Now, instead of planning how to spend ten thousand dollars themselves, they knew two teenaged thieves would get it instead. The Ochoas, the ones who deserved the reward, sat in Pablo’s yard, creating an alibi. They knew eventually someone would find the abandoned bus. They fretted, sweated and practiced their story for nearly a week, but nothing happened.
Yesterday the whole thing had blown up. Sitting at the dock waiting for a fare, Ruben and his cousin heard about it around noon – news traveled fast around the small community. The two kids found a note on the bus, told the cop, and he searched it. Now Frontera Corozal had more activity and more police than anyone had ever seen before. It wouldn’t be long before they would talk to the boat drivers.
The cousins left the dock immediately, but they couldn’t hide forever. Undoubtedly they were missed already; they hung out there every day. When the knock on Pablo’s door finally came, they trembled. The local cop stood on the doorstep.
CHAPTER THIRTY
With a good deal of pomposity, the local policeman brought in the two “suspects” who also were his childhood friends – men he’d grown up with. He, Ruben and Pablo all played together as ragged children before Frontera Corozal even existed. Fifteen years ago their fathers made a living hauling potatoes, corn, beans and livestock across the river to Guatemala. When they became teenagers, the Ochoa cousins followed in the family business, inheriting the longboats from their fathers.
The policeman took a different path; in a highly unusual move for this rural area, his parents kept him in school until he was sixteen. He was suddenly the most educated person for miles around, and he landed a comfortable job as the sole lawman for the tiny river town.
Today friendships were forgotten. News cameras were rolling and it was the policeman’s fifteen minutes of fame. He wished he’d had shackles – it would have made a great photo – but he hadn’t even gotten handcuffs from the state, so he had to be content to push the Ochoas along roughly. He thought about drawing his gun but decided against it. He didn’t even know how to use it; he’d skipped the mandatory firearms training so many times the officials in Tuxtla had stopped asking.
The federales took Ruben into one of the cabanas and Pablo to the other. There were two officials in each room – a Federal Policeman and an FBI agent.
The interrogators were tired. The cabanas were hot and stuffy; a fan lazily moved air, but nothing could ease the humidity. For hours they’d interviewed honest and sincere boatmen who knew absolutely nothing. The lawmen were ready for cervezas as soon as they finished these last two interviews. Two to go before Corona time.
Thirty minutes later the interviews were over. Pablo walked home, confident that it went well and their alibi was solid. He said he and Ruben had been fishing and drinking beer that evening. They didn’t see or hear anything because they were more than a mile upriver in Ruben’s longboat. They hadn’t returned to the dock until around 11:30 p.m. Ruben’s story was identical.
“Did you notice the tour bus sitting in the parking lot for days?” Pablo had been asked.
“Not really. There are buses here all the time. They all look the same to me.”
“Do you have any thoughts how more than a dozen people with luggage could have been taken somewhere on the river, or where they might have gone?”
“They might have gone to Yaxchilan,” he offered, hoping to sound helpful. “Lots of people do.”
“Is there anything else you want to add?”
“Nothing else, Señor.”
For today the interrogations were finished.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
A week ago today the people had been taken hostage, and it was four days since Rolando made the ransom demand. Nine of the ten captives had sent personal messages to relatives in the States via shortwave radio. The tenth, the archaeologist Mark Linebarger, prepared a note to his girlfriend in Toronto, telling her he was okay. He didn’t mention the ransom. It might as well be a million – he wasn’t kidding when he told Rolando it was fruitless. He didn’t have money – he didn’t even know people who had money. Mark’s life was divided among teaching, being with friends, and leading groups into the jungle. It was a satisfying existence, but he’d never be wealthy doing it.
When Rolando read Mark’s message, he thrust it back and said, “Ask her for money.”
“No. All that’ll do is make a bunch of my friends scramble around to do something they can’t make happen. I’m not asking for money. You ever hear the phrase ‘blood from a turnip’?”
Rolando ignored the question. This man puzzled him. He stayed calm – he wasn’t afraid. He was stronger than many of the others.
“Have it your way. I’ll pass your message along. After all, it’s your funeral.”
“Actually, I suppose that part’s up to you.”
The ransom would be no problem for a few of the hostages. Doc and Mary Spence, Dick Mansfield, the real estate man from New York, and the author Gavin Michaels had sent detailed instructions on how to access funds. Their problem was the short time frame. Three days wasn’t much, especially with the US Embassy acting as middleman. Since Rolando’s demand for ransom had been made through the embassy and he’d also sent the hostage messages there, the ambassador and the FBI would facilitate the money transfers to pay the kidnappers.
Today was the fourth day – the deadline for a ransom payment. Every day the hostages knew someone could die, but Mark and Ted tried to keep spirits positive. Today was different. From the moment they awoke, every one of them knew that someone would die today if at least one ransom payment didn’t arrive.
Ted and Mark tried to calm concerns as the hours ticked by far more slowly than usual. Most of the questions had no answers. How would the kidnappers find out the money was paid? They were here in the jungle, not in a city with banks and communications. What if something delayed a payment accidentally? Would Rolando give them any leeway?
Not a chance. They all knew that.
Mark and Ted set a deadline of their own. At three p.m. they confronted Rolando.
“So what’s the plan? How do you find out if you got your damned ransom money or not?”
Rolando smirked. “Ted! Are you getting a little worried?”
Mark snapped back, “You’re a sick bastard! I’m sure you know kidnapping ten North Americans and murdering our driver is going to land you in prison or, even better, get you killed. You’ll never get away with it.”
Rolando paused and decided to tell them what this was all about.
“Everything will be worth it when Chiapas is ours again.”
“Whose? Guatemala’s? Do you really think that’s going to happen? Do you think this senseless act of violence against innocent tourists will attract people to your cause? Get real, man. What you’re doing here sets you back. It simply proves to the world what sadistic savages you are. You’re not interested in politics or unity for Chiapas. You’re a brutal murderer. What’s your real agenda, ‘Rolando’?” Mark spat the alias out like vomit.
“I’m going to be a wealthy man in a few days, Dr. Linebarger. And the freedom fighters will be wealthy too. I plan to share with them, you see. I’ll take my commission for arranging the deal; then they’ll have money to buy guns, ammunition, everything they need to kill the police and the militia. Then, contrary to what you think, we will cause Chiapas state to secede.”
“So did you get the ransom money you demanded today? Are you going to spare us a little longer?” Ted was surprised at the hatred in Mark’s words. “Do you get to have some fun today killing another innocent person? That sounds exciting, don’t you think, Ted?”
Ted said nothing. Rolando’s jaw was clenched – it was clear he wasn’t going to take much more of this.
“You have a very negative attitude,” the rebel said calmly. “I don’t like you at all. You’ve already told me you can’t raise the money. I think it will be you who goes first. That would make life easier for me. And yes, as you said, it would be fun.”
“If that’s your decision, I’m ready. I just want to know when we’ll get the news.”
“Trust me. You’ll hear as soon as I do. I sent a man to La Tecnica this morning…” He stopped, deciding he’d said enough, and walked away.
The others ran to Mark. They’d watched and listened to the whole thing.
“What’s La Tecnica?” Alison asked.
“It’s a village on the Guatemala side just across from Frontera Corozal.”
“Why did he send someone there?”
Mark’s answer was pure speculation, but he’d given some thought to the logistics of the ransom demands. Rolando had to receive confirmation of bank deposits somehow. The radio wouldn’t help and there was no cell service here. The last tower Mark had seen was Claro’s, a mile from Frontera Corozal on the side of the river.
Rolando sent his man to the Guatemala town, Mark suggested, because it was even less populated than Frontera Corozal was. No one would pay any attention to just another Guatemalan checking email.
The hostages anxiously waited. No one had eaten; on a day when someone was going to die, nobody had an appetite. It was almost dusk when one of the rebels walked into the camp. The hostages perked up and watched as he went directly to Rolando’s shack.
In seconds the rebel leader came out. Everyone saw the pistol on his hip. It hadn’t been there earlier today. As Rolando walked toward them, Alison began to cry uncontrollably. A few of them stood up, but Rolando waved them back to the ground.
“Listen to me, all of you. I have good news and bad news.” He smiled broadly. “Since everyone likes jokes, I will make the American joke, ‘do you want the good news or the bad news first?’“
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Dick Mansfield muttered.
“No, I am not. All right then, I will choose for you. I will give you the good news first. My men and I thank you for your generosity. The first money has been paid.” He stopped, crossed his arms over his chest and waited.
Ted spoke up. “And?”
“And what? What more do you want to know?” He was enjoying himself immensely, as the others were literally scared witless.
“Who gets to live? Whose money did you get?”
“Ah, you remember my plan! Excellente! Actually I received three ransoms today. I think one of these may surprise someone. It certainly surprised me.” He paused for effect then pulled a scrap of paper from his pocket.
“Dr. and Mrs. Spence, you’re safe. Nice to know you have funds to help our cause, don’t you agree? And we appreciate your generosity very much.” He laughed mirthlessly.
“Now for the surprise. Dr. Linebarger, you tricked me.”
Mark looked up sharply. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m disappointed because I was looking forward to killing you. But I have your ransom too.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
That’s impossible, Mark thought to himself. “So what’s the bad news?” he asked caustically.
“As usual, I can always depend on you to be the pushy one. But, in fact, your ransom has mysteriously been paid. Now I have to spare you. At least that’s what I said I would do. And speaking of things I promised, I’m afraid I must change my plans. I’ve thought carefully about the ransom schedule. Let’s review what I told you earlier.”
He enumerated the points from four days before. “I promised if someone paid by the fourth day, which is today, none of you would die today. If someone paid – anyone – then all of you would live until ten days total have passed. On the eleventh day those who haven’t been ransomed will be executed en masse. I believe that was the plan. Am I correct, Dr. Linebarger?” He smirked at the archaeologist.
“So what’s the bad news, Rolando? I’m sure there’s something you’ve decided to renege on. Are you going to kill us all now and wait for the money to come in?”
Several people gasped and Bart shouted, “For God’s sake, shut up! Do you want him to kill us?”
Mark responded bluntly. “Do you think anything any of us does is going to make him act differently? He’s a maniac.” That made Rolando smile.
Dick yelled, “That’s easy for you to say. You’re safe.”
“Not if his bad news is that he’s going to kill one of us anyway. It may be me, you know. I appear to be numero uno on your list,” he said to the rebel.
Rolando held up his hand. “If I may have the floor, gentlemen, I’ll try to ease your minds. Most of your minds, that is.” He paused as Alison continued sobbing. Hailey took her hand.
“Although I greatly appreciate the help of the Spence family in following my orders to quickly pay the money, I think many of you don’t have the resources they do. I’m leaving Dr. Linebarger out of this. I have no idea how his ransom got paid and I doubt he knows either.” Mark said nothing.
“So I must make an example. Except for two more of you who have instructed payment be sent – that would be Mr. Michaels and Mr. Mansfield – the rest have friends or family who are desperately trying to raise a large sum of money. I want them to be perfectly clear about my instructions. I want them to know that I actually do intend to kill every single one of you whose ransoms are not here six days from now. How can I deliver that message? Originally I had thought four days wasn’t sufficient time for the ransoms to arrive. And I said one of you would die today if it didn’t come. But here we are, much to my surprise. Three ransoms have been paid, but I still need to prove to the outside world I’m serious. I need to send them a picture.”
He continued with a heartless smile. “I apologize for changing the plans. If none of you creates a problem, this will probably be the last change. After this I will wait until the tenth day passes. On that eleventh morning those who have paid will go free and those who have not will leave us in a different way.”
He took out the ski mask he’d worn on the bus. As he pulled it over his head, he whistled to one of the guards. The rebel moved closer and raised a camera he was holding.
Rolando took out his pistol and everyone shrank back in fear. Alison and Hailey screamed. A couple of others fainted. Mark and Doc Spence sat impassively.
“Please, dear God, please don’t.” Ted’s plea went unheeded.
Rolando spoke to his associate. “Ready for a picture?”
The man with the camera nodded.
Rolando pointed the gun at Win Phillips and calmly shot him in the head. He fell backwards into the dirt.
“That was my example. That should show everyone we are serious, don’t you think?”
The leader ordered his men to remove the body and walked to his shack as nonchalantly as if he’d just brushed off a fly.
——
“We’re all going to die. You all know that by now. We know what Rolando looks like. He doesn’t wear the mask anymore. We’re trapped out here in the jungle and he’s going to kill us all.”
The hostages huddled together in the cavern as Alison choked her words through heaving sobs of anguish. She’d just witnessed the murder of the man who brought her here – the man who’d once been her boyfriend. The others nodded as she ranted. A few sat with heads bowed, consumed by thoughts of their mortality. The trauma was tormenting each of them in a different way, and some were losing their grips quickly.
Mark understood their anguish. These people couldn’t take much more, and everyone knew Rolando’s promise they’d be alive for six more days was worthless. He’d reneged already and a third person had died. Everything Alison said was right. Rolando wasn’t a bit concerned that they could identify him. No one was going to leave here alive. Mark wanted to calm the people’s fears, to keep them from doing something stupid that might cost everyone’s lives. They had to be united and wait for Paul. But these people didn’t know Paul was even around. Should he tell them, even though Paul asked him not to?
“Alison, what you say makes sense. None of us knows what this guy’s real plan is. I’m sorry Win’s … I’m sorry, Alison, that your friend is gone. What a sadistic, brutal madman.”
He continued. “I’m thinking Paul Silver’s out there somewhere working on a plan to help us. If he is, that could be –”
Dick interrupted. “What the hell are you saying? Are you living in a dream world? Sure, it’d be nice if Paul sweeps in here on a white horse and rescues everyone, but there’s as much chance of that happening as Rolando inviting us all over for Christmas dinner. Paul’s gone. Don’t give these people false hope.”
“It’s not false hope. He is close by. He’s working on a plan.” God, I hope this isn’t a mistake.
Gavin spoke up. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t know Paul. I’d never laid eyes on him before this trip. Has anyone else ever met this guy before?” Nine people shook their heads. “What makes you think he’s any better than you or I at saving us? What makes you think he’s out here somewhere?”
“Because I met with him three nights ago. He told me there are things in his past that’ll help him rescue us. CIA-type things. He wouldn’t say more, but I trust him. Who else can I trust? I don’t know where he is, but he’s around. Listen, everyone. He asked me not to tell you. He’s afraid that Rolando will retaliate against us if he knows Paul’s around. Please, please keep this a secret. I only told you because God knows we all need some hope.”
Dick said, “So you believe this guy’s tale that he’s some kind of spy? You’re willing to trust him with your life? And you want me to trust him too? With my life? Because that’s what you’re asking us all to do.”
“What can it hurt to give him a day or two?”
Alison began shaking violently. She hissed, “Because we don’t have a day or two. He killed Win – he killed him after he said he wouldn’t.” From deep inside her came a banshee-like wail that tore at their hearts. “He’s going to kill us all! Paul can’t help us. You can’t either. No one can. We’re going to die. Don’t you get it?”
The Crypt Trilogy Bundle Page 36