In Desperation

34

Apache Junction, Arizona

A half hour east of Phoenix, in the lobby of the Grand Cactus Motel, a computer station offered free internet access for guests.

Lyle Galviera was using it to catch up on news reports posted online, a recent story on Tilly’s abduction from W-Cero News.

Salazar was dead. Johnson was dead.

They were found in the desert south of Juarez.

Their heads had been removed.

Oh Jesus.

Pictures of Salazar and Johnson were shown over the murder scene in the desert. Then Galviera stared at a photo of himself over a caption: Lyle Galviera, Person of Interest. The report said Galviera disappeared with five million in cash stolen from the Norte Cartel, reputed to be one of Mexico’s most powerful and vengeful cartels.

The story said two men posing as police officers invaded the suburban Phoenix home of Cora Martin, Galviera’s secretary. After binding Cora and ransacking her home in vain for the Norte Cartel’s cash, the men kidnapped Tilly. There were images of Tilly, images of Cora pleading at the FBI news conference.

The report ended with the Norte Cartel’s ultimatum to Cora: she had five days to find Galviera and their cash or risk never seeing Tilly again.

Time was running out.

Gooseflesh rose on Galviera’s arms as he sat at the computer, transfixed.

My only cartel contacts are dead. Salazar and Johnson were going to help me process the money. I needed them to fix this whole thing, to find Tilly, to bring her home. What if Tilly is already dead? It would be on the news, wouldn’t it? No, only if they found her. They found Salazar and Johnson. If the Norte Cartel found those two guys, then they were going to find me. Oh Christ.

“Are you going to be much longer, Mister?” A boy about twelve, his face splashed with freckles, tapped the note taped on the frame: Please Be Considerate of Other Guests and Limit Your Session to 10 Minutes. Thank You, Management.

Galviera logged off.

Still stunned, he joined the small line of people waiting to be seated inside the motel’s large restaurant.

I’ve got to do something.

Galviera knew about the Norte Cartel but never suspected that Salazar and Johnson had been stealing from them.

He had to find a way out of this.

“Table for one, sir?”

The hostess led him through the crowded dining room. With his dark glasses, ball cap and unshaven, tanned face, Galviera blended in with the tourists. She seated him at a small corner table next to one with four grandmothers nattering about their visit to the Grand Canyon.

“My Bert always wanted to see it.”

“So did my Edgar. It was so beautiful. I sent my granddaughter in Hartford a picture.”

Galviera excused himself after his chair bumped Grandma Hartford’s chair. She’d used the nearest empty seat at his table for her purse and travel bag so stuffed with souvenirs it was close to tipping.

“Not a problem, dear.” The old girl gave the bags a cursory adjustment.

Galviera looked at the menu for answers.

Could he stay on the run with five million dollars? Find some quiet place and disappear? How long would he last? Not long. He was not a criminal. All he’d wanted was to save the business he’d built. When the waitress came, he ordered a chicken sandwich and struggled to stay calm.

He could reach out to the Norte Cartel and give them the money in exchange for Tilly’s life. Give them some of the money. He needed his two million. He could say Salazar and Johnson took the rest, that all he had was three million.

Who was he kidding?

Look what they did to them in the desert.

He could surrender to police. Then what? Go to jail? Lose his business? Besides, how would that help Tilly? No, he had to reach out to the Norte Cartel.

How?

With Salazar’s secret cell phone number. It was all he had. The one he was told never to call unless it was life and death. Well, it was over for Salazar, but someone would have his cell phone, either police or the Norte Cartel.

Galviera had no cell phone, no BlackBerry, no laptop, nothing wireless that could be traced to him.

His attention went to Grandma Hartford’s bag.

He had noticed when he took his seat that her cell phone was atop her bag of souvenirs. She and her friends were absorbed in looking at a brochure about Superstition Mountain.

Galviera glanced around. No one would notice. He coughed, palmed the phone and went outside toward the small park by the pool. He fished Salazar’s number from his wallet.

He looked at the phone and prepared to dial.

Wait!

Think this through. The police could put a trace on all calls received by Salazar’s phone. They could triangulate the call signal to its origin and get on Galviera’s trail so fast.

What if the Norte Cartel had the phone and they answered? Then what? What would he say-give me Tilly, I’ll give you your cash and we’ll call it even?

Would that work?

Not likely.

Was there any other way?

He didn’t have any time. He had to make a decision now. His hands started shaking.

Suddenly the phone started ringing in his hand.

“Susie” came up on the call display.