Confrontation Ch. 05: Jaguar Nabbed

It's still cold up here in the mountains, even though the morning is half over. The sun is blinding in the dazzling blue sky; the sparkling air is so crisp that it feels almost like winter, a coldness that slices right through us. We shiver even though our bellies are full of hot coffee and breakfast.

"This better be worth it, Jag. My head is still pounding from last night," Alphonse complains and his brother Arturo joins in before I stop them short.

"I didn't bring you here just so you can drink and screw all night. You're working too!"

"Yeah, alright. We get it. But where the Hell are we going now? Seems to me like we're in the middle of nowhere."

"The Customs compound at Puerto Moldonado. We need to see what's going on there with inspecting trucks before they cross into Brazil."

"Sounds exciting," Arturo mocks before they both laugh at me.

"Oh, fuck off you clowns. It's a long drive, so go back to sleep for a while,"

Two hours later we've descended into the tropics and arrived at the compound. Now it's time to start looking around, but first I need to remind them how to act with the Customs officers here.

"You have to act like you belong here. Anyone who wants to challenge you needs to feel like they're taking a risk. Imagine that you're a trusted employee or even the boss."

"Easy for you to say, Jaguar. You're the one in charge of this trip."

"Not here though, but I'll sure pretend that I belong. So let's fan out. I'll go ask questions at the office. You two split up and watch different trailers being inspected, then sealed. Act like it's your own rig. Any questions?"

There aren't any, so we start investigating the Customs terminal, hoping to see some ways truckers could illegally transport Peruvian artifacts into Brazil. These priceless items, the skilled work of ancient cultures, are passing into the hands of international collectors at an alarming rate. I want to stop the trade.

We're standing outside a compound of warehouses surrounded by a very high chain link metal fence. There's one apparent way in and out, a sliding metal gate operated by a guard in the Customs office at the end of it. Behind the fence, truckers have backed enclosed trailers into the doors of large covered sheds where inspectors are going inside to examine the cargo. There are a few officers with drug dogs at work.

I enter the Customs office, posing as a trucker like I did yesterday at the Inapari, Peru border crossing.

"I haven't been here before. How's this work?"

"Where's your truck?"

"Back along the road. Overheating. Too humid down here...."

"It's simple. You give us the shipping manifest and we go through your load to check that it conforms. Takes an hour, maybe more if we're busy. You can leave the trailer and come back next day to hook up. Or you can wait over there."

He points to a small building.

"That's it? No duties to pay, stuff like that?"

"None to pass between Peru and Brazil. The trailer will be sealed and we'll stamp the manifest. You go to Customs at Inapari and show them that the trailer is still sealed. They'll want to see your stamped papers. Then you're done."

It conforms exactly with what I was told at the border crossing yesterday.

I leave the office and stand around watching for a while. I don't see anything out of the ordinary, a smooth operation, though I'm surprised the cabs themselves don't seem to be inspected. Smaller items could be smuggled that way.

Arturo comes to me and says everything seems alright. I tell him to slip around the back to see if there are any other ways to get in or out. He's back a few minutes later with an interesting fact- only by way of the front gate. When his big brother Alphonse returns he has nothing to report, so we pile into the rental car for the dusty two and a half hour drive back to our room in Inapari. A dead end.

"Waste a goddam time!" Arturo declares with disgust. "A whole day here for nothing."

"So are we done now, Jaguar? Can we go to Chicas bar again for some cold beer?" his brother asks hopefully.

I know what they really want at the bar. The place is a sexual paradise to them.

"Yes, but let's get some food while you still have some money left, then we'll go over. I have some work to do there anyway."

"Yeah. So do we!" And Alphonse humps his groin so there's no mistaking their intentions. We all laugh.

By the time we turn left at the red neon CHICAS sign it's nearly 9:00. I lay out a plan of operation before we leave the car.

"You guys have until midnight then we're back to the room. Keep your eyes open if you can. Watch for anything unusual going on."

Alphonse just scoffs. "You must be kidding Jaguar. We're going to drink and get laid. Don't expect anything else from us."

"How about you, boss? Another night being true blue, Marina's good boy?" Arturo chides before Alphonse speaks up.

"Little brother, if you had one like that, you'd probably do the same thing."

I remind myself that they're my bodyguards, nothing more. The sleuthing is up to me. There are plenty of transports out behind the bar, some just cabs without trailers. I'm going to park out back to watch what goes on after dark at this place. Nothing will surprise me.

"Don't get too drunk. We have an early start tomorrow. Midnight we go back to the room."

"You're not even coming in?"

"Why? Do you need a chaperone? I'll be in later to pick you up. I'm going to look around outside first."

I drop them off by the front door and wait long enough to see a topless woman usher them inside. They're like two kids in a candy store. Then I drive to a strategic spot out back where I can see the back door of the bar and several trucks parked nearby in the dark. I settle in to watch, with an eye to packages and women going into the cabs.

During the next hour or more, I see a lot. Girls from the bar come out with men. Half-naked, they shiver in the cold night air before climbing up into trucks. Some of them carry a bottle of liquor, ready to party and fuck. A pair of them jump into one truck, a menage a trois for some horny driver. I hear laughing and moaning from the sleeper units. There's shouting and a nearly nude girl runs for the back door of the bar.

Some men come to the trucks too, shady characters carrying parcels which they leave behind. Is it drugs or could there be valuable Peruvian artifacts too? Money changes hands. Smuggling is rampant behind the bar. Everything is for sale out here in the dark: sex, drugs, and ancient civilizations. It's the last one that interests me most, but it is also the most elusive.

Suddenly I see a commotion. There's a young woman being half dragged, kicking and screaming toward a truck in the distant shadows of the parking lot. Two men are on her, one pulling forward and the other pushing from behind. It looks like she is only partially clad and clearly doesn't want to go. Then a loud slap rings out and she's stuffed bodily into the cab, which is fired up and speeds away. I've just witnessed sex trafficking.

I've seen so much but there's nothing material to show for my efforts. The only photographs are stored in my brain. Crime is rampant here, but I don't have any evidence. I need licence plate numbers or truck registrations. So I simply don a baseball cap and walk around among the vehicles, acting as if I'm trying to find one for a delivery.

I memorize two plates of cabs where I've suspected crime, then go to my car to record them. Out again, I get two more, then two again, making six in all. I'll follow up tomorrow with the local police.

About 11:00 o'clock, I head inside to look for my two friends. I'm met at the door by somebody familiar- pretty Estela, the hostess tonight. Her fine breasts are bare and her painted lips are inviting. Her gold lame thong and stilettoes shimmer in the dim light. She seems to recognize me, and she lays a welcoming hand on my shoulder.

"Hi Pedro"- the phoney name I used yesterday. "Will we just talk again, or do more this time?"

She remembers me, probably because I'd gone to her room, where there'd been no sex. I don't answer directly.

"Estela! You look good tonight. Have you seen my friends? Two brothers- big guys with long, black hair and needing a shave?"

"Could be lots of guys like that here," and she comes closer, pressing her naked tits against my bare arm before continuing. "Yes, they came in a while ago, but right now they're with my girlfriends... you know, over there in the private room."

"That doesn't surprise me," I comment.

" They've got no wife like you, Pedro. Come to the table where they were before the girls came for them."

She leads me across the room, holding my hand as we thread through the crowd. I know that Estela wants me up to her room again and is already working on it.

The music pounds inside the big place, and there are naked bodies everywhere, maybe twenty-five girls or more. Some are stripping on the little round stages scattered through the room, while others move around carrying drink orders. Others sit curled up close to customers, and some lead guys over to the private room door.

The same thing is happening outside too. It's all for sale- naked flesh for money at Chicas bar tonight,and every night. Except maybe at Christmas and Easter.

Without a word from me, she sets me in a chair beside the stage and goes to the bar. Damn fine looking woman- I admire her all the way there- then she wiggles back with a beer for me and something for herself. My second time here and I'm already a regular. That's how it works at Chicas.

It is impossible to talk. Instead, Estela moves closer to me and takes my hand again. Her body moves with the music, those lively stiff nipples brushing against me. Right beside me on the little stage, a tall, slim brunette is midway through her last number, down on the floor writhing like she's in heat. Her legs are open so her private parts are publicly on display. It has me thinking about doing Estela tonight.

Loyalty to my wife struggles in a pitched battle with lust.

I sip my beer, watching the stripper gather the money tossed onto the stage. Now Estela makes her best move, taking my hand and bringing it down between her legs. She looks me straight in the eye as she humps up against it, her fat pussy molded by a tiny strip of cloth. She licks her lips and coos. Its warm down there, so I just leave it in place. I'm weakening.

A bit later, I've almost lost the battle and there's still no sign of my bodyguards. I hear a siren wailing somewhere out in the world beyond this Hell hole, but other than that it's all music and skin. The hostess wants to have more drinks sent over from the bar, but I'm starting to wonder why my guys have been in the private room for so long.

"I need to know about my wife's cousins, Estela. Check the private rooms for me, will you?" And I slide her a big tip with my free hand.

"You just want to watch my ass all the way over there, don't you, Pedro."

"Yes, I'll do that too," I admit.

A few minutes later she's back but they're not with her.

"Not there. The girls say they passed out and the bartender called an ambulance. Must have got some bad stuff. They've probably gone to the hospital by now."

"Shit! That's the end of my night. See you, Estela."

I run for the car and drive fast to the local clinic we've passed a few times since arriving here. There's a big lineup in Emergency, people with serious issues like gunshot wounds, but Alphonse and Arturo are nowhere to be seen.

I'm told that by arriving in an ambulance, they bypassed the walk-ins and have been admitted for treatment. Their stomachs are being pumped as I speak with the duty nurse. "A drug overdose," she says, as though it is little more than a toothache. Drug trafficking is just another reality of life in Inapari, the most dangerous town in Peru.

So, I spend my night slumped in an uncomfortable chair in Emergency, waiting to get word of their condition. The place is crammed with crying babies and moaning sufferers waiting to be examined. But, there is only one doctor on duty, so things move very slowly. I wonder who is going to die tonight, a stark reminder of how cheap life is in places like this town.

About daybreak they come staggering out into the Discharge area, white as sheets, their faces drained of any colour. I have to help them into the car, and I can see they'll need to spend most of the day sleeping this off.

"What the Hell happened to you guys? Can't I leave you alone for a couple of hours?"

"Don't know. Some bad stuff I guess," Alphonse admits.

"Where did you get it?"

They look sheepish and are slow to answer. I wait and little brother Arturo finally cracks.

"We had three girls between us in the party room. It was wild and one of them said she had something that would make us like Superman."

"You fuckin' morons," I mutter.

"So we bought it," Alphonse continues. "And it almost blew our heads off. We fucked them pretty good..."

"Really good, bro. Really good!...."

"Until the wheels fell off. We got sick and couldn't stop puking. I guess somebody called an ambulance when we passed out."

"Yeah, Jaguar. So here we are. Sorry, man."

"So, we'll take the room for an extra day. I got some plate numbers out back last night that I want to follow up on while you two sleep it off."

I pay for another night and get the two shaky grown men into bed. Then I find the police station, a non-descript metal building near the centre of town. It is surprisingly large for the size of the town but then again this is no ordinary town.

The place is almost like a fortress, with heavy metal bars on the windows and an electronic entry system to keep the gang bangers out. I show identification to a machine to be admitted. When I finally see a cop, the reception is not friendly.

"You want what?"

"Information about six trucks. I got licence numbers behind Chicas bar last night."

"Are you fuckin' kidding me, man?"

I repeat myself while he looks at me like I'm a circus clown. After a long pause he replies.

"We don't give out that kind of information. Just leave it alone."

"There's crime out there...."

"Yeah, we know. You're lucky you weren't shot hanging around there collecting numbers like some damn hero. Stay away from that place!"

"Are you saying you don't want to do anything about it?" I challenge.

"I'm telling you to stay away. We don't go over there unless somebody dies."

"What! That bad!"

"Worse. Now just get out of here and I'll pretend we never talked about this."

I decide on the spot that I'll check the numbers when we get back to Lima. These cops are safe in their solid fortress and don't like to venture out where things are happening. I wonder if somehow they've been bought off by a powerful syndicate behind all this. This can't all just be random activity- it's not like Inapari is corruption free.

But there's not much else I can do with this investigation today, so I call Elena to check on Carlos' condition and update her on what we've found so far up here at the border.

She tells me that Carlos is recovering well from the attack on his life by those thugs in Manaus. His bruises are healing to the point that he can get around without crutches. And the red welts around his neck from the tope they tried to garrot him with are becoming less obvious. He had a close call and only Elena's frantic defense in fighting them off spared his life.

"How are you two getting along there?"

He's staying at her apartment while she looks after him. Elena was banged up a bit too, so she is off work for at least a week.

"Yes, very well. We're helping each other recover. He's right here. I have some water boiling, so you can ask him."

She hands over the phone and I hear her clatter off to the kitchen.

"How's it going with Elena? She told me to ask you."

He lowers his voice, talking softly into the phone.

"Fantastic! I think I'm falling for her, Jag."

"What! I thought you were finished with women. That's what you told me."

"This is different. We've bonded because she saved my life. Living here with her is great."

"Carlos, you're not...."

"Sleeping in her bed?" he finishes my question. "Not yet, but its going to happen soon the way things are going here."

"Well, you can thank Marina for that. It was all her idea. Not to play matchmaker- just to help each other recuperate. We both felt badly that I'd put you in danger."

"Speaking of your wife, without repeating any of my comments, see if she can find out what Elena thinks of me. I don't want to get all fired up if she isn't interested."

"Sure. She'll enjoy that. I'll call her later and work it out."

"Oh, here she comes now. Made us coffee."

"Put her on Carlos. I have to tell her about her cousins."

I'm going to tease her a bit.

"Elena, I just picked up Alphonse and Arturo at the clinic a few hours ago. They're fine now, just a little tired after bring in Emergency most of the night."

"Omigod! What happened?"

"They got into some bad stuff at a bar."

"I think you must be leading then astray, Jag," she teases me in return. "I was hoping they'd learn something good from you, not all your bad habits."

"I'm doing my best. I'll smoke up, as you know, but I won't buy drugs in a bar. Those boys are the ones trying to lead me astray."

"Anyway, how are things up there, Jag?"

"This place lives up to its reputation. It's the Wild West! I've seen human trafficking and I'm sure that smuggling in drugs, stolen artifacts, and everything else is going on too."

"No police there?"

"I took them plate numbers of crime vehicles and they didn't want to know. Just told me to stay out of it for my own good."

"What will you do next, when the boys are feeling better?"

"Tomorrow we're crossing into Brazil to look around for a couple of days. There's nothing more we can do in this place."

We chat for a while longer. She tells me that Marina has been visiting almost daily, bringing in groceries, checking up on them. That sounds like the sweet woman I married a few years ago.

"Is Carlos still there? I'll have a word with him before I finish."

He picks up.

"Carlos, is she still there? No? I'll ask Marina to talk to her about you."

"Do that. I need to know."

"So this is it, eh. She's been a close friend for long time and I work with her every day. She doesn't have anyone else- except for the Museum. Its her life. Does she talk about anything else?"

"Yes, everything else. We have so much in common...."

"That's a good sign, my friend. A very good sign."

"She's coming back now. I better go."

I smile later when I think about it. She's a passionate woman and I know she'll keep him happy in and out of bed. Life is strange. He doesn't know a thing about ancient Peru and she trusts people like no private investigator ever could. They're a study in opposites. I know the death of his daughter Verena was a huge loss to Carlos, and hope that Elena can get him past it.

It is quiet in the room, apart from my snoring companions. I have some weed with me and something to pray for tonight, so I light up and draw in deeply. The sweet smoke filters through me and after a while I start to feel the presence of my namesake, the Jaguar spirit. I close my eyes to see the cat-like face of the big Lanzon Stone deep in the Old Temple at Chavin de Huantar. The jaguar is the great power in ancient Andean cultures.

I want Carlos to heal, and I know that Elena can do it. So, l focus on the image and begin a soft chant which flows in a rising and falling cadence. The repeated words seem to come straight from my soul:

"Calentarlos.... Heat them up.... Calentarlos.... Calentarlos.... Carlentarlos...."

My faith in the powers of the Jaguar spirit have never failed. It brought me Marina and it saved my life from the Sendero Luminosa kidnappers. I know that the jaguar can save my friend Carlos too.