Baja Nights

By William Buckel

No good deed ever goes unpunished is the theme for this book. Colby drives his jeep south to Mexico to compete in the Baja 500 desert classic. While there he saves the life of Selena, an illegal immigrant. In doing so he alienates an American Industrialist who sends assassins to kill them both. They are chased from Mexico along the Pacific coast. It is all dumped in the hands of Private Investigator Jackie Star. She finds murder and corruption behind it all the way to the Senate and a solution only she would dare employ.

• Language: English
• Publisher: William Buckel
• Release date: Apr 28, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476401218

William Buckel

I, William Buckel, am a writer of Fiction and Fantasy. I'm an ongoing student of history having written several historical novels. I live with my dog, north of Toronto, Ontario, Canada.

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The Paranormal Series

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At WilliamBuckel.com

Baja Nights

Copyright 2012 2013 2014 2015 William Buckel

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher or the author except in brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All characters, names, and incidents, organizations, and dialogue are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Certain stock imagery copyright Thinkstock.

Smashwords Edition.

Chapter 1

It was a sunny day in May marred only by the icy breeze that made its way south from those melting polar caps at the top of the world. The rustling of leaves sounded in nearby trees mingled with the chirping of birds and the whine of distant sirens of an ambulance or one of those black and white chariots of the law. It was one of those days when you didn’t wear a coat and caught a cold. The smell of freedom was in the air, stronger than the exhaust spewed from tailpipes and chimneys surrounding the parking lot he was walking toward. A hundred thoughts raced through his mind on the most important day since his birth.

Colby Talbot was making good his escape. His hands were fisted and his jaw clenched. His shoulders were drawn up almost to his ears. One eye peeked over his right shoulder while the other eye was glued to his getaway car. He listened for a shout to halt as sweat trickled from his hair. He unlocked the driver door and felt a rush of anxiety knowing he’d made it this far and maybe, just maybe, he would make a clean getaway. As he started the engine one eye scanned the building he’d just left not turning his head all the way in case someone was searching for him.

He was running from a job he’d done for the last thirty years and he’d left some loose ends. But then nothing could ever be sewn up to a tidy conclusion where everyone was concerned on any given day. He had done his best but Thad the technologist that was taking over his accounts would have to handle a small group of unhappy clients he’d left. He wasn’t going back, not even for one day.

Colby was starting his fourth and last career moving from the honest labors of Computer Technologist to a race car driver. He knew they were laughing behind his back at the office and didn’t care. At sixty years of age chances were slim he would ever become a major star but then the desert races down south didn’t crank out anyone noteworthy with the exception of a few that appeared in motor oil commercials in the off road magazines.

His early government pension was already being deposited into his bank account and his company pension would make its way there next month as well.

If they didn’t fire him for the mess he’d left.

No that was a silly thought as once the papers had been signed there was no turning back and the papers had been stamped with approval for over a month. Today was really his last day. He was home free. His shaky hand moved to the CD player and turned it on. His favorite tunes were there ready and waiting but he shut it off again. There was too much to think about, too much to reflect on for one person in one day. He sat unable to take the next step and throw his vehicle into gear. A small voice of regret beckoned him to go back, back to where survival had been guaranteed as long as he showed everyday and the clients did not complain.

Colby caught sight of Garry, his boss, causing his face to flush and his body to go numb. It was like a slap in the face as terror set in. They’d already found the problems he thought. He threw the jeep into gear with his trembling right hand and carefully backed up. His whole body shook as he turned to look making sure he didn’t dent anyone’s car.

His knees shook as he released the clutch erratically almost causing his vehicle to stall. He glanced sideways and saw Garry sliding into his car on his way to one of those pick me up drinks that he was famous for, was not looking his way at all. Garry’s mind would be on the whiskey and the blonde waitress at the bar they’d all frequented too often. Another reason for getting out.

Colby was driving the machine he would race at desert courses in the southern states and Mexico. It was a three year old cherry red four door jeep with a blueprinted motor and a beefed up suspension. Tires guaranteed not to pop off the rims, rims that were guaranteed not to crack under stress. He’d missed nothing going over it for the last three years.

He was ready.

Victory awaited him in those dusty deserts down south.

He finally relaxed. It was all over. He was free.

Colby chuckled to himself and again turned on the CD player. Like his favorite tune he was the Magic Man, with the Magic Hands, as he shifted gears. ThunderWagon rumbled, the heat of its big motor burning the road as he sped home one final time. He would never make this journey again.

All he had left to do was get Muffin, his border collie, and his identity papers then head south. He owned a large property and an old house in the northern country. He’d already arranged for an old friend to look after the place while he was gone for part of the summer. People were supposed to head south for the winter and return in the spring. He was doing the opposite.

When he arrived home Muffin’s face showed between the drawn curtains in the front window, her nose prints on the glass. The first thing he always did was to take her for a walk in the fenced back yard and did that as well today. She challenged squirrels for their rights to the trees and existence in her world. They were trespassers and would have to deal with her should they ever descend from their sanctuaries high in the skies. This was her domain, she was the guardian of Colby’s lands and no one, no one in their right mind would mess with her.

Colby shuffled papers as he searched for his passport and other pertinent data. He was so meticulous about his cars but that’s where it ended as he scolded himself for not cleaning up the mess. There was a whole family history in this drawer from the time they’d emigrated from Europe until now. The birth certificates of his parents long dead, a testament to their lives. Should he ever discard them was the same as denying them life. He glared at his younger brother’s birth certificate, his life ended so young. He was the last of the family and when his life was claimed by the All Mighty the line would end.

It was almost dark but he knew he would not sleep tonight. There was nothing left to do. He walked back and forth searching for an excuse to forestall his departure but could find none. An old Elvis tune popped into his head and he laughed knowing it was true. It’s now or never, he thought then locked up, hustled Muffin into the jeep, and headed south

Chapter 2

In El Salvador almost a half world away the weather was muggy as always, flies and biting insects relentlessly swarming Selena as she walked. The trail was slippery, strewn with rocks and debris left by others who ventured toward the stream making its way to the coast and the ocean. The ocean that led to lands beyond, lands of freedom and plenty, lands of unknown wealth and fame. Lands she’d seen in the magazines littering the path on her way home. Lands where one could become a movie idol and beckon servants to do what she was doing now.

She’d seen a movie once in the city when the dictator Salveres paid the bus fare in return for a vote in his favor. He’d lost, but she’d seen the movie where a penniless young man became a singer and legend raising above all even those wishing his demise. She suspected some of this was exaggeration like the stories surrounding the life of Salveres, the man paying for her trip. If half was true then she would be a fool not to venture there and find her place among the stars and legends in the papers she’d seen. If she was merely a servant her status in life would triple and her wealth would abound three fold. Here she had nothing. The tattered clothes she wore were hand me downs from an older sister. There was not one thing in this world that she could call her own not even her life. It was in the hands of her father who abandoned her years ago but as was custom and law she was obligated to do his bidding until of age, a year from now. She would break free long before that, long before he could select a man of his choosing to wed her and make her a slave to this poor land and the children she would be forced to bear.

Selena Cortez walked up the long hill with a water jug balanced on her head. It was her job to fetch water from the river a half hour’s walk away to make the morning meal. Her older sister, Ana, was the strongest and used to do this chore but couldn’t after the farm machinery accident left her almost crippled. Her right leg and arm were crushed as a tractor slammed her into a barn, the farm owner half drunk as usual.

She set the water jug on the only table in the two room, dirt floor cottage so her mother could cook the morning meal of rice. Always rice she thought, they were too poor to afford anything else. Such was life in El Salvador, so many were poor. There were only three children and her mother left in this little adobe hut. Her father was living with another woman but would come home two or three times per week to check up on them, not for them but out of greed. He would look for something he could take back with him, something he could steal.

The next chore on her long list was to climb a tree and retrieve leaves. The thick v-shaped leaves of many trees in their country would serve as spoons when broken in two. They had wooden bowls to hold their porridge but the spoons were expensive as the price of metal was high.

At sixteen Selena realized she would have to go north to the lands of plenty and work to help support her family. Pablo, her young brother, would have to take over her chores. She’d worked at a farm for the last six months and made enough money to pay for a smuggler to take her to Mexico. She’d told only her mother who wept both happy and sad over her decision to leave.

She had stayed clear of her father, hid the money, and would have to keep a sharp eye on him. He’d searched her trunk for coins he said she was keeping from him. He’d beat her for not bringing back enough. What was she going to do when she sent money to her mother? She would have to do things one step at a time and worry about that problem later. She’d gotten this far and tonight was the night of her flight north. She could hardly contain her anxiety and quivered with excitement. She would begin a new life.

In the dead of night Selena passed a handful of money to waiting hands then climbed into the back of a farm truck on a desolate country road. It occurred to her that her life was no longer in her hands but in those of a bandit who she was paying to take her north. It was too late to back out now. They drove all night until she could see sunlight break through the straw she was hiding under.

Selena trembled, hidden in the back of the farm truck hoping the soldiers would not find her. She was buried under straw with three other young women all on their way to a better life. Chances had to be taken and everyone had their own way out of El Salvador. They would flee poverty and escape to a better life in the American cities. The four paid the farmer six months wages for the ride across the border and then through Guatemala to Mexico. Here they would find work in a factory and save money to hire a guide to walk them across the border into the land of riches and freedom.

Selena heard the soldiers’ voices as they argued with the farmer. In a land where everything could be bought she suspected they were arguing about the price to be paid for a border crossing without checking the truck. Something struck the side of the vehicle and she jumped then feared her action would give them all away. They would all be beaten and used by the soldiers then thrown in prison, all because she could not lie still. She trembled again and wished she had never started this trek into the unknown. She looked down the side of the truck through gaps in the straw. The farmer surrendered the money they requested causing the soldiers to break into laughter as the truck pulled away.

Their speed increased and she knew they were back on the main highway, a few hours and one more border to cross before entering Mexico. Work was waiting for them they were told; already arranged by a cousin of a cousin, the way things were done, through family.

Selena felt the truck slow and turn, the going rough, and then they stopped. She heard the door open and the farmer told them to climb out from under the straw. Selena was frightened. Was he going to leave them here? The farmer handed them a canteen and introduced himself as Walter. They would stop here in a field near the woods and the women could tend to their personal needs. He had food and water for which all were thankful. The cooler morning was giving way to the midday heat; a damp sticky heat common in this part of the world.

Walter had been smuggling people to Mexico for the last twenty-eight years. He didn’t have the connections to take them all the way into America. Those connections required a lot of money up front. Something he’d never had and never would as his love affair with tequila emptied his wallet quicker than he could fill it. He often suspected that the senoritas at the bars he frequented robbed him when he was drunk. So what, they needed to live as well. After a few drinks he didn’t know which he loved more, women or booze. He checked under the hood of his truck and all was good. He kept the old girl in shape, she was his livelihood.