It was early morning and it already felt hot. Responding to the blaring of car horns from the busy street below, Arnie opened the room window and looked out onto a blue haze of exhaust fumes, taking a moment to admire the nerve and skill of moped riders zig-zagging through the traffic. Heading for the shower he reflected on the fact that today would be a difficult one, operating in territory that could be threatening, his target probably reluctant to co-operate. But it was the only lead they had. And gnawing at him was the Major`s warning, that and whether Tano Carbosa could be trusted.
With the hotel breakfast unappealing, coffee was all they had, and soon the short walk to pick up their rental car brought on a thirst. Grabbing four bottles of water from the rental office vending machine, they headed outside, looked around and spotted the row that had their dark blue hire-car. Though Arnie had the keys and assumed he would do the driving he checked with Jessica first. “Me driving or you?”
“You, if that`s okay?”
“Fine, you do the navigating.”
“No cake-walk that, judging by the street map, word spaghetti comes to mind. Seems they`re not that big on street names the further out from the centre you get.”
“Well we`ve got time and the people look friendly enough, we can just ask if we get lost.”
“Lost is a distinct possibility, but at least Carmen`s street has a name.”
After twenty minutes of slow progress due to the traffic, Arnie stopped at a crossroads. “Can`t go right, Jess, road`s blocked, have to hang a left. So how do we get back on track?”
She took a few moments, staring at the map. “Looks like it`ll have to be third on the right then past two cross streets before taking another right. After that we need to catch a sign that says Route 3.”
Arnie pulled up at the next junction, put the stick in neutral then drew his shoulders back and yawned.
“Didn`t sleep worth a damn,” he said, waiting for a break in the traffic.
“Me neither, my air conditioning unit sounded like a Sherman tank starting up.”
“Mine too. Been introduced to one of the local cockroaches yet? Had three in my shower this morning, size of a goddamned turtle.”
“Oh yeah, had my share of them alright, creep me out those suckers, hate them.”
“That street map sure looks complicated,” Arnie said as he looked across.
“Find this Route 3 and it gets easier, though the local real estate sure is drifting down market the further we go.”
“Well up ahead looks worse, must be a real struggle for these folks.”
“Reckon the struggle they can deal with. From what I`ve read it’s the corruption and violence that beats them down.”
Nearing their destination, Jessica checked her watch; an hour and ten to get here. She now wished they had eaten something, feeling a tightening in her stomach as she surveyed the neighborhood. This side of town was worse than they`d expected, ramshackle housing, many with old tin roofs, dirt-track streets, and locals that looked downtrodden. Most of the houses were whitewashed concrete, some colored dark red, some light blue, all with the paint flaking off. None of the wooden shutters had seen any maintenance for years, drooping loose from hinges that were rusted and now badly secured. Most of the inhabitants were just hanging out, no apparent sense of purpose, old and young grouped according to their age, women barely seen.
“See what Corbosa meant,” Jessica said, as the car trundled along a street meant for a horse and cart. “The locals look okay but sure have it tough, and the place feels scary.”
“There it is,” said Arnie pointing to a double-storey building at the end of a side street, “the one with the wide-open blue door.”
“More rotten than blue. No wonder this girl hooked up with Jeb Hoag. Who wouldn`t want to get the hell out of here?”
“Know what you mean. It`s a shock seeing how some people have to live, no life`s chances coming their way, no way out.”
“Got plenty of that back in the U.S., so what`s our excuse?” Jessica said.
Arnie didn`t reply as he concentrated on where to pull up.
The back-street they were on was all dirt-track and so narrow that the car had to be parked on a piece of waste-ground a couple of hundred yards further along. Arnie gave five bucks each to three kids hanging around at the corner; worth it not to come back to four wheels missing. Hitching his baggy linen pants that looked a size too big on him, he sauntered back towards Jessica who had sought some relief from the blistering sun by crossing the road to get some shade. In contrast to Arnie, her light cotton shorts looked a perfect fit, and her glistening, sun-screen lotioned legs didn`t go unnoticed by him as he called out to her. “Looking good there, Miss Hahn, and that snazzy hat sure is impressive.”
“Praise indeed,” was all she said.
Approaching the house, their attention was drawn to a pair of mangy dogs on a nearby vacant lot that were barking violently at a scavenging cat that had made a territorial mistake. In the background the muted sound of church bells could be heard, none of the locals paying any attention to the traditional habit of stopping a moment to acknowledge the significance. Grinding poverty and the surrender of hope seemed to have worn down any religious compliance, their faith in some kind of divine providence all but discarded.
Knocking on the blue door, Jessica shouted a polite, “hello, anybody there?” as she moved slowly into the house. It was neat and tidy, though with little furniture and a smell of decay about the place. Now she could hear the sound of someone moving around in the room above.
“You the Americans?” came the reply from upstairs, “be right down.”
Carmen looked like most other young Hondurans they had seen, soft, smooth skin, healthy dark hair and fine bone structure. Her mood was down, apprehension evident in her eyes, caution in every word. Tano Carbosa having arranged the meeting had brought her some reassurance, but it was a dangerous move and only agreed to on the basis that she owed it to Jeb.
Jessica knew the conversation would hinge on just one point and she took her time getting there, showing respect for the girl`s emotional state while coaxing out information. She approached the question in as soft a tone as she could. “It seems something changed Jeb and his two buddies, something so powerful that their behaviour was beyond recognition. We`re here to find out why and what caused such a dramatic change, one that may have lead to their deaths. So can you tell us what happened?”
Carmen pulled herself up from a hunched position on the threadbare couch and stared at her visitors. “It started two days before he left to go home on leave. He became different, soft and gentle, much quieter. Jeb was a really tough guy, afraid of nothing, of no one. He looked the same Jeb but he wasn`t.” She stopped for a moment. “I`m sorry, but I find it hard to explain.”
Arnie leaned forward. “Jeb was a real tough Marine, with controlled aggression always lurking and evidently a guy with a strong personality. You`re describing someone quite different.”
“That`s what he`d become,” said Carmen. “Someone different, and not just in a small way, he was a changed man.”
“So what could have caused this,” Jessica asked, “sounds like some kind of drug must have been involved.”
“No, no, no,” said Carmen. “Jeb was never into drugs, never! He despised the drug trade, said he would kill every drug dealer if he could.”
“I’m sorry, I didn`t mean to upset you but I had to ask. If not drugs then what else could have changed him. It`s got to have happened here in Honduras. We thought the military was involved but it doesn`t look like it. Would you agree, or do you think it was something that happened on the base?”
Tears were now in Carmen`s eyes. “It`s not the base. Jeb and his two pals took off for three days, said they were on a mission, but Tano Corbosa told me there was no mission and he didn`t know why Jeb would have lied. Wh
en Jeb returned he was a different man, that`s all I know.”
“Louisa told us they were on leave,” said Arnie.
“Did she?”
“Yes,” Jessica said. “And Tano Carbosa, can he be trusted?” Jessica pressed.
“I don`t know him that well, but Jeb spoke highly of him, so I think he was a good friend. But in these parts you can`t trust anyone, so much money can be offered to those who help the drug cartels.”
“Are you saying Carbosa might have been one of them?” Arnie asked.
“No. I can`t say that, and I don`t think he would have betrayed Jeb. These Marines have their own code, a commitment to each other.”
“What about the other two girls, did they have the same experience with their guys?” Jessica said. “When we met with Louisa she didn`t give us much, didn`t want to speak about it, seemed scared.”
“We`re all scared, and yes, their men had changed too. After we were told of the killings, Selma took off, didn`t say where and I haven`t heard from her since.”
“Sounds like she was running, why would she do that?” Arnie said.
“She was in shock, kept crying all the time, but I don`t know if she was running.”
“Do you have her address?” Jessica asked.
“No.”
“Louisa said you`re cutting out too, heading home.”
“Yes, back to Cartagena.”
“How far is Cartagena,” Arnie asked.
Now Carmen tensed, the emotion in her eyes disappearing. “About a three hour drive, and it`s a bad place. Drug people are everywhere in this country and especially in Cartagena. And they are violent, worse than you Americans could ever imagine.”
“You sound scared, will you be safe there?” Arnie said.
“Nowhere is safe, but my father is Chief of Police so I will have protection.”
“Protection from what?” Jessica asked.
Carmen now stood, her face losing its sadness, her speech hurried. “You must go now. This place has people always watching, bad people, and they will be wondering who you are and what you are asking me. You must go. I can tell you nothing more.”
The three Honduran kids had done their job, the balance of their pay-off snatched from Arnie`s outstretched hand in return for the car still having its four wheels. As they scuttled off with their bounty, Arnie realised how much a few bucks meant to kids living in such deprivation. It was a considerable boost to their well-being, albeit one that would be short lived. As he turned back towards Jessica he caught a look of concern in her eyes. “Let`s go, Arnie, I`m getting creeped out, we need to move it.”
Turning into back-street after back-street, Arnie`s frustration was beginning to build. “How the hell do we get out of here? Got to be at least one road sign, every street looks the same, any idea where we are?”
“No, should have paid more attention on the way here. Sun`s going down over there so reckon we have to take a left.”
“And after that?”
“Hope we come across that Route 3.”
Jessica was now busy checking out the locals and spotted some who were giving looks that were none too friendly. “We`re catching a few stares, Arnie, not the inquisitive, friendly ones we got earlier, more like we`ve invaded their patch or something.”
“Well that something is likely to be drug related so we need to get the hell out of here but I can`t figure how to get back onto the main stretch.”
Coming to a halt at the quieter end of one of the back-streets, Arnie considered his options. Looking to his left he stared at an old truck that was half swallowed by a mud bank in a dried out creek, and beyond that just endless hinterland. Swivelling to his right he saw a small kid appear from behind a row of derelict buildings then stand and stare at him. Returning the stare, Arnie shouted over to the curious onlooker. “Hey, kid, you speak English? Can you tell me how to get back to town?”
From under a mass of straight, black hair that covered a large forehead, the kid put his hand up to shield the sun then edged his way towards the car. Rocking back and forth on his heels, big brown eyes widening with the scent of opportunity, he stuck his hand out. “Okay Americano, but you must pay!”
Arnie laughed as he handed over a five dollar bill. “Okay, kid, I know the deal. Now how the hell do I get out of here?”
The kid smiled, showing a mouth with more gaps than teeth. “Left at the end of the street, then right until you come to a big road, a new road. Go left again, but not right, you must not go right, bad place down there, very bad.”
Jessica leaned across from the passenger seat. “What do you mean bad place, why is it bad?”
Now the kid stuck his hand out for more money, Jessica tilting her head as she watched Arnie put another five into the kid`s grasping fingers.
“Bad things happen there, Americano. We call it El Forto, the place of evil. Some kids have gone missing and we think the Gringo`s have them in there. But they were druggie kids so nobody cares, nobody does anything. And they have Gringo soldiers outside who will shoot you if go to the place, so you must not turn right at the new road.”
“Why do you say Gringos, you mean Americans own it? And they have American soldiers there, you sure about that?”
Now the kid stepped back a couple of paces, eyes swivelling to the left in alarm. Turning and running he was out of sight within seconds, prompting Arnie to look in his rear view mirror. His response was instant. “Looks like we`ve got company, Jess, and they don`t look too friendly. Buckle up, we`re in for a rough ride by the looks of it.”
Jessica spun round in her seat and stared at the two men in the battered old truck pulled up behind them. “Jesus Christ, Arnie these are mean looking guys, get us the hell out of here.”
With tires screeching and throwing dust in the air before Jessica had finished talking, Arnie slammed the stick into second gear and gunned the car down the street, the truck hard on their heels. Hanging a sharp left he only just kept control as the car hit the curb and bounced back to the middle of the street. Racing along what was no more than a pot holed strip of broken and cracked concrete, Arnie braked violently as he swung the car round the ninety degree corner, sideswiping a couple of mopeds parked up near a house wall. Now he could see the new road in the distance, just three side streets away. Turn left, not right he reminded himself.
They were passing the last side street when it happened, the sound hitting first, an ear piercing, crunching noise that was followed by banging and scraping. They had been T-boned by a rust bucket of a pick-up that had shot out from the side street, slamming in to them and pushing their car into the wall of a store, the seller`s fruit and vegetables flying into the air. Some locals came running then suddenly halted and backed away as two armed men jumped from the pick-up and approached the Americans inside their banged up car. Jessica was unconscious and hanging out the crumpled door, blood leaking from a gash on her head, arms flopped to the side. Arnie was semi conscious, incoherent mumbling coming from a mouthful of blood, the shirt on his left shoulder ripped open and exposing a long cut down his side.
With the onlookers retreating, the shouting began to die away and an eerie silence descended as Arnie and Jessica were dragged from their car then shoved into the back of the pick-up. Arriving at the new road, the truck stopped then turned left, away from the direction of El Forto.
CHAPTER 7
“So, awake at last, Americano woman,” said the grizzly voice. “That is good because I could not start without you.”
Jessica had to force her eyelids open as she struggled back to consciousness. She could feel the crusty river of blood on her right cheek and wanted to touch it. But she couldn`t, a moment of puzzlement flitting through her mind before realising her hands were tied behind her back, feet spread apart, each ankle bound to the leg of a chair.
Looking up, she saw hi
m. It didn`t register at first as confusion clouded her thinking, and then it came, the surge of fear, raw in its intensity as she stared at the brute now moving towards her.
She felt the steaming heat of the place and a stinging sensation on her face, courtesy of the car`s safety bag. But it was nothing compared to the stench of rotten breath that was now attacking her nasal senses, the man`s unshaven face close to hers. She could smell his stinking body, an odour that reeked of old sweat and had seeped into his dirty t-shirt.
Jessica was defiant. “You cretin, you don`t scare me. Do you know who I am? An American citizen, and you`ve just made a big mistake.”
It was a gutsy stand, based on shear bravado and delivered in anger, but when the man answered with only a thin smile she knew it had been a been a useless threat. And now panic was setting in as she wrenched at the rope, feeling no pain as it cut into her wrists. Struggling violently to free herself, her head was flopping from side to side as her eyes adjusted to the dingy light, and now she could feel the dark stone walls of her dungeon prison closing in on her. To her left was a small opening that once held a window, at the back a steel-barred door, and behind the monster that stood in front of her was a table with things on it.
“Have a good look around Americano,” said the man, “see my selection of toys that you are about to enjoy.”
His greasy face was now next to hers, inhaling her scent, his large hands drifting up her arms and caressing her hair. Now he stood back and laughed, allowing her to see them, the instruments, shiny, surgical looking. Her scream was involuntary, primal in its intensity, and now control of her bladder was gone.
“That is good, Americano, let your friend next door hear you, let him know what`s coming.”
With sweat running down her back she was now seeing through a blur as her eyes moistened, head dropping to her chest, knuckles turning white. Desperately gasping for breath, Jessica felt the man grab her hair, snapping her head up then clasping her jaw in his calloused hand. His voice was loud, drops of spittle landing on her cheeks. “You will tell me everything I want to know, your mission down here, your D.E.A. plans, who your spies are, everything you will tell me.”
The Cygnus Agenda Page 6