by Glenn Ball
There was no sound in the cell except the sounds she made. With no details, nothing interesting to catch the eye, the best description of the cell was its lack of details. It was nothing but a void, an absence of life, of sky, of trees and grass, of animals, of movement, of people, of conversation, of writing or human interaction of any kind.
She was utterly abandoned.
And what was the future she had facing her? Was she to stand trial for killing Artie? Growing up in Mexico she knew the rule of court was “guilty till found innocent”; and the rich and powerful always win, because they can bribe better. As an illegal immigrant would she even get a trial. Maybe they would just assume her guilt and execute her. Having no exposure to the US justice system she had no way of knowing.
And what if Antonio managed to snatch her out of the custody of the police? What would he do to her? Ochoa Machado, the sadist who loved to torture his enemies and had a castle full of torture devices for that purpose. Antonio, the unforgiving tyrant who held his greatest wrath for those that betray him; what would he do to the lover who spurned him, the confidant that threatened to ruin the most ambitious scheme of his enterprising career?
“I would rather face execution in the US than end up with Antonio again.” Her voice cracked with emotion, even as she whispered her thoughts. Silence was the only response.
********
Harold sat at his desk licking his lips. “Did you see the way her hips moved? She’s got a nice *ss!”
Andrew squeezed his lips together and his hands tightened as if grabbing two enormous doorknobs. “She’s got a sweet rack on her too.”
Pointing at the computer screen Harold observed, “And look at this Facebook video of her that came to the attention of our dragnet…she was next to naked when she got in that car! She’s obviously got some experience in giving it out.” Harold was nearly drooling as he grinned from ear to ear.
“Ooh yeah, we are definitely going to have us some fun!” Andrew was opening the office door even as he spoke. Upon stepping through the door, he looked both ways.
“Don’t worry...I made sure the hallway will remain clear and our private session undisturbed,” Harold said with a wink.
The two officers appeared the exemplary officials as their hurried footsteps echoed down the hallway. No two officers were ever more eager to do their work.
Thrusting the key into the keyhole, Andrew nearly stripped the lock in his eagerness.
“Hurry up!” Harold practically tripped over Andrew as he rammed the cell door open, not even waiting for Andrew to finish unlocking it. The door crashed into the cell wall, reverberating with a hollow metallic clang.
There she was, the luscious Alicia, waiting with fear in her eyes like a deer surprised by a pack of wolves. The muscles in her neck tensed as she cringed, awaiting the inevitable attack.
It was not long in coming. Andrew rushed toward her as Harold slammed the cell door closed behind him. The hunger in his eyes was unmistakable, even had Alicia not seen that look thousands of times in her career she would know what he had in mind. In barely a second, she was pinned underneath him on the bunk bed.
She could feel his rough fingers pulling her top upward, exposing her in the naked room. It was raw sex, without the velvet covers, the soft candlelight and warm fireplace. It was saliva sex without the wine. It was vacant sex, empty of love, of conversation, of knowing. It was rape.
It was the sum of her experience with men, relations that always left her void inside, depressed, feeling like a monster. It was solitary confinement.
Andrew had pulled his belt off and was using it to strap her down by the neck. She could feel Harold’s vice grip on her ankles as he held her legs down in order to strip her pants off of her.
In moments she could feel Andrew’s naked part hard against her, massaging her privates, like a weasel loosening the opening of a rabbit hole about to burrow into the nest of its prey.
Glimpses of her vision in the church flashed before her eyes. Christ was strapped to the hospital bed, helpless, pouring his blood into her.
Andrew’s sweaty body pressed against her flesh. Harold stood above them; his eyes filled with lust as he waited his turn.
Alicia could not see him. She could only see the Christ of her vision with the agony on his face as his blood poured out. The agony as he turned into a ‘zika monster’.
The prayer…her prayer to stop Antonio and his horrifying scheme…it drowned her thoughts, swallowed the scene of her rape. She must stop him!
“God, release me! Save me! Help me to stop Antonio and his devilish plot!” The prayer screamed inside of her.
Was it the sound of a bell she heard?
The cell door had clanged open again. Several officers stood at the entrance, while one with great authority stepped into the cell.
“You two are suspended until further notice! Now get out!”
Andrew was struggling to pull his pants up from his ankles as he followed a now shirtless Harold out of the cell.
The captain had his back to Alicia as he followed them out of the cell. “As soon as she gets dressed take her to the interrogation room where Special Agent Aguilar from ICE is waiting.”
CHAPTER 36
Snatched
The world went dark. Susanna could feel the thin cloth hood rough against her skin. It stank of body odor, doubtless the last remaining sweat of their previous victim that wore it.
She tried to prop herself up against the wall of the helicopter, her bound wrists hurting from having been twisted awkwardly behind her. Stretching her head upward she was able to see shapes and shadows through the hood, the sunlight blazing in through the large windows.
She had only moments in which to get herself settled when the helicopter suddenly lifted off, rocking from side to side like a boat in rough water. The upward thrust threw her off balance, causing her to bang her elbow in an attempt to avoid falling backwards on her bound hands once again.
The whole experience was unsettling. What did these men want? Was she the object of their attack or Pedro? Where were they taking them? What would they do to them when they arrived at their destination?
She felt wildly confused. Everything was spinning in circles. Shapes like trees seemed to be whirling past in all directions. She tried to focus on what must be the blue sky above, but it kept tipping over. All that she knew had toppled, had been poured out of her life like blood from a fatal wound.
Trying to focus on something positive she marveled that she was finally in a helicopter. She recalled having watched helicopters with Adam and having asked him numerous times to take her up in one. She had always wanted to experience the ride, but not like this!
How ironic! She was finally getting her wish, but it was not Adam taking her up in a helicopter!
For the umpteenth time she wished he were here with her to save her. Flashbacks of their many times together assaulted her with pangs of loneliness. Countless hiking trips in these very woods; mountain-climbing in California and Colorado, river-rafting and skiing, a tour of Europe, and their times living in Mexico where they had met.
The lively green of forest turned a deathly sandy brown, the shapes of trees replaced by the endless expanse of desert. They were heading south toward Mexico. Arid heat that chokes the life out of plants and animals alike began to parch her throat. All had become void and empty around her, with nothing to stop her from falling off the edge of the planet.
When she needed Adam most he was nowhere to be found. Being flown over desert to face the unknown and the threat of imminent death was nothing new to him. He had fought in Iraq and Afghanistan. He was probably there now, totally unaware of the danger she faced. She was dealing with snakes and scorpions, men who were venomous creatures, intent on bringing her back to their nest to prey upon her. She would never be found again.
********
Adam turned away from the man in the tree to regather himself. The bulging eyes and the gurgling laugh unnerved him. It was
as if the terror the man had of something far worse than death, even the miserably slow death he was currently suffering, it was as if that terror had leaped onto Adam and struck him deep in his core. It was far more devious than a fear for his own fate, something for which he could take sole responsibility. No, this was the worst kind of fear. It was debilitating. It was helplessness to aid his beloved in a danger worse than death.
Gripped by his emotions, he bent over, putting his hands on his knees. His pulse was racing, and he was hyperventilating. It was essential for him to get a grip on himself, and he knew it.
Straightening gradually, he stretched his hands upward, taking in several deep breaths very slowly, counting to five between each one. Forcing himself to focus on the situation with a mind open to solutions, he spun back around to face the object of his scorn. With a fury in his eyes he demanded, “And just what did you mean by “a fate like that of my wife?”
He could see the man struggle to swallow. Doubtless the man had no spit to swallow due to his dehydration, and with his neck grotesquely swollen nothing would pass anyway. The mouth clammed shut. The rope jerked as the man involuntarily shuttered, but his mouth remained closed.
Staring up at him in silence, something else arrested Adam’s attention. It was a rhythmic thumping in the distance. The rhythmic vibrations jarred his insides, taunting his beating heart like a shadow-boxer. Immediately recognizing the familiar sound of a helicopter, and knowing that it was too far away to be his own, he got on his com.
“Anybody got eyes on that copter?”
“No.” was the resounding reply.
Addressing the pilot, he asked if there was anything on the radar screen.
“That’s a negative Cap.”
Seeing a glimmer of triumph on the face of the hanging man infuriated Adam and left him wanting to bash the guy’s face in, or far worse. Regaining his self-control, he turned to make a dash for the helicopter, not knowing why he felt a hollow dread in his gut.
“Johnston and Ogelvy to the copter. Now!”
“What about the men in the trees?” came a voice over the radio.
“Leave them. Sergeant Crosby, I need you and your three remaining men to stand guard till we get back.
********
Daniel was a man of precision. His collared shirt was pressed, his dark Ray-Bans sparkled, and his boots shined. He was a top-rated helicopter pilot trained in the US Rangers.
Ochoa paid him top dollar because he was the best pilot at what he did. Drug-running made up the majority of Daniel’s duties, though human trafficking came into play every now and then. Antonio knew he could be entrusted with today’s mission of capturing Susanna and Pedro and flying them undiscovered to the castle.
Daniel had studied and mastered the terrain of Northwest Mexico and Southwest United States. He followed the wind currents and daily climatic changes with the expertise of a meteorologist. He had carefully mapped out the locations of all the radar towers and made a habit of avoiding their detection, which was no small feat with a helicopter. But by memorizing the layout of the terrain wherever he flew he maintained NOE levels, keeping trees, mountains, hills and ridges between the copter and the radar towers.
Having flown countless missions with the Rangers, Daniel implemented many of the stealth modifications available to the MH-60 Black Hawk helicopter that he flew. Equipped with a radar jammer, the copter also had edge alignment panels and special coatings that confused radar signals, along with anti-radar treatments for the windshields.
Through connections that Antonio’s well-placed bribes produced with certain authorities, Daniel was kept informed of ground patrols and observation satellites, both of which he habitually avoided. The camouflage paint aided in keeping the copter hidden from physical observation and from satellite detection.
After lifting off with Perle and Pedro under watch in the back, he kept the copter below the tree line, with the ridge between him and Adam’s men. Within minutes he had the helicopter well beyond a second ridge of mountains that would prevent any trace of their flight.
********
The pilot was already preparing the UH-72A Lakota helicopter for take-off when Adam jumped aboard. Nevertheless, Adam felt the irritation and helplessness as they waited for the helicopter to achieve lift-off readiness. Posting a soldier at each side of the helicopter with binoculars, he instructed them through the headset to keep a sharp lookout. He himself took the seat next to the pilot. Within minutes they were in the air.
He instructed the pilot to take the copter up several thousand feet to give them an unobstructed view beyond the ridge, and in each direction.
The sky was a crystal blue. They could see clearly in every direction. Adam had hopes they would be able to spot the copter if it had not gotten too far, though he had to admit the terrain provided pretty good cover in this area.
He did his best not to think about Perle and her current plight. She was so close he felt could reach out and snatch her from these ruthless men. Yet where was she? Fate was mocking him, and it was driving him mad. He could not have been more than hours behind when they reached the cave; and now in the copter he knew her kidnappers had only minutes for a head start. It was absolutely imperative they find that helicopter!
Something caught his eye. It was a dark shape on the horizon. Pulling the binoculars to his face for a better look he was able to make out the flying object. It was a buzzard.
The next few minutes passed in slow motion. They scanned in every direction, but there was no sign of the helicopter. The wilderness sky was an empty expanse.
Checking every radar produced nothing. It was as if the helicopter they had heard was a phantom.
To make matters worse, he had checked on the satellites and found that not one had been in position at that time, thus producing nothing.
CHAPTER 37
The Reckoning
As if coming out of a trance, Alicia stood up, her eyes staring in the direction of the cell door. Unable to process what was transpiring, she stood motionless, unabashedly facing the officers standing in the doorway, oblivious to her own nakedness as her clothes lay on the floor at her feet.
Though not quick to take their eyes off of her, one of them broke the silence. “Get dressed. We’re taking you to the interrogation room.” Then he closed the door, giving her a semblance of privacy.
The clank of the door snapped her out of her stupor. She had been rescued from the rapists, but now she was to be ‘interrogado’. Maybe they really thought that she killed Artie.
Her pulse was racing as she reached down for her clothes. She could see their eyes peering in through the window. Eyes that judged her less than human, a mere sex slave to satisfy their lusts. Or maybe something worse, an agent for the Santa Muerte, a murderess.
Even after she’d dressed, she felt naked underneath.
The door opened, and one of the officers entered, cuffing her hands. Then the three of them escorted her out of the cell and down the hallway in silence. One led the way, while two followed behind her on either side. She could feel their eyes studying her every movement. She was their juicy little lamb being led to be sheared naked and then have her head chopped off.
There it was, straight down at the end of the hallway. She could see it over the shoulder of the officer leading the way…the door, where her judgement awaited. The quiet patter of their leather soles on the floor echoed off the walls, magnifying the emptiness of the world Alicia had stepped into.
The door opened, the officer standing to one side, she could see another hollow room with one ominous judgement table fixed dead center. It was designed for prisoners. Here they would strip her of all her secrets, taking all her trials and the horrors of her life with the culmination of Artie’s death, and use them to accuse her of unforgiveable crimes. She was seated in a heavy wooden chair. The chain of her handcuffs was locked to the table. She could see her reflection in a mirror spanning the wall in front of her. Even to her own eyes she appeared a
criminal, a prostitute and a murderer. She was where she belonged. It was the life she had always known. She was a prisoner.
It was all too much for her. The room began to swirl. She felt nauseous, lightheaded. Everything began to go black. There before her she saw him again: the Christ, strapped to the bed, bleeding. She could feel his blood pouring into her. He would take her rap.
“Are you okay?” A muscular man stood over her, his head cocked to one side with a questioning gaze. He had a dark complexion with curly black hair.
The room was different somehow. The officer at the door was gone. It was just this curly-headed man with the well-cut cheekbones, and another tall man in a suit. The other man seemed middle-aged and wore glasses.
The curly man spoke. “I’m Nicolas Aguilar, with ICE, and this is Henry Blathers. He is here to provide you with legal counsel.”
“How do you do?” Blathers stretched out a hand toward hers.
Espinosa sat with a blank face. Maybe the shaking of hands was an admission of guilt of some kind, and an agreement to accept her punishment. She was in a dangerous world. Her instincts warned her that her every move, her every expression could have severe consequences.
“Ms. Espinosa, do you understand why you are here? Do you know what the charges are against you?” Nicolas was studying her face. She felt like he could see right through her. “Ms. Espinosa, if you can understand me, I want you to nod your head yes.”
“Espinosa, how are we going to help you if you won’t respond?” The exasperation was apparent in Henry Blather’s tone.
“Ms. Espinosa, habla usted el Inglés?”
Suddenly her eyes brightened. “Usted habla el Español?”
“Yes, I speak fluent Spanish,” Nicolas continued in Spanish.
“Finally, someone who can understand me!” Alicia was beside herself with relief, forgetting her caution at the prospect of real communication. “I do not speak English. You are the first person to speak to me in Spanish since I have been in the US.”