Coffee (41 page)

“NOW!”
Bryce boomed. A uniformed man looked out the window of the main
building toward their booth with a phone to his ear, presumably
wondering why the booth attendant hadn’t picked up his phone.
He pointed to a second man, and the two of them left to approach in
person.

The
guard took Bryce’s FBI ID and studied it closely. “I
can have you sign our Government Employee form - it’s a little
faster.”

Exasperated,
Bryce complied. “Give it to me!” He grabbed a pen off
the counter and zipped down the form, checking questionnaire boxes
and scribbling in names, then threw it back. “Let us
through!”

The
man read through the answers. The two walking officials had only
ten feet to go. “And you Sir?” He accepted Warren’s
passport and reviewed it. He made some notes, then stamped both
documents. “Will you be making any major purchases during your
stay in Mexico?”

“NO,
now let us through! I’m a top agent at the FBI, and I’ll
have you cleaning toilets in a city park if you don’t let us
pass.”

The
two approaching border officials knocked on the glass behind the
guard. When he turned to see who it was, Bryce and Warren grabbed
the passports and jumped on their bicycles. Dirt spun up as they
pumped hard to gain speed.

They
rode into a mass of milling people - shoppers and sellers of wares,
and children hounding the American tourists for tips. Two Mexican
teenagers, one rather fat and both wearing worn straw hats,
surrounded a middle aged American couple. Bryce led the way to
them, and quickly bartered their hats and shirts for the bikes. The
boys laughed and peeled off, happy with their take. Warren had
trouble buttoning the shirt. “Evasion strategy 101 again,
Warren,” Bryce said while lowering the brim of his hat. “Hide
right away. Duck back in the line going the other way.”

Warren
nodded. “Not bad. Who’d think we want to go back
through.”

Part
of a little used reciprocity ordinance allowed border patrol to
extend one mile into the other country to apprehend escaping
patriots. Half of the border staff, now armed with pistols, filed
out into the crowd. As Bryce had hoped, they ran after the crowds
heading deeper into Mexico, not giving more than a glance toward the
returning lines. Three helicopters putted on the horizon.

Bryce
and Warren stayed low, half crouching to keep their heads even with
the shorter Mexican families around them. A blast of a horn sounded,
and a neon sign above the main border building lit, reading
“CLOSED”. The crowd jeered and some threw stones toward
the booths. Warren looked nervously toward Bryce. “Now
what.”

Near
by, an expensively dressed Mexican woman clutching a small child
began crying. “Niño, o niño. No podemos pasar!”
A suited man stepped up to her and began conversing quietly in
Spanish. Warren watched the woman’s sad face transform to a
smile as he talked, and soon the man led her weaving through the
crowd.

“Looks
like that guy has a ‘border service.’ That lady
couldn’t get through, now she’s happy.”

Warren
wondered aloud, “The kind where you climb under wire fences,
get chased by horses across a wide open desert, and fired at from
hovering helicopters? Doesn’t sound like something for a lady
holding a baby.” They watched them pass through the crowd,
and step up to a covered truck. The man led the woman and baby to
the front passenger seat, and then walked back into the mob of
people.

Bryce
gestured Warren to follow. “Gives me an idea. Let’s
talk to him.” American and Mexican border patrol guards
fanned out, stopping men traveling alone or in pairs.

Warren
spoke to the back of Bryce’s head as they maneuvered through
the masses, “Hey, we better do something quick. They’re
all around us.”

“Yea,
and you blend in about as well as Hulk Hogan.” They
intercepted the suited man as he searched for his next customer.
Bryce stepped up to him, and tried his broken Spanish. “Hola,
Señior. ¿Hablas Ingles?”

“Yes
I do. I’m American.”

“Oh,
great. I couldn’t help noticing your offering a ride to that
woman. Do you by any chance have alternative means across the
border?”

“For
you?”

A
border guard came dangerously close, separated from the three men by
only one family tending to some woven bags. Warren and Bryce
fidgeted openly, and started to pull back to a new location. The
business man noticed and nodded. “Oh, I see,” he said.
“You’re the reason they closed the gate. And you want
to go across?”

Bryce
nodded. Warren interjected, “We do?”

“Do
you have money?” the man asked.

Bryce
pulled out some of Warren’s money. The man’s eyes lit
up. “Some, yes. I’ll pay you a thousand U.S. dollars
apiece for us.”

The
man thought quickly. “Are there more of you?”

“Just
us.”

“What
are you wanted for?”

“We’re
the good guys, I promise. We’re trying to save a woman’s
life.” Bryce couldn’t explain, and allowed the
perceptive man to stare back intently.

“You’ll
have to pay double. You need wives. You’ll have to pay for
them too, same price.”

Warren
perked up again, “Wives?”

The
man sized up Warren. “Actually, you take the one in the
truck. Her baby has a heart condition and needs to get to Phoenix.
Go to her, she speaks English.” Warren was about to ask a
question, but the man sternly waved him away to the truck.

“Now,
for you, Señior.” The man spoke with authority, and
began searching the crowd. “I know a needy traveler from a
hundred yards.” Bryce followed. The man stepped up to a
young woman standing with an embroidered bag, looking forlorn as she
gathered her things. He spoke to her fluently in Spanish, and then
looked over at Bryce. She bashfully grinned, but nodded
enthusiastically. He said some more, and the woman moved toward
Bryce. She handed him her bag and took his arm.

Bryce
tried again with his terrible accent, “Buenos dias, Señorita.”

“Buenas
tardes,” she responded, Bryce not understanding the
correction. A border guard stepped up to the suited man and asked
some questions. The man shook his head with his palms up while Bryce
led the woman away toward the truck.

Military
vehicles entered the square in a column, filled with armed soldiers.
The first one stopped, and an officer jumped from the passenger
seat. Soldiers crowded out and lined up in front of him at
attention. After some harsh words and waving hands, they dispersed
into the crowd. Bryce looked back at the suited man who was still
engaged with the guard. The man recognized Bryce’s alarm, and
quickly found a way to end the questioning and follow.

Warren
had already jammed into the front of the truck with the woman and
baby. Bryce and his ‘wife’ climbed into the enclosed
back, outfitted with a foam rubber mattress and shelves for food and
clothes. The man grabbed the wheel, and raced out of the square,
headed for a side street.

A
military jeep spun dust high in the air as it gunned toward them.
The man slowed the truck down and pulled over. “What are you
doing?” Warren asked. “Get out of here! They’re
police!”

The
man ordered, “Kiss your wife. You have just come across the
border into Mexico to see your baby. Now!” The jeep pulled up
next to them. Two soldiers leaped out, one heading for the back,
and one to the driver window. Warren looked sheepishly at the
woman, but she knew the drill and played along convincingly. She
wrapped her arms around Warren’s neck, and kissed him with
open mouth. Warren hesitated at first, but when seeing the
soldier’s capped head peering into the cab, he returned the
affectionate embrace.

“O!
Mira! O! Amor!” she cooed between kisses. Warren kept one
hand on the baby.

The
soldier in the back banged loudly on the rear door-window, too
covered in crusty dirt to see through. Bryce furiously searched the
inside of the compartment, not even sure what he was looking for.
The woman sprang into action, quickly sizing up the situation. She
unbuttoned her shirt, and pulled the sides off her shoulders to
expose her naked chest. She forced Bryce down on her just as the
back gate opened, but then popped up with a start when the solider
looked in. She awkwardly covered herself with her arms, still
leaving most of her skin visible to the soldier, and began yelling.
“Va! Va! Vayase te aqui!” Bryce kept his head facing
the woman with the straw hat on the back of his head. The soldier
smirked at the woman, eyeing her breasts, and then lowered the gate.

The
woman straightened up and returned her blouse. Embarrassed, Bryce
tried to thank her. “Gracias!”

“You’re
welcome.” She spoke with a sweet accent. “You’re
paying for me, remember? I owe at least as much.”

“You
speak English!”



The
truck bounced down the road. Warren slid the little window across
that opened to the rear of the truck and conversed with Bryce. “You
O.K.?”

“Yea.
My Señorita here deserves an Oscar.”

“Mine
too.” Warren blushed a little, embarrassed that he enjoyed the
sensuous kiss. “So, what did you do to that guy’s
computer?”

“That’s
the same piece of shit they have at the agency. If you push the
Insert and Print Screen key at the same time, it freezes up. Every
time.”

“‘Nother
point for the government.”

“Nice
job disabling the telephone.”

“Thanks.
What was that business with ‘bin fault’ or whatever it
was?”

“It
was ‘bin talt’. Thanks for remembering it. It’s
a code a guy at the office came up with for remembering numbers.”
He turned to the driver. “You have a pen?” The suited
man found one on the dash and handed it back. Bryce picked up a
scrap of paper and started writing. Warren turned around in his
seat and stuck his big head through the window to see.

Bryce
wrote FBI MEN LAST on the paper. Under each letter, he lined up the
numbers - 1,2,3,4... up to 0. “Let’s see, according to
the code, ‘bin talt’ is 2...3...6 - 0...8...7...0.
That’ll be where I can reach her.”

“Clever
boy,” Warren joked.

“Tom
used to call it the ‘Bed Code,’ ‘cause he thought
himself such a sex machine. But when Brooke found out about it, she
started calling it the ‘Race Code’.”

“I
get it. FBI men finish last. Even more clever girl.”

“She’s
risking a lot for us - I sure hope she stays out of trouble.”



They
traversed dusty ravines, past crumbling adobe buildings, along
severely rutted roads. Saguaro cacti speckled the hills, topped
with brilliant white and red flowers. Men and women walked along,
some leading burros, others laden with packages larger than
themselves. Many of the meager dwellings, while basic and old, were
adorned with colorful curtains and blooming flowers.

In
two hours they came to a small town having only four central
buildings. They parked and entered a general store. They had only
one shelf of canned goods, some sacks of beans and rice, and a few
other miscellaneous items scattered around. A burly Mexican greeted
them with a big smile, showing only two stained front teeth
remaining. The suited man slapped a thin stack of 100’s on
the counter. The store owner inspected Bryce and Warren’s
obviously American faces and stopped smiling. Without touching the
money, he shook his head. The suited man huffed, but did not
protest as he put a few more bills on the pile. The grin returned,
and the proprietor motioned them behind the counter. The suited man
remained. Bryce shook his hand warmly before leaving, and Warren
tipped his hat.

They
entered a dirt passageway through a fake wall panel in the back of
the store. The owner handed them a cheap flashlight and some extra
batteries. A blast of stale earthy air greeted them as they ascended
the steep grade. Bryce could barely stand upright, while Warren had
to hunch over to pass without bumping his head on the splintery
wooden beams. A scurry of animal sounds came from ahead. Bryce
led, and focused what little light he did have at his feet, more
concerned about what he might step on. The others held onto each
other in a chain, by shirt tails.

The
tunnel meandered along, avoiding large rocks. Occasionally they
came upon a pile of dirt which had caved in, nearly blocking off
their progress. They all helped to remove the stones and claw away
the dirt with bare hands until they could shimmy through. They also
stopped to help one of the women who had walked into an exposed root
and poked her eye. Bryce wondered if the tunnel had proper
aeration, as he sensed his own labored breathing and fatigue. Their
trip continued for over an hour. Besides the baby’s crying,
they uttered only airy grunts.

With
great relief, the floor finally inclined up, and they saw the
outline of light around a door at the top. Bryce went first. He
quieted the others with a finger to his lips, and then listened at
the door. When his ear was pressed against the dirty plywood, it
suddenly opened, and there stood a hearty American woman in a
stained apron. She stood less than five feet, with calves below her
skirt as thick as footballs.

“Welcome
to America! That is if you can afford it.” She held out her
hand and looked around Bryce’s shoulder. “Four of you,
that’s two thousand.”

Bryce
wanted to protest, but a man with a similar build stepped into view
holding a double barreled shot gun. “Pay or go back.”

“What
a scam,” Warren said, still down in the hole.

“One
more peep and it’s 800 each.” His words hissed by the
stub of a cigar.

Bryce
reluctantly pulled twenty 100’s out of his pocket. The woman
spied the sizable wad still left in his hand. She counted her fee
slowly and then let them pass. “Wipe your feet!”