An Important Notice to Readers...
Although this fiction blog is illustrated with photos of dolls, and dollhouse miniatures, the language and content of the storyline is intended for an adult audience. Please be advised.
|Beckett listens in at the police station window in downtown Tulum|
It was the grand daddy of worst case scenarios. A major cluster fuck surely bestowed on him from the will of angry Mayan gods. Beckett leaned against the wall, and struggled to clear his racing mind. Any chance of him retrieving Maureen with a minimum of fuss was over. There was little doubt the mule would instantly recognize him. He hadn't bothered at all to hide his identity during last night's mission. In his defense, it was supposed to be a simple drop...pre-arranged and pre-packaged with very little hint of threat. And it was certainly now obvious that the mule and his people hadn't expected the US agent to leave the fort breathing, so no protocol was taken to hide anything on their side. All of which led to the glaring fact that he and his wife were in a heap of shit.
Any acknowledgement of Maureen on his part would now simply put her at greater risk. As it stood, the asshole just thought he had the wife of a wealthy tourista. She was currently an opportunity to make a few easy bucks, and nothing more. But once Beckett became involved, and it was made clear that she was of any importance to him, the stakes grew to an alarming level. He considered calling for back-up, then quickly dismissed the idea. It would take hours to get a team down here, as well as require more explaining than he was willing to do. In addition, there was always the slight risk that his wife would be caught in the crossfire of any exchange of gun fire, and that was a risk he was unwilling to take. Maureen needed to be extracted in the safest mode possible, and his brain filed through a million possibilities. The Mayan gods who first cursed him with this situation must have been fickle, because it was in that instant, he heard the man inside give him the slimmest slice of opportunity.
"Little chica...it gots to be around five o'clock. You must be mucho hungry by now. How 'bout I get you somthin' to eat, eh? You like some carnitas, huh? Maybe some fish?"
At first there was no response, and then Beckett heard a muffled response from the furthest corner of the cell. "No thank you. I don't want anything from you. My husband should be here any minute now."
"Chica...you been here nearly five hours...and no sign of your Mister. Maybe he forgot about you? Havn' too much of a good time to come look. He mus' be some kinda fool...leavn' a beautiful lady like you all alone. Ifs you were mine, chica...I'd never let ya out of my sight."
Pressed against the hard surface of the bricks, Beckett let the fury wash over him. He wanted nothing more than to burst into that station, and rip the man's face right off of his skull. Put his thumbs into the mule's eye sockets, and watch his eyes slide out with a satisfying pop. It was only the image of Maureen, tiny and scared, huddled in the corner of that cell, that brought him back to the problem at hand. Come on, baby. Ask for something to eat. Anything that will get him out of this building.
"No sense you sittn' here hungry, senora. If your Mister comes, I don't want him thinkn' we didn't treat you first rate, huh? I'm gonna get something for myself. Some nice carne asada. Maybe I should bring you some?"
"Come on, baby, Just this once... cooperate."
There was no answer from Maureen, and Beckett cursed her stubbornness. She could be ornery as hell when she wanted to be, and it was unlikely she'd let the lecherous bastard do anything at all for her. To his surprise, and great relief, she relented.
"Well, maybe I could have something to drink? A Pepsi? Something like that?"
"For sure, senora. I bring you a Pepsi. Anything else? Don't be shy, chica. You need to keep up your strength."
The leer in his voice went through Beckett like a heated blade, and his hands curled around the weapon stuck in his waistband. Ask for something, baby! Something he has to go out for.
"I guess I am sort of hungry. Whatever you're having is fine. But...I'm not going to be here very long. My husband will be coming shortly. I'm...sure of it."
It was the hesitation in her voice. The little wiggle of doubt in her words that cut into what was left of his soul. For a second he hated himself. Loathed who he was, and how he lived. But the self-pity would have to wait. He'd have only the smallest window of time to go in and free his wife before the mule returned. Beckett prayed to whatever god was still bothering to listen to him that the other deputy was as corrupt as he thought, and willing to cheat his partner out of an equal cut.
A few minutes later, he heard the swoosh of the front glass door, and the sound of a car pulling out of a gravel parking lot. He slid around the corner of the building, and pulling the hat lower over his face, entered the station. As predicted, the second lone officer sat behind a wooden desk, rapt attention given to the screen of his cell phone.
"Excuse me, Sir. I was told my wife was arrested, and taken here. Here name is Margaret Baker."
The man didn't raise his eyes, and instead held up a finger to signal that he should wait. Beckett watched as the guy manipulated his screen with his fingers, stopping only as the minutes clicked by, and then slamming the phone down with a string of obscenities.
"Damn Candy Crush! Been on the same level for a fuckn' week! Never should have started with that thing." He picked up a stack of papers, and shuffled through them. "You are here for the lady, senor? "
"Si. There must be some type of misunderstanding. My wife and I are not the kind of people who get...arrested. May I ask what the charges are?"
The deputy picked up a sheet of paper off the stack in front of him. "She was arrested for theft, disorderly conduct, and resisting an officer. It seems she stole a silver bracelet from a beach vendor...a Mr. Sam Vargas. Then, when my superior came, she raised a fuss, and took a swing at the arresting officer. Some very serious charges, Senor Baker."
Polishing the appearance of anxiety and shock, Beckett stuttered. "My wife did that? I...I can't believe it. That's not like her at all. I can't imagine why she'd do such a thing."
The man behind the desk nodded in sympathy. "It happens, Senor. The ladies... they come down for vacation. Have too much of a good time." He mimicked the motions of drinking several glasses. "Then they forget to behave themselves. We see it quite often, Senor."
"But...what should I do. Should I call the US Consulate? My attorney? I've never handled anything like this before." He wrung his hands, and fidgeted, waiting for the deputy to make the first move.
As expected, the man smiled, and looked up at him, replacing the paper on top of the stack, and shoving it to the side. "You can do all of those things, Senor. But in the mean time, your pretty lady stays locked up here. Not a very good vacation, eh? You can just pay the fine, and be on your way. Back to the beaches, and your happy time. So much simpler, is it not?" He folded his hands and waited patiently.
"A fine? Well, that does sound like the easier way to go. And much more discreet. How much is the amount?"
The man help up two fingers. "Dos, Senor."
Playing along, Beckett asked, "Two hundred?"
The man laughed and patted his immense belly. "You are a funny man, Senor. The fine is for
Beckett could feel his pulse return to normal. Things were going as planned. "$2000.00? That does seem a bit...excessive. Are you sure that's the right amount?"
The deputy continued to hold the same bland smile. "Si, Senor. Of course, you have other...alternatives. But your lovely lady spends the night here. Alone." He held the word "alone" a second longer for added emphasis.
He was almost home free. "Of course. You're right. The sooner we take care of this, the better."
The man watched as Beckett pulled a roll of hundreds out of his pocket, and counted out $2000.00. "There you go, Sir. $2000.00. If I could please see my wife now?"
A hand swept out and brushed the money into a drawer. "I'm glad you have thought this out so wisely, Senor. I will be happy to bring you your lady...as soon as my boss returns from his errand. We will need his signature on these papers before we can let her go. He should be back very soon. Just ran out for a bite to eat."
Beckett shuffled his feet. This wrinkle was not unexpected. He'd just have to hope the fat officer was as greedy as he believed. And if he turned out not to be right, taking down one man was still a hell of a lot easier than taking down two. "Damn! Do you know long he'll be? I'd just like to take my wife, and get the hell out of here. Put this behind us."
The man shook his head. " I'm sorry, Senor. I can't release her. Only my superior can."
Sliding his hand into his pocket, Beckett produced the wad of money. "Look, my friend. I'm not sure this is allowed...and I mean no disrespect...but how about I pay you for the extra trouble?" He peeled off another ten hundred dollar bills, and laid them on the desk. "Maybe you and your superior could split this...additional gratuity?"
For a second, the man eyed the money, calculating the possibilities. Then, he shook his head no, and slid the money back toward Beckett. "I'm sorry, Senor. I don't think my partner would agree."
With an exaggerated sigh, Beckett counted out the remaining money from the roll, placing an additional two grand on top of the other cash. "That's all of it. All the cash I have. That's $5000.00.
I'm sure the two of you can figure out an amicable way of sharing it, yes?"
With a grin, the deputy shuffled up the bills, and tucked them into his shirt pocket. "I think maybe I can make an exception...just this one time." He rose from the chair, and motioned for Beckett to follow him. The two men headed toward the lock-up at the back of the building. "I am sure your lady will be most happy to see you, Senor. She's been here quite some time." He let out a giggle that sounded oddly silly from a man his size.
He saw her before she saw him. Maureen was still tucked in the tight corner of the bench, eyes closed, feet tucked under her, and the beach cover up pulled down as far as possible. Hearing the click of the electric locks, her eyes fluttered open, catching the first sight of her husband. Her pupils went round with happy relief, and he was never more grateful to see anything in his life. Then just as quickly, those green cat eyes narrowed into tiny slits, and with hands on hips she growled, "About time, asshole."
Next to him, the deputy let out another giggle. Though truthfully deserved, it wasn't the reunion he wanted to have right at this very minute. He reached out to take her hand, only to have her slap it away. "Don't you dare touch, me...you thoughtless sonofabitch."
Copyright 2013 Victoria T. Rocus
All Rights Reserved