Kingdom of God Page 13

  Theo and I were supposed to be the last ones out of there. He didn’t know what was going on. I just pushed him out the door and put the kids in the van. I told them to go anywhere. Across the border. La Presa. My dad’s house. Anywhere. Just go. That was all I could say. I don’t think I could say anything else. My mind was just blank.

  I don’t know how I noticed it but someone was missing. I was counting off everyone and someone was missing. I’m like pushing Theo ‘Where’s Maribel? Where’s Maribel?’ He said he didn’t know. Before I went back inside to find her there were these headlights coming up the hill. I knew it was them. I knew it. It had to be. I just told Theo ‘Get in the van and go.’ I ran inside and locked the front door. The van was backing out when I shut it. God I hope they made it. Please tell me they’re safe.

  Maribel was in the common area. She wanted her bracelets. I just grabbed her and said we had to hide. There was like this cubby with a sliding door. I squeezed us both in there.

  Suddenly. I don’t know how but there was fire. And yelling. I heard men outside. Some kind of flaming bottle came over the wall and into the common area. Now all I see is flames. I scream. I can’t help it. I’m just looking around trying to find a way out but my eyes are burning. Then. I don’t know how. I just thought of the back. I thought they wouldn’t be there. I hoped they wouldn’t check it. I just picked Maribel up and headed straight for it. The door was locked but I got it open.

  I couldn’t be quiet. I was just screaming. Running down the hill in the alleyway sobbing with Maribel in my arms. My legs were already hurting running down that dirt path. I guess I was lucky that it was getting dark. No one could see me.

  We got down the hill and there are all these cars rushing by and people walking around. It didn’t feel any safer. Any one of them could’ve been with Heriberto. Any one of them could have killed us just like they did Ray. I wanted us to be away from it all. It would be safe if it was just the two of us. That’s all I thought.

  La Presa was so far away. I didn’t know how to get there. But I knew it was by the river. If I could find the river I could get to the house. So we walked. I walked south until I hit the river. We just walked along the bank until we got here.

  It’s weird. It’s just starting to hit me what happened. I’ll never see these people again. The place where I’ve spent the last four years of my life just burned to the ground. And I don’t know. We’re just kids. We shouldn’t have to deal with this. I’m just thinking what does God want now? What does He want out of me? I’m on a concrete bank in the middle of the night with this little orphan girl who’s already been through so much. I was just praying this whole time ‘God, what do You want from us?’

  I stopped praying when the concrete ended. There were trees and mud and we had to crawl across this swamp and climb up the bank. We should’ve crossed earlier. A man took pity on us and gave us one free shower. I thought about stealing from the grocery store but I didn’t. Maribel’s been sleeping on this floor for the last three days. I’ve been up keeping watch. There’s no food or bathroom. I thought this place was heaven but I feel like we have a long way to go.

  I guess I didn’t answer your questions. I’m. I’m sorry. I really am. The nearest hospital is twenty minutes up the road. Please don’t yell at Maribel. It’s not her fault.

  The building was silent. A light breeze caused the ceiling to creak. The strand board flexed over Michael. His eyes rose from Wendy and Maribel to the view outside the window. He witnessed a few cars roll by on the two-lane road a few meters away. The dirt path was devoid of vehicles or pedestrians.

  Michael turned to Blaylock. The sergeant was standing in the archway dividing the two rooms with his hands on his hips. His back was turned to Wendy and Maribel. Michael could hear the air rushing through the sergeant’s nose and mouth. The other guardsmen stared at him with anxious eyes. The sergeant finally motioned to the door.

  “Can we get going now?” he asked. Jen unbowed her head and rushed over to Wendy and Maribel.

  “Yes. Let’s get her and Sergeant Dowd to that hospital.”

  The special agent helped the two girls to their feet. Blaylock slapped two guardsmen on the back, shoving them toward the door. The other members of the unit raised their rifles to high ready and took positions around the building’s two windows.

  The two guardsmen ran to the entrance, opened the small latch and sprinted to the SUV outside. The rear passenger-side door was open. Private Starr was treating Dowd on the vehicle’s rear bench. Jen hustled Wendy and Maribel outside. She guided the two girls into the backseat and slammed the door behind them. The vehicle’s engine wheezed. The drivetrain whined as it reversed and completed a K-turn on the unpaved road. The SUV sped away, kicking up a cloud of dust behind it.

  Jen reentered the building, and Michael shut the door behind her. He struggled to get the bolt back into the latch. With one strong push, he was finally able to shove the bolt through.

  Michael took a deep breath and surveyed the two rooms. The six remaining guardsmen lowered their rifles and backed away from the windows. They gathered around the walls of the room to the left of the door. Jen paced around the other room. Her head was down with her eyes locked on the floor. She clung to the phone and notepad in her right hand.

  Sool was missing. Michael rushed to the nearest window and peered outside. His sight was still blurred. The man in the black puffy vest was ambling down the dirt path toward the patch of pine trees in the knoll’s shadow. Michael swiftly moved to the door and grabbed the bolt. It would not move. He tried pulling it again, but it would not budge. He grabbed the handle and yanked the door open. The entire lock tore off. Four splintered holes were left in the door’s frame.

  Michael stormed over to Sool. The man in the black vest stood at the precipice of a small ravine. A muddy bog filled with stagnant water and reeds lay some fifteen feet below.

  “Hey. Get back in here.”

  Sool held his phone aloft.

  “Can’t get a signal here. Can you believe that?”

  “Get back inside. You’re going to get us killed.”

  “How?”

  “You’re going to expose us.”

  “To what? TB? What are you so afraid of?” Michael stopped a few feet away from Sool at the edge of the small cliff.

  “There are a bunch of thugs that you said-”

  “I know what I said.”

  “You said he was a nobody.”

  “He is a nobody. She wanted to meet at a fucking pizza place.”

  “She said he could have Los Hermanos. He probably has those kids. This is not some corner dealer. This guy is-”

  “He doesn’t have Los Hermanos.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I know.”

  “How?”

  “Because I had ‘em.” Sool’s eyes returned to his phone.

  “What?”

  “I had them. They were in my custody. Heriberto didn’t take him. That was me.”

  “What do you mean you had them in your custody?”

  “They were in my custody.”

  “And you let them go?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Was this before or after the-” Sool looked up from the phone.

  “What do you think? You think if I had them after it happened, I would’ve let ‘em go?”

  “If you knew they-”

  “Of course I didn’t fucking know. Course I didn’t know they were gonna set a bomb off.”

  “Then why’d you do it?”

  “I don’t know. I’m a nice fucking guy. I’ve been trying to fix this goddamn thing for the last few days. I could’ve had them by now if I wasn’t stuck with you.”

  “Hey, I didn’t ask to be here, all right? I’m stuck with you as far as I’m concerned. But it’s fine. I’m done over here. I’m not going to get in your way. I’m going back across the border where I-”

  “Where what? Where it’s safe? Who do you think keeps you safe, huh? You think be
cause you and your guys come here for a day or two and you take down a corner dealer, you think you keep things safe. You think because you patrol a fucking planned community, you keep things safe. I go after the real guys. I do this twenty-four seven. You think about that the next time you go back to your wife and your big fucking bed. This is it for me. It’s all I got. And I get it. I fucked up. I’m not going anywhere until I have ‘em back in my sight. I’m not stopping until I find ‘em.” Sool returned his phone. His eyes eventually fell to the ground. He placed his hands on his hips. His shoulders rocked with each abbreviated breath.

  “You’re not a fuck-up,” Michael affirmed. “You’re just a guy doing the best he can. I get it. But I...I can’t do my job on the other side. If they aren’t in your hands, they could be anywhere. They could be in Heriberto’s. He could have Los Hermanos. He could have the kids. I don’t want to think about what they’re planning on doing next. I don’t know. So...if you’re sticking around here...he seems like the guy to me.”

  Sool shook his head.

  “You got a few hours. You really wanna go after him, now’s the time.”

  Michael twisted around. Jen stood in the doorway. He turned back around to face Sool.

  “SDPD has a guy. Maybe she can call in a favor. But-”

  “You need my help again?” Michael swallowed. His throat was dry.

  “Yeah. Yeah I do.”

  Michael, Sool and Jen stood at the river’s edge. The breeze rustled the branches of the pinyon pines. The sun neared the horizon. The detective scanned the dirt path at the byway next to the building. Several cars passed. His hand hovered over his hip. His sidearm remained concealed by his billowy shirt.

  Jen paced around the dusty patch of dirt. She pressed her cell phone tightly against her ear.

  “Okay...okay, just let me know when it clears.” Her voice barely rose above a whisper. Sool was leaning against the tree trunk with his arms folded. A cigarillo dangled out of his mouth. “Okay, great. Twenty minutes. Thank you, Juan.”

  She hung up the phone, stuffed it into the pocket of her blazer and made her way back toward the building. Michael and Sool followed.

  “Heriberto’s still at Centro. They can give him to us a few hours, but we have to return him by morning in one piece.”

  “Understood,” Michael replied. She turned to Sool.

  “Do have our rendezvous point?”

  “In my head, yeah.” Jen removed a pen and notepad from the other coat pocket and handed them to Sool.

  “Write it down please.” Sool received the pen and notepad and held them at his side. The three investigators reentered the wooden hovel. The guardsmen gathered around Jen, Michael and Sool under the archway. Their heads were down. The air was humid. Michael cleared his parched throat.

  “All right. We are going to retrieve a new, uh... witness. I’ll be in the lead car. I would like Sergeant Blaylock in the car with me. Our special agents will be in the second vehicle. PT will put him in the second car where Guy will, uh...Guy will do his thing. We have different routes to the rendezvous point to avoid any tails. We also suspect this witness speaks English, so we need absolute radio silence.” The guardsmen nodded. Michael turned toward Blaylock. The sergeant remained hunched over with his hands on his hips. “Sergeant, you can go ahead with your assignments.”

  “That an attack dog?” Sool asked.

  “Huh?”

  “Can the dog attack?”

  “Yeah.” Blaylock responded confidently. “Bronco can subdue if he has to. Absolutely.”

  Michael squeezed the handle above the front passenger door. The pools of light from the streetlamps overhead flew by faster and faster. A loud rush of air came through the shattered window in the rear. Bronco poked his nose through the empty window frame. The other black SUV appeared in the side-view mirror only a few inches away from lead vehicle’s rear bumper. They weaved through traffic down a four-lane byway.

  The two vehicles swung left onto Federal Highway 1. The turn threw Michael’s shoulder into the door. Garcia toppled over in the back seat. Blaylock remained upright. After another minute of speeding down the highway, the vehicles slowed. Michael threw his hand against the dashboard to combat the force pulling him forward. He peered out the windshield. A ten-story cylindrical building towered over the street. A dozen small windows dotted its stone façade. A twelve-foot-high concrete barrier surrounded the structure.

  Peters executed another sharp right turn. They descended into an underground parking garage. The lights from the fluorescent bulbs overhead flooded the cabin. The vehicle screeched to a stop in front of a single metal door with the number two painted on it. The other vehicle stopped just short of the lead car.

  Two uniformed police officers flanked the numbered door. The cars’ engines continued to run. Michael looked around the nearly empty garage. Thirty long seconds passed.

  “So what’s this guy’s deal again?” Garcia asked. Michael fixed his gaze on the door.

  “He’s a human trafficker who just attacked us.”

  “Oh.” The private sat up in his seat, raised his rifle to low ready and checked the safety.

  The door flew open. Three men stepped out. A pair of officers escorted a tall man into the garage. A black cloth bag covered the tall man’s head. He sported a navy blue, button-down shirt. His hands were tucked behind his back. The two officers cut right and approached the lead car.

  Michael leaned forward in his chair. He reached for the door handle. One of the officers smacked against the rear passenger window and yelled inside. Garcia glanced nervously at Michael through the partition.

  “What do we-”

  “Open it. Tell them to put him in the other car.”

  The officers opened the rear door. Before Blaylock could get a word out, they shoved the handcuffed man inside. He tumbled over the sergeant and landed in the middle seat. One of the officers slammed the door behind him and patted on the window again. The officers retreated back to the numbered door. Peters put the vehicle back into gear and completed a quick U-turn. The second car followed.

  The two SUVs bounced over the curb and back onto Federal Highway 1. Peters weaved around slower traffic. The lane cleared, and Peters resumed speeding down the highway. Michael turned around and looked through the back window. The second vehicle peeled off the highway and onto a side street. The detective sat back in his chair.

  Peters’ eyes darted between Michael and the road ahead. He reached for the radio on his vest. Michael stopped him.

  “No. Don’t.” The detective peered through the partition again. The man with the cloth bag over his head sat upright on the rear bench. Blaylock leaned forward with his eyes fixed on Michael. Garcia shakily pointed his rifle at the handcuffed man seated next to him.

  Michael nodded toward the private. Garcia took his hand off of the Kelly grip, reached for the bag atop the man’s head and whipped it off.

  The man’s eyes were half closed. His hair was disheveled. His rotund face bore three days’ worth of stubble. A layer of fat surrounded his chin and neck. Sweat pooled around the collar of his button-down shirt. He stared straight ahead with little expression on his face.

  “Heriberto,” Michael declared. The man did not react. A few seconds passed before his eyes slowly drifted toward Michael. “I’m going to give you two options. You tell us what you know and it will be over quick. You don’t, and it will be slow. It’ll take as long as it has to. You got that?”

  The man remained silent.

  “You’re going to tell us what you did last Sunday. You’re going to tell us where the brothers from Reino de Dios are. And you’re going to tell us where those orphans are.”

  The man drew an elongated breath through his nostrils. His eyes returned to the road ahead.

  “We know you speak English, asshole,” Blaylock said.

  “Los Hermanos,” Michael cut in. “Los niños. Dónde están. Tell me.”

  The man appeared unmoved. Michael twisted around an
d sat back in his seat.

  “All right. Let’s head to the desert. Let’s see if you want to talk then.”

  The engine howled again. The vehicle advanced south on an empty access road straddling the Tijuana River.

  * * *

  No one uttered a word over the next two hours. The vehicle lumbered over the unpaved road, jostling the five occupants inside. Michael could not distinguish the night sky from the rocky peaks outside the passenger-side window. He heard Bronco whine in the rear cargo area. The vehicle’s headlights were off. Peters squinted through a pair of night vision goggles. Small pools of green light illuminated his face.

  Two taillights appeared on the horizon. Peters turned off the rutted path and onto the dry lakebed. Dry brush and loose earth cracked under the tires. The vehicle shook violently. Michael’s shoulder slammed into the door again.

  Peters flipped the headlights on. They came to a stop behind the bed of a white pickup truck. The red glow from the taillights revealed three men standing inside a frayed hole in the desert floor. The tops of their heads were just visible over the edge of the pit. Loose mounts of dirt littered the area.

  A fourth man stood at the edge of the light emitted by the pickup’s headlights. His back was turned to the vehicles. He held a shotgun against his waist. Michael heard the faint howling of coyotes in his right ear when Peters turned off the engine.

  The private stepped out of the driver’s seat. A blast of cold air filled the cab. He opened the rear door, and Garcia stumbled out with his rifle still pointed at the handcuffed man. Peters walked around the vehicle and opened the rear liftgate. Bronco leapt out and onto the desert floor. The dog tugged at his leash. He trained his nose at the open rear driver-side door.

  Michael exited the vehicle and started to rub his forearms. His breath was visible. His lip quivered. He surveyed the darkness before twisting around and opening the vehicle’s other rear door. The sergeant stepped out and shut the door.

  “So what are we doing?” Blaylock asked.