On the Border

The story continues as Carlos and Elena confront smugglers illegally transporting Peru's ancient heritage to foreign buyers. This is a gritty action story, with some highlights below. Click on 1fastguy to read Chapter 2 and 3 in full.

Chapter 01: The Stakeout

"I race down the stairs so fast that I almost fall on my face, but when I reach the ground floor, the van is still there. Out comes the camera for a closeup shot of the licence plate and the business registration number behind the passenger door."

Chapter 02: Serious Clash

"That box! Give it to me! It's ours. Give it to me," she yells. The driver's window is down, so he reaches across and pushes her back hard as he accelerates. She screams and I see her fall backwards, bouncing off the wall of the club before slumping to the narrow sidewalk."

Chapter 03: Carlos Down

"Elena launches herself onto his back and claws at his face from behind, sending blood flying. He reaches to push her off and briefly loses his grip on the rope. The big one pushes me down and the rope around my throat is tightened again."

****

I hear something.

"Beep... beep... beep... beep...."

I'm alive.

"Beep... beep... beep... beep...."

That sound seeps into my being. I didn't die!

My eyes flicker and Elena notices.

"Carlos. It's Carlos. He's awake!" she calls to someone, then clutches my hand.

Life feels warm after meeting cold Death.

"Beep... beep... beep... beep...."

It's that monitor again.

"Elena.... Where am I?"

"Omigod Carlos, I thought you were dead! I was so scared!"

I see that I'm in a high bed with tubes and monitors attached to me- a hospital.

"Where are we? Peru? Brazil?"

"In Manaus. They tried to kill you. I thought you were dead!"

Suddenly, I start to panic.

"Is it safe here?"

"Jag got a guard. Just outside the door."

"When do we go back?"

"To Lima? As soon as you can fly with me. Jag will arrange it."

"Today? Tomorrow? When?"

"Not soon enough. But you're hurt pretty bad, Carlos. So a few more days, I'm sure."

"A few more days... a few more days...." I mumble.

I feel tired and my eyes start to close. Elena squeezes my hand.

"Rest now, Carlos.... I'm here and we're safe," she whispers. "Get better and we go."

She kisses my cheek, then sits back into the chair beside the bed, still holding my hand tightly.

"Yes... yes...."

And I begin to fall back into the hazy world I just left.

"Beep... beep... beep... beep...."

****

I almost died a few nights ago. Two men violently attacked me from behind as I watched the boss across the street exchange another priceless Paracas burial shroud for a big wad of cash. I was hunched over the viewer, recording the transaction, with it live-streamed to my phone.

They beat me up, strangled me with a cord, and smashed the equipment. But they didn't know that everything happening in Antonio's office had been captured and saved to my phone in the bedroom. Evidence- exactly what we came for.

Elena saved my life. I have patches of memory with her screaming profanities and ripping her long fingernails across the face of the ugly little guy twisting the cord around my throat. She's on his back, forcing him to let go of the rope while he pushes her away. He starts to choke me again, but she comes back at them, kicking and flailing with both fists.

When I passed out they ran off, having sustained a few lesser injuries themselves at the hands of this hysterical woman who saved me.

Both of us are injured. She has bumps and bruises from being thrown around during the scrum. And there are still some old cuts and dark patches from the incident with the delivery van the day before. I have an angry red scar around my neck, evidence of my brutal garrotting. My neck muscles are straining, almost as if my head is too heavy to carry, and my whole body aches from the big guy kicking me with his heavy boots.

We are a terrible-looking pair of survivors.

Elena and I try to reconstruct everything, as if it is important that we both completely understand what happened to us.

"You were mumbling something just before you passed out, Carlos. What was that all about?"

"I don't remember," I tell her, even though I might.

"Something about Carmen, and whoring and forgiveness. Remember?"

"Not at all. I have no idea," I lie, because I recognize that I must have said it. How else could she know what I had done over at the club that day?

I try to change the direction of our conversation.

"You were still sound asleep from the medication when I came in from the bar."

"Oh, did you get any new information there?" she asks suspiciously, knowing that the place crawls with hookers.

"No," I lie again, knowing I avidly fucked that Brazilian bombshell, Carmen. "Just that a lot of Spanish girls work there, and they often travel home for a few weeks at a time. I think they're smuggling the artifacts across the border and on to Manaus."

"So, you set up surveillance when you came back?"

"Yes, you were still asleep. I wanted to watch to see if a courier was coming to pick up a parcel in Antonio's office, like we saw twice before."

"He did, right? There must have been more than one guy this time."

"There were three of them in the van. Two crossed to our side of the street and I figured they were standing guard, since you'd run after the last courier. Instead, they must have come up the stairs quietly and then got me from behind."

"I wonder why? Something must have made Antonio suspicious, so he sent them to kill you."

"Who knows? Maybe a glint of light off the viewer? Or me being upstairs at the club? Or you trying to stop the last delivery? Any combination of these, with us living right across the street would have been enough."

"Yes. I'm sure now that he set it up, either to kill you or put you out of action."

"Elena, I owe you my life. Really, I'd be dead if you hadn't fought them off. They were playing for keeps."

"They must have thought you already were dead when they ran out. It really looked like it!"

"Maybe, but don't kid yourself. Antonio would have seen the ambulance. He's probably got people combing all the hospitals for me right now."

"Dammit Carlos! I'll get Jag to double the guards on this room."

"Just tell him to get us tickets and an escort to the airport. Let's get back to Lima as fast as we can!"

"But are you well enough to go?"

"Probably not, but I don't want to die- again. Awful experience!"

"I'll call him right now."

Jaguar works fast when he gets on to something. Within a few hours we're racing to Eduardo Gomes International Airport with a diplomatic escort- two cops on big motorcycles- one ahead of our driver, the other behind. I feel like a VIP.

He'd bought Executive Class plane tickets, the kind with lay-flat pods for sleeping. Wheelchair attendants rush both of us to the plane for preferential boarding, and before we know it, a sumptuous meal is placed in front of us. It's first class service all the way home to Lima!

Marina, Jaguar's pretty American wife, meets us when we de-plane, and helps retrieve our luggage. Sympathetic people watch her and a porter wheeling us to a waiting car, which whisks us off to an unfamiliar apartment building. It's in a different neighbourhood from my own little place, definitely more up-scale. I'm confused.

"Where are we, Marina?"

"Tell him, Elena."

"This is my apartment. I have two bedrooms here, and this is where you'll be living until you get better."

She smiles over at me, then shakes her head emphatically.

"Now don't get the wrong idea, Carlos."

But, I already have.

"This is just so I can look after you because you're still very fragile. Jag rushed us out of Brazil because it was much too dangerous to stay."

I like Elena- after all, she just saved my life- so I'm fine with the plan.

"But I'll need some of my clothes. How long will I be here?"

"It could be for a while, Carlos, a few weeks to a month or more," Marina replies. "Jag phoned the doctor in Manaus, and he says you have some cracked ribs, on top of everything else. We want you to just let this whole smuggling thing go for now and spend your time recuperating."

"With Elena?"

"Yes. She's banged up too, so she won't be back to the museum for a week or more. So, it'll be two of you here together. Isn't that cozy? I hope you can get along without too much squabbling," she jokes, grinning at Elena.

"I'll try hard to behave myself," I reply, knowing that the woman appeals to me, more than ever since the attack.

"Carlos, if you try anything, I'll poke you right in your cracked ribs!" Elena laughs.

"Ouch! I've been warned. I suppose you'll scratch my eyes out too? Like you tried to do with those guys who attacked me," I tease.

"Yes, especially that damned bastard strangling you. I hope he's still bleeding!" she crows.

A special bond has grown between me and Elena, one that hadn't been there before we left for Brazil. I guess that's what happens when somebody saves my life at the risk of her own? And it may have something to do with living at close quarters for the past three weeks with such an attractive woman.

"I can take you to your apartment now to get some clothes and things," Marina offers. "But you'll be living here. Understand?"

We leave and return an hour or two later with some boxes and bags filled with my stuff- shirts, books, laptop, even my guitar. It's surprising how many things one can't live without for a few weeks. Jaguar is at Elena's apartment when we get back.

"Moving in for good, are you Carlos? You two must have hit it off very well in Brazil," he jibes when he sees the pile of baggage.

"Ha... ha." I reply sarcastically. "We're both banged up from your damned assignment, so you can bring it all in for me. The bedroom off the back hall."

"You heard him, Jag," his wife commands. "I carried these things out to the car at his place, so you can finish the job."

Meanwhile, Elena makes coffee and opens the snacks that Marina stopped for on the way back. Before long, Jaguar has everything in my room, and we gather around the kitchen table.

Jag starts off by asking how the two of us are feeling, commenting that we both look worse for wear after our three weeks in Brazil. We admit that it is good to be back in Lima, especially with the mounting sense of danger during our last week there.

I thank him for taking care of everything after I went to the hospital. He just shrugs it off with an apology for placing us in such a threatening position in the first place, then reminds us to rest up because we're both off the case for a good, long while.

I comment that we seemed to be getting somewhere before the attack, and he wants to review where we are with the investigation. So, Elena and I summarize what we've seen during the past few weeks.

She details the invaluable Paracas and Nazca artifacts she saw transferred to a delivery van driver up in Antonio's office across from our stakeout. As I would expect, she starts into an impassioned rant about the loss of these precious pieces of Peruvian heritage. The woman is passionate!

Marina wonders where the deliveries go next and I explain how stolen vehicles were used and then abandoned at or near the river ferry dock for boats going downriver to Belem, near the coast. I'd been at a small warehouse and passed myself off as Antonio's man to get assurance that the Nazca ceremonial drinking vessel had been shipped downriver The shipper, Franco, is another link in the smuggling chain.

Then I outline my theory that the goods reach Manaus from the mountain country along the Brazilian border. Spanish girls who work and whore at the bar return home regularly, a long journey upriver. They probably carry small parcels across the border concealed in their bags. I've seen money passed to one hooker, Marianna, up in Antonio's office after she'd come back from Peru.

"I've thought about this since we spoke on the phone before you were attacked," Jag says to us all. "And here's what I see in the bigger picture."

We wait for him to explain while Elena pours more coffee.

"There must be a connection," he begins. "A link between smuggling and the sex trade. If the girls who carry the artifacts across to Brazil are bound for clubs where they work, and where smuggled goods change hands, they might be forced."

"That makes sense, but who controls it?" Marina asks.

Then her husband drops a bombshell.

"I think it must be a syndicate, groups working together in some large criminal network. We need to find out. Neither of you is in any condition to investigate that, so I intend to do it myself as soon as Elena is well enough to return to the National Museum."

This is news to Marina, and she isn't happy about it.

"You didn't tell me about this, Jag. I suppose you intend to put yourself in danger now. Look what happened to them!"

"This is different. I'll mostly be in Peru."

"Mostly.... Where else?"

"Well, depending on what I find, I might cross the border into Brazil."

"And go to Manaus, I suppose!" Marina is getting angry.

"No, just as far as Porto Velho, where the ferry downriver departs, following the Madeira River, an Amazon tributary."

"Then I'm going with you!" Marina blurts out.

"Absolutely not! No chance, Marina." They're both angry now.

"What's going on, Jag," I ask. "Why there?"

"I'll be going to Inapari on the Peruvian side where three borders meet up- Peru, Brazil, and Bolivia. It's the best back route into Brazil, right at the height of the new Inter-oceanic Highway from the Pacific."

"Why can't I go there with you?" Marina demands.

"Because it's a lawless place, the frontier, a known centre for human trafficking in the sex trade. This is where smuggling and prostitution likely come together. It's the only good road across the mountains, so there's plenty of truck traffic. Think of how easy it would be to sneak women and stolen goods across to Brazil."

"And you'll go there alone? Jag, that is just so stupid! What the Hell are you thinking?" his wife raises her voice.

All three of us concur that it doesn't seem like a good idea at all. One man walking into a lawless place to investigate sex trafficking and theft. It's a recipe for disaster. But Jaguar is insistent that he will do it, over the strong objection of his wife. Voices are raised. Elena sees that they're both digging in and thinks of a way to prevent a major disagreement between husband and wife.

"Remember a few years ago, Jag, when you were kidnapped for a million-dollar ransom by Shining Path terrorists. It was revenge for the police you tipped off before they gunned down the last remaining Sendero Luminosa lieutenant. He'd joined your tour group to escape to Bolivia." [Background: Andean Experience Ch. 5: Caged Animal in Non-Erotic.]

"How could I forget. They were ready to kill me if it wasn't paid."

"And who got you out alive?"

"You and Marina. How can I ever repay my debt to you both?"

"And who else was in on it?"

"Oh yes... a couple of your relatives. Guys out of the Army looking for some real excitement."

"My cousins Alphonse and Arturo," Elena reminds him. "Two big Peruvian army vets- guys with guns who know how to use them. That's who should be going up there with you, Jag."

"Hmm... that's a very good idea" Marina agrees. "Maybe they're up for some more adventure?"

"I can find out easily enough," Elena replies.

"OK, Elena. That might be good, if they're willing," Jag agrees. "Ask them. It's a smart plan."

"Take them with you, Jag," Marina urges. "You'll have much better odds with some backup protection."

Marina agrees to her husband going up to the border and into Brazil, but only if Alphonse and Arturo are available to travel with him as personal bodyguards.

It turns out that they are.

****

Jaguar picks up the story about a week later.

Elena's two cousins and I are thirsty when we finally reach Inapari, Peru. We've spent the whole day just getting here- a cheap red-eye flight from Lima to Cuzco, followed by twelve hours taking turns driving a rental car up the Inter-oceanic Highway. It has been real grind of a trip so far.

The paved road snakes its way through rugged terrain out of Cuzco, sometimes using switchbacks to work up to the height of land. Trucks chug along slowly, sometimes impeding faster traffic. Angry horns are answered with shaking fists or rude finger and arm salutes from the truckers. At times, traffic comes to a long halt when an overheated rig breaks down.

Some call it the highway to the clouds, climbing to 11 000 feet, the air so thin that it's difficult to breathe. Others label the Inter-oceanic the most corrupt highway in the world. When construction contracts were opened for bids about fifteen years ago, massive bribes went to senior government ministers. The corruption was so rampant that Peru's [fictitious] then-president Echevarria had to resign.

Nowadays, the region opened up by the highway is rampant with illegal activity: gold mining, forest clearing and the sex trade. I'm already sure that smuggling can be added to the list.

We stop at the first bar we see in Inapari. It's a real dive, very poorly lit, the floor so thick with dirt that we wonder if there is one under there at all. But the beer is ice cold and the bartender helpful. He recommends a small family-operated place with rooms to rent and tells us the cantina next door has good, cheap food. But Alphonse wants more information too

"Where can we see some naked women here?"

"Lots of places. You like them young? Or about your age?" he asks, pointing at me.

Alphonse simply says, "Good-looking. Nice body.'

The two brothers are in their late-twenties and looking for action, every kind of action. They're big, muscular guys, with longish black hair and permanent five o'clock shadows on their faces. Alphonse is the older one and I notice that Arturo often defers to him. I can see that he's every bit as interested in the opposite sex as his brother.

"Easy. Drive through town and go left at a red neon sign that says CHICAS. The best ones work there. But hold on to your wallets because they'll do anything to get you to spend money. And I mean anything!" he laughs.

Alphonse wants to go right away. "Drink up you guys! Let's get over there!"

I persuade him to stop first at the place recommended by the bartender to rent a room. We find it and haul everything inside before I remind the brothers about his warning.

"Don't bring too much money, or you'll go hungry for the rest of the trip." Then we look for the sign.

From the outside, this place looks a lot bigger and classier than the one we just left. Two topless women meet us as soon as we step inside- and they are very good looking. Great bodies. We don't know where to stare first because the place is alive with bare skin, from topless hostesses to naked strippers working on a half dozen little circular stages, each surrounded by circles of chairs and tables. Music booms from big speakers somewhere, while the dancers toss their plush bodies in time.

"Fuckin' amazing!" Arturo declares. "I hoped this trip would be worthwhile, and it is already!"

"Yeah, and we just got here, little bro." Alphonse shouts back over the music.

One hostess leads us to a nearby stage where there are some open seats. We watch her hips sway in the tight thong and high heels, the only things she wears. Then she turns around and points to the seats with one hand, the other palm cupped for a tip. I give generously to get us started on the right foot, and she offers to place our drink order at the bar.

"Bring one for yourself and join us for a bit," I offer, my face near her ear so she can hear me.

She nods and flashes me a beautiful smile. Soon she brings a tray with four drinks and sits down next to me when I pay her, with another big tip. I'm hoping that I can get some information here because it looks like it could be a haven for the sex trade and smuggling.