Sam said, “I believe you’re right.” He pushed back his chair, and said as he stood, “Come on, we need to check on the ranch.” It took them five minutes to get through the crowd and into the pickup. Sam and Miguel waved to the crowd as they left. Sam said, “If that’s what being a celebrity is about, I don’t want any of it.”
“I think this will die off in a few days. The people will go back to their normal way. It will be as if nothing ever happened.”
“On the surface, maybe, but they won’t forget what happened.”
As they drove out of Presidio, Miguel asked, “Do you think Riffey is alive? I would still like to pay a little back to that one.”
“He’s like a coyote, always sneaking away. One of these days, I figure we will get the chance.”
“I hope it is before I have to return to Mexico. My paper says I must leave soon.”
“My guess is, he’s still in Mexico. You might find him over there when you go back. If you do, give him a little something for me.”
“Por supuesto,” Miguel said.
***
When Riffey left Holland’s ranch, he drove to Chihuahua City and sold the Buick at a used car lot for cash, and then used that money to buy a twenty-year-old GMC pickup at another lot. He bought false identity papers that would work in Mexico, but not in the United States.
He was sipping beer at a small cantina when two of the local police started paying him attention. Riffey eased out the door and left in the GMC.
The remainder of the night was spent in the pickup, parked behind an abandoned building. By sunrise he had had enough. Riffey found a small taco stand, bought four chorizo y huevos tacos and a Tecate,
and then headed back to Ojinaga. He felt it couldn’t be any worse than Chihuahua City, and, at least in Ojinaga, he knew his way around.
As he drove, Riffey thought about the bits of news he’d seen on the Mexican stations while sitting at the bar. Everything was about the thwarted attack, and how many people would have died in the two border towns if the plan had been successful.
His Spanish wasn’t all that good, but he got the gist of it. In one show, two people talked about how this would affect relations between the United States and Mexico. One silver-haired man said the United States would harden the border, and passage from Mexico across the bridges would be slowed to a crawl.
The second man, more portly looking, like an aging college professor, said that was not all, and that the crossings of Mexican citizens through areas not at the official border crossings would be shut down. He expected the U.S. Military to come to the border by the thousands and seal it. He went on to say that this single measure alone might well throw Mexico’s economy into a depression.
That was when the bartender changed the station to boxing. Riffey figured the television commentators were right, and would make it even harder for him, too, both to cross and to smuggle anything in the future.
Then Riffey thought about how the police eyed him at the bar. He’d spilled his guts to the Border Patrol woman and the Sheriff, but he expected trouble for him would stay in Texas, not come across the river and spread into Mexico all the way to Chihuahua City.
Jesus Christ, there wasn’t going to be any place at all for him to go, he thought. And he had helped the cops, dammit. He told them about Holland and that he was Asadullah, even describing how he looked and what he’d already done. He told them about Samir and Crystal, too, and how they brought the chlorine tanker truck in to use in the attack.
The only thing he never told them about was La Sombra, and that was only because they hadn’t talked long enough.
What could he do now? There was a little money left, and he knew a few marijuaneros; maybe they could hide him out until things cooled down. Yeah, that would work. Until things cooled down.
When he reached Ojinaga, Riffey decided to stay on the fringes where people were fewer and the police patrolled less. Over the next hour his path took him in a slow circle around Ojinaga. Nearer the river, he took a caliche street through Villas del Peguis. There, Riffey took a right onto Morelos and drove east, further out of Ojinaga. He smelled the big feedlot before he saw it, and he took the road south of it to enter the little neighborhood of La Estacion.
He couldn’t remember exactly where his contact lived, so he drove slowly, checking the rundown adobes. He drove closer to the Rio, passing by a group of abandoned adobe buildings on his left as he followed the dusty road.
Riffey thought he saw something in one of the glassless windows, but when he looked again, there was nothing. Five minutes later, he saw his friend’s house, set back from the others. “Now, if he’ll let me stay,” Riffey said, and drove into the yard.
***
Asadullah had watched the pickup driving by, and with a shock recognized Riffey behind the wheel. He jerked his head back as Riffey turned to look, then peeked out again to watch the vehicle continue down the road.
He memorized the license plate and watched it drive out of sight around the bend. This caliche road was the only way in or out of the area downriver from his hiding place. He would watch for Riffey to come back, and if he didn’t, that meant he had a place to stay.
And that meant he could find the traitor. Tonight, in the dark, he would see where Riffey felt safe, and very soon Riffey would die a painful death.
When it was full dark he slipped out of the scorpion-infested adobe. He looked through a small rubbish pile and picked up an old cedar stave about four feet long. The pistol and knife were more deadly, but the wooden weapon might serve him better on dogs. He walked softly, his desert boots barely making a sound on the road. The pale road almost glowed in the moonlight. He followed the curve around the bend, checking each home he passed for Riffey’s truck.
There were few houses, and each one was several hundred yards from the previous one. An hour later, and two miles down the road, he saw a single house set far back. It was higher, too, on a bench that descended from the mountains south of it. Asadullah took his time approaching. He had a feeling about the house.