GRINGA (27 page)

             
‘Okay.’

             
‘Meet us there tomorrow, say ten? Our agents – they’ll have everything covered so don’t worry about anything. Just be there.’

             
It’s a lot to digest but I’m happy to hear that Diablo will soon be facing jail time, because that’s what he deserves. Then everyone, including myself will be free. The mere thought of that lightens the load on my scarred shoulders. Although nervous and anxious, I agree to meet them tomorrow before walking away. When I turn back to look at them, they have disappeared into the bushes. By the time I reach the ranch the dancers have left.

  
             
I’m jittery all afternoon and avoid eye contact with Diablo, something he does not miss because he’s peering at me. Although I desperately want to help with his imprisonment, I’m having second thoughts about ... everything. What if someone saw me talking to the FBI and has told Diablo about it? What if Diablo set me up? What if
Christa
set me up?

             
Fuck! I wipe away beads of sweat from my forehead and make a decision not to show up tomorrow.

             
When I awake the following morning, I’m still conflicted. What if I don’t show up and I’m arrested by the FBI for ... whatever? I don’t know much about this. I’m twenty one, remember?

             
If only I had someone I could talk to. Enfermera! She’s someone I can trust and she’d know the answer. I think about her all the time and wish I knew how to get to her. I tried once or twice to retrace my steps to her but I got lost and gave up.

             
By morning, my desire for freedom and the villager’s freedom is such that I finally decide to keep my appointment with the FBI.  

             
Before Diablo leaves the ranch, I run up to him. ‘I wanna go to the city to have a massage,’ I say.

             
After shooting me strange, confused looks, he arranges for Marcus to drive me into town for the massage. I hear him warning Marcus not to let me out of his sight.

             
Just before he leaves, he hands me a wad of bills.

             
‘Wow!’ I exclaim and stick the bills in my bra.

             
He chuckles and walks away. 

     
             
‘Let’s go Marcus,’ I say. ‘I got me a heap of money and the town needs painting.’

             
‘Painting?’ Marcus wriggles his eyebrows and strokes his bald head.

             
I like Marcus. He’s polite and always smiling and not at all as scary as he looks – tattooed, earrings on both ears; scar running down his left cheek – looks like the ruthless Mexican drug lord in
any
movie. 

             
We drive to Maggie’s
run-down
Massage Parlour in the town centre.

             
Maggie, a charming Senorita with perky breasts and long eyelashes, welcomes me and hands me a white robe. She winks at me and I know she’s part of the FBI. She deliberately leaves the room door ajar in case Marcus needs to inspect the room, which he does on cue. He wanders in and noses around, while Maggie bats those lovely eyelashes at him.

             
Obviously, her aim is to distract him, which she does. Marcus rubs his bald head and turns red, then quickly scurries off to the waiting room where he tries to read a magazine.

             
Maggie stands by the door and smiles. ‘Senorita Payton will be, mmm, say, around ninety minutes. You should get coffee. Down the road, at Nacholand, they make great cappuccinos.  You should get some.’

             
Marcus nods slowly. ‘I don’ like drinking coffee alone, you know. I wait till you are free to join me, maybe? Now, I read the magazine.’

             
Maggie lifts and drops her shoulders. ‘In that case, it will be easier if you turn the magazine the other way – easier to read when it’s not upside down.’

             
Marcus looks at the magazine, rubs his bald head and says, ‘I like to read like this. Workout for the brain. You should try it.’

             
She grins. ‘Maybe I will.’    

  
             
Maggie shuts the door and pushes away a trolley full of towels and massage equipment from a wall to reveal a secret door, which she lightly knocks on. The door opens to a flight of stairs leading to the basement. A woman, who I assume to be an FBI agent, hurries into the massage room, slathers some green, gooey cream on her face and lies on the massage table. She has the same build and hair colour as me.  

  
             
I look at Maggie and she answers before I ask. ‘In case Marcus decides to check up on you, he’ll see her and think it’s you.’

             
‘Wow.’ The FBI thinks of everything. 

             
Maggie leads me down the stairs to the basement, which consists of two huge rooms. I enter a room with eight FBI agents. Talk about intimidation – now I understand what Monika Lewinsky meant when she talked about being overwhelmed by the FBI’s presence.

  
             
Even though they smile and indulge in light chit-chat to put me at ease, I’m tense and feeling pressurized. The only person I feel comfortable with is Agent Depp. I met
him
yesterday at the rock pool and from our brief meeting yesterday, I find him to be an affable character. 

  
             
They get straight to the point. As mentioned yesterday, they want to lock up Diablo for good and they want me to be their
inside
man
, or in my case, their
inside
woman
.

             
‘We’ve talked to you father and stepmother and they’ve filled us in Diablo shooting you, your miraculous return and how you came to live at his ranch. So we’re sorta up to date on you, essentially,’ Depp says.

             
Okay …’

             
‘We realise you’ve made a phenomenal sacrifice by accepting to live with Diablo just to spare the lives of the villagers and man, we really applaud you for that, Payton.’

             
I clasp and unclasp my fingers. ‘Uh …okay …’ 

  
             
‘See our main problem – witnesses to testify against Diablo and his family. The intimidation, death threats – frightens people away. Then there’s crooked cops - corruption in the ranks of police officials in Mexico – one of the main reasons we’re come all the way here, left our families, our homes …’

             
‘Really?’

             
‘Yeah. But we’re now working with scrupulous Mexican police to bring down criminals like Diablo and …’

             
‘So what you want me to do?’

             
They whip out some photos and place them on the table.

             
‘Recognise any of them? They’re policemen who frequent your ranch. On Diablo’s payroll.’

             
I shake my head. ‘Difficult to tell. Haven’t really been paying attention. But hey, I’m like, really eager to get away from Diablo, so I’m in. I’ll definitely pay more attention from now on.’

             
They exchange glances with each other and show me more photos and fill me in on the men and the roles they play.

  
             
‘He slit a man’s throat recently. Don’t know if that was a policeman or whatever …’

             
‘They jerk up in their seat and probe for details – describe the man, what happened to his body, who was involved in the slaying.

             
But, I don’t have much to offer them so they make a few phone calls to local Mexican authorities enquiring about missing persons fitting that description and come up with nothing.

             
I feel like a big fat liar. ‘I’ve seen it happen,’ I protest.

             
‘We believe you,’ Agent Grey says. ‘After all, he tried to murder you remember, and he’s going down for that too.

             
Grey’s dark haired, with medium build and green suspicious eyes - says little, watches everything and I’m uncomfortable with him.

  
             
‘He killed his father when he was just thirteen,’ Grey continues. ‘Just slit his throat so he could take charge. Just like that. His mother and brothers – they’re scared of him. They’d like him dead but as you know - he’s fearless and their enemies in the turf wars know that too, so it  pays to keep him alive – sort of protector to all.’

  
             
‘Yeah. I think that may be true,’ I say, ‘but his mother – she’s quite ruthless too. She whipped me …’ My voice cracks and I have trouble speaking.

             
‘But Diablo, he was nice to me …broke Christa’s leg and …stayed with me … bought me chocolates …’

             
‘…and raped you.’ Grey’s voice is cold and for some reason, snappy. ‘It is rape, Payton.’

             
I abruptly clam up and sink into my chair. It’s not something I want to talk about. In fact, I want a cigarette now. I want to go home – back to Tana-Mera.

             
Depp flashes Grey an angry look, for his lack of tact, I think. He turns to me, an apologetic look on his face. ‘Look Payton, you’ve had to handle so much ...’

             
The gentleness in Depp’s voice is too much for me - I cover my face with my hands and weep, remembering what I endured with Diablo and feeling sorry for myself.

             
They back off and let me cry.

             
A short while later, I’m composed again and reiterate my fears of Diablo finding out that I was talking to the police. ‘He’ll kill me.’

             
‘Yep. It’s kinda dangerous for everybody,’ Depp agrees. But you do want to go home, Payton? Home to your apartment, your career, your friends and your life? What about your family and the rest of the villagers for that matter? Don’t they deserve their freedom?’

   
             
‘Absolutely!’ The idea that the villagers could be freed forever appeals to me. ‘Just tell me what you want me to do and I’ll do it.’

  
             
Their excitement at my words is tangible.

             
‘Finally, we have someone to help us,’ Grey says. ‘I’ve a good feeling about this.’

             
We discuss listening devices, winning Diablo over, drawing him out, getting him lower his guard with me and to eventually talk about the murders, the cop killings. 

  
             
‘Um, we barely talk though ...’ 

  
             
Agent Kathryn Ebyss steps forward and introduces herself. ‘Look Payton’ she says, her voice impatient and to-the-point, ‘he’s obviously enamoured by you and he wants you around – half your battle won, there. Now use that to your advantage.’