He fell back on his earlier invention. “You know, Capitán, the day after you called, two men appeared in my office with a transfer order for the woman, and they took her away.”
“Away where?” the capitán asked.
“I don’t know. They told me that if I told anyone of her transfer I would lose my job, so I assumed they were from the Ministry.”
“That is very peculiar,” the capitán replied. “I will make some inquiries.”
“Oh, no, please! If you start asking around, whoever is behind this will hear of it and will take it out on me. I beg you, don’t mention this to anyone else.”
“Pedro, you must know this is highly irregular,” the capitán said.
“And I was told to continue to keep her on my roster of prisoners, to make no change.”
“Do you know the names of these men?”
“No, but they had a fully executed transfer order with all the proper stamps.”
“I see. Then I suppose you had no choice but to surrender the woman to them.”
“No choice whatsoever, Capitán. When I questioned them they threatened to call Mexico City and have me disciplined.”
“All right, Pedro, don’t worry about it. I won’t mention it to anyone in the Ministry, or anyone else, for that matter.”
“Thank you, Capitán,” Alvarez said. “If you’d like to come up, I can give you your choice of other women. None as beautiful as the Eagle woman, of course, but very nice.”
“Perhaps another time, Pedro,” the capitán said. “I must run now. Good-bye.”
Alvarez hung up the phone, and he was bathed in sweat. His money was gone, and he could only hope that the capitán would keep his word.
THE CAPITÁN STARED AT his phone for a moment, then picked it up and dialed a number at the Ministry of Justice in Mexico City. He was greeted warmly by his contact.
“I would like you to do something for me,” the capitán said. “Can you check your computer for the El Diablo women’s prison in Tres Cruces and see if there is a record of a transfer for a prisoner named Barbara Eagle? She is an Anglo.”
“It will take only a moment,” the man said. Shortly he returned to the phone. “No, there is no such record. She is carried on the roll of El Diablo as a prisoner there.”
“Would the transfer of any inmate be recorded in your computer files?”
“Yes, indeed. The issuance of a transfer order and the execution of the order would both be recorded.”
The capitán thanked the man, then hung up. Something smelled of fish, he thought. Then he thought again. No, not of fish-of escape. The woman had somehow got herself out of El Diablo and was now free. Then he remembered something.
He looked up the number for Cupie Dalton, in Los Angeles, and dialed it.
“This is Cupie,” a voice said.
“Cupie, it’s me.”
“Capitán! How the hell are you?”
“All right, I guess. You remember you phoned me a little while back about the woman Barbara Eagle?”
“Yeah, sure, I did.”
“You wanted to know if she was still in prison?”
“Yeah, that’s right.”
“She is not.”
Cupie thought about that for a moment. “Barbara is out?”
“It would appear so. The day following our conversation two men appeared at the prison with a transfer order, supposedly issued by the Ministry of Justice. The warden told me it was properly executed, and the men took Eagle away, telling him to continue to keep her on his roll of prisoners and warning him to tell no one.”
“Good God! Where did they take her?”
“I have no idea. The Ministry has no record of a transfer. I suspect that this was an escape arranged by some friend of hers.”
“Is anyone looking for her?”
“No, that would be… inconvenient, at this time.”
“I can understand how it might be,” Cupie said.
“Cupie, it seems possible that your eyes did not deceive you when you thought you saw her.”
“It certainly does,” Cupie replied.
“My friend, I would be very grateful if you could try and trace her. It is impossible for me to pay you at this time, but if you were able to find her and return her to Mexico, I could arrange a substantial reward for you.”
Cupie thought about that. It wasn’t as though he had much work at the moment. “Capitán, I would be very happy to try and find her,” he said.
“Good, Cupie, very good.”
“I can’t estimate how much time it might take, but there are leads I can follow.”
“Please call and tell me of your progress,” the capitán said.
The two men said good-bye and hung up, then Cupie made another call.
“Hello?”
“Vittorio? It’s Cupie.”
“Hello, Cupie,” Vittorio replied. The two men had worked together twice for Ed Eagle, searching for his ex-wife.
“I just heard from our friend, the capitán, in Tijuana,” Cupie said. “Barbara is out.”
13
Ed Eagle sat in a canvas director’s chair on the set of Susannah’s film. It was the first day of shooting, and since he had invested in the film, his name was emblazoned on his chair.
Eagle had never watched a movie being filmed, and he found the process painfully slow. Scenes were shot from different angles; there were master shots, two shots and close-ups, and the lighting had to be adjusted for each setup. Grass grew faster, he decided, and he was pleased when his cell phone vibrated. He got up and walked off the soundstage. “Hello?”
“Ed, it’s Cupie Dalton.”
“Hello, Cupie.”
“I’m sorry if I’m disturbing you.”
“It’s all right. You got me out of watching a movie being made. I’ve rarely been so bored.”
“I have some bad news, I’m afraid.”
“Did somebody die, Cupie?”
“Not yet,” Cupie replied, “but you’d better watch your ass. Barbara is out of prison.”
Eagle froze, and it took him a moment to respond. “How?” he asked.
Cupie told him how two men had appeared at the prison with a transfer order and taken her away. “Turns out the order was a fake.”
“When did this happen?”
“I’m not sure, exactly-two, three weeks ago. I think I saw her at Venice Beach about that time.”
Eagle took a deep breath. “Why would she be at Venice Beach?”
“There’s a guy has a photography business down there, and as a sideline he makes paper for those who can afford him. Or maybe the sideline is the photography.”
“So, she has a new identity?”
“That’s my guess.”
“Any idea where she is?”
“No, but sooner or later she’s going to be wherever you are. We both know that.”
“Yes, we do,” Eagle replied.
“I’ve been offered a reward, if I can return her to Mexico, but I need expense money for Vittorio and me.”
“What do you need?”
“Three hundred a day each,” Cupie replied, “and ten grand each if we can take her back.”
“Done,” Eagle said. “I’ll wire you the first week’s expenses immediately. Your account information still the same?”
“Yes. I’ll be coming to Santa Fe. There’s no point in trying to track her, since we know her destination.”
“Get on it, then.”
“You know, Ed, somebody had to arrange this for her, a friend on the outside.”
“Barbara doesn’t have any friends,” Eagle replied.
“Except for one.”
“As it happens, he’s here in Santa Fe right now, in the next room, in fact.”
“Don’t let on that you know she’s out,” Cupie said. “He’s our only link to her.”
“All right.”
“I’ll be there tonight,” Cupie said, “and we’ll start tomorrow morning.”