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

a drug link, but he seemed pretty straight. Well, he seemed to be clean. This could be an express kidnapping for money, but Fatima's Mom is not rich by a long shot, judging by the neighborhood, and neither is Dice. I'm still betting on them being in the wrong place, wrong time. That said, I think it's time to talk to the Mayor, and the General, call in our chips and see where this drug war is heading. Maybe we need to do a State Department travel advisory if things are going to get rougher. But I can't see a Marker-Dice connection." Sinclair sips his coffee and decides it needs more sugar.


"Businesses hate travel advisories," Farrington says. "A travel advisory would divert thousands of Amerian tourists from Nuevo Laredo. But I agree, it is a good option. We should advise Americans of an increase in violence and kidnappings. We'll see if the Embassy will approve. I'll write it up. But why not a connection between Marker and these two youngsters? You interviewed Dice and he said he was getting nervous about the Zetas as I recall." Farrington points his pen at Sinclair.


"True, but I don't think there's a connection," Sinclair says. "Marker made a nuisance of himself in prison and got killed. Simple as that. No connection that I can see to his Amerian citizenship or the drug war. And certainly not a connection to these missing kids. Dice didn't seem to know Marker from Adam. He was just trying to help us out because he's looking for a way out of Boy's Town."


Farrington is silent a moment. "I really don't like it that we have an American killed and then two more kidnapped back to back. I don't like it a bit. It seems more than coincidental."

Jose, a skinny guy, one of visa adjudicators speaks up. "Wait a minute. Is there a chance Marker could be named Darrell Pickett?"

"Yea. Could be named anything. Why?" Farrington asks.

"I got a call today. Older lady from San Antonio. She asked if a Darrell Pickett had registered with the Consulate. I checked the database, didn't see him and said no. But she was pretty sure he was in the area. She's his mom. Said he usually called on Tuesdays, and had money for her on Fridays, but he's been AWOL for three weeks."

Sinclair: "Did she describe him?"

"Thirty two years old, birthday next month, slim, brown hair."

"Great, a million guys." Farrington says.

"And he has a tattoo of a flaming skull on his shoulder."

Lee and Sinclair share a look.

"That's our boy." Farrington says. "OK, two homework assignments-- continue with the Jimenez girl and Dice, that's one. Find out where they were last seen, determine for certain if they are into drugs, who they know on the Mexican side. Anything else you can get. Assignment number two is notifying the Pickert lady that her son is dead."

Lee says, "I should take Marker, I mean Pickert's mom. He was my case. I should've asked that they put him in isolation. I feel bad about him."

"Well, that's admirable. I'm glad you want to take responsibility, but I think I should go as the ranking officer since it's a death notification. You and Sinclair see what you can find out about the two missing kids. Check in with FBI and tell them you have the lead Lee. Meet them on the Laredo side and no phone calls on this. I'll be back from San Antonio tonight."


*21*


Farrington doesn't much like the drive to San Antonio. Not much to see, easy to go 90 miles an hour and easy to get a speeding ticket. He would prefer to be in Nuevo Laredo on the Fatima case, but he knew a lot of damage control would be needed with Mrs. Pickert. There is nothing worse than not knowing where your child is, and then finding out he is dead.


Mrs. Pickert lives in a cottage in South San Antonio near St. Mary's University. There are used car dealerships and gas stations on the main road, she lives one street in.

Farrington knows to listen first. Let her have her full say. She deserves it. But as it turns out she is not that talkative.

At the door a wary boxer sizes Farrington up.

"Come in, it's open."

Farrington takes a step in and the dog's tail starts wagging.

"In the back."

In the back room a woman in her sixties sits with her nose hooked up to an oxygen supply of some sort.

"Hello, I'm Luis Farrington with the Consulate in Nuevo Laredo."

"Well, get in here and let's talk."

"Yes, ma'am." Farrington settles into a chair. "Let me ask you first Mrs. Pickert, is this your son?"

"He takes a copy of El Manana from his briefcase with the name Darrell Marker under the photo.

"Yes."

"Then I'm afraid I have to tell you he was killed in the Piedras Negras prison two months ago. I'm very sorry about Darrell. There is nothing more important to us than the welfare of American citizens. We let you down. I'm sorry."

"I already saw the news clip from my brother. You ought to be sorry. You ought to be ashamed. Why didn't you call me? I'd of gotten him out of prison. Always have. Why did you try to cover it up?"

"Mrs. Pickert, we tried, believe me, to contact you. Unfortunately Darrell told us his name was Marker. The name Marker threw us, but we should have done better. We should have found you."

"Damn right."

"Did he ever use the name before?"

"Marker? How the hell would I know. He had his ways. But he was a good boy. Sent me money every week. Even more than usual when he started working in Piedras Negras. He said he drove there from Del Rio every day to work with some Mexican fellas. Made good money. I know he wouldn't hurt anybody in prison. He wasn't that kind of boy." She begins to cry. Farrington looks around the room. Not much to see. A framed photograph of a Naval Officer. Must be the Dad, probably long ago judging by the photo.

"Never hurt anybody. The most nonviolent boy I knew. Now, he's dead. Thanks to you. I got the TV people coming here too. I can't let you get away with what you did to my boy."

"Ma'am. I know what you think of me. I know what you think of the U.S. Government right now. But I've got to ask you. Do you know anything else about what Darrell was doing in Mexico. Two other Americans are missing, and I think there might be a connection."

"What do I care about them? The only connection is they'll be dead too if your kind is protecting 'em."

"Mrs. Pickert, please. You could save their lives."

Mrs Pickert thinks hard. "Tell you what. You bring him back to me and I might have something to say to you. I don't want his body over there in Mexico. I want him home."

"Yes, ma'am. Of course."


On the way out Farrington is met by San Antonio 5 TV reporter Annie Parsone. "Mr. Farrington. I see you are still in the American citizen business. This story is not going to go down well. Local boy beaten to death in prison and neglected by the U.S. Consulate. Any statement?"

"Yes. We sincerely regret that Mr. Pickert lost his life in the Piedras Negras prison. We will continue to work with the proper authorities and his family to see that his killers are brought to justice. We regret that Mr. Pickert elected to provide us with false information at the time of our first consular visit."

"How many times did you visit him subsequently?"

"None. He was killed a day after his arrest."

"Why didn't you seek a transfer or solitary if you knew he was having trouble?"

"Because," Farrington checks himself, "Because we thought it was in his best interest to assimilate with the general prison population."

"I'll call you after I interview Mrs. Pickert."

"You know my numbers."

"Yes I do."


*22*


Farrington pulls into the Sonic parking lot in San Antonio and dials Lee Penny. "Lee. Marker is Pickert, no question. I'm not sure what he was into but the mom wants his body back now. Call Felipe in the Mayor's office. Don't deal with the Mayor directly yet. Meet with Felipe in person, don't just call him, and see if we can get Pickert's body exhumed from the common grave."

"Yes sir."

"And don't let him say 'no.' Remind him that I'll be at tech expo tonight to cut the ribbon with the Mayor."

"I'm on it."

Lee is successful with the Deputy Mayor. Seven a.m. is the time arranged for the exhumation of Darrell Pickert. The morning is cool. Several gravediggers stand awaiting instructions. Lee and Miguel, a visa adjudicator, shake hands all around. The agreement took a while, especially since Mrs. Pickert couldn't pay to have her son repatriated. All the costs came from the Mexican authorities and a funeral home in San Antonio that donated its services. The deal Lee