The Bridge at Puerto Barrios

The bridge we flew under at Puerto Barrios. Lou paid me twenty dollars on the bet.





There is an old cassette deck in Naomi Lou finds mounted under the passenger seat. He slides the tape in and we hear Los Lonely Boys... I think.
"A nice plane like this and he has a fucking tape deck... what about CD or MP3?
I tap my fingers on the tiller as I fly, "Probably some old guy that doesn't want to mess with new technology."
Lou looks at our fuel gauges, "You planning on stopping for a little fuel? I hope?"
"Yeah, we'll touch down in Santa Cruz del Quiche. There is a fuel farm at their little airport. The Federales use it for patrol aircraft."
"You want to land on a field patrolled by Federales?"
"I didn't say it was patrolled by Federales, I said it is used by Federales."
"Oh... okay, that's nothing to worry about." Lou gives me look.
We are over the field within ten minutes and I make a low fly-by. "There, you happy? No feds."
There seems to be no activity what so ever on the little airfield. I bank around and line up on the runway. We touch down and I taxi our girl over to the fuel farm and stop. The both of us climb out into the noon day sun and take a look.
"Here they come." Lou says, pointing to one of the hangers.
A lone worker emerges from the old wooden hanger and slides the door open. He disappears and then the yellow fuel truck pulls out. He stops the truck and gets back out to close the door.
"Must be airconditioned." Lou surmises. I nod.

The guy is in his forties, grey coveralls and a Yankees ball cap. He hooks up a ground wire from the truck to the plane, and then from the truck to a grounding lug in a padeye on the tarmack. He knows his business.

It takes about twenty minutes from the time he pulls up until we are topped off and ready to fly. I pay him in American money. It holds a lot of weight down here... more than any other currency. Lou takes him aside and talks to him. I don't understand much of the conversation, but I know what he is looking for. The fueler goes into his truck and tips the back of the seat forward. Out comes a flat plastic wrapped package about the size of an encyclopedia volume.

"No, hombre, eso es demasiado, apenas un pequeño". He uses his thumb and forefinger for distance, "Just a little."
The fueler nods. He pulls a little cloth parts bag from his pocket. It is about the size of a pack of cigarettes with a drawstring at the top. He holds it up and Lou nods, "Perfecto". The bag is filled until it can hold no more and still be able to close.
The man looks at Lou, "Cinco."
"Five bucks... " Lou turns and digs in his pocket. "Shit, all I have are twenties and hundreds." He whispers to me.
"So give him a twenty you cheap bastard. These people remember this shit. Kharma... you know?
Lou hands him a twenty and the man smiles. He pulls out a pack of rolling papers and hands them to Lou and shakes his hand. "For me?"
The man nods.
"Gracias Senior, Gracias."

We are flying over small farms and a few villages on our way to the coast. I drop the plane low enough that a few kids on the streets run and wave. I tip my wings so they know I see them, then climb back up to two thousand feet.
"So... what are we going to do when we get there? The guy we are meeting won't even be there until tomorrow afternoon." Lou asks as he rolls his Walkers. He has about ten of them done so far.
"I don't want to walk into a trap, man. What if our friends intercepted that call we made?"
"Then they know we are landing at Tiller's field."
"It isn't called Tiller's field by anyone but me and Jerry. We could be landing on four or five different strips." I do a sweep of the gauges. "I am more concerned with finding this restaurant and bar... checking it out. I don't want any surprises."
Lou licks another Walker and runs his thumb along the seam of the rolling paper. "But why did we leave today? Why not party at the compound and leave tomorrow?"
"Jerry is right. We don't want those diamonds any where near El Corazon. That is our safe place. We need to draw these guys away from our home, not lead them into it."
"Take the fight to them." Lou adds.
"Hopefully we can just give the stones to Bear and somehow let them know we don't have them any more... and that should be the end of it."

Five minutes later I point out of the windscreen, "See the river down there? That's the Rio Polochio. We follow it right into Lake Isabel and over to Puerto Barrios."
"How long?"
"Maybe a half an hour, maybe less."
Lou keeps on rolling.
"How many of those are you going to roll, Lou."
"Until I run out of pot or papers."
"How many papers are in that bindle?"
Lou looks at me, "You don't know how many papers are in a package? I thought you were a partier. No, now I remember. You fucking school boys were to busy playing with your... "
"HOW MANY, LOU."
"Thirty three."

We are over the waters of Lake Isabel when Lou finishes his business. He ran out of papers first with a little weed to spare. He sparks up a pinner that he rolled last and takes a long drag.
"Not bad... " He says while holding his breath. He holds the toothpick thin Walker out to me and I wave it off.
"I better not. Not until we get on the ground. We can party our asses of once we get her on the ground."

Ahead of us is Puerto Barrios. I fly out and around south of the bay to show Lou the lay of the land. He spots the bridge and dares me to fly under it.
"Good way to get busted."
"Pussy."
"You won't see pussy for the next ten years if they force us down and find your stash."
"Twenty bucks." He says, letting a hit out, Pointing toward the bridge.
"They will be selling your rank old asshole for twenty bucks in prison."
"Come on... "
I change course and line up with the river. I drop down to about thirty feet and head toward the bridge. Lou starts whooping like a rodeo clown. I hit the throttles to the stops and we power toward the span and head under to the shock of several small boats.
"YEAH!" Lou slaps me on the shoulder, "That's what I'm talking about." He pulls out a twenty and reaches over and stuffs it in my shirt pocket.

I follow my landmarks to Tiller's field. I shouldn't have done the bridge like that... it is like advertising that we are here. Too late to worry about it though.

There is a lot of action on the airfield. A lot of small planes being worked on, some being loaded by unsavory characters hopped up on meth or coca or both. They regard us with suspicion as we taxi toward our usual parking spot. It isn't until Eduardo, the guy that collects landing fees when he can, comes up and shakes my hand that the onlookers go back to what they were doing. We must be okay if Eduardo shakes our hand. That is the "signal" if you will. If he would have greeted us without a handshake, that would have meant he didn't know us and that we would either be sent on our way... or worse.

Lou still has the nine millimeter in his belt. I find a good hiding spot for the forty four. Lou takes his stash with him. We leave Naomi with Eduardo and explain to him that there might be someone looking for the plane. Along with that knowledge we hand him five hundred bucks, for which he offers to shoot anyone that comes near her. I tell him that's not necessary, just to keep an eye out. He asks about Abby and I tell him that Jerry will be here tonight, or maybe tomorrow, but to keep it on the down low.

Eduardo calls us a cab... his brother, who is a bank guard during the day. He is still in his uniform with a shotgun on the front seat. Some how I feel safer. We make arrangements to hire him for the length of our stay. One thing for sure... for the next couple of days we don't have to worry about getting lost, or anyone fucking with us.