Golden Results

Just after the sun went down over the horizon, Ted walked to the other side of the compound, giving the laborers’ quarters a wide birth.  He strode along a path beaten into the sandy soil by the laborers over the past several months.  Even at this time of night, his boots kicked up puffs of the bone dry dirt, so he had to move slowly and gently.  Then he doubled back toward the generator installation.  Earlier he had reconnoitered a small portable shed with a commanding view of the plant.  It was used for storage of wire spools not needed until the transmission towers were installed in place.  He went around to the front and saw the entrance door with a padlock around the hasp.  The master key on his chain let him enter.  A small slit between the lean-to roof and the side panels was all he needed.  Additionally, the identical slit on the back side gave him a clear view of the worker’s bunk house.

            Where the Mexican soldier was ensconced, he didn’t know, but if Ted couldn’t see him, the bad guy couldn’t see Ted either.

            One other toy Ted had used frequently in the past was resting on the top of the wall.  The night-vision binoculars would come in handy when the moon set behind the mountains and would be insurance against accidently targeting an innocent.

            He felt the pile of M & Ms in his jacket pocket.  It would give him something with which to while away the time.  It was a given in his business that lighting a cigarette or unwrapping crunchy food wrappers is a no-no for good surveillance.

            About eleven p.m. he glanced out both sides of the shed and, as usual, no activity was apparent this time of night.  Even the temptation of nighttime drinking was frowned on by the foreman, and realistically the men were worn out from the day’s labor anyway.  Most of camp slept.  It was amazing how quiet the desert could get at night.  Occasionally some small bird or bat chirped out in the dark.  With the lack of any waves, there wasn’t even the normal slap of surf coming over from the sea.  The absence of most any vegetation also meant that the huge Cicada insects with their buzzing wings, a common staple in Mexico, did not live here.  Then the investigator heard a faint click out the back and trained the glasses on the bunk house.  Someone had almost silently opened and closed a door.  He could now make out two shapes walking in his direction.  It looked like one of them had a cane or a wand in one hand.  Ted softly moved to the front observation space and watched to see if the forms continued toward him.

            He felt a little naked without a weapon, but he had promised not to break Mexican law by carrying a pistol.  He had to bank on the soldiers to back him up there.

            As the two shapes approached the generator installation, he could make out soft whispering in Spanish.  The one with the object in his hand neared the equipment enclosure while the other took up guard out front, scanning the immediate area.

            Ted didn’t want to apprehend the men until they had done the deed.  It would be easier to convict the guys later after they had cut the wires and acted out their intentions.

            Although only peripheral lights on the compound fence were still on, he couldn’t hear any snipping sounds because the generator was still humming softly.  Then, all of a sudden, the purr quit and the lights on the perimeter fence winked out.  That was all Ted needed.  He burst out of the shed and challenged the men.

            “Halt, stay right where you are.”

            “Peligro,” the watchdog shouted.

            The other hombre dropped the object he was carrying, and both took off running toward the bunkhouse. They prob