“And the pain you cause?”
“I would pray that Charlie Bravo is successful.”
“You would pray, or I should?”
“You must. My prayers would be only an abomination. But I have made peace with this.”
“If you have so much power, fly me home. You don’t need the money from me. The rest of what you say is just macho bullshit.”
He looked at her and a smile brushed his face. “Do you know this courier? Charlie Bravo?”
“No.”
“I suspect that is not his name. I suspect also that he may be an agent of the ATF. I suspect that he might be one of the ATF agents who murdered Gustavo. I have very good sources, all over Mexico.”
Openly suspicious, he studied her reaction. Without taking his eyes off her he pulled a cell phone from his belt. He had to look away to push the buttons. He handed it to her, and she saw the poor resolution picture of Charlie Hood getting into a vehicle in what looked like a parking lot. She recognized the Tijuana Jai Alai Palace in the background. She handed it back to him.
“Nope. Sorry. This is the man my life depends upon now?”
“The courier. From your husband. You don’t know him?”
“I’ve never seen him before in my life. Answer me, Senor Armenta: are you going to fly me home?”
“If the money arrives on time I will fly you home. And if it does not, then all is as I promised.”
“If I asked for mercy would you give it to me?”
“I will accept the one million dollars and nothing else.”
Erin felt the gun taped to her leg. So be it, she thought. “I need to use the bathroom.”
“You were in your room only minutes ago.”
“Please?”
“Of course, Mrs. McKenna.”
Armenta walked her to a guest bath down the hall that Nestra had used. Erin turned on the light and locked the door and ran the tap and hiked her left foot onto the marble countertop. She unwrapped the Cowboy Defender and stood and thought: now you have to stand on your own two feet, girl. The gun was small and heavy and the rounded butt fit easily in her hand. She pushed it halfway into a shallow pocket in her dress, draped the shawl to cover it, and pulled it out and worked it back in again and wiggled it back and forth to make sure it would stay put as she walked. If the hammer was caught snug up under the pocket hem then it seemed okay. But what if it cocked itself and went off? She made sure the shawl covered it. Just barely. Where should she aim? Head if you can, heart if you can’t.
She took a deep breath and knelt down and vomited into the toilet. Then again. She felt sick all the way to her soul. When the retching stopped she wadded the medical tape in a ball and wrapped it in toilet paper and put it in the trashcan. In the mirror she saw her face, pale and glistening, her pupils black pits.
25
Armenta was waiting for her when she came out. She forced herself to look at him and noticed that he had tried to comb his hair.
“Come see some of my other accomplishments.” He turned to lead the way and she followed with her hands folded in front of her, inches from the gun, but this was an awkward way to walk and she couldn’t shoot him in the back anyway. You didn’t do that. She had just let her hands swing free to walk naturally when he turned around and looked at her. He had a suspicious expression on his face, but said nothing.
He led her through a spacious kitchen where two white-clad women were preparing a meal. She wondered if, dressed like they were, she could pass as one of them, just long enough to make it from the Castle to the cenote. What if she found one of them on the path? Wouldn’t she have to stop, and speak, then be discovered? Here in the kitchen their faces were almost hidden by their gauzy rebozos but their eyes smiled at Armenta as he paused to lift a pot lid and peruse the simmering chicken. Erin thought she might get sick again so she focused her attention on the chains of garlic cloves that hung in the opening of a pass-through. Garlic, she thought, save me.
She followed him down a short cool hallway to another room. Through the shawl she touched the gun but could not draw it. He turned on the lights and Erin stepped in. The lights were fluorescent, jittery and sharp, and the smell of marijuana was clear. The room was large but unfurnished except for several large tables that were piled with larger bricks of several colors. Beneath the tables were more stacks. Against the walls still more. These bundles were roughly the size of shoeboxes and they were wrapped in different colors of plastic.
“Are you sick?” he asked.
“I feel good.”
“You are white and perspiring.”
“I am pregnant and feeling it.”
“My wife was sick every day with Saturnino.”
She denied the nausea. “I’m sorry he turned into a monster. No, that’s none of my business. I’m sorry. I feel like I’m losing my mind.”
“He has visions now. The curandera gave him scorpion poison mixed with chocolate and goat’s milk. To make the visions stop.”
“What do the doctors say?”
“Edema of the brain. He ate one entire box of children’s cereal this morning, soaked in tequila.”
“I’m sorry, but…well, I thank you too. For saving me from him.”
He looked at her uncertainly and pointed to a table. “Here, look and see this.”
Erin looked down on a pallet-sized mountain of bundles wrapped in blue plastic with lightning bolts on them. There were bundles in yellow plastic with bumblebee designs and the word “BUZZ” on them. Beside these were blue packs with Homer Simpson’s face and below his face it said, in Spanish, “I’m Getting Smuggled-What of It, Man?” The next bundles were packed in clear plastic and she could see the swirls of green herb compressed within.
There was another, smaller great room in this part of the flat and Erin saw the hooded children sitting on the floor by the big TV watching a Disney video, and the women just now bringing plates of food to the dining table. This room too had a dramatic chandelier and a high ceiling but the paintings were not of saints but of Mayans and jaguars and birds and snakes. They walked past two men playing chess, and in their white hoods and loose white clothing they looked like ghosts or angels but when one of them looked at her, Erin saw that his nose and lips were gone and only some of his bottom teeth remained, staunch as headstones. She felt herself rising as if levitated and she knew she was fainting. One foot in front of the other. I will be there, Bradley. I will be there. Touch the Cowboy Defender. Saint Cowboy Defender.
A young woman came in from one of the hallways that led into the great room. She moved with an easy grace and she wore the white dress of the lepers but not the rebozo. She looked cautiously at Erin, then walked over and sat with the children in front of the TV.
Armenta motioned Erin toward them and led her over. The woman stood as they approached. She was very pretty and her face was pale and smooth and peaceful. Her hair was honey blond, wavy and fine.
“Erin McKenna,” he said. “This is Dulce Kopf.”
“Very nice to meet you,” said Erin.
“I heard your performance from my room. I had the window open to the rain and wind, so I could hear you. I hope you are enjoying your stay.”
“It’s been unusual.”
“I must get back to the children. There is always so much to be done with children.”
“Of course.”
“It’s what Gustavo would have wanted.”
“Oh?”
“We were young then. The Americans killed him without a reason or a word.”
She glided back among the youngsters and took her place among them. Armenta signaled her and they walked down another hallway.
“Does she have leprosy?”