Chapter 23
23
B ack at the hotel, they used the laptop they had brought from the States to read the data Rosa had given them on the flash drive. Alejandro sat at the small desk and Camila stood over his shoulder.
The information Rosa provided was damning. She had downloaded files that included “patients” with diagnoses and medical history to justify removing their organs. The recipients’ names and contact information were also logged, along with the medical staff involved in each operation. The files included five death certificates indicating death by natural causes or accidents.
Camila abruptly turned away. “I can’t read anymore. I’m going to be sick.”
“ Querida —” Alejandro reached for her, but she pulled away.
“You finish looking and tell me what you find.” Arms wrapped around herself, she trudged out to the balcony. It pained him to see her so upset.
Alejandro rushed through the rest of the files, which were mostly internal communications between the clinic’s staff, including email threads with clients requesting specific organs.
He cursed under his breath. These people were sick. The donors were nothing to them—mere vessels to essentially be bought and sold to achieve their goals. His temples throbbed as fury built inside him at the blatant disregard for life and the obvious belief that one life mattered more than another. He wanted justice for these people.
He went outside to the balcony and slipped his arms around Camila’s waist, pulling her back against his body.
“I needed some air,” she said, no emotion in her voice.
He kissed the top of her head. “I understand.”
For several minutes, they watched the activity on the street below.
“There’s a lot of ugliness in the world,” she said in a soft, sad voice.
“Yes, there is.” He kissed her shoulder. “I’m going back to the clinic. I want to find The Transporter. I want to know everything he knows.”
She twisted around in his arms and gazed up at him. “I’m coming with you.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes, I can handle it. When this is all over, I’m writing a helluva an article—not for Sin City Pulse though. The topic would be too much for our magazine.”
He let out a short laugh. “I agree. A different paper would be best.”
“Definitely.” She rested her forehead against his chest. “I’m sorry. I feel like I dragged you into a messy situation.”
“Hey.” He placed a hand under her chin and forced her to meet his gaze. He brushed his thumb along her lush lower lip. “Where you go, I go. And I am just as angry as you are. I want these guys. I can taste it. And we’re going to get them.”
The telephone in the room rang, and he went inside to answer it. “Hello?”
“Sanchez, it’s me, Buck. I have some free time and wanted to see what you were up to.”
His attention drifted to Camila, who looked down at the street with her arms folded on the railing. “Rosa was a wealth of information. There’s a guy called The Transporter who brings the donors to the clinic. According to Rosa, he should be there this afternoon. We’re going back to stake out the clinic.”
“Mind if I tag along?”
“Not at all.”
“I’ll be there shortly.”
Alejandro parked the Honda down the street from Oasis de Vida, in the parking lot of one of the restaurants. They faced the facility, able to see cars as they entered and exited. They didn’t have a detailed description of The Transporter’s vehicle, but they knew what he looked like, which was helpful. Being a pale-skinned Anglo should make him easy to spot in this community.
After more than two hours of sitting in the car, talking about everything and anything, he began to wonder if they were wasting their time. Rosa had said The Transporter might come today or tomorrow, though he’d hoped for today.
“He might not be coming today,” Buck said, as if reading his mind. He sat in the back seat.
Alejandro checked the time. After four. “We’ll wait until five o’clock, and if he doesn’t show, then we’ll leave.”
“I hope he shows,” Camila said.
Minutes later, a little boy approached the car in cut off shorts and a dirt-stained shirt. He knocked on Camila’s window and outstretched his hand using puppy dog eyes.
“Oh, poor thing,” she murmured. She dug in her purse and pulled out a couple of U.S. bills since U.S. currency was widely accepted in Tijuana. Rolling down the window, she handed him the dollars. “There you go.”
The boy’s eyes brightened. “ Gracias, se?orita ,” he said happily, smiling at her with stained teeth.
He ran across the street and jetted down a pathway between the car wash and a taqueria .
“He reminds me of when I was a kid and me and Mamita didn’t have much. Those first few years after I moved in with her, I’m pretty sure she went to bed hungry some nights to make sure I had food to eat.” His chest hurt knowing the sacrifices his grandmother made to care for him after his father’s death.
“That’s what parents do,” Camila said.
“She had already raised my mother. She shouldn’t have had to raise me too.”
Camila placed a hand on his thigh, and he covered her hand. “I bet she’d do it again because she loves you. And hey, you take very good care of her.”
Of that, he was proud. Because of the work he had done with the Plan B organization and the money he made, he had built Mamita a nice home and deposited a stipend into her account every month to make her senior years more comfortable.
“She deserves it,” he said.
The words had barely left his mouth when a blue car slowed upon approach to the clinic. The three of them straightened, and the mood in the car shifted to alert and curious.
The vehicle turned onto the property and headed toward the back. A Caucasian male with black hair and pale skin was behind the wheel.
“That might be our guy,” Alejandro said.
“No one in the car with him. Maybe no delivery today,” Buck mused.
“Or they’re in the trunk,” Alejandro said in a grim tone.
“I wouldn’t put it past those assholes to do something like that,” Camila muttered.
“Hopefully, he won’t stay at the clinic long.” The plan was to follow him to his next destination until they were able to get him alone and question him. It would be great if he went straight home, but Alejandro knew situations were seldom so tidy.
Impatiently, he tapped his thumb on the steering wheel as they waited.
“Do you think he’ll be much longer?” Camila asked, shifting in the seat.
“I hope not.”
No sooner had the words left his mouth than the blue sedan pulled to the edge of the curb, about to turn into traffic.
“Here we go,” Alejandro said, starting the car.
The little boy from earlier came running down the sidewalk, and right away, Alejandro knew shit was about to hit the fan. The Transporter rolled down his window to talk to the boy, and seconds later swiveled his head in their direction.
“ Shiiit . He had a goddamn lookout on the street.”
Buck swore.
The man handed the little boy some money and then took off with a screech of tires.
“Hang on,” Alejandro said, swinging into traffic after him.
The vehicle surged forward, almost sideswiping a Tacoma truck. The driver leaned unnecessarily long on the horn. Alejandro shot him the bird, though he was in the wrong, and kept his eyes locked on the speeding vehicle ahead.
The blue sedan weaved through the light traffic, sailed under a traffic light, and narrowly missed a pink bakery truck backing out of an alleyway.
“Bus, bus, bus!” Camila screamed, covering her eyes.
Alejandro wrenched the wheel to the left and went around a bus with a squeal of tires that made the passengers gape at them.
“You’re alive,” Alejandro said, maneuvering around a taco vendor who picked that exact moment to push his cart across the street.
Camila slowly lifted her head. “This is nuts.”
“I’m not letting him get away,” Alejandro said in a grimly determined voice.
The storefronts shot past in a blur as they tore through the streets, winding with snakelike movement between cars at a dangerous speed. Suddenly, the blue sedan turned right down a narrow road, and Alejandro swung a hard right and followed close behind, the car tires skidding on the asphalt.
Camila whimpered, shoulders coming up to her ears as she clung to the handle above the door with a death grip.
As he flew through an intersection, Alejandro honked his horn in warning, aware of his surroundings while keeping the blue sedan in sight. They hit a stretch of road where there were less cars and open space replaced the retail establishments.
“Where is he going?” Buck asked.
“Out of the city,” Alejandro said, more to himself than to answer the question.
The Transporter turned left and headed off road. In the waning light, the ground transformed from asphalt to gravel and dirt, and the sedan kicked small clouds of dust in its wake. They climbed over the crest of a small hill, and Alejandro saw the opportunity to pull up beside him since the sedan was having a much harder time navigating the terrain than the crossover.
Bouncing over the uneven road, he ate up the distance between them. Alejandro pulled alongside and intended to run him off the road, when he saw the dark muzzle of a gun through the open window of the blue sedan.
“Gun!” Camila screamed.