The Prosecution of General Hastings

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  It was almost midnight when Kincaid and Von Karmenn arrived in Nuevo Nogales on the south side of Nogales, Mexico. He found a convenience store that was open and pulled in. He and Pete walked inside and bought a six-pack of beer and a bag full of junk food. They got a bag of ice and Kincaid covered the beer inside the cooler that he had purchased when he left Tucson two days earlier. They left the convenience store and drove across the street into the parking lot of the Fiesta Inn, the same hotel where Harry had stayed on his way to Hermosillo. He looked into the office and remembered waking up the night clerk. It appeared that this would be an encore.

  “I stayed here the other night,” Harry said. “I figure we’ll get a good night’s sleep, get some breakfast and cross over in the morning. We can be right on time to meet the Ax Man at ten.” Just wait here and I’ll be right back.”

  Kincaid went into the office and emerged minutes later with two room keys. He got back in the Honda and drove around the lot until he found their rooms on the back side of the building. There were only several other cars parked outside rooms and few lights were on.

  Harry handed one key to Pete. He popped the trunk to the Honda and they both retrieved their bags. Von Karmenn unlocked one room and shoved the door open. Kincaid grabbed the ice chest and groceries and moved into the room next door.

  “Come on over for a brewsky after you throw your bag down,” he said to Pete. “The door’s open.”

  Minutes later, Pete pushed through the door into Harry’s room. Kincaid was leaning back on two legs of one of the chairs that had been placed at the round table in front of the window. He had a Cerveza on the table and a bag of pork skins that had been ripped open. The ice chest was on the floor within easy reach. Kincaid’s mouth was stuffed with pork skins and he was munching loudly.

  Pete looked over at Kincaid and gave him a weak grin. “What?” asked Harry. “I didn’t get the five star dinner you had tonight, man. I was sitting outside with the crickets.”

  “I wish I had eaten,” Pete said. “But I didn’t. It might have been my last supper.”

  Kincaid was puzzled. “What are you talking about?” He leaned down and pulled a beer from the ice chest. He twisted off the cap, set it on the table and slid it over for Pete.

  “I did a bone-headed thing tonight, Harry. I’m damn lucky to be here,” Pete said. He sat down in the other chair and set the MX21 on the table beside the pork skins. “This was Aziz’s.” He looked down at the floor, shook his head, and repeated, “Damn lucky.”

  “Okay, I’ll ask again,” said Harry. “What are you talking about?”

  Pete looked over at Harry. “In that restaurant tonight, I was watching our guys from the bar. Just sitting quietly out of the way where I wasn’t noticeable. I saw Lobo and Lopez leave. Aziz hung around with his girlfriend just like Sanchez said he would.” Pete paused a moment as if he needed to rest from the story. Kincaid had stopped munching the pork skins and was listening intently. Pete took a pull from his beer.

  “And…?” Harry prodded.

  “When the car blew, Aziz saw me coming for him. He jumped up and beat feet out the back door. There were a bunch of civilians in the way so I didn’t have a shot.” He paused and took another pull from his beer. Kincaid stuffed a handful of pork skins in his mouth and resumed his chewing. “I went after him and saw him bust through the back door. I chased him and ran right through the same door. As soon as my feet hit the pavement outside, I knew I’d fucked up.” Pete looked over at Harry who, again, had stopped munching. “He was behind me Harry. Just a few feet away. He was smiling at me. He said quite clearly, ‘Allahu Akbar,’ then I heard the ‘click’ of his gun… but nothing happened.”

  “Sheeeeuut,” remarked Harry.

  “I was able to pop him with the Beretta,” Pete said. “Go figure. By all rights, I shouldn’t be sitting here.”

  Harry leaned forward allowing the chair to come back down on all four legs. He was looking into Pete’s eyes with sincerity. “Maybe so, Pete,” he said. “But you are. You know there’s not a man in our line of work who hasn’t had a nice stroke of luck when it came in handy.”

  “Yeah, but…,”

  “No ‘yeah buts,’” Harry said. “It happens.” He reached for the MX21 that was on the table between them. “Let’s take a look at this thing.”

  Harry broke down the weapon into pieces just as he had seen Sluggo Decker do in Stillwater. With the pieces spread out on the table he picked up the firing mechanism. He held it up to the light that hung down over the table. Looking at it closely he remarked, “So much for ceramic that is hard as steel.” He looked over at Pete. “The firing pin is broken off.”