Brady sipped his coffee and nodded. “I know what you mean, Riley. I wouldn’t want to do this full-time. It’s one and done. And then, you know, they could just forget about me, and I’ll forget about them. I just need to close this tiny loop, this little unfinished piece of business, and then my life will be simple and complete.”
“So, Bones, since we’re doing all this character reveal, I must tell you, I was mighty ashamed of how I treated you yesterday. I had no cause to question your judgment.”
“Riley, you had every right to. I think that’s how we’re going to make this work.”
“Well, I just wanted to apologize. I wanted you to know, Brady, you’re my best friend. I never expect to have that kind of a conversation with you again. It was wrong of me, and I was irritated for all kinds of reasons, but I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. You’re the one who’s trying to hand me two hundred thousand dollars. I ought to be jumping for joy.”
“Well, you got something to live for. That makes a difference. You got something good, Riley. I’m happy for you, man. You’re going to watch those kids grow up. The teachers and the other parents are going to think you’re their grandpa when you take them to school. But that’s okay. You got a good woman there, and I think she’s perfect with you.”
“Thanks, Brady. I do too.”
“And I’m glad you’re not pissed off with what Tate did.”
“Oh, hell, Brady. That old rooster had it coming. Tate just took care of business, that’s all.”
Brady nodded and chuckled. “Yup, he does what we do. Or what we’re going to do.”
“So are you still communicating with Maggie’s ghost? Does she talk back to you?”
Brady was okay talking about Maggie. He’d settled into the routine. “Almost every night,” he answered. “Not ready yet to let her go. Someday, but not right now.”
Riley was smart not to say anything.
“I should have stopped her from going that last time. She had turned down that position. But the gal who was supposed to go got pregnant. Maggie volunteered to take her place. And then she told me. I should have spent less time being angry and more time trying to talk her out of it. Then she wouldn’t have been there.”
“But did she ever do what you told her to do?”
Both men laughed.
“The most stubborn woman I ever met in my life. Who would have thought I would fall for a stubborn woman?”
“Nah, Brady. That’s exactly what you’re about,” Riley whispered.
Brady checked his bank account one more time before they crossed the border into Mexico. The money was still there, and he tried to give the mysterious woman’s phone number a return call. He just figured it was worth it to make contact, if he could.
But the phone was scrambled, probably routed halfway around the world. He didn’t know where the woman lived or was calling from. And that was okay. Maybe she had a way of knowing he was trying to call her, but anyway, he was ready for the challenge.
They stowed their guns and electronics, all their explosive devices in secret a compartment built into the floor of the camper van. Secured by screws and then covered by laminate flooring, it would be impossible for anybody to discover what they had brought, unless they put the vehicle through an x-ray machine. Even a bomb-sniffing dog wouldn’t be able to detect what they were bringing because the compartments were lined with lightweight aluminum.
Enemario and John had walked to a local market and stocked up on supplies, all the basic stuff, including a healthy portion of beer.
Brady asked them to get their passports out, while they discussed briefly what the story was going to be. Somebody in their group had gotten divorced, and they decided it would be Brady, and they would all celebrate together by going deep sea fishing in the Sea of Cortez. They were going to play it by ear. They didn’t have any plans; nobody made any reservations so there wouldn’t be any tickets or ways anyone could follow them other than just doing it the old-fashioned way—on the road. They would have their cell phones, but nothing to indicate that they’re former or active military.
Brady cautioned them about dealing with the Federales, getting entangled with local officials, and not to show that any of them had much money to spend. In reality, they had several thousand dollars tucked into one of those compartments, just in case they had to buy information from a trusted source, or buy their freedom.
It took them longer to park the other vehicles and get permission to leave them on the lot at the Naval base than they anticipated. The Navy hadn’t gotten any more efficient with red tape than they were when everybody was active.
Surprise, surprise.
The border crossing wound up being very anti-climactic. The U.S. side just waved them through, and the Mexican side took several quick looks, asked to board their van, walked to the back, noting the bedroom and the bathroom, and—without saying a word—passed them through as well.
The road reminded him of the stretch of highway that led to Fresno. The brown hills were dusty. There were only pockets of lush vegetation when a local resort seemed to just pop up out of the desert. Small foothills at the side of the highway were perfect places for bandits and bad guys to hide out or to stage a lookout without being noticed. It was desolate, lonely, and felt dangerous as hell. A huge feeling of foreboding filled Brady’s stomach.
Brady knew this stretch of highway was very dangerous, so he asked John to push the speed limit slightly, but not enough to get stopped. It was a twenty-hour normal drive, so anything John could do to speed it up would help.
Occasionally, they would hold up American tourists coming south, but word had probably already gone out that these were guys on a trip, no women, and no physical possessions of any remark, so they weren’t targets. That’s exactly what they wanted to look like.
An hour after dusk, they entered the town of San Benito, about sixty miles from Cabo proper. It also was near the ranch, supposedly, nestled in the foothills overlooking the town. They decided to walk the cobblestoned streets, looking for some clean place to have dinner, and see if they could pick up some intel on where this ranch was located.
The bars were well-populated with American tourists. Only a few family units were present. Most were single males or couples, but it didn’t even closely resemble the tourist-rich areas of Cabo. It resembled Cabo’s older, washed-up sister, her bloom long gone and struggling to remain relevant. Alcohol flowed freely and generously. They passed gamecock shows, all sorts of freak shows, strip joints, and oddities that made Brady’s skin crawl.
Riley thought it would be a good idea to ask about where they could pick up girls. One of the bars had a back room where certain services were provided. There wasn’t any romance involved, just beds lined up and ready for customers. Even the bedcovers looked dirty. After they were ushered into the small, dark room, the door closed behind them and locked with a loud click. It was beginning to feel like an involuntary encounter. Brady’s radar punched full on.
They were asked to sit on stools while girls paraded in front of them one by one, turning to the right and the left, not smiling, most of them young but appearing to be of legal age. All of them were either drugged or so stoned they had long ago shed any sense of caring for their personal safety. Maybe that was the come-on, Brady thought. Maybe some men liked it that way.