Chapter 12

"Well?" Garcia looked up from his desk in the study, where he was busily writing something on a piece of paper. At Julio's appearance, he hastily took the paper and placed it in a small drawer. Taking a fine gold chain from out of his pocket, he used the single small brass key to lock the drawer. He then returned the key to his pocket and leaned back in his chair, waiting for Julio's "report."

"There is nothing to worry about, Don Ernesto. The girl and her boyfriend parted in anger... he became impatient with her virginity." The two men exchanged knowing smiles. "As the old woman told you, the girl did make a call to her home city that evening, before she went to dinner. But from the girl herself I learned that the call to her boyfriend was disappointing -- he apparently had decided to switch rather than fight... he said he was making love at that moment to the girl's twin sister..."

Garcia smiled broadly. "So, she has a twin. Caramba! It is a pity the twin did not come to San Francisco also. What an exhibit the two of them would make! But then, you would have to work twice as hard, Julio..."

The bearded young man grinned back. "I enjoy my work, Don Ernesto. Especially my most recent work."

"Una pinocha deliciosa?" Garcia queried, raising his eyebrows with interest.

Julio joined his fingertips and brought them to his lips, making a loud smacking sound as he kissed them. "Dolce. Dolce," he said, elongating the words.

"Interesante. Muy interesante. Perhaps I shall have to taste that little pinocha with my own lips... In the meantime, there are business matters to attend to. We are going to Acapulco tonight."

"Tonight'?"

"Si, si. Dawson will arrive at ten. He will meet us at the plane. Phone the hangar and instruct them to make sure everything is in order -- we take off at ten-thirty.

"And the girl?"

"She can come along -- a brief vacation. You can fill her time, I trust; Dawson and I will be occupied -- oh, phone Acapulco and tell them to have the car waiting. And alert Maria that we shall have a chavalita guest overnight. I want everything in order, including champagne and caviar for two -- in my bedroom." Garcia gave his aide a sly smile.

"I thought you would be occupied with Dawson, Don Ernesto." "True. But not in the bedroom! Even a business man must have his moments of leisure..."

"In that case, you had better rest before getting into bed with her," Julio replied. "And what about Valdez?"

"I have already spoken to him. He is chagrined that Jill will not be at work tonight, but I reminded him that the exhibit will be held in two days. It is not so long to wait. Which reminds me, you must also phone the ranchero and tell them to get the girls ready. You will have to drive up there and pick them up. I want them briefed -- the girl is to know nothing. You can stress to them the consequences of indiscretion, Julio..."

The suave entrepreneur of the underworld looked up at his right hand man. Julio understood perfectly well what sort of "instruction" he was to give the girls. In Don Ernesto's circle, a few well chosen words sufficed to instill fear of reprisal into the addict-prostitutes. In addition, they would all be given ample quantities of dope and alcohol, then transported in the Mercedes. High-density gelatins would be attached to the side and rear windows from the outside, creating zero visibility. The window between the driver's seat and the passenger compartment would have the same kind of obscuring shield. The doors would be locked electrically. There was no chance for escape. Uniformed "security guards" -- several of the most corrupt members of the Mexican police force -- would stand watch throughout the grounds, to make certain no one attended or left the party who was not an invited guest.

"I think that's everything. Now, where is the girl?" Garcia asked.

"Sunbathing, at the pool."

Garcia's eyes lit up. "Rebueno. I think I'll join her for a little chat."

"... And so, Jill, I want you to take your paper and paints to Acapulco and do some studies for the exhibit Saturday. I will have on hand a quantity of mats from the gallery. The work will show better that way. Perhaps you will even find time to do a portrait of me in pastels."

"Oh, Don Ernesto, that's right! I haven't done one of you yet! You're so busy..."

"And you have been busy too, my dear. Haven't you?" he said cryptically.

"Well, yes. I have gotten quite a bit done..." she answered, a little flustered.

"How do you find Julio... as a model?"

"He's quite good, actually," she answered, ignoring the innuendo.

"I hope you will find me as satisfactory. I should like to be able to include your study of me at the exhibit."

"Oh, of course. As a matter of fact, I have something else. A self-portrait. I wanted to give it to you as a surprise, to show my appreciation for all you've done for me, Don Ernesto."

"A self-portrait. How charming! I am really touched, Jill. Is it finished?"

"Yes. Except for a few finishing strokes. I'll do that today. But you can't see it until Saturday. That would spoil the surprise."

"I shall find it difficult to wait..."

Except for the irritating presence of Dawson, the journey to Acapulco was exciting for Jill. The printer arrived from Los Angeles with a big package wrapped in brown paper. He explained that they were lithographs, and he didn't want to leave them in the trunk of the Mercedes -- theft was too easy.

When they arrived in Acapulco, Julio drove them to the gallery owner's beach house, which was nestled in a private cove at one end of the Bay. They had cordials in the spacious living room which, though casually furnished, with big soft armchairs and low couches, was nonetheless the essence of good taste. Half an hour later, Jill was asleep in her bedroom.

The house was dark and silent, except for the croaking of frogs and the chirrups of crickets and other creatures of the night. Silently the door opened and a man walked across the room to her bed. He looked down at her beautiful face, which was illuminated by the tropical moon. He undressed quickly, walking around the bed to the other side. Then he drew back the sheet and got in bed with her.

He pressed against her warm back, placing his arm over her to cup one of her luscious bare breasts in his hand. She stirred and moaned softly in her sleep. He nuzzled his face into her hair, and kissed her on the ear and down her slender white throat to her shoulders. "Jill! Wake up!" he whispered, jostling her breasts with his hand. His hard cock pressed into the crease between her buttocks.

The young girl stirred and stretched her lithe body like a cat. Her eyelids fluttered then opened. She let out a small cry of fright, which was quickly stifled by a powerful man's hand. Then Julio's face appeared before her eyes, and ovalling his lips he whispered, "Shhh. Don't make a sound. We must be very quiet. The housekeeper sleeps with one eye open in the next room."

She turned around to him and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him down to her. They kissed long and hard. She was on fire for him again, and they made breathless, passionate love. Afterwards he said, "Jill, I have to tell you something very, very important. Not only because I need your help, but because I care about you."

"You do?" she asked incredulously.

"Yes. And you will not enjoy what I have to say. It will mean a great sacrifice on your part. But you will be doing your country and my country -- and the poor people all over the world a great and heroic service. Do you want to help the people? Do you want to help me?"

She nodded her head mutely, her eyes wide with curiosity and apprehension. "Yes, Julio. But I don't understand."

"Listen. I am not who you think I am. I am a secret agent with an organization similar to the CIA -- the Federacion lnternacional Contra la Criminalidad... FICC. We operate in Spanish speaking countries all over the world."

Jill was really bug-eyed now. "But..."

"And your gracious benefactor is not who you think he is. He is a notorious white-slaver. More than that, we strongly suspect him of wide-scale drug operations. In fact, we know that he is a principal figure in illicit drug traffic. But we have never been able to find out how he is passing the drugs, nor to whom he passes them. Garcia is a brilliant criminal. And like all men possessed of nefarious genius, he is extremely cautious... and extremely dangerous.

Jill was barely breathing, so awestruck and so tense was the naive young girl. "Don Ernesto? I can't believe it."

"Can you believe that my kid brother died of an overdose when he was only fifteen years old?" Julio said through a clenched jaw.

"Oh Julio -- I'm so sorry. That's horrible. Tragic."

"Yes. Someone got him hooked on drugs -- a junkie who needed to support his own habit. And that junkie got it from someone who dealt with a man like Ernesto Garcia, if not Garcia himself! Does that not make your gracious benefactor a killer?"

"Well... when you put it that way, of course. But he's been so kind to me, so generous..."

"Yes, chiquita. Very kind. Very generous. He can afford to be, for he intends to use you very profitably!"

"Use me? How?"

Julio told her the whole story, including the grisly fate that would befall her after the debauching orgy. She would become a captive at the ranchero, forced into addiction and prostitution along with the other kidnapped girls. Then he told her that Josephine was a witch of some kind who was the Don's procurer in San Francisco, how he had personally delivered a large sum of money to her before going to the motel -- it was no accident that Garcia arrived when he did; Josephine had tipped him off as soon as Dawson left with the suitcases. Dawson knew nothing about Josephine's part in the conspiracy. Garcia was extremely wily. He told some people part of his operation and to others, he told other things. But no one knew everything. He had never hinted of his dope dealings to Julio.

Jill was crushed and horrified. Josephine! That tea -- it was a drug of some kind! And the exhibit! A party in honor of "such a promising young American artist!" Oh God!

"Listen. Tonight I saw Garcia and the printer go down to the beach in the dark. I was able to observe them through a small, infrared telescopic device. A little later, a small motorboat arrived at the cove with a partial shipment of special hi-potency vitamins -- feed additives for the fighting bulls he raises. He has it imported by ship, supposedly from Argentina. The bags were transferred to the car and the boatmen paid generously. When they left, Garcia and the printer drove away. The lithographs are missing from the printer's room...

"So the dope must be in the bags of vitamins!" Jill interjected loudly.

Julio's hand came down over her mouth again. "Naturally. Now we know where it is. But we have yet to learn how it can possibly be transferred to the lithographs -- unless the package does not contain lithographs. I've been trying to figure that out. It seems impossible."

"But why can't you have someone break into the gallery -- if that's where they are? You can get Dawson, too!" Jill smiled smugly at the thought of the crude printer getting his comeuppance.

"It is not enough. We can imprison Garcia and Dawson. But our organization is far more interested in breaking the entire network. I know Don Ernesto too well -- we could not elicit a confession from him, even by torture. He would go to his death with his lips sealed. He could have been jailed for white slavery, for kidnapping in the past. But those crimes would not keep him in prison for long. He is too rich, too powerful. He has too many employees in local government. International trafficking in narcotics in another matter, and ultimately, of political importance. Pressure can be brought to bear -- high ranking officials are not anxious to lose their posts. We are very close now. But we must have that paper. I think it will tell us what we want to know, and that is how you can be of help."

"Me?" Jill asked incredulously.

"Exactly. Now, here is what you must do..."

Julio took Jill into the city the next morning, to markets and other places of interest, where she did some wonderful sketches of the Acapulcans. They had lunch in a charming restaurant, then went back to the house for a cooling swim, making love on the beach. That evening Don Ernesto took them all to La Perla, the famous restaurant where the Indian Divers plunge into the ocean from a high cliff. She knew he chose the touristy hotel for her benefit, and despite knowing his evil designs for her, she couldn't help feeling a little sad for the courtly Colombian. And she felt sorry for herself. She was having a wonderful time, a fabulous adventure in Mexico. No one had ever treated her so grandly as Don Ernesto. And he had made good every promise to her so far. Looking at him across the table as he sat there, so handsome, so aristocratic with his tanned skin and crisp white sharkskin suit, she could hardly bear to think of him in drab prison uniform, his beautiful face drawn and wan from bad food. Yet he was a criminal, and a predator. And if she failed to do her part to bring him to justice, she would be failing thousands of people everywhere. Worse, she would be endangering Julio's life, and possibly her own! She could never forgive herself if anything happened to Julio. She was definitely in love with him. No, she mustn't fail...