Читать книгу No Way Back - Andrew Gross, Andrew Gross - Страница 21

An hour later they were back at the house. Harold had rushed home at Roxanne’s urging. He and Roxanne went into Lauritzia’s bedroom. Sitting on her bed, clutching one of Taylor’s bears, her eyes red from weeping, Lauritzia told them what had happened.

“I know I told you I was from the south of Mexico,” Lauritzia began, “but I’m not. I’m from a region called Sinaloa. A town called Navolato. It is a village under the control of the Juarte cartel. Their plaza, it is called. It means the territory they control. Juarte, you may have heard of the name?” she asked, looking at Harold.

He just looked back at her and shrugged.

“Where I come from it is famous. Famous for the wrong things. The man who runs it, Vicente Juarte, he is known as ‘El Oso.’ The Bear. El Oso’s cartel is one of the biggest in Mexico, and he took over for his father when he was killed by a rival group. Killing and not knowing who will be killed next are a way of life in my home. The victims, they pile up in the streets. Six, seven a day. It is part of everyone’s life there. Do you know what happened to Ernesto Ayala? Did your cousin not come home from work on time? A part of everyone’s family. My family …”

She put down the bear, and Roxanne saw the wall of resistance and buried emotions Lauritzia was trying to break through. It was clear she did not tell this story to anyone.

“Three years ago, my father became a material witness against one of Juarte’s enforcers, a very brutal man named Eduardo Cano. ‘El Pirate.’ Cano was part of a group that is known as Los Zetas, the Z’s … maybe you’ve heard of them? They were once a part of the Mexican armed forces—I think trained by your own country’s military to go up against the cartels. But money lures, especially in Mexico, and so they formed their own cartel killing and protecting the drug sellers, and El Pirate, he worked closely for Vicente Juarte’s cartel.”

“How was your father involved?” Roxanne asked, her leg curled on the edge of the bed. “You always said he was a cook.”

“He was.” Lauritzia nodded. “Maybe a long time ago. When I was young. Three years ago, El Pirate conducted a hit in the town of Culiacán, near where I am from. My father, who worked for him now, was charged with carrying it out. He had his own nephew, my cousin, who was just a boy, take charge of it, in which two American citizens, a husband and wife, were murdered in their car, and by accident—though there is no such thing as an accident in Sinaloa—three other Americans, college kids, who were caught in the crossfire. It was his big step up for my cousin Lupe. His first real charge. Maybe you heard of the case here. I think it was on the news for a while …”

“I remember,” Harold said, leaning forward on the chair at Lauritzia’s desk. “I think they were there on spring break. One of them was even from Greenwich. Wasn’t someone charged in the crime?”

“Sí.” Lauritzia nodded. “Cano. Cano was charged. Months later he was apprehended in the United States. But somehow the case against him was dropped. You tell me, how does that happen? An attack against your own citizens. He was simply deported and never put on trial. He went back to Mexico, where he still works as a killer for Vicente Juarte.

“The government convinced my father that they would protect him. And us, his family. But when the trial was dropped, they blamed it on his testimony and did not follow through. They did not grant us asylum. Clearly he could no longer go back home. But Cano took revenge against him for his betrayal. One by one, he killed his children and nieces and nephews.”

Roxanne felt a weight fall inside her as it grew clear exactly who Lauritzia meant. Her own brother and sisters. She looked anxiously to Harold.

“First, they killed my brother, Eustavio,” Lauritzia said, “who was just a postal clerk in my village. They came and took him away as he was on his way to work, and they found him in a ditch a day later with burns all over his body and his genitals cut off.”

“Oh, God …” Roxanne looked at her, a wave of sympathy rushing into her eyes.

“Then my older sister. She worked in a beauty salon. She was beautiful and she was engaged to be married. They weren’t satisfied just with her. They came in and killed everyone in the salon. Twelve people. Innocent people. People who just worked there. Customers. They found Nina’s body with sixty bullet holes in it. No one was ever charged with the murder. No one, though they came in in the middle of the day and shot off over two hundred rounds.”

“Lauritzia,” Roxanne said, reaching for her hand.

“Then they killed my sister Maria, who was living with my cousins in Juárez. She’d been raped and all cut up—”

“Lauritzia, you don’t have to go on,” Harold said, exhaling a grim breath.

“Yes, yes, I have to go on. You should hear. This is the life we lead. This is what it is like for us there. My brother and sisters and I tried to come with my father when he was granted asylum in the States. But by that time, the trial against Cano had fallen apart and your government no longer had a need to accommodate him, so we were all denied. They said we had not proven that a threat existed directly against us, only against my father. Now they are all dead. All of them. My father could not even come back home to bury them.”

“Oh, baby, I’m so sorry,” Roxanne said, and leaned forward to hug her. Lauritzia pulled back and shook her head.

“Do you think it stopped there? No, it did not. It still goes on. These men, they are more vicious than animals. Animals would never stoop to do such things. They even killed my cousin, the one who conducted their own hit, that started this. Lupe. He was just a boy, nineteen. Yes, he was on the wrong side of things, but in Mexico there are two sides to life: those who are victims, who are poor and scared and cannot afford even the smallest luxury in life; and the ones who say yes and get involved. Who see the others driving big cars and carrying wads of bills and carrying on with the women. Plata o plomo, as we say. Silver or lead. That is their choice. He chose silver. Doing what they tell you to do is just the way. Do you think he knew any better? He was just nineteen …

“Then just before I started to work for you, they found my sister Rosa …” Lauritzia’s eyes started to fill up with tears. “Mi gemela. My twin.”

Now she had to stop. Roxanne moved over and finally took hold of her hand, squeezing it tightly. But Lauritzia just shook her head and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, saying, “You wanted to know why I have to leave? So you should hear. You remember I had her picture here by my bed.”

“I remember,” Roxanne said, tears building in her eyes now as well.

“She was older. Six minutes. We used to laugh. She always insisted how she was that much wiser than me, six minutes, and no matter how much older I became she would always have that over me. She met a man. They were married. She was living in Texas. Dallas. She had a job, as an administrator for an insurance company. And she was pregnant. Five months pregnant. With my little nephew. They found her in the elevator of her building. I won’t even tell you what they did …” Tears shone in her eyes, tears of anger now. “He would have been named Eustavio. After our older brother, who they …”

She stopped and turned to Roxanne, her dark eyes glistening with rage. “This is why I told you to let me go! Do I need to finish the story? Do you understand now? What happened at the mall? That the only reason I am alive and the others are dead is because the killer began shooting and a policeman happened to be there.

“Yes, I saw them!” Lauritzia said. She turned to face Harold. “Of course I saw them! Los Zetas. I saw the look of the devil on the killer’s face and the dead man’s tattoo on his neck, and when I dragged your children to the ground, I prayed, Please, God, whatever you have for me, do not take them too! I swore that I would leave, so that is why I must. That is what I meant, that bullets and tragedy, they will never let up. These men, they carry their vengeance to the grave. Now you see why I have to go. It is my fate. I cannot put you or your children at risk. You should not have come after me. I’ve already said my good-byes. I should have gotten on that train!”