Chapter 13

I kept talking to Ray, trying to find out why he thought I looked familiar.

There had been the accident, of course, but it appeared he’d had more than that to tweak his interest. I didn’t like not knowing what that something was. It was just an impression, not very strong, but it bothered me that I couldn’t find out more. You can get really paranoid when you know someone’s out there who would like to blow a hole in your spinal cord!

But I wasn’t getting much more from Ray’s thoughts. I was stronger than I had been, especially when using TP, but my ability still wasn’t enough. And I didn’t want to ask him directly, but I had gained some insight into the problems of the young woman. Would talking about her problem cause him to open up?

“I overheard you talking,” I said. “It’s too bad about that young lady’s sister. It must be tough on the families, girls going missing. Sometimes they find bodies in the desert, but some of the time they just don’t get found at all. I can’t help but believe that if it were happening on this side of the border the town would be swarming with FBI! Mexico must not have the resources, or maybe they don’t care as much. The missing girls are poor, they’re working for the maquilas, and some probably aren’t even Mexican. Even if they are, they’re likely from the interior. No close friends or relatives here, I mean. The others are even more alone, because they came up from Central and South America. They get this far, but when they can’t get across the border they take whatever jobs they can get. The coyotes that do the smuggling make a lot of money from the misery of a lot of really poor people.”

“Yeah,” Ray sighed. “they’re predators. They go after their own people, the poor ones, but they try to leave the powerful alone. You’ve got to believe those rich ones over in Mexico have connections to the gangs. They’re politicians, they have money, they know people, and some of them are likely part of the drug gangs. The coyotes don’t want to mess with them. We really need to drop this war on drugs. It’s not working and it never really has. Just like during prohibition, people ignore the law. All that happens is that criminals smuggle drugs and get rich. We’re financing Mexico’s problems. Other nations too, but especially Mexico.”

“You think we should just make it legal?” I encouraged.

“I do. There’s nothing else we can do. The war on drugs is lost, and it never had a real chance of succeeding.”

I thought about it. “The terrorists in Afghanistan and Pakistan are happy to have it stay illegal. Drug profits keep the cash rolling in and they find it easy to exchange that cash for weapons.”

“Sure,” Ray agreed. “We’re financing our own enemies! Some of that money goes to support relatives after some suicide bomber blows himself up. A lot go that route because they can’t see any other way to help their families. Some would probably like to change their minds, but they get locked into the vests and someone with a cell phone will blow the explosives if the bomber weakens.”

“I saw some of that,” I admitted. “Were you over there too?”

“I was, but I stayed mostly in one of the headquarters compounds doing security work and a lot of it was just shuffling paper so I was never out beyond the wire. That was my final overseas post, and I retired when my tour ended. I came back here to get away from Afghanistan, and now I’m just a couple of miles from Juarez which is just about as bad as the Rockpile! Fanatics there, crooks here, and none of them give a damn about people! I don’t go over there, into Mexico I mean; I would like to help Ana Maria find her sister, but I don’t have contacts and I don’t know what I can do.

“Anyway, my last job was working for a general named Adams. Good man. When he needed help fast, he tapped me. I was just as glad, because it gave me something to do for the last couple of weeks. Except I never found out anything. He wanted answers, and I couldn’t find any. I don’t think I should talk about it, though.”

I sat there in shock. Finally, I had picked up a leaked thought. That last job he’d done was look for Shezzie and me! I had no idea what to do, and I couldn’t think of anything to say. Shezzie saved me by coming through the library door. I had time to link with her for a few seconds. <Be careful! This is the guy who was investigating what happened to us when we left Afghanistan. I don’t know how much he knows, not yet. Maybe he won’t recognize you. Can you read what he’s thinking?>

<I’ll be careful. Do you think he followed us?>

<I don’t see how. He just told me he’s retired, and looking for us was his final assignment. I think he came here just like we did, looking for someplace out of the way where he could pick up college classes. Maybe he knew about UTEP from before?>

<I think we should leave, T! He might see or hear something and then we’d be running again!>

<Not yet. He’s worrying about something else right now. She might be a girlfriend or she could be just someone he knows, but he’s not thinking about you or me.> I could feel Shezzie’s agitation. I was concerned too, but it was important for us to know how much Ray had found out. This was really the first opportunity we’d had to get the information, so I thought it worth the risk. I could shut him down if necessary; just a light pinch of the carotid arteries for ten seconds, I’d know when he went unconscious, and I could relax the process before he sustained lethal damage. With luck, he’d not wake up until we were heading for Jemez Springs.

I was outwardly bland. “Ray, this is a good friend of mine. Her name’s Shezzie. You can call me Tom.” Well, he could. It started with T, and if one of us slipped and called me “T” it wouldn’t be the end of the world. “She might know something that could help your friend. If nothing else, she knows about counseling. She worked for a doctor at one time. If you aren’t in a hurry...?”

That story was wrong, but there was enough truth in it to be believable. Those are the best lies, and I had acquired a certain skill at laying a false trail in recent months.