GOTU - A Robin Marlette Novel (8 page)

“Not a problem, my friend. You know we do anyway, just for drill. But I will heighten the awareness factor. Anybody in particular we should be looking for?”

“Mexican nationals in the area would be a tipoff.”

Gabe looked at his friend. “Rob, you really look worried.”

“I am, Gabe. I am.”

“Hang tough, amigo. We'll do anything we can.”

“I know, buddy. Thanks.”

With a wave to the boys, Gabe drove off.

When Robin and his sons walked into the house, Karen was watching the news. She turned to Robin. “They talked about your shooting on the news.”

“Did they make us sound good or bad?”

“It sounded as good as killing somebody can sound, but they also said at least one person escaped. You didn't tell me that.”

Robin just answered with a grunt. He opened the refrigerator and got a beer, opened it, and sat down next to Karen. He put his arm around her and looked into her eyes. She knew he didn't tell her everything.

“I wonder what it would be like to be married to a more passive woman.”

“That's something you will never find out, my dear.”

“Oh well,” Robin sighed, smiling and calm on the outside. Inside, the disquieting thought of Rodriquez's revenge chilled him. If the news covered the shooting, then Rodriquez knew about his brother. The party was about to begin.

SIX

Juan Trinadad-Nunez stared straight ahead at the fire in the large stone fireplace. Although anger rose inside of him, he did an admirable job of controlling it. It had been a very long time since a man talked to him like this and lived. Since Miguel Rodriguez had made Juan a very wealthy man, however, Miguel would not die for his harsh words. Juan knew Miguel's tirade flowed from his brother's death at the hands of the troublesome “Guardians.” Juan couldn't be sure grief fueled Miguel's anger. More likely, Miguel's belief that his power over the world had been severely breached contributed to his state of mind. Of course, the missing money did not help.

Miguel told Juan the lawyer Walton, who had called only a short time ago, informed Miguel about his brother's death. Walton learned of it on a television newscast. A case of unfortunate timing caused Juan to be visiting Miguel when the call came. Miguel threw an Inca sculpture, smashing it to pieces against the wall, as his first reaction to the news. He began screaming at Juan. The screaming continued.

“I trust
you
to make sure these deliveries get done right! I
trusted
you to take care of my brother! All I see is a fucking failure!”

“This kind of delivery has been made many times before, Miguel, without problems. I will find out what went wrong and fix it.”

“Fix it!
Fix it!
How are you going to bring my brother back?!”

“Miguel, I pleaded with you not to let your brother go. He was not ready.”

Rodriguez slammed his fist down on the desk next to Juan. Juan did not flinch. Miguel's long thin face loomed a foot away from Juan's; both men were looking into each other's eyes. Miguel's eyes burned with an angry madness. Juan held his steady, without fear. After several seconds of silence, with only the crackle of the fire and the cool hiss of the refrigeration coming through the vents, Miguel's shoulders slumped and his head hung over his chest. He slowly straightened up, turned to the chair across from Juan, and fell into it, staring at Juan with vacant eyes.

Juan looked at his employer. Very few people in Mexico could compete with Miguel's power, but Juan knew a good deal of that influence came from Juan's own ruthlessness. In fact, Juan believed he held the power. He only let Miguel head the organization because Juan did not want the headache. He already had more money than he could ever spend in his lifetime. Why bother?

Miguel looked pathetic. The “most powerful man in the world” doesn't slump in a chair with a blank stare. For a second Juan thought he might kill Miguel and take over the organization. No, it would be too much trouble, he thought. Instead he would appease the man and prove again
he
held the power.

“Miguel, I bear the death of Ramonito heavy in my heart. Although not my brother in blood, I loved him like a brothers I love you. Let me exact revenge upon these common policemen.”

Miguel's upraised hand interrupted Juan. Miguel leaned forward in his chair, his hands folded on his knees. He spoke in a hoarse and conspiratorial voice.

“I want you to learn everything you can about these men. Find out which one them killed my brother. I want them dead, but first I want them to be in anguish. I want them to feel a thousand times more pain than I feel. Find out how to do that, my friend, and we shall have our revenge. That is your mission.”

Juan's eyebrows rose at the word “mission.” It meant Miguel was playing freedom fighter again. Juan got up from his chair and stood somewhat at attention.

“I will take care of it, mi Jefe.”

Miguel stood up and put his hand on Juan's shoulder. “I know you will, my faithful friend,” he said solemnly.

Juan turned and walked out of the room, feeling awkward. Once outside, though, he relaxed and thought of the irony of his “mission.” Juan had always thought Ramon was an idiot; he cared nothing about his death. Getting rid of him equaled getting rid of a painful pimple on his ass.

Juan walked down the large, red tiled hallway, his footsteps echoing off the walls. He approached a guard, who stood out of respect. Juan nodded in acknowledgement. He turned Walton's words over in his mind. The news media had reported Ramon's death, but said nothing about Newman or Carlos or the money.
This is very interesting. If the police captured them, they would have announced this as well. So perhaps they escaped. They did say that at least one person escaped. They must have also escaped with the money, or the American police would have definitely bragged about such a seizure. Maybe things aren't so bad after all.
Juan felt better already.

Juan walked out on to the veranda. He could see the entire south side of the “ranch.” Actually, its thick walls and fortified buildings made it a formidable fortress. From his second-story view he could see no less than twelve heavily armed guards he and Carlos personally chose and trained. In all, over forty men guarded the complex twenty-four hours a day. Currently, twenty-five tons of marijuana, eight thousand kilos of cocaine, and three thousand kilos of heroin sat in two large barn-like buildings on the premises. The guards were necessary.

The sound of an aircraft engine starting up prompted Juan to walk to the corner of the veranda. He gazed at the airstrip just south of the compound wall. In the fading light of dusk, he saw a twin engine Beechcraft taxiing. The aircraft bore a Canadian registration number. Juan leaned forward and rested his forearms on the veranda railing. The Canadians developed almost as great an appetite for cocaine as the Americans, he thought. Juan smiled. They were also willing to pay more.

The Beechcraft reached the end of the runway and turned around. The pilot revved one engine, then the other. Then both engines gathered power in unison as the plane strained against its brakes. The aircraft started to roll forward and quickly built speed. Juan lost sight of it as it went behind the buildings on the east side of the compound. He walked back around the corner in time to see the Beechcraft in a steep left bank. It rolled out to a northerly heading at about two hundred feet off the ground.
Crazy pilot,
he thought, shaking his head.

Juan watched the plane disappear into the twilight. He kept his eyes to the north, even when he could no longer see the aircraft. He stared into America.
The absurd Americans believe their country is the most powerful in the world. Yet they are powerless against this ranch, only fifteen miles south of the border. Every day the organization sent more and more of the most destructive force in the world into the United States, and every day the very fiber of that country grew weaker.
A proud smile formed on Juan's lips. He felt great pride in his contribution to the destruction of arrogant America.

Juan deeply breathed in the warm, Sonoran desert night air. He must tell Maria that Carlos would be delayed in returning from Arizona—not an unpleasant task for Juan. Maria's beauty took him the minute he saw her. Her mere presence in the same room excited him. Maria, being the wife of Carlos, complicated his feelings. He respected and truly liked Carlos—he was one of the few men Juan did respect. This, however, did not deter him from trying to impress Maria. In fact, Juan wanted to win Maria for himself, friendship notwithstanding.

Juan walked downstairs from the veranda and out to the east side of the main ranch house to the house where Carlos and Maria lived. Juan felt his quickened heartbeat fueled by anticipation as he approached Maria's door. He quickly straightened himself out and ran his hands over his hair. Juan gave three sharp knocks on the door.

When the door opened and Juan saw Maria, he became nervous and unsettled. She did not glow or smile as usual. Maria's face looked drawn; her eyes empty and exhausted. She did not say anything to Juan, but simply stared at him.

“Maria, I...I just wanted to tell you Carlos will be late in getting back from across the border.” Juan cursed himself for stammering.

Maria's eyes brightened. “Carlos is safe?”

“Of course, my dear,” said Juan, making his voice mask his uncertainty.

Maria seemed to almost collapse at this news. Juan reached out and took hold of her arm as support. She in turn held on to his arm. Looking up, she smiled weakly at him, her dark brown eyes meeting his with gratitude. Juan's heart pounded and his mouth became dry. He had never been this close to Maria before.

“I am sorry for my weakness, Juan. I fear I have spent too many nights waiting for my husband to come back from somewhere.”

“Maria, you talk nonsense. Carlos is clever and strong. Nothing could ever happen to him.” Juan realized an opportunity and added an afterthought. “
I
would not let anything happen to him.”

Maria lowered her head as if in supplicant thanks. At least Juan viewed it that way. She smiled again, and, stepping back, quietly closed the door. Juan continued to stand in front of the door for a frustrated minute. He sighed deeply, turned, and walked away, angry with himself for not being more assertive about getting inside the house. He trudged off to the guards' quarters. He needed a strong drink and the company of strong men.

Maria moved through the house, turning off the lights. When she reached the bedroom, she fell on to the bed, sobbing and exhausted. Maria both worried about her husband and cursed him for leaving her in the company of such scum as Juan Trinidad and Miguel Rodriguez. Living her life for the “good of Cuba” no longer mattered. She wanted only a quiet life with her husband and to be a mother. She realized neither of these wishes.

Maria rose and sat on the edge of the bed, holding her head in her hands. The curls at the end of her flowing black hair tumbled into her lap. The excitement of marrying an intelligence agent deceived her. She had thought it would be glamorous diplomatic gatherings laced with intrigue. There were glamorous positions in Cuba's intelligence community, but not for Carlos. A dedicated agent, he wanted only those assignments that directly contributed to the goals of his country. The main goal was to destroy the United States of America. Encouraging and feeding America's narcotics habit contributed to that goal. Carlos facilitated the flow of narcotics into the United States. He used the narcotics smuggling apparatus to get Cuban and other third world agents across the border. All of this disturbed Maria for reasons she did not fully comprehend.

Maria stood up and removed her robe, placing it on the foot of the bed. The glow from the perimeter security lights filtered through the window, allowing Maria to see herself in the mirror across from her. She worked hard at keeping her youthful beauty intact for her husband. She very much wanted him with her so he could enjoy her charms. This thought caused the tears to flow again. Maria fell into the large bed, so lonely without Carlos. She eventually cried herself to sleep.

Robin looked at Karen lying naked before him. The shimmering moonlight came through their bedroom window and warmly illuminated her body. Strands of her auburn hair lay across her dark, smoldering green eyes. Karen's pink lips parted slightly as her breath began to quicken.
God, I love this woman!

Robin lay down next to her and pulled her close to him. His hand moved slowly, caressing her hip as he kissed her gently on the lips. He lightly ran his fingers over her forehead, first across and then in gentle circles. He kissed her upper lip and then her lower lip and the corners of her mouth. Then he kissed her on her mouth and their lips parted to accept each other's tongue. There they lovingly played.

Robin's hand wandered over Karen's breasts and stomach and between her legs. He lightly tickled her inner thighs, gradually working up to where they met. Ever so lightly, he played there until Karen's passion began to rise. His fingers began to gently massage and separate, moving to where he knew her sensitivity felt most exquisite. Karen strained against his hand, her tongue eagerly searching for his. He played there until she could no longer stand it.

Robin kissed his way down Karen's body. He kissed her breasts and nipples. He loved her breasts. They were not large and not small, but perfect.
I love this woman so much.
He kissed down to between her legs and nibbled at her thighs, alternately working his way up them to where all of her curves met. He worked his tongue there and brought her to repeated heights of pleasure until she told him she could do no more.

Robin lay down next to her. Karen rose half up and pushed him down and straddled him. She kissed him with intense passion and then began to kiss his neck and down his body. She lingered at his nipples, causing him to rumble with approval. Karen moved down his body, loving him with every kiss. She took him, pulsating, into her mouth, working her tongue and lips around him. His body arched. He urgently needed to be in her. He pulled her up on top of him. She kissed him and rocked back, using her hand to guide him into her. He gasped as he went deeper and deeper. Karen moved her hips in a way that nearly drove Robin wild. His eyes beheld the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, the woman who owned his heart and soul. He rolled them over and knelt over her, his thrusts moving to satisfy his desire and to please her. Karen wrapped her legs around him and he went deeper. Robin, lost in his wife's love could hold it no longer and came in spasmodic thrusts accompanied with a kiss long and deep and loving.