The Night of the Mardi Gras
Chapter 3
The Prisoner
The girl took a step back. "Senor?" she said.
Artie stood up and grasped her by the upper arms, partly to confirm that she was real and partly to prevent her from disappearing.
"You were in New Orleans with James West. You took him onto the pleasure boat. How can you be here? Tell me!" he said, shaking her.
The girl look startled and hung her head. "My name is Adriana, Senor," she said. "I think you must have met my twin sister, Carla. She is not a good girl; my family have disowned her. I am sorry if she caused any harm to Senor West."
Artie's hands fell away. "Please accept my apologies," he said. "My friend, James ", is dead and so is your sister Carla."
Adriana gasped, as if with shock. When she had composed herself she said, "I am not surprised. The men she mixed with were not nice."
"May I offer you my condolences, Senorita," Artie said.
"Yes, thank you, Senor. Now I must get back to my work."
With that she turned and walked away. Artie stayed where he was, stunned by the similarity between Adriana and her twin sister. At the same time he wondered who the men were that she had become mixed up with and whether it was they who had planted the bomb. If Carla had lived in Laredo then maybe the killers had as well. Still, it seemed odd that they would have blown Carla up, along with the boat, and he still didn't know what their motive had been.
He left the cantina without finishing his meal and went back to the Wanderer with Jasper following behind, carrying the prized bone with him.
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The suave-looking, richly dressed Hidalgo strutted into the saloon and, removing his hat, strode up to the bar. His eyes roved over the bottles lined up there, and he made a sound that could only be described as "tsk".
"Is that the best you have?" He asked in a Mexican accent, pointing to the display of bottles.
"I keep the good whisky under the counter," the bartender replied.
The Hidalgo sighed. "Then that will have to do," he said.
Once the drink was in front of him, the Hidalgo took a sip, grimaced, said "what I wouldn't give for a fine Amontillado," and turned to survey the rest of the saloon's clientele. Then he turned his attention back to the bartender.
"With this establishment being situated where it is, I expect you see many men on their way to the border with Mexico," he commented.
"We get a fair few," the bartender replied.
"And some of them are fleeing the law, no doubt."
"Some I guess. Why do you want to know?" he asked suspiciously.
"Do not be alarmed. I am not a federal agent in disguise, if that is what worries you."
"What are you doing here then?"
"I am in the position of having paid some men to carry out a small, shall we say, 'task' for me. Having already placed my trust in them I wish to offer them further employment. I was hoping you might be able to help me find out their whereabouts."
"Don't see as how I can be of any help."
"Well, it might be that you have seen these men, my friend. There are two of them travelling together. One of them is an American, tall and built like a hacienda. The other is Hispanic, short and slim, with a moustache."
"You do not know their names, Senor?"
"I didn't think it necessary to find out at the time. Can you help me?"
"What is there in it for me?"
"Twenty U.S. dollars."
"Make it fifty and I will tell you what I know."
"Alright," the hidalgo said, taking out his wallet and placing five notes on the bar.
"The men you are looking for came through here last week. I have only seen them once or twice. They work for one of the rich landowners, in a town about five miles from here, over the border, called El Pueblo del Secreto."
"Secret Town," the hidalgo mused. "What are their names?"
"I heard them call each other Larry and Pablo. I don't know any more than that, except they had a wagon with them the last time I saw them."
"Thank you my friend," the hidalgo said. He left the saloon, mounted his horse and went in the direction of the railroad.
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The men Artie had been following had made good time travelling from New Orleans. Because there were two of them they could travel through the night, each taking his turn at the reins of the wagon, while the other slept in the back, changing horses at selected towns along the way. They had no idea they had been spotted hanging around the pleasure boat by revellers celebrating Mardi Gras. The reason for their haste was that they had promised their employer they would return within a week. By the time Artie had arrived in Laredo they had been back in El Pueblo del Secreto for six days, working on their employer's estate. One of their tasks was to look after a guest that their employer had quartered in one of the stone outhouses, well away from the hacienda.
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The prisoner would have laughed to know that he was referred to as a guest because surely no guest had ever been treated so brutally. His clothes had been taken away from him on the day of his capture and he had been dressed in the white trousers and tunic worn by the Mexican peons. He had been bundled into the back of a wagon and been drugged for the first part of the journey to an unknown destination, apart from the times when he had been woken to either eat or drink. After that, he had been tied, hand and foot. He had also been gagged, when anyone was around. It was heartening to know that they wanted him alive but it also occurred to him that it might be because they wanted him to suffer; you couldn't do that if you were dead.
On arrival at his final destination, he had been locked inside a brick structure. A strong set of bars were set into the floor and sectioned off half of the internal space. Within this 'cell' was nothing but a bucket, for use as a chamber pot, so he had to sleep on the stone floor. A lockable slit in the door to the cell was used to deliver food and remove empty dishes. The food was very basic and there was very little of it, but this was not the worst of his confinement, as he had become used to that during the war.
On the first day, two men had walked in and hosed him down with a powerful blast of water. He was then left to shiver in his damp clothing during the long, cold night. The second day, he had had the sense to strip off his clothes before the hosing down began and was able to keep them dry. Although this routine was quite brutal, he welcomed the chance to keep clean as this was essential if he was to remain as healthy as possible during his incarceration. To this end he spent as much time as possible doing press-ups and other strength-building exercises.
He had been puzzled as to the reason he was being kept prisoner until the second day, when he had received a visit from the man who was owner of the establishment and his captor.
"Good day, Mr West, let me introduce myself," he said. "My name is Senor Alfredo Alvarado."
"Is that name supposed to mean something to me?" Jim asked. "And why have you kidnapped me?"
"Perhaps if I tell you that my daughter Dolores was married to Mr Liston Day, you will understand the answer to both of those questions."
"Well, well, Senora Diaz is your daughter. How is she these days?"
"She is living in hell, as well you know, because you put her there."
"I wouldn't say the Waco women's correctional facility is as bad as all that," Jim replied.
"You may be a glib as you like, Mr West. I hope that you find the accommodation here to your liking, as you will be staying for a very long time, as long as my daughter is in prison. You see I don't particularly want to harm you; no, I would rather see you fade away, day by day, as you endure the discomfort and monotony of being held in a small, bare cell for a very long time. I bid you farewell, Mr West. I will visit you in a month or so to see if you are as cocky then as you are now."
"Don't forget to close the door on your way out," Jim said.
Senor Alvarado turned on his heel and left, but not before issuing the order, "no food or water for the rest of the day!"
"Does that mean my usual shower is out of the question?" was Jim's retort.
When Alvarado was gone Jim had time to meditate on his situation and wondered if this was how things were going to end, or if Artie would find him. He couldn't rely on that so he decided he'd just better come up with an escape plan of his own.
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