straight from his mule ranch to Puerto Escondido, and I tailed him like I said I was gonna do. I wasn’t worried about losing him, cuz he stopped for gas in Loreto, and while he was in the gentleman’s room I stuck a GPS tracker on his pickup.”

  “He ain’t no gentleman,” Jan growled.

  “Hush, I want to hear the whole story. Go on, Roger,” I urged.

  “Anyhow, he parked near a long concrete dock close to where a bunch of boats were anchored.”

  I nodded. “Us boaters call that anchorage the Waiting Room. I know it well. What kind of boat is at the muelle?”

  “It looks like a small shrimper, or maybe a crew boat for the shrimp fleet. Maybe forty, forty-five feet. I didn’t worry too much about being spotted, cuz the danged thing was lit up like a Mississippi party boat, and they were blasting Mexican rap. No crew in sight. Drew entered the bridge by a side door, and I could clearly see him greeting a man. So I listened.”

  I put my beer down and glared at him. “You went aboard? All we need is for you to get snatched like Topaz did.”

  Topaz, who had been listening intently, rolled her eyes at me. “I didn’t get snatched.” All heads turned in her direction, and she shrugged. “I wanted in.”

  I was nonplussed. “You got my dog kidnapped on purpose? What if they’d shot him?”

  “I had your gun, remember? If I thought they were going to harm him, or me, I’d have unloaded on Drew so fast he’d never know what hit him. Those other fools were no contest. Besides, we needed Agent Thang and his critter cam to ID the head dude later.”

  “The critter cam! I’d forgotten all about it in the excitement.” I called Po Thang over, took off his harness, and removed the chip from the tiny camera. “We can look at this later if we need to. I figure it ran out of batteries about twelve hours ago, which is a good thing cuz the last thing we need is a video of Topaz shooting up the compound. Agents Dawg and Topaz, you done good.”

  Po Thang shook, grinned his goofy golden grin, and climbed up on the couch. I shoved him off. “Not that good.”

  “Can we get back on track here?” Roger asked. “I need some sleep.”

  “Amen. So, if you didn’t go aboard, how did you listen to the conversation between what may be the captain and Drew inside that boat?” I asked.

  “Oh, he’s the captain, all right. His boat’s named Doña Esperanza, home port is Guaymas. And I didn’t need to go on the boat, I eavesdropped from my car.”

  “Oh, come on,” Jan scoffed. “Hetta can hear a gnat land, but she ain’t that good.”

  “I used my Uzi.”

  What? “You got a gun that listens?”

  Roger reached over, rummaged in his large canvas bag and pulled out a high tech looking device. “Ladies and germs, I give you the Uzi Observation Parabolic Sound Device UZIOD1s!”

  “Wow,” seemed the operative word.

  “She’s trigger-activated, eight X monocular view finde
r, and comes with a built in recorder. A must have for covert work.”

  He handed the Uzi to Jan, who cuddled it like she would a baby. That girl dearly loves snoop toys. “It’s so light!”

  “Under thirty ounces.”

  “How far can it snoop?”

  “Three hundred feet. Wanna hear the playback?”

  You bet your sweet bippy we did.

  Gathering around Roger, we watched as he fast-forwarded through some boggles and scraping sounds, then we saw the two men talking in the glassed in bridge. “Turn up the volume,” Jan said. “I ain’t Hetta, you know.”

  I was not at the top of my game, either. I could clearly hear, but the conversation was in speedy Spanish. Mine is passable, but once they go into overdrive I only catch every few words. However, knowing the context helped.

  When the recording and video ended with Drew leaving the boat, I asked for a full translation, because as far as I could tell, there was no mention of any girls, only birds.

  Topaz volunteered as translator, answering my question about the white slavery thing. “They never discussed the girls, but they plan to start transporting and loading the birds tomorrow night, one truckload at a time. Tough patooties, huh? We’ve got the Pendejo’s truck.”

  That got a laugh.

  Roger said, “We could return it before he gets back.”

  Everyone looked at him like he’d been smoking funny cigarettes.

  “Oh, sure, Rog. Just drive right back into that debacle we left behind? ‘Hola there, Drew, mi amigo, I bring you trucke back,’” Topaz said with exaggerated Spanglish, sounding like Sofía Vergara.

  “Okay, put that way it sounds ridiculous, but I’d bet my Stetson he didn’t go back up the mountain tonight. Turns out he’s got a lady friend stashed here in town, and he’s at her place right now. Or at least he was when Craig and I drove by when we went for carnitas. You know, he probably shouldn’t leave his fancy pickup parked on the street like that. Vandals have no respect. I guarantee you the flatbed could beat him back to the old rancho.”

  I groaned inwardly. The idea of going back up there for any reason gave me a stomach ache. “Why should we provide the mule skinner a means to move the birds?”