Love and Death in Mexico: A Love and Death Mystery & Political Espionage Series

By Hal Graff

Welcome to the eighth exciting episode of the Love And Death mystery and political espionage series. 

      After Harold Gatewood learns that his Venezuelan lover, Luisa Gaicia, is alive, he heads to Mexico to scout baseball prospects, work for the

• Language: English
• Publisher: Harold Graff II Publishing
• Release date: Dec 18, 2023
• ISBN: 9781962569958

Hal Graff

Dr. Hal Graff holds a doctorate in business administration. He is a native of Gibson City, Illinois. Hal is a proud father and grandfather. To date, he has published 104 books, including 96 novels. He has published over 6 million 900,000, words.

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Prologue

THE WORDS RICK OWENS HAD SPOKEN echoed in Harold Gatewood’s mind.  He had walked to the front family room in his parent’s home and sat down on the couch to assess the message he had just received.  His mother, Alice, had come into the room to check on him, as he looked pale and confused, and seemed unable to grasp his surroundings.

    Alice Gatewood asked her son, Are you alright Harold ?

    After a long minute of silence Harold answered, I’m sorry mom, what did you say ?

    I asked if you were alright.  Are you ?

    Yes.

    You don’t look like you are doing very well.

    I am in shock, after what I just heard.

    What was it ?

    Gatewood’s mind was miles away, and he did not bother to answer his mother’s question. His mind processed several thoughts.  Was Luisa really alive ?  Was the news a case of  mistaken identity ?  Was she well, sick, or injured ?  Where was she now ?  How was she found ?  Who found her ?  How was she rescued ?  Why had Rick Owens failed to provide more information about her physical and mental condition ?

    He needed answers.  He needed to make arrangements to search for her, find her, talk to her, and make sure she was alright.

Chapter 1

A Daze

March 7

SHE JERKED HER BODY TO THE SIDE, AWAKING HERSELF from a restless night of tossing and turning, and little sleep.  She had passed out from the trip from the farm outside Caracas, Venezuela, where Sergio Rojas had held her captive, to her present location.  She was in poor condition due to Rojas’s torture and mistreatment, but at least she was alive, a status which she had doubted she would still enjoy. 

    She was suffering from malnutrition, and was weak, as her muscles had deteriorated to a mass of jelly.  She had been tied up, hung from a pulley above the ground, and forced to dangle in that position for long periods of time while her captive beat, whipped, and berated her.  Her wrists were scrapped raw from the ropes that bound her hands for days.

    She was clad in a tattered, light-beige-colored dress, decorated with mud and grime from sleeping on the dirt floor in the dark, cramped chicken coop she was forced to sleep in at night.  The wind howled and blasted her with cold air at night, and hot, muggy air during the day.  She had caught cold, and was owner of a continuous cough that had made her throat raw from overuse.  She was heading toward pneumonia, and would have completed the journey had she not been rescued.

    Her hair, usually beautiful, had become a matted mess that now pressed against her head.  Mud, dirt, and straw were now calling home in the tangled wad of black mass that used to be an attracting feature for the many men who had wanted to be with her.  Now, they would cringe in repulsion about her physical appearance. 

    Her eyes were now set deep in her head, and with her skeleton-like body, she had started to resemble a female inhabitant of the Nazi World Wat II Auschwitz concentration camp near Oswiecim, Poland. 

She was skin and bones, decorated with bruises caused by the beating inflicted upon her by Sergio Rojas, the past head of the TCPLM terrorist office in Caracas, Venezuela.  If she would have had enough energy to laugh, she would have done so when she would have heard that Rojas had been sent to Hell by Harold Gatewood, from the top of the cable car in Caracas.

    Her beautiful lips were swollen, cracked, and tender.  She had suffered repeated blows to her mouth by Sergio Rojas’s large fists.  With each blow, she had suffered pain, and had cursed him, wishing she could break her bonds and kill him with her bare hands.  He was a brutal tyrant, one who had abused her mentally, verbally, emotionally, and physically since the first day he had forced her to come with him from the small village in Columbia.  He had raped her for years, treated her as a trophy, and also like the dirt she had been forced to sleep in in the chicken coop.  He had been a worthless pig of man, at the highest magnitude imaginable. 

    She had intermittingly reentered consciousness, only to slip back into sleep, several times since her rescuer had cut the ropes that had held her from the pulley, above the ground at the farm.  She had flashes of consciousness when she had been driven away from the farm toward the mountains in Columbia.  She vaguely remembered a man carrying her into a building, where she now slept on a soft, comfortable mattress on top of smooth, silk sheets, under a white, clean bedspread.

    Unknown to her, she was now in the capable hands of the doctor who had treated CIO agent Jack Taylor for his wounds suffered at the TCPLM camp in the nearby mountains.  Also unknown to her was the fact that her true love, Harold Gatewood, had brought agent Taylor to the very location where she now lay resting.  Had she known that trivia fact, and had the energy to smile about the connection to her lover, she would have done so. 

    She stirred from her sleep and heard flashes of a conversation between two men in the outside room, in front of the bedroom.

    How is she doctor?

    She is resting, and starting a comeback from what looks like a terrible situation.

    Yes, she was held captive.

    Her captive was a very sadistic, brutal person.

    Yes he was.

    Was?

    Yes, thankfully, he is not of this earth anymore.

    That is good.  Only a deranged psychopath would have done these acts of violence.

    That he was.

    Do you know who he was?

    Yes.

    Would I have heard of him?

    Yes, he was a well-known tyrant.

    Without putting my life at risk, who was he?

    He was Sergio Rojas, past head of the TCPLM in Caracas, Venezuela.

    I know of him.  They have a training camp in the nearby mountains.  They send me quite a bit of business.

    The second man snickered and said Yes, I would imagine they do.

    She seems to be waking up.  Would you like to speak with her?

    Yes.

    She is weak.  You should only talk with her for a couple minutes.

    I will keep the conversation short.

    Go ahead then.

    The man who had rescued her, and brought her to the makeshift medical clinic headed to the bedroom, entered, sat down on the bed, held the battered female in front of him, and spoke.  Luisa, this is Diego Ramirez.

    Luisa opened her eyes, and said, Diego, where am I?

    You are in a hospital close to the TCPLM camp in Columbia.

    "Did you help me get here?’

    Yes.  I went to the farm where I thought Sergio might be keeping you.

    Did you cut me down from the ropes on the pulley that held me above the held me above the ground?

    Yes.

    Thank you.  How did you stop Sergio from beating me?

    He was not there.  I got you out of there as fast as I could.

    Thank you.

    You will be here for a few days.  Caracas and the whole country of Venezuela are now a powder keg.  I had to get you out of there.  And, I have business to do at the camp.  You will recover here until I get back.

    Alright.

    Is there anything I can do for Luisa?

    I am afraid that Sergio will find me here.

    No, he will not.  He is dead.

    Oh, thank goodness.  Did you kill him?

    No.  Harold Gatewood, the ballplayer, killed him.

    Good.  How did he die?

    Gatewood offered him two options.  He could jump to his death off the cable car above Caracas, or he could be shot.

    Which option did he choose?

    He would not jump.

    He was always a coward.

    Gatewood emptied his pistol into Sergio and he fell off the cable car.

    I am so relieved.

    I need to let you rest now.  Is there anything else I can do for you?

    No.

    The man who had rescued Luisa, Diego Ramirez, knelt down and kissed Luisa’s forehead, and said I love you Luisa, then turned to walk away.  After three strides, he heard Luisa’s voice. 

    Diego.

    Yes.

    Thank you for rescuing me.

    You are welcome.  Elated, he turned to walk into the outer room.

    Sergio, please do something for me.

    Anything.

    Please contact Harold Gatewood and tell him I am alive.

    Dejected, he said that he would.  He then heard Luisa speak again.

    Sergio, please tell him to contact me, and tell him that I love him.

    Shocked, and with a tear in his eye, Sergio hung his head and meekly said, I will.

Chapter 2

Ouch

March 7

OUCH.  THAT HURT.  GATEWOOD GRITTED HIS TEETH AND CHRINGED IN PAIN as he did his light weight-lifting workout.  He had always hated lifting weights, but now it was prescribed by Doctor Doug Washington as part of his recovery process.  He slugged though the strength exercises, then walked into his house from the workout building, and turned on the television.

    After two episodes of his favorite sitcom, he decided to do some research on the happenings in major league baseball, hoping to find a couple teams looking for a designated hitter.  His search was totally futile as he could not get his mind off of the news about Luisa.  He had stayed at his parents’ house the night before for two hours talking, after speaking to Rick Owens, and mulling over the news of her still being alive.

    He knew that she could be anywhere.  He guessed that she would still be in Caracas, Venezuela, as she had no other place to go.  She hopefully would have money, which would make her escape to a safer location possible.  He wondered if she had been robbed.  He shuddered to think of the other options that had caused her disappearance.  Perhaps she was dazed from an injury.  If she had been attacked she might be hurt, and unable to care for herself.  The other possible events, rape and murder, were those that Harold did not want to consider.

    Harold had been too stunned by the news of her being alive that he had forgotten to ask more questions about Luisa.  Being a man of action, he called Rick Owens to ease his concern.

    Rick, this is Harold Gatewood.

    Good morning Harold.

    I wanted to thank you for letting me know about Luisa.  I was so stunned that I forgot to ask you how you knew she was alive.

    We had been looking for her since her disappearance.  An old man who worked on a farm outside Caracas contacted the Venezuelan police about seeing a woman being led from one of the buildings on the farm to a white pickup truck.

    Why did the Venezuelan police call the CIO?

    We have some moles inside their organization.

    That sounds like a dangerous assignment.

    Yes it is.  We have several operatives inside the police force.  But, they must always be careful.  If they are detected they would face death as President Nazoa would execute them immediately.

    What did the old man tell the police officer?

    He said she looked frail and weak.

    She must have been held captive.

    Yes, and the farmhand said that she looked battered and bruised.

    Oh no.  That sounds like the type of punishment Sergio Rojas would have dished out.  He was a coward.  He was not brave enough to jump to his death from the cable car.

    He was a bully.

    I am glad I killed him Rick.

    He deserved it.

    I would do it again.  I am sorry I could not make him suffer the way he made Luisa do at the farm.

    You terminated him Harold.  And, you completed your mission in Venezuela.  We thank you for that.

    You’re welcome Rick.  But, I feel hallow.  I need to find Luisa.  Do you have any other information?

    The old man said the man dragged her into the truck, then headed West, toward the mountains.

    What else did he say?

    Nothing else.

    If she headed West toward the mountains she may be on her way to the TCPLM camp.

    Yes, we thought about that also.  We have informants watching the entrances and exits into the compound. 

    Okay.  Did the old man know if she had been beaten?

    He didn’t say.  But, truthfully Harold she was reported to be in poor condition.  If she is now taken somewhere else she may be able to rest, get some care, and make a recovery."

    You are right Rick.  It has to be better than her being abandoned, beaten, and on her own.

    Try to be optimistic.  We will keep looking Harold.  Say a prayer for her and hopefully it will turn out alright.

    I will.  Keep looking for her.

    We will.  You need to take care of yourself also.

    I will.

    We will contact as soon as we hear any news, good or bad, Harold.

    Thanks.

    Gatewood hung up the phone and plopped down in the chair to relax and think.  While he sipped a glass of water he thought about Luisa’s current situation.  Rick Owens was right, she was better off now than she was before she was found.  Harold also thought about the first time they had met in Caracas.  After being splattered with salad in the incident at the front door of the small café, Harold remembered his first impression of her.

          He recited the memory to himself, I paused for a moment and looked at her closely.  She was five-foot-six inches tall, weighed one hundred fifteen pounds, and had long, curly, black hair that cascaded to the middle of her back.  God had blessed her with an hourglass figure, and a perfect hip to waist ratio.  She had the perfect duo of longs, as her long eyelashes that surrounded her beautiful dark brown eyes, and her long, shapely legs, were very enticing.  She was better than the usual ten, as she had a score of her own.

    He had also known that she was as beautiful on the inside as she was on the outside, full of life, was confident and sure of herself, possessed a big personality, and was a woman he wanted to meet.

    As he sat in his family room in Gibson City, Harold knew he must wait for the events that would bring him news of Luisa, good or bad.

Chapter 3

The Natives Are Restless

March 10

THE PEOPLE OF VENEZUELA WERE RESTLESS.  The knowledge of TCPLM leader Sergio Robles’ death, and his fall from the cable car high above the city, would have made headlines in the newspapers if these were normal times.  But, times were far from normal.  Each day, the people were becoming more dissatisfied with conditions in the Caracas, and in the country.  President Nazoa’s government was starting to unravel, and he needed to install calm before it as too late.

    He stood at his office window that faced the courtyard below, the same as he had done four days ago.  He remembered his thoughts of March sixth.  His favorite companions, the birds,