The Beasts of Juarez

by R. B. Schow

  He pulled back the blankets and sheets, found the phone next to her naked body. In a brief moment of panic, he failed to remember who she was. He was with a girl last night, but it wasn’t this one. Who in the hell did he take home?

  He grabbed the phone where it lay near her bare ass. That was about the same time she reached up and cupped a hand over her ear. “Leopold, please, I have a screamer of a headache.”

  That’s when he realized he was naked, too.

  Oh, no…

  The king-sized bed was huge, larger than normal with a memory foam topper, more than enough pillows, and three layers of blankets. Sitting up fully, pulling the blankets around him, he answered the phone.

  “Yes,” Leopold said.

  “I got your number from a friend,” the man on the other end of the line said. For a moment, Leopold wasn’t sure how to take the man’s voice. Was he broken up? Falling apart? Barely keeping it together? Usually, he could tell these things right away, but not with this man.

  “Let’s start with the name of the friend who referred you to me and then you can tell me your name,” Leopold said, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

  “Damien Stone referred me to you and my name is Camden Fox.”

  “Camden Fox from Louisiana?” he asked.

  “That’s me.”

  The girl tried to pull the blankets back over herself but Leopold pulled them back off of her, prompting her to roll over. When she rolled over, he saw tired eyes, small breasts, and a flat stomach. Yeah, he definitely didn’t know this girl. But there she was, asleep in his bed, right next to him!

  “What has prompted this call?” Leopold asked. “And please, before you speak, I want you to understand something—I’m not a political problem solver. If that’s the nature of your call, it’s best we end things before we begin.”

  In the bathroom, he heard a toilet flush, causing his eyes to flash a little wider. He knew he should take the call in the other room, but he wasn’t dressed and there was now a stranger in his bathroom doing God knows what. Hopefully not checking his cabinets for Vicodin, Percocet, Oxy, things like that.

  Camden cleared his throat and then said, “My wife and daughters were kidnapped in El Paso. We believe they may have been taken over the border into Juárez.”

  “There are a lot of kidnappings that take place in and around Juárez, Mr. Fox. Have you spoken with the authorities?”

  “I was directed by Damien to call you first.”

  “That’s curious,” he said.

  “My daughters are sixteen, twelve, and eight years old. Do you have any idea what happens to girls their age in Juárez, Mr. Wentworth?”

  “I am acutely aware of what happens to girls that age all around the world, especially in Juárez. They auction them off to sadists in other countries, whore them out, or use them in snuff films they later sell, making millions in the process if the kill is gruesome enough.”

  The sleeping girl was suddenly awake, pulling the blankets tighter than ever. She looked over at him like she didn’t know if he was a businessman, a playboy, or a monster.

  Two of the three are right, he thought, looking back at her.

  The bathroom door finally opened and another girl appeared, nearly naked. He recognized her right away as the girl he had taken home.

  “Will you excuse me for one moment, Mr. Fox, I’m afraid you caught me in the middle of a delicate situation I must quickly remedy so that I can give you my full attention.”

  “If you’re busy,” Camden said, sounding impatient.

  “I was busy when you called me, Mr. Fox. I’m about to clear my slate.”

  “Every minute is a matter of life and—”

  “If you haven’t the patience to navigate a phone call, Mr. Fox, then you might not have the patience to see this through—”

  “My patience is already worn thin,” Fox said.

  “With all due respect, please let me get to another room—”

  “Time is wasting,” Fox snapped.

  “Mr. Fox, kindly shut the fuck up for two minutes or I will leave you to the men and women who handle this sort of thing but never really get anywhere. They will listen to you speak of the merits of ‘wasted time’ in a kidnapping situation with smiles on their face, but I will not. If you want to procure my services, you’ll need to exercise more patience than you are now.”

  “I don’t even know why I called you—”

  “Because I’m the best there is and I can work on short notice.”

  “Fine, I’ll wait,” he conceded.

  So now he was standing in the nude with two twenty-somethings looking at him and wondering just what the hell he did for a living.

  He muted the phone then said, “Ladies, it’s time to get dressed, leave me your numbers, and make sure your schedules are clear for dinner this evening.” Both girls smiled. He turned to the one he didn’t know and asked, “Were we together last night?”

  “We all were,” the girl he knew said. He was fairly certain her name was Stacy, but he couldn’t quite remember.

  “And how was I?” he asked.

  “Fantastic,” Stacy said with a sly smile.

  “What’s your name, dear?” he asked the girl he didn’t know.

  “Emily. I’m Stacy’s friend.”

  “Emily, I hope to enjoy you when I haven’t had too much absinthe, so we must do this again.”

  “I was good, too, by the way,” Emily said with a tired smile. “We’re not in a rush though, unless you need us out.”

  “Let me think about that one and get back to you,” he replied with mischievous delight.

  He quickly grabbed a towel from the bathroom, wrapped it around himself, and started for the kitchen where he’d definitely need to put on a pot of coffee. Before leaving, he said, “If you two want to shower together, let me know, I’d like to watch when I’m done, or possibly even join you.”

  “If we do that,” Stacy said, “we’ll wait for you first.”

  “Splendid,” he grinned.

  He walked into the large chef’s kitchen overlooking the pool, the backyard, and the rather expensive views beyond. He texted a quick inquiry to Codrin Pichler, his Romanian hacker, with “911” attached, then said, “Okay, Mr. Fox, tell me everything that happened and spare me no details big or small, for I’m going to assemble a hostage rescue team right away and send them to either El Paso or Juárez depending on what you say next.”

  Over the next few minutes, the congressman told Leopold everything that happened, where it happened, and then he provided Leopold with the contact information for his bodyguard, Tyler Vandecourt.

  As Leopold was jotting this information down in shorthand, he heard the girls coming down the hallway. He turned and saw them walking hand in hand dressed only in panties and half shirts. The two of them wandered into the kitchen, both girls eyeing him seductively. He knew he should not have picked them so young and he shouldn’t have invited them back to his house but alas, he was overtaken by the absinthe and the demons such a powerful concoction unleashed. Regardless of the myriad of questionable decisions, his heart still fluttered at the sight of them.

  He put his finger to his lips to keep them quiet. They giggled quietly as they sauntered by, one of the girls trailing a finger across his butt as the two of them headed for the large pocket doors leading out to the pool. Once they were outside, they dipped their toes in the pool, then sat down and lowered their legs into the water.

  “When you said you could get a hostage rescue team out here,” Camden asked, “how quickly are we talking?”

  A beep on his phone alerted him to an incoming text. He quickly opened the text and read the contents. After that, he said, “I can have my team rendezvous with Tyler in El Paso tonight. You and Tyler can then fill my team in on this and anything else you deem pertinent to finding your family.”

  “We need to talk compensation,” Camden said.

  “Yes, we do.”

  “I need you to understand that
I am a civil servant, that my salary is roughly one-hundred-and-fifty-six-thousand dollars a year and that my wife is a full-time mother.”

  “First off, I know your account balances, both here and offshore, and this isn’t the time to play games with money. I will not overcharge you because I know what you’re worth, nor will I undercut the price because I know what you’re worth.”

  “Knowing these things is not legal, Mr. Wentworth.”

  “If you want legal, then go deal with the cops. Damien qualified you before you made this call because he is not a fool. I qualified you while I was on this call because I am not a fool. If you want your wife and kids back, it’s going to cost you. If you want to leave the work to the FBI task force and hope they somehow garner cooperation from Obrador’s new Guardia Nacional, be my guest. But half of those corrupt sons of bitches won’t lift a finger for you because no one does squat about kidnapped girls in Juárez but pay lip service to their mysterious efforts in front of a camera.”

  “You make it sound so cut and dry,” Camden muttered.

  “What you need to know about Juárez as it relates to your particular situation, as well as COVID and the border crisis, is that all of these narco-trafficking cells lost a ton of money when the southern border wall was built. The border patrol got their big new wall and a whole host of high-tech tools by which to enforce our nation’s new laws. The busiest countries, the cartels, and the coyotes had an administration who told them they couldn’t come here, that they would be sent right back to Mexico. That was before COVID. When the pandemic shut the border down completely, not only did human smuggling all but dry up, the cartels were unable to get drugs into America. Do you know what happens to businesses when they have product to sell without their regular distribution channels intact?”

  “The big businesses eat the little businesses, turf wars escalate, and after that, there are but a few main competitors who will carve out new distribution channels.”

  “Sort of. Juárez is a self-inflicted wound. They have almost one-hundred-thousand drug users, seven thousand drug dealers, and a host of cartels that can’t stop killing each other. The cops are either extra dirty or sparkling clean, but they are at war with each other because President Obrador, like our former president, is a change agent who can’t stand corruption. The city has one and a half million souls in it and it is in constant turmoil. What do you think that means for little girls and kidnapped wives?”

  “New distribution channels,” Camden said.

  “But to where?”

  “Middle-eastern countries, some European markets—”

  “Now that the border is wide open and the trade routes are active and virtually unregulated, take the new demand and add it to the old demand with renewed distribution channels and what do you get?”

  “A crap ton of demand but without the supply to match,” Camden said with despair in his voice. “I know that it’s simple economics but the repercussions are frightening.”

  “It helps that you understand economics.”

  “I understand economics just fine,” Camden said.

  “Well, then you’re one of the few politicians who does.”

  “There aren’t many of us.”

  “Drugs, women, weapons…now that things have changed in America, everyone’s buying. You’re a smart man, Camden. You know what happens next.”

  Outside by the pool, the girls took off their tee-shirts and underwear then they stood and dove headfirst into the heated waters. He turned his back to them hoping to maintain his concentration.

  “I guess I do,” he said, even though his tone would suggest that he had just come to this conclusion moments ago.

  “The girls will sell for a premium and they’ll sell quickly. If you think for one minute that I don’t understand the importance of time in this matter, you’re sorely mistaken. I understand it well enough to know that you can’t wait for local and federal authorities to coordinate their activities and react on an international level. You need someone to hop the border and get started immediately. That’s why Damien had you call me. He knows this, too.”

  “You make it sound hopeless,” Camden said.

  “You need skilled operators to slip into Juárez under the cover of night and lay waste to these monsters. These operators must be free from international rules and they must respond with savage force. I have those operators and they possess such a skillset. Local law enforcement and the FBI don’t, which means you don’t. What I’m offering you here are recovery and retribution. So now that we’re clear on the lay of this land, I expect you to understand the risk on my part versus the reward on your part enough to not make an issue of the price.”

  “Which is?” Camden asked.

  “Well, here’s where I told a little white lie,” Leopold said. “The price will be ten million, but you only have a little over seven million in all of your accounts. Where I lied was in saying I wouldn’t back off the price if I knew you couldn’t afford it. I’m going to make an exception.”

  “I appreciate that, but why would you do that when you explicitly said you wouldn’t?”

  “It’s not because I need the money. I don’t need it at all. And it’s not because my operators need work. They don’t. I’m doing this for Sydney, Callie, Zoey, and Maisie.”

  “How did you know their names?” Fox asked.

  “The minute I said I needed to clear my slate, I began working. For you, I will do the job for four million with one million good-faith money up front.”

  “I can’t get that amount right away.”

  “You have to transfer offshore money, I understand. And that kind of money doesn’t transfer into the United States so easily.”

  “That’s correct.”

  “It so happens I have a small account at the same Swiss bank as you, Mr. Fox. Migros Bank. We can do the transfer without issue tomorrow. If you agree to the price and the transfer of funds, I will put my team to work immediately.”

  “I’m in agreement,” he said quickly.

  “There is no backing out of this, Camden. Once you’re in, you’re in for the duration and I need you to understand that.”

  “What if something bad happens to my family?” he asked.

  “Something bad already happened to your family.”

  “What if they want ransom money?”

  “Let me handle that.”

  “I can’t pay them and you at the same time,” Camden said. He was starting to sound a little worried.

  “I will make you two promises,” Leopold assured him. “First, when we begin, you will have the most qualified assets in the country working for you.”

  “And second?”

  “If you do not follow through with your payment, I will personally cut off your head and bury it in a burlap sack at my vacation home in Switzerland.”

  “I agree to those terms,” Camden said less enthusiastically but without hesitation.

  “I will forward you my account information with Migros Bank in the next few minutes. Make sure the transfer is complete by tomorrow or I will be coming after you.”

  “I understand,” Camden said. “And, thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me just yet. Your life is about to get really, really rough,” Leopold said. “Before you go, I need your contact information.”

  The congressman gave Leopold the name of the hotel where he was staying in El Paso as well as his room number.

  “I’ll have someone there by midnight,” Leopold said in conclusion. “Stay up no matter how tired you are. And let Tyler know we’re on our way and that he should be there as well.”

  “Mr. Wentworth,” Camden, his voice desperate and emotional, asked “can you guarantee me their safety?”

  “No,” Leopold said. “But I will guarantee their return.”

  For a second, Leopold thought he heard the man gulp. Leopold didn’t have a vacation home in Switzerland—although he could if he wanted to—and he wouldn’t decapitate the man if he didn’t keep up
his end of the deal. That was just a bluff. But if the congressman fell short of any of his promises, Leopold would leave it up to the team on how they wanted to proceed.

  Estella would gut him like a pig, but she was a psycho about things like that, so maybe he’d leave it up to Yergha. He was the more level-headed of the two and would likely break a lot of the man’s bones. He’d probably enjoy the hell out of it, though. After all, Yergha only got into this business because Leopold promised him he could hurt and maybe even kill a few crooked politicians.

  Chapter Ten

  SYDNEY FOX

  “What are you going to do to my daughters?” Sydney asked, her voice sounding so lost, so far away. When Santiago refused to answer her, she got louder. “Where are you taking them?”

  “They’re going here and there,” Santiago said with the lackadaisical wave of a hand. “Follow me. I want to show you the house.”

  When she didn’t move, one of Santiago’s goons stepped up behind her and said, “He isn’t asking.”

  She turned and appraised the man. He was at least seven feet tall and big—mostly muscle, but some fat, too. And mean looking. Good God, the look in his eyes was terrifying!

  “Go,” he growled, looking down his nose at her.

  There was a sickness in this man’s eyes Sydney couldn’t dismiss, a clenching of the jaw, a grinding of his molars that could only be described as raw hatred restrained. For a second, he was looking at her like he wanted to pull her apart the same way some kids pull the legs off spiders. She refused to look at him a moment longer.

  The mansion before her boasted beautiful views of the city below, but there were also several hillsides around them and the face of the mountain behind the house. They were completely secluded and far enough away that no one could hear her scream. As she walked toward the house, she heard only the sounds of a calm, quiet desert interrupted by the faraway barking of either a coyote or someone’s dog.

  Inside the massive home, Santiago strutted through the interior common areas showing her the chef’s kitchen, the expansive living room, the doors that opened to a huge outdoor pool with the mountains as a part of the backdrop. And then he showed her the bedrooms.