“Are you on the up-and-up?” Carlson said. “About Rodriguez’s people?”
“God’s truth.”
“Is the Vermilion One up ahead?” Vega said. “Is Rodriguez finally making his move?”
“It’s a mine all right, but there aren’t any drugs there.”
“And you know this how?” Sprangers said.
“I’m betting Bisonette told him,” Vega said.
“Peter has nothing to do with Rodriguez and his drug trade. Look, here’s the story. Six nights ago, Peter rendezvoused with a group of Guatemalan refugees. His intent was to guide them safely across the border and to sanctuary. I’m pretty sure somebody in the Desert Angels sold him out. Carlos Rodriguez and his son Miguel and a bunch of Las Calaveras gunmen set up an ambush. But they weren’t the only ones waiting out there. Someone opened fire on Rodriguez and Las Calaveras. If I had to guess, I’d say it was members of White Horse.”
“Those goddamned vigilantes.” Carlson spoke with such vehemence I thought he might throw down in disgust the gray Stetson he wore.
“Peter and his people were caught in the middle of the firefight,” I explained. “But they got away. Carlos Rodriguez was wounded. His son was killed. It may be that Carlos blames Peter for Miguel’s death and wants very badly to get ahold of him.”
“How do you know all this?” Sprangers said.
“Does it matter? It’s all true. And now Rodriguez’s men are a few minutes ahead of you, looking for Peter and the Guatemalans. I’m willing to bet they wouldn’t mind killing some law enforcement officers instead.”
“Call it in,” Sprangers said to Crockett.
The deputy was carrying a small pack. He took out a sat phone and stepped well away from us.
“Why are you here?” I asked.
“We lost you in Cadiz yesterday,” Sprangers said. “This was where we found you before, so I sent a chopper to keep an eye out for you. They spotted you last night before the monsoon came in. Because of the storm and the dark, we didn’t get a start out here until first thing this morning.” He looked toward the Jesus Rock. “Apparently a little bit later than the others.”
“Why just four of you?” I looked at Carlson. “And aren’t you a little out of your jurisdiction, Chet?”
“There’s something big going on west of here,” Carlson said. “All of Sprangers’s people have been called in to help.”
Sprangers said, “You ever hear about the Yuma Fourteen?”
I shook my head.
“In May of 2001, a couple of coyotes led a group of twenty-six illegals across the border. They all got lost, spent way too long wandering in the desert before they were found. Fourteen of them died. It was pretty big news. We got word last night that another group was lost out there. Women and children this time. We’ve got agents and other law enforcement scouring all of southwest Arizona looking for them.”
Crockett returned. “Backup on the way. ETA forty-five minutes.”
Vega had a pair of binoculars to his eyes. “I see them.”
I used my own field glasses. Rodriguez’s men were climbing down the yellow rocks around the Jesus Lode. I figured they’d ascertained that the mine was empty, and I hoped maybe they’d leave. They gathered, palavered, then one of them separated from the others and began to scout the ground. He found something and even across the distance that separated us, I heard him whistle. He signaled the others and began to cut sign, leading them toward us.
We all stepped behind the blind of the outcropping on whose flattened top I’d been lying when Sprangers and the others showed up.
“We need to leave,” Carlson said. Wisely, I thought.
Sprangers said, “Let’s just make ourselves scarce. I want to keep an eye on them.”
I said, “If that guy in the lead is any good at tracking, he could find sign of us all. Then it probably won’t matter where we hide. There’ll be a firefight.”
Vega said, “I’m with Carlson. Let’s get out of here.”
“Ditto that,” Crockett said.
“If they have field glasses, they’ll spot us.” Sprangers scanned the area where we’d gathered. “Up there.” He pointed above us to a little overhang in a rock face maybe a fifty-yard climb away. “We position ourselves there. Then, even if they get wind of us, we’ll have the advantage. We can hold them off until help arrives.”
“Maybe,” Vega said. “And maybe not. It isn’t worth the risk. We go. We keep low. And even if they spot us, we’ve got distance. Let them try to catch us.”
“We go, we could lose them,” Sprangers argued.
While they fought among themselves, I stepped away and checked on the progress of Rodriguez’s men.
“Guys,” I said. “They’re running.”
“Which way?” Sprangers said.
“Away.”
Sprangers and the others joined me, and we watched as Rodriguez’s men made their way back toward the desert floor, moving fast.
“Something must’ve spooked them,” Vega said.
“Get on the sat phone,” Sprangers said to Crockett. “Get a chopper out here ASAP to track those men.”
Crockett stepped away to make the call.
It took them less than half the time to reach their vehicles than it had taken them to climb to the Jesus Lode. We watched the black SUVs turn around and head south, toward the border.
“Let’s go see what there is to see,” Sprangers said. “You mind leading the way, O’Connor?”
The Jesus Lode was empty, as I knew it would be. Vega used a flashlight and went deep into the tunnel, Sprangers and Carlson with him. I stayed outside with Deputy Crockett.
“Gotta see a man about a horse,” I said. “Okay?”
Crockett nodded. “Make it quick.”
I stepped behind a rock that blocked me from the agent’s view and took the opportunity to send Mondragón a text: Lulabelle. I turned off my cell phone, put it away, and rejoined Crockett just as the others emerged from the mine.
“Nada,” Sprangers said. “He was here though, wasn’t he, O’Connor? Where is Peter Bisonette now?”
I was happy he’d asked in that way, because I could tell him the truth. “I have no idea.”
“Maybe if we cut sign, we’ll find him,” Sprangers said.
“What you would find is women and children who ran away from hell looking for nothing but a little peace. You want the big fish, right? I’ll make a deal with you. You call off your agents, we go back to Cadiz, and I’ll tell you everything I know.”
“Will it get me Rodriguez?”
“It will get you closer than you are now.”
Sprangers thought it over. Finally, he held out his hand to me.
“Deal,” he said.
CHAPTER 30
* * *
Sprangers was in the interview room with me. Vega was there, too, practically filling the small room all by himself with his great size and his restless pacing. I figured Sheriff Carlson and his deputy were watching the proceedings on a monitor in another room.
I explained about Peter’s phone call that had brought us to Arizona, about Los Angeles del Desierto, about Rainy still being alive. Although I told him about Mondragón, I left out the part about him shooting Rainy’s assailant.
“Whose blood was all over the ground at Robert Wieman’s place?”