West of Laredo, Tom Armbruster [series like harry potter TXT] 📗

is escorted to the elevator where Lee awaits. He gets in with three others. Nobody speaks. Lee feels she should think of something to say, but she is wondering about Marker. The moment almost passes as they ride in silence. Lee says, “Mr. President, why can’t we do more about drug violence here on the border?”

The President looks down at Lee. Smiles. “Where you from?”

Well, I’m from Ithaca, New York, but I’m posted to the US Consulate in Nuevo Laredo.”

“Well, let me tell you something about the border. Border violence has been around since the Commanches, probably since the Mayans, and maybe before that. And I’m not putting our soldiers in harm’s way because my counterpart can’t rein in the narcos. I’ll spend treasure, not blood. What’s your name?”

“Lee Penny.”

“Keep the faith, Lee Penny.”

“Yes, sir.” A Presidential staffer looks at Lee with venom, but she ignores him as the bell sounds for the fourth floor, their exit and the end of her Presidential interview.


That night Lee is alone in her Monterrey hotel. The President said his piece about third world debt, shook hands with his Mexican counterpart and took in a rodeo in the early evening. That was not Lee's event so she has the night off. The question is what to do. As usual, at a time like this, Lee walks. She goes through a number of neighborhoods, watches the kids play soccer and spots a natural food restaurant. Mexico has terrific smoothies or licquados and Lee immediately heads inside. She orders a papaya and sits facing the window. She can smell the papaya before she even tastes it. The restaurant is busy, families having dinner, the kids still in their Bimbo soccer jerseys after the game. In one corner is a young man. Lee's eyes rest on him. Familiar build, but he's looking down at a newspaper.

"Usman!" Lee realizes it is her replacement gardener. "Usman what are you doing here?" Usman brightens considerably.

"Ah, Lee, I came to look at Monterrey Tech, I'm planning to go to school here."

"It's a great school, and a good city. That would be terrific. So, you won’t be coming back to Nuevo Laredo?"


“No, if this works out, I’ll be in Monterrey for three years. Then who knows.” Usman gestures to a chair at his table. "Will you join me?"

Lee smiles. "I don’t know. But I guess I still owe you for that birdbath. Sure. Let me buy your dinner."

From there, Lee and Usman visit the sights of Monterrey and they take in the rest of the rodeo, although the President has already left. They are heading back to the hotel when they spot a bar with a rooftop patio. There's dancing.

"Do you dance?" Lee asks.

"Of course," Usman answers.


And he does. Like no one else Lee has ever seen. They dance until they turn the lights out.

At dawn, they return to Lee's hotel. She doesn't exactly invite him up. He just joins her. It has been a great evening. When they enter the room there is no awkwardness, no discussion, he leads her by the hand to her bed and Lee Penny thinks of Usman as a tall cool drink of water in the desert. Lee thinks to herself that he makes love the way he dances. She almost laughs.

In the morning she asks Usman not to mention their affair to anyone in Nuevo Laredo and she wishes him luck in Monterrey. She likes to keep her life simple. Usman agrees.


*15*


So here’s where things gets difficult for Lee Penny. Lee had an affair and didn’t do a ‘contact report.’ Fair enough. No problem. But Usman was a problem. Lee’s life was about to get complicated, her career compromised and my staff real busy.


Lee leaves the Monterrey hotel at 6 a.m. On her way back to Nuevo Laredo she calls the San Antonio 5 News from her cell phone, waiting until she has a strong signal as she approaches Nuevo Laredo from the desert. Lee asks if they would run a story about the mysterious man with a tattoo on his shoulder who called himself Marker. She explains the circumstances.


"Any relation to San Antonio?" Reporter Annie Parsone asks.

"No." Lee says. "Not that I know of. He could be from anywhere, but I'll bet he's from the border, or close anyway. The Mexicans are going to bury him tomorrow in a common grave if I don't come up with something new for them. San Antonio is the biggest media market."

"Pass." Parsone said. "If there was a definite San Antonio angle I'd pick it up. But I can't see my assignment editor buying this. Just another druggie death. Thanks though."

Lee stews briefly about the San Antonio reporter’s decision, then clicks off the phone and puzzles over Marker's real identity and next of kin until she finds herself parked in front of the Consulate with the guards sweeping her car with a mirror on a pole, checking for bombs as usual.

On Lee's desk is a note from Sinclair that the Mexicans have gotten tired waiting for the Americans to identify next of kin and they have buried Marker in the pauper's grave.

Sinclair comes into her office. "Sinclair, we're going to Boy's Town."

"Oh, well let me go home and get my tux on. I'm sure the ladies will be glad to see me."

"J.O. or no J.O.?" Lee asks.

"Leave him, Lee. I can play bad cop." Sinclair says. Border Patrol had a dog die last week from the heat. They forgot about him in the car. If your gardener is around I say leave J.O. home. It's supposed to be 110 today."

"Well, we need a break in the Marker case bad. I hate having an American buried in Mexico with no ID. The man had to have family, somewhere."


*16*


The ride through the desert is quiet, uneventful. Boy's Town in the daytime, when sober, is a sorry place. Languid. A Mexican security guard ambles over to the Suburban. His pat down of Sinclair and Lee is thorough. Neither ever carries a weapon. Otherwise, no one on duty, no one interested in talking to anyone from the Consulate and no one remembers Marker. Until they come upon Dice. A teen? Maybe 16, maybe 20. He is slight, delicate features.


"Yes. I remember the tattoo. I’d seen him once before with a fat guy. This time he was alone, so I made the usual pass, to see if he was interested. Maybe three in ten guys are. You never know, I give everybody a fair chance. He wasn't. He was nervous or high or something. I left him alone. About 11 o'clock some guys came in. Big guys. They worked fast, said something to him and took him away. Game over. I was glad he wasn't with me, because they looked very serious and very rough."

"When did he hit the lady?"

"What lady? He didn't hit anybody. He had his drinks. Seemed like he was waiting for someone. Anxiously waiting, who never showed. I didn't like Marker. He was angry. But the guys who picked him up were more angry."

"Did he mention anything else?"

Dice hesitates. "No. But you know there is a war on between Los Tecos and the Zetas?"

"Yes."

"This is caught up in that. Piedras is usually Teco country. Those guys who came in I've never seen before. So I'm just guessing they are Zetas."

"Any other guesses?" Sinclair asks.

"Well, I guess it is going to get worse, because if they are looking to take over this territory, there's going to be a fight. Most of the police are Tecos."

"Can we call on you again?"

"Yes. But." Dice looks over his shoulder, "Never come at night. Never show that you know me. Just come wander around. I'll find you. There are no secrets in Boy's Town."

"Why are you doing this?" Sinclair asks.

"Because someday I might want to get out of here. And if I can help you, maybe you can help me. This isn't the kind of job you can just walk away from." Lee makes a promise to herself that if Dice delivers on a rumor that solves Marker's identity, she will do whatever she can for him.


At home, Lee hears her cell phone beep. The ride from Piedras Negras was too noisy with the windows down and out of cell range for most of the trip anyway. She listens to the message she missed on the way.

"Lee, this is Dice. I've got a bad feeling about our discussion on Marker. There were some very serious people in town after you left today. They had all the toys, automatic weapons, black tinted SUV's, real bad ass. Zetas I guess. They were asking about Marker and about you and your visit. I might have to lie low, maybe on