The Beasts of Juarez

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The Beasts of Juarez Page 29

by R. B. Schow


  Behind Zoey and Maisie, a mean-looking brute of a man stood in complete silence, his back and neck perfectly straight. Zoey snuck a quick look back. She saw a gun on his side but his hand was too close to the weapon for Zoey to grab it. And even if she did risk stealing it, how would she get it out of the holster, much less use it to kill everyone bad around her?

  After a few minutes of stressful back and forth on the phone, the man on the phone ended the call with a big sigh that ended in a very deep frown.

  “I thought we were moving them now,” he said to the man behind them, the one with the gun. “Girls, it seems you now have new parents, but they were delayed some. It’s unfortunate for us all, but maybe you will still meet them today.”

  Before Zoey or Maisie could react to the terrible news, much less form a response, the boss looked at his gunman and said, “When they do arrive, the new owners will pick the girls up at a small runway off of Hwy 45, the one behind the cement factory on the other side of that long ridge—”

  “I know where it’s at, boss,” he said.

  “You’ll need to be ready to go at a moment’s notice. Obrador’s National Guard has been sniffing around the airstrip lately.”

  “Do we have anyone inside yet?” the man with the gun asked.

  “Not that I know of,” the boss responded.

  “Where are we going?” Maisie asked.

  “That’s a good question, little one,” the boss said. “Could be Columbia, India, or somewhere in the Middle East. My best guess would be Saudi Arabia, Iran, or Qatar eventually, but you could also be going to somewhere exotic like Somalia, Nigeria, maybe even South Africa.”

  “So you don’t know?” Zoey asked.

  “It is not my job to know, girls. It’s only my job to do as I’m told. Now get back to work and when your new parents come for you, Javier will drive you to them.”

  “I’m not going,” Maisie said.

  The man smiled and used his finger to motion her over. “Come here, little lady. I want to tell you a story.”

  Zoey’s heart was shot through with fear. She looked at Maisie and saw the fear swimming in her eyes. Her little sister was scared, but she went to him anyway.

  The man looked at her and in a quiet, kind voice, said, “Once upon a time there was a little girl from America. She was very cute and very polite. But she found herself in the wrong country at the wrong time with the wrong people and—if that wasn’t bad enough—she decided not to do as she was told. So the man holding her hostage took out a gun and shot her in the face in front of her older sister. The end.”

  “I don’t like that story,” Maisie said.

  “Then don’t make me tell it again,” the man said in a stern, agitated voice.

  Maisie backed up, startled, but she didn’t seem to understand the threat. Zoey did. She heard the message loud and clear.

  Pulling her sister into her arms, Zoey looked at the boss and said, “We’re going back to work.”

  When they returned to the factory floor, Zoey couldn’t help but wonder if she had made a mistake by doing what she was told. Should she and Maisie try to run? Was there a way to escape? Was there time to make a run for it before they had to meet their new parents? Could they even survive if they managed to escape?

  She felt the pinch of frustration in her brain, the strain of so much frustration racing like fire through her nerves, the sting of tears sitting just behind her eyes. She didn’t know where they would go because she didn’t know where they were.

  Then again, she knew that it was better to be lost this close to America than to be taken to another country so far away and with men she didn’t know.

  As she resumed her work, she looked over at her little sister—who was working as well—and decided that if they could last until midnight without being taken, she and Maisie would jump out of the truck and make a run for it.

  From there, if they could just find a house and borrow someone’s phone, she could call her father. She knew his phone number by heart.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  ATLAS HARGROVE

  Codrin called Leopold that morning around eleven a.m., which was about the time Atlas, Kiera, and Yergha had strapped up, piled into the Audi, and were venturing into the hornet’s nest known as Las Torres.

  While they were waiting for Codrin to see if he could locate Santiago’s place, the team had decided to run recon on Amado Quintero. Quintero was the other scumbag mentioned by the guy whose eye Esty had ripped out, the guy Yergha ended up killing.

  Las Torres was a small neighborhood in Juárez, a concrete jungle save for a rundown central park. It was the kind of place where more than a few houses were not only tagged by graffiti, but they were also dressed up with bars on the windows and/or the gated driveways and patios.

  An unfortunate few people on the outskirts of the Las Torres neighborhood lived beneath billboards while the lucky ones had large shade trees in their yard. Without exception, though, everyone resided under heavy canopies of telephone and electrical wires. This seemed like an almost inescapable problem inside the city.

  The drive down the various streets had them passing so many old cars it was easy to imagine the neighborhood had been transported back to a time when things like the internet or cell phones didn’t exist. The already narrow side streets were packed with these ancient relics.

  More than the atmosphere, and far more concerning, were the people. The team’s first drive through this tired ghetto showed them good people, bad people, lots of drug dealers, and some underage prostitution. The common thread running through all of them was that the team was not wanted and should most likely be eliminated.

  But then the phone call came…

  “I found him,” Codrin said the minute Leopold answered the phone.

  Atlas was close enough to the man to have heard the good news. But in going after Santiago, they could be chasing their own asses. Who knew if the guy Yergha and Esty tortured gave them good information or a bogus story?

  “Text me directions,” Leopold said after getting the low-down from Codrin. “And good job.”

  When he hung up the phone, Leopold told the team that the mission was changing and that they’d be going after Santiago.

  “What about Quintero?” Yergha asked.

  “We’ll know in a few hours if Santiago pans out, or if he’s a bust. If there’s nothing there, we’ll come back here and smoke out Quintero,” Leopold said. “In the meantime, even though Santiago is not the head of any purported drug cartel, we need to expect armed personnel, heavy resistance, and some sort of lookout along the way, especially if this prick is dug into the side of the mountain.”

  “If there is a lookout,” Atlas said from the front passenger seat, “we should send in a sniper scout to take out any possible resistance first. If we can do this quiet, clean, and with no casualties on our end, we’ll be good.”

  “We should see if we can get eyes on the family first,” Leopold said.

  “That’ll come later,” Atlas said.

  “No,” Leopold said, challenging him.

  “You can run the mission the way you want, Leo,” Atlas said trying not to bow up on the man, “but we’re a wet crew who puts motherfuckers like this down. Me personally? I could give a rat’s ass about this being the right or the wrong cartel. These monsters traffic in children, so if we have the opportunity to put every last one of them in the dirt, then by God, we’re going to do it. You can sit back here with your thumb up your ass strategizing all you want or you can grab your nuts and man-up with the rest of us.”

  “Jesus, Atlas,” Leopold said. “Why don’t you tell me how you really feel?”

  “What’s the terrain like?” Atlas asked, his blood now pumping. “Because behind the church is just dirt and hills from what I can see.”

  “That’s the landscape,” Leopold said. “Dirt and hills. This is why we need to be vigilant, and like you said, see if we can spot a lookout.”

  “I’ll be the
sniper scout, if you need one,” Yergha said. “I spent a little time in Afghanistan in my former life.”

  Leopold nodded his head in agreement. “Alright then, let’s go get Cira and Esty, and then let’s see if we can start a war with these animals.”

  Back at the hotel, they planned the route to Santiago’s compound while following Codrin’s instructions to the letter. Leopold traced the new route on Google Maps then zoomed in as close as he could on the large house they found tucked into the hillside.

  “That’s not as long of a dirt road as I thought,” Leopold said. “It is secluded though.”

  They relied upon satellite imagery to spot the potential lookout points and then game-planned their way into the compound.

  “Why is there no gate to the house?” Cira asked. She was one of the two drivers so she was all about making sure they got in and out safely.

  “There may be one now,” Atlas said. “If there is, if we can’t get in quietly, we’ll go in loud. Lord knows we picked up enough weapons in exchange for Leo’s pot, and since these particular weapons look far better than that low-rent hardware Kofi picked up back in Ukraine, I like our odds.”

  “We don’t even know the odds,” Leopold said.

  “The odds don’t know us,” Atlas countered. “It doesn’t matter what they come up with in terms of men and guns, the four of us are motivated and lethal, and you and Cira are top-notch eye candy.”

  “I’m not just eye candy,” Leopold said. “And neither is Cira.”

  “Atlas,” Cira said with a frown.

  Atlas smiled at Cira then he winked at Leopold and said, “If we find ourselves in the shit, we’ll see what you’re about. Are you ready to get wet, Leo?”

  “You mean like wet works?” he asked. “Like killing someone?”

  “I wasn’t referring to your vagina.”

  Shaking his head, he said, “Obviously they don’t teach you manners in the pen.”

  “That goes without saying,” Atlas laughed. “Let’s go already.”

  Leopold and Cira drove through Juárez, past Capilla San Martín Caballero, and up into the bare hills beyond. The road was bumpy, dry, and dusty, but neither the Audi nor the Easter egg on wheels would be deterred.

  “If anyone sees us coming,” Atlas said to Leopold, “they aren’t going to grab their weapons, they’re going to fall over laughing. An Audi and a Chevy Spark climbing up the hill to lay waste to everyone. Yeah, right.”

  “We would have needed to smuggle an eighteen-wheeler’s worth of pot to get ourselves a Humvee, or a Suburban, or something tactical,” Yergha said from the back seat. “Maybe having a couple of everyday cars will make them more curious than alarmed.”

  “Leopold,” Atlas said in response, “no matter the stupid things I can sometimes say, I’m glad you’re in the field with us.”

  “Really?” he asked.

  “Really.”

  When they approached the last ridge, Leopold brought the Audi to a stop. Cira and Estella stopped behind them. “We need to do a quick check of the two-ways,” Leopold said. “After that, Yergha can set out on foot.”

  When they did a successful comms check, Yergha got out, went to the Audi’s trunk, then geared up and headed out into the desert landscape on foot. He had his scoped Heckler & Koch MP5SD strapped to his back.

  “I hope this guy can shoot,” Atlas said.

  “He can,” Leopold assured him.

  In the back seat, Kiera said nothing. To the layperson, she looked like she was in a waking coma. Atlas knew better, though. She could go from comatose to a ferocious fucking nightmare in about two seconds flat.

  Esty got out of the shot-to-shit Chevy Spark then climbed into the back seat of the Audi next to Kiera.

  “Yergha’s MP5…what kind of range does that have?” Leopold asked Atlas. As a former SWAT commander, Leopold assumed that Atlas knew the weapon.

  “Depends on a lot of factors,” Atlas explained. “So long as there’s no carbon build-up inside the suppressor housing, the weapon should fire as intended. The gun has a shorter barrel, so it’s no sniper rifle. On the upside, that particular model has a built-in sound suppressor that also hides muzzle flash. And when it’s fired, the sound of the report is not much louder than someone talking.”

  “Which means if Yergha can get in close enough,” Esty said, “then he can take out any spotters or perimeter guards.”

  “Exactly,” Atlas replied. He looked at Kiera who was looking back at him. To her, he asked, “Are you itching to get in there?”

  She nodded, firm.

  The two-ways crackled and Yergha’s voice came over the agreed-upon channel loud and clear.

  “I’m on the ridge. I see one spotter and the house behind him. There’s a tall concrete border around the property and a reinforced gate with guards. I count six armed men, but there are likely more of them around back.”

  “Can you neutralize the spotter?” Leopold asked while the others listened.

  “Yeah, no problem. I just need to get a little closer because he’s out of range. I’ll confirm the kill.”

  “Roger that,” Leopold said.

  The two-way fell silent and they all waited. It was customary for the nerves to start firing before running an op, but Atlas was calm, cool, and collected. He looked at Kiera who was even more docile than he had expected. He dropped the sun visor then used the vanity mirror to get a good look at Esty. Frowning, he saw the nervousness all over her.

  “I think I can actually see your face through the bruising,” Atlas said to her. She glanced up at him. “I see why Yergha heaps you with such high praise.”

  “He’s like a little boy with a crush,” Esty said, dismissing him.

  “For a reason,” Atlas replied as he stroked his goatee. To Leopold, he added, “This is one sexy ass hit squad you’ve put together.”

  “That was never my intention,” Leopold replied, his cheeks turning red. “I just wanted the best people for the job.”

  “Sure you did,” Atlas grinned.

  “I’m telling you, looks were not a factor.”

  “You’re saying looks played no role whatsoever in the selection of the team?” Atlas asked. “We all just happened to be pretty good-looking by chance?”

  Kiera turned and looked at him.

  “You, too, baldy,” he said.

  “Shut up,” Leopold replied. “You fucking talk too much.”

  “I’ve spent a fair amount of time alone in a hole with nothing to do and no one to talk to,” Atlas said. “I’m either catching up on conversation or storing up for the winter ahead.”

  “This hole you talk about,” Esty said, “where is it?”

  “In your bedroom closet,” Atlas quipped.

  “I heard you were an asshole,” Esty said.

  “Well, then, someone was being too kind,” he said as he pushed the sun visor up to the ceiling where it belonged.

  “If I had a ball sack,” Esty said, “I think it would look like your head.”

  “And here I was paying you a compliment earlier.”

  “Were you really?” she asked snarky as hell.

  There was the faint sound of gunfire cracking through the hills. Everyone paused for a moment then Atlas continued. “Maybe it was an observation, Estella. Besides, Yergha is hot for you, not me. I just want to make friends so if things go down wrong I’ll know you have my back.”

  “Will you have mine?” she asked.

  “Damn Skippy.”

  The two-way came to life, interrupting Atlas’s bonding time. Yergha said, “The target is neutralized and I’m patched into their comms network. When you come over the ridge, there’s an old turnout right before you start up the next hill. Park the cars there because at the top of that hill is the entrance to the house.”

  “We’re on the move now,” Leopold said.

  “Go back to your garbage can on wheels,” Atlas turned and said to Esty.

  “Don’t tell me what to do,” Esty said.

/>   “Baby blue is your power color.”

  “Well, this hasn’t been fun,” she said as she got out of the Audi and returned to the Spark with Cira in tow.

  “Why are you trying to rile her?” Leopold asked.

  “She’s the kind of girl who fights angry.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “Because I’m not a freaking suit, Leopold.”

  The two cars eased up the ridge, crested it, then dropped back down and saw the turnout Yergha had mentioned. They parked inside of it, silenced the engines then got out. At the trunk of the Audi, they loaded up with what weapons they could carry while still maintaining their agility, and then they met up with Yergha near the top of the ridge. Atlas and Leopold were out of breath, but Cira, Esty, and Kiera were not.

  “This is embarrassing,” he said to Leopold, who nodded in agreement. “Especially for you. I spend twenty-three hours a day in a cage, what’s your excuse?”

  “I’m too busy with the ladies,” he whispered back.

  “Touché,” Atlas laughed.

  Yergha was right next to a dead man with a bleeding hole in his head. The Pakistani was behind a rather large boulder that gave him just enough clearance to scope out the nearby compound.

  “The house has the high ground, that’s for sure. But I see a place where we can hop the wall and cut the security team in half,” Yergha said. “These guys are lazy right now. Half of them are yawning and the other half aren’t even functioning much beyond a rudimentary purpose.”

  “Atlas, Kiera, Esty, you’re up,” Leopold said. “Cira you take the Uniden down to the Audi and make sure someone doesn’t crawl up our asses and surprise us. Yergha, can you get close enough to take out the first two guys in the backyard?”

  “Easily, boss,” he said. “What are you doing?”

  “Going in after you drop those two clowns,” Leopold said. “Esty, you and I will meet around the back of the house. Atlas and Kiera, when you take the front guards, breech the house. Esty and I will be right behind you. When we’re in, Yergha, fall in and cover our six. Is everyone clear on the approach?”

 

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