Just Different Devils (19 page)

Or, perhaps I could explain to them that I didn't think yelling, "Pearls!" was a very effective distress call?

Tucked safely back at the Partida anchorage, surrounded by other vessels and concerned boaters, I was shaky, but relieved. And exhausted.

And although I assured her that my chest pains had abated, a nurse in the fleet insisted I endure a cautionary medical exam. My blood pressure was a little high, but whose wouldn't be if they'd lived in my flip flops for the past twenty-four hours? Make that forty years.

I provided cold beer and other drinks for those who gathered on
Raymond Johnson
, eager to show support. When my own three beers caught up with me, I began yawning and they politely left, but assured me they were only a radio call away.

My need for sleep was superceded by an urgency to talk to Jan, as I was unsure she had even reached Lopez Mateos. Much to my relief, she answered.

"Hetta! Thank goodness. Where the hell
are
you? Jill called and said you wouldn't be in Cabo, but  she's worried even though you told her not to call the feds. What's going on? We're expecting you to arrive here tomorrow afternoon."

"I'm back at Partida."

"What? Why?"

I told her of my horrible day, thanked her profusely for stealing Nacho's gun, which probably saved my life, but was too tired to share all the mean stuff I'd done to Mac, even though I knew she'd be delighted. I did let her know I'd cut Mac loose at the
bajo
on his promise to return Nacho if I didn't squeal for the feds for at least three more days. 

"And you say they had Nacho's boat back out there?"

"Yep. And Mac told me Nacho was fine, and if I just wait it out, it'll be over in a few days. Whatever
it
is."

"And, of course, we should believe the lying sack of
caca
."

"Which I don't, but I checked that GPS tracker on Nacho's boat as soon as Mac swam away, and for sure it was his."

"Interesting. The Navy towed it off, and now it's back? I smell a large rat."

"Yeah, that's what I thought."

I heard someone in the background and Jan added, "By the way, Chino says you owe him a bunch of money for diesel fuel. It's all stored in fifty-five gallon drums at Granny Yee's."

"Who knows? I might need it yet. How's Po Thang?"

"Pouting. Ever since we left you at Balandra."

"Put him on."

She held the phone for Po Thang, I sweet-talked him for a couple of minutes, and then Jan got back on. "Yuck, there's dog slobber all over my phone. Have you called Jenks yet to let him know you aren't headed for the border?"

"I left a message."

"Did this message you left contain anything resembling the truth?"

"Not exactly. I said I had boat trouble and had returned to Marina de la Paz."

"You better grab an extinguisher, Chica, your knickers are ablaze."

"Hey, I feel bad, but I figure if he thinks I'm safely at a marina it'll settle him down. It's not like he can do anything to help me from over there, you know."

"Hetta, you already told him the feds were after you, and you had to leave the country! What part about you
not
leaving the country is going to make him happy? He'll be worried. You just gotta learn to keep your stories straight."

"Okay, I'll tell him the feds are no longer interested in me. It might even be true. Hell, maybe they never really
were
, and I panicked without reason."

"Oh, I think you had plenty of reason, and still do, but we're back to square one."

"I know. Look, why don't you have Chino phone that number Javier called when he was on the boat and see who answers? Maybe he can talk to someone, you know, feel them out about me."

"Who does he ask for? Lieutenant Javier of the blue panga? That doesn't sound very official."

"It's Lieutenant Morales. I peeked at his drivers license when we pantsed him. We  should' a kept the
pendejo's
chorts for making us believe he was just a courier."

"Yeah," she drawled, "I know how much you abhor artifice. Anyhow, I'll ask Chino to make the call."

"Good. Uh, and I need a really, really big favor."

"Your favor karma has reached critical mass, and not in a good way. What now?"

"Can
you
call Jenks and tell him it was all a misunderstanding, and the feds don't want me for anything?
You
, he'll believe."

"Maybe that's because I've never lied to him?"

"But you've ratted me out to him from time to time, so he trusts you. You'll be doing him a favor. He's a good guy, half-way around the world, and there's no sense in keeping him worried, right? I mean, he can't do anything anyhow, because the one guy he calls when we're in a jam is Nacho, and that ain't gonna happen, may he rest in peace."

"I thought you said Nacho isn't dead?"

"Okay, so maybe he isn't, but Jenks still can't call him for help."

"Standby, gotta talk to Chino."

While I waited I checked the GPS tracker on Nacho's boat. It was still at the
bajo
. What if he was on it, hurt, and needing help? It was high tide, I
could
go out through the cut in
DawgHouse,
and if the other boats were gone, check it out. But night was fast approaching, and I was dog tired. Maybe in the morning?

Jan came back to the phone, "I'll call Jenks. I'll lose any credibility I've ever had with him if this thing goes badly, but I'll fib to him for his own good, just this once. But only if you stay put. Chino and I will be there by tomorrow afternoon. We'll hire a panga in La Paz to bring us out. Agreed?"

"Yes, yes, and yes! Cross my heart and hope to die I will not leave this boat. You'll bring Po Thang?"

"Of course."

"And some of Granny Yee's
carnitas
?"

"Don't push your luck. Will you be okay there by yourself for tonight?"

"Yep. I didn't go back to our usual anchoring spot, so I'm smack dab in the middle of the fleet. And, they are keeping an eye on me because of that TIA."

"What the hell is a TIA?

"Transient Ischemic Attack. I'm all better now."

Silence. Then a big sigh. "I don't
even
want to know."

As weary as I was after being drugged, then waxing devious, and being a downright bully-dame, I was restless. Actually, I'd kind of enjoyed the bully part because Mac deserved it, but I guess I was feeling a tweak of conscience for the fake TIA I'd conjured up to justify declaring a medical emergency to my fellow boaters.

Or maybe my inability to sleep was the aftereffect of whatever Mac slipped in my tea, which I could have used a tiny hit of again. I had a bad case of the heebie-jeebies. Every little noise sent me leaping out of bed and peering outside. I'd checked all the locks on the doors several times, and couldn't stop watching my security cameras. I missed my guard dog something awful.

Sometime after midnight, I took a slug of Nyquil and moved from my comfy queen up to the main cabin settee. Less comfortable, yes, but at least I could easily see outside while I awaited Nyquil's surefire wave of nirvana. To quote one of my favorite lines by Blanche Deveraux in the
The Golden Girls
, I was as jumpy as a virgin at a prison rodeo.

Before turning in for what proved a restless night, I'd poked around in the guest cabin, snooping through Nacho's and Mac's belongings they'd left behind. Mac's gallon-sized plastic zip bag held toiletries, and a wallet containing a drivers license confirming the story of his home town in Scotland, and five thousand pesos, which I stuck in my pocket. Call it dues.

Nacho's aftershave was Canoe. I'd wondered why every time he showed up showered and shaved for cocktail hour I got a case of nostalgia; there was this baseball pitcher from the Dominican Republic...but I digress.

I dabbed a little Canoe behind my ears.

Mac had stuffed his shorts and tees into a raggedy duffle bag, Nacho's clothes were neatly folded on shelves. Nacho wears tighty whities, Mac evidently wears nothing at all, which brought to mind that kilt thing. Looked like Nacho was reading a Lee Child novel (of course) and Mac? One of the Outlander series (of course).

Why is it the men in my life are so unpredictable and not more nerdish? Even Jenks's touch of nerd-dom is overridden by his adventures around the world, which are why he is seldom around. Nacho lives a shadowy existence straddling both sides of the law, and Mac? Suffice it to say, I have permanently erased him from my dance card.

Nacho must have been keeping his important things—the ones he didn't want me getting into—on his boat because I found no wallet, computer, or paperwork of any sort in the cabin. Another good reason to go get that boat.

I checked the GPS tracker again. Yep, still out there but a low battery warning let me know I wouldn't be able to track Nacho's panga for much longer.

Chino and Jan were due out the next day, so when they arrived, I figured we could take the boat they'd hired to run out and retrieve Nacho's panga. Along the
malecon
in La Paz, pangas are lined up every day, their drivers waiting hopefully for some one to hire them for a run to the islands, so I knew the driver would appreciate some extra cash. Lucky for him I'd just happened upon five thousand extra pesos. Coincidence? You be the judge! 

After dawn, I finally got a few hours sleep, but later in the morning concerned boaters began stopping in to check if I was okay. They were all so nice, bringing me muffins, cookies and herbal tea, I almost came down with a case of the guilties, but evidently we mini-stroke victims recover quickly from the burden of telling the truth.

Jan called about halfway out from La Paz, while she still had a cell signal, to let me know they were inbound with even more treats in hand. And, she added, she had a surprise for me.

I hate surprises and Jan knows it. I figured this little tease was the first of many ways she planned to torment me for...well, everything.

Yep, surprises suck.

Jan, Po Thang, Chino and, uh-oh, Javier arrived just before lunch. That's
Lieutenant
Javier, of the blue panga, Nacho connection and pantsing. I couldn't help noticing he wore a belt now, perhaps as less of a fashion statement than a security measure.

As they neared I saw Po Thang leaning against Javier's leg, gazing up in adoration. Perfidious cur. Then I noticed Javier was both driving the boat and eating a candy bar, a multitask which my dog hoped would result in dropped chocolate. Javier, however, stuffed the last of the candy into his mouth and a disappointed Po Thang immediately turned toward me, as though my presence was a complete surprise.

His exuberant, "OMG, it's you!" act was less than convincing, but I was so happy to see him I went along. He bounded up the stairs and almost flattened me, whining and bashing me with that tail of terror. I bent down on one knee and buried my face in his fur. His breath was chocolaty.

I sniffed and gave Jan, who was second to board, a frown. She shrugged and whispered, "Javier gave him a tiny piece before I could stop him. He'll live. You? Maybe not. What the hell have you gone and got us into this time?"

"Me?" I hissed, "You're the one who brought the fed."

"Chino did it. We traced the number from Javier's telephone conversation with some captain, and Chino called in a few favors. He is, after all, a highly respected Mexican with lots of contacts, which we sometimes forget because he doesn't throw his weight around. Something
one
of us could take a lesson from. Anyhow, the good news? What I told Jenks wasn't a lie. According to Javier, the feds have no ax to grind with you."

Chino joined us, his arms full of grocery bags. "
¡Hola!
Hetta. What are you two whispering about? And where do you want the carnitas?"

"In a tortilla, stat!"

Javier arrived with overstuffed arms, as well. I eyed his shorts and he grinned. "Do not think of it!"

I gave both guys a hug around the bags, and Po Thang didn't like that much. He grabbed the bottom of a plastic bag and tugged. It broke open, but to his dismay, only oranges rolled out.

We all scrambled to catch rolling
naranjas
before they went overboard, and Po Thang, eager to get in the game, dashed about barking and nipping at other bags. Jan grabbed him by the collar, snapped on a leash, and clipped him to a rail.

The entire crew collapsed into deck chairs, howling with laughter. Po Thang howled as well, but in frustration at being tethered. I popped up and got four beers from the deck fridge, so we put off taking the groceries down to the galley.

As we relaxed, a panga roared into the anchorage way too fast, throwing a rooster tail and a very dangerous wake. And it was headed directly for us.

"Isn't that Nacho's boat?" Jan yelled.

Javier, Chino and I all spoke at the same time.

"
Si
."

"Yes."

"
Mierda
!"

Only Chino flew into action. Faster than I thought possible, he jumped down into Javier's panga, untying it on the way, started the engines and hit the throttles just after Javier made his own graceful leap to join him. Their lives spent in pangas made this action look easy, but I would have broken my neck.

"Get ready to jump if he hits the boat!" Chino yelled over his shoulder at Jan and me. "We'll try to head him off."

Like stunt men out of a Western or action movie, they caught up with the speedster, pulled alongside, and gave it a bump, diverting it from
Raymond Johnson
, but toward the fleet. It was bearing down quickly on all those anchored boats when Javier leaped into Nacho's boat and instantly pulled back the throttles. The boat settled into it's own wake so fast that water almost swamped the outboards.

Chino veered off, very nearly clipping Nacho's boat, and then throttled back himself.

The two boats had created a mini-tsunami, which hit
Raymond Johnson
first, then continued into the main anchorage. Masts began a slow metronome-like sway, becoming more pronounced until the boats were both rolling gunwale to gunwale and wildly yawing at the same time as they rotated on their vertical axes. Some of the smaller ones shipped water, but our wind-assisted buddies are somewhat used to that. I just hoped no one was seriously injured. Screams and curses echoed throughout the anchorage, and from the fish camp behind us as the beached fishermen's pangas were washed up onto the rocks.

Po Thang, when the wake hit us, was still tied to the rail and almost skidded overboard, but I threw myself flat out on the deck and grabbed him by the tail. We were both in danger of taking a plunge when Jan, both feet wrapped around the base of a deck mounted table, latched onto my feet.

A refracting wave from shore hit us again on the other side of the hull and I skidded in Jan's direction, dragging Po Thang with me and almost strangling him with his collar in the process.

Crashing sounds from below told of a nasty cleanup in our immediate future. However, if the reefer's contents were all over the galley floor, Po Thang was the man for the job.

When the surge finally calmed down enough to stand, I worked my way forward, holding on to handrails all the way and checked out my ground tackle to make sure all that turbulence hadn't chafed the snubber lines, or dislodged the anchor. Po Thang, still coughing and gagging from his near hanging, dogged me and whined until I dragged his pee pad out of its hold. After the past few minutes I totally sympathized.

Both pangas worked their way slowly back to
Raymond Johnson
and we tied Nacho's alongside the transom. Javier cut the engines, and Po Thang bounded into the boat and began giving it a goodly sniff. After a couple of minutes he zeroed  in on the locker where Nacho kept his gun before Jan liberated it, barked, and then went on point.

Jan and I looked at each other with dread, knowing whatever was in there couldn't be good. I stepped into the cockpit, and while Javier pulled Po Thang away, I opened the door. Inside was a large black plastic bag, closed with duct tape.

Just as I reached in to drag it out of the hatch it squirmed and I jumped back so fast I banged into Javier, almost knocking him down. His superior balance kept both of us on our feet, but my scream brought Chino on the run.

Whipping a knife from his cargo shorts pocket, he said, "Everyone, stay back. Hetta, please take Po Thang away. Secure him on the deck, then come back down here. You, too, Jan. Then, while Hetta and Jan pull out the bag, Javier and I will be ready to fend off whatever is in there."

"Like a giant squid?" I asked. Everyone nodded, all of us evidently sharing a common fear.

Po Thang didn't go easily. It actually took both Jan and me to wrestle him up the ladder and clip him to the rail. Even then he was struggling so hard he was choking himself again.

Someone
was gonna have a really sore neck later today.

I ran inside, took the gun from its hidey hole and stuffed it into my shorts pocket. The heavy weapon threatened to pants me, ironic given that Javier was back. I also brought back Po Thang's life jacket and harness to make sure he didn't slip out of that collar and add to whatever chaos was coming.

Back in Nacho's panga, I asked, "Chino, can you let Jan and Javier pull the bag out and open it." I brandished a nasty looking gaff I use to land large fish. "If whatever is in there attacks, you and I can nail him." I wasn't about to reveal that gun unless necessary in front of a Mexican federal officer. Just one bullet can get you five years in the clink.

Jan looked like she was about to protest, but then noticed the sag in my shorts and smiled. "Good idea. Let's do this."

While Chino and I stood to either side of the console, me behind the opened door, Jan and Javier grabbed the bag by the duct tape-wrapped opening and tugged.

"Heavy," Jan proclaimed. Javier nodded.

"On three?" I suggested.

Everyone agreed.

"One. Two. Three!"

The bag slid out faster than anticipated on the wet deck, and wedged behind the removable driver's seat and the console. Why hadn't we removed the damned chair? Oh, well.

Jan and Javier moved back while Chino grabbed the bag and cut the top off with one quick slash of his dive knife. Another wiggle inside the bag scattered us, but Javier recovered fast and moved in, lifting the bottom of the sack. He gave it a hard yank and it slipped down far enough to reveal a set of bare, bloody feet held tightly together with plastic tie wraps. 

I helped Chino cut away the tough tie wraps while Jan and Javier shredded the plastic bag. Concentrating on holding down the legs lest they move and Chino sliced into the victim, I heard Jan say, "He's breathing. Forget the feet, let's turn him on his back and sit him up."

"On three!"

"One. Two. Thr—Oh, hell!"

Nacho struggled to sit himself up and gave me a grin that, even though in a blood-splotched face, was charming.

" Café," he croaked, "I want a refund. This is the worst cruise I've ever been on."