By edRogers
[Reviewed here on the novel’s publication day, October 6, 2018: “Coming soon to a Barnes & Noble store near you?”]
The sun was an hour before rising as he headed down the road from Margot’s on his motorbike. In his mind, Charlie could hear Araya’s footsteps coming closer; he was running out of time. Araya was not above making up a reason to have him arrested. In fact, he was surprised Araya hadn’t already done it.
It felt good to race along the almost empty highway, with the cool wind blowing in his face. The day before, he had passed a dirt road about five miles before reaching Morales’s house. It looked as though it ran through a valley on the other side of the mountain Morales’s house was built against. If that was true, then he should be able to reach the peak above the rear of the house.
The bright yellow sun was peeking over the mountain as he turned onto the road. To his left, he could see smoke coming from the cook fires of the small farmhouses sitting back from the road. To his right, unfenced cattle wandered over the wide-open trails they had made up the side of the mountain’s face. He turned onto one of the trails that ran at an angle into the woods at the top.
It wasn’t an easy ride but he soon came to the end of the more or less open space and entered the woods. The trees became too thick for the motorbike so he parked it and went on foot the rest of the way. The trees had been cut back from the edge of the cliff above Morales’s house, so he belly-crawled to the lip to look over. It was a straight drop to the backyard, a longer drop than he thought it would be, maybe thirty or forty feet. The guards seemed to be posted only on the sides and in front of the house. After all, the back was secure.
Charlie moved back to the treeline and found a tree with a two-foot trunk that was in line with the yard. It would make a great anchor.
From where he was he could see his bike and the trail he had come up. He looked around for an escape route that might be less arduous. He found one, but it headed in the wrong direction – east up the valley, away from the highway, which was west. He started to dismiss it but then thought, what the hell, it would be a good idea to have more than one way out.
Charlie made his way down to the motorbike and mounted it. The trail going east was more dirt than rocks, which made the ride much easier. The trail angled at about forty-five degrees downhill and away from where he had come into the valley. At the bottom, it crossed a narrow gravel road and headed up another mountain. The trail became steeper here, and he crested the top and stopped.
Charlie didn’t even realize he was smiling. He turned off the bike and put the kickstand down. He could see for miles from where he stood, but the most beautiful sight in the world was the wide highway below. It was the same one he had come in on. It rounded the mountain from Jaco and went back into Puntarenas, and by coming over the mountain he could cut twenty miles off the trip.
He got back on his bike and headed down the side of the mountain. It was a lot hairier than the other side. There were no cattle or other animal trails to follow; he had to make his own. About halfway down he was beginning to have second thoughts about its being a good choice. However, once at the bottom, things looked much better. He turned and fought his way back to the top to make another descent, which was much easier. He was sure he could handle it in the dark. That is, if he ran it a few more times.
The first thing he did upon reaching Puntarenas was to take the motorbike to get the quietest muffler he could find installed on it. He walked uptown to pick up a few things while they did the work. He needed a strong rope and a six-foot chain. He wanted a camera that could shoot in the dark. He wanted night-vision goggles but had no idea where to buy them, and besides, it would leave a trail back to him. The camera would have to do. After lunch and a beer, he went back to reclaim his bike. He had also had a box added to the rear fender, so it now looked a lot like a pizza delivery vehicle. But this one was painted black.
He stored his purchases in the box and headed home.
At the house, he got some tools and began to take the winch off the front of the jeep. After he had it off he realized he needed a twelve-volt battery. He left the winch next to the bike and drove back to town. It seemed as though he was always forgetting something.
Back at the house again, this time Charlie went in and opened a beer. The plan was coming together in his mind, but there were things he needed to do and one was to get rid of the house. Once Morales was dead he couldn’t stay in Costa Rica. Araya would never let up until he was in jail. But it would take too long to sell Margot’s American-style house. The only people who could afford a house like that were other gringos.
After a few beers and no real plan for the house, Charlie decided to give it to Juan. He felt as though Juan had gotten the short end of the stick and maybe this would make up for his getting shot. Charlie called the lawyer to have the papers drawn up and told him that he would be by to sign them in a day or two.
He removed the battery from the jeep and installed the new one he had just bought. Then he put the old one into the box on the motorbike – it barely fit – along with the winch. He checked everything one last time, just to be sure he hadn’t forgotten anything. Satisfied that he was ready, Charlie locked the box and went back into the house. He poured a large rum with ice and went to bed.
At the crack of dawn the next day Charlie drove down the hill to the sleepy little town of Puntarenas. The smell of fresh coffee reached his nose and he pulled over to the soda by the beach.
He had drunk about half of his second cup of coffee when a now recognizable voice spoke from behind him. “I see you’ve added a box to that old motorbike of yours. Going into the delivery business?”
“Araya, don’t you have anything better to do than fuck with me?”
Araya laughed. “I worry about you, my friend. A lot of people have died around you and I like to think my presence is what keeps you alive. Also, I thought you might like to know that your D.E.A. buddies are pushing hard to have Victor Morales arrested. There will be a hearing tomorrow. Oh shit! There I go again, telling you something you already know.”
“How many times must I say it? I don’t work for the D.E.A.!”
Araya slapped Charlie on the back and turned to walk away. “I guess you keep saying it until I believe it or you tell the truth, whichever comes first.”
Charlie listened to the footsteps walk away, the car door open and close, and the engine start, but not until the sound of the car driving away did he look to be sure Araya was gone. Charlie knew Araya was playing a mind game with him. He was hoping to rattle Charlie into doing something stupid. Although Araya believed Charlie was involved somehow, he had no idea how and only a gut feeling about the involvement. But Charlie knew that a gut feeling was sometimes a stronger influence on a man than proof, and Araya would keep digging, like a dog looking for a lost bone.
He paid for his coffee and got on the motorbike. He looked down the street trying to spot Araya’s car but there was no one in sight. Charlie shook his head and cursed himself for letting Araya get inside his head.
| Copyright © 2018 by Ed Rogers |
No comments:
Post a Comment