The fifth girl, however, lined the mirror again. She was probably the second most attractive but had been rather distant all night. And despite the intense sensations he was enjoying, Xavier couldn’t help but watch the girl as she snorted two more lines. Still standing, she then staggered across the room, allowing the mirror to fall, its shattering made silent by the thudding music.
Staring back at him, she ran her hand under her skirt, feigning ecstasy as her body undulated. Xavier had been seconds from disentangling himself so he could go and take her where she stood.
But it was not to be.
The woman stopped undulating. Her face suddenly contorted into an expression of great pain, followed immediately by two stark red trails of blood from her nose. Then, as if she were controlled by a switch, she collapsed forward, her head striking the tile floor full force.
A chorus of screams went up, briefly defeating the music.
Ten minutes later, the house was deathly quiet. Despite his and Fausto’s frantic efforts, the Dutch woman had perished in his rented villa. Xavier massaged his temples, thinking how best to deal with this situation. And he was equally troubled that it had occurred prior to his plan for multiple orgasms.
As the four remaining Dutch women huddled in the bedroom, Xavier, once again in his terry robe, sat on the ottoman next to the fallen girl and dialed a mobile number he rarely called. He slid back onto the overstuffed chair, crossing his legs and taking relaxing breaths as the phone began to ring. Expecting the object of his call to be asleep, Xavier was surprised when the man answered it in a clear voice.
The voice belonged to Cortez Redon, the Catalonian acusador who’d just finished with Ernesto Navarro. And Gage Hartline.
“Where are you?” Xavier asked numbly, his glorious high having faded like dirty dishwater down an open drain.
“In my car, why?”
“I need you. Right now.”
“Have you been following me?”
Xavier narrowed his eyes at the out of place query. “No. Why?”
“Never mind.” Road noise could be heard during a pause before Redon asked, “What do you need?”
“You’d like me to say this over the phone? Perhaps I should spell out both our names, too?”
“Where do you want me?”
Xavier gave him instructions on where to meet Fausto, then he hung up. He tilted his head to the ceiling and spoke Fausto’s name. When Fausto appeared, Xavier told him who he was meeting and where.
“Shall I go now, señor?”
Xavier tapped the barely used mobile phone on his head, thinking. Suddenly, a good idea came to him. “Yes, go ahead, Fausto. He said he’d be there in a half-hour. And when you arrive here with him, remain in the garage and call me.”
“Sí, señor.”
Footsteps. Door. Engine. Garage door. Tires squeaking on the shiny floor. Garage door. Then, only the murmurs of the Dutch women.
Continuing to tap the phone on his head, Xavier felt the tingling. The pill he’d taken was good for hours and, despite all the tragedy, something had to be done about it.
Licking his lips, he walked to the stereo, turning the volume down. Then he dimmed the lights quite low before softly knocking on the bedroom door, opening it and standing in the slight wedge.
“Everyone okay?”
The women, dressed again, their hair and general appearance unkempt, each of them holding a trembling cigarette, collectively wiped their eyes, their faces beset by running mascara and the sudden puffiness of tearful lamentation. When they murmured their unnatural affirmations, Xavier curled his finger at Erica, the slightly chubby one from the hot tub, saying, “Erica…just Erica…I need your help.”
“Me?”
“Yes, just for a few moments.” He nodded, smiling reassuringly.
When she passed the threshold, he took her by the hand and pulled the door to. Then he led her back into the living room, watching as she pressed her eyes shut at the sight of her deceased friend. Leading her behind the sofa, turning her so her back would be to the corpse, Xavier kissed her, pushing his tongue into her mouth.
She allowed it for a moment before pulling back and shaking her head. “No…I can’t.”
“We must and, don’t forget, you made me promise.” His hands roamed her body, one moving under her dress and sliding her underwear to the side. Her instant protestations suddenly caught in her throat as Xavier, satisfied, felt a tremor pass through her body. Erica’s mouth hung open as he manipulated her, pleased with the mouse-squeaks escaping her throat.
“You see,” he cajoled, “you can.”
They copulated over the back of the couch, the girl occasionally muttering the word “nee” but showing no inclination to truly want to stop things. Somehow, the sight of the dead girl invigorated Xavier, adding a fragrance of animalism to the night that had seemed to come to such a screeching halt.
Finished, their bodies covered in sheens of sweat, Xavier turned Erica to him, noting that her eyes were again clenched shut. He brushed her lips with a kiss, telling her to keep their actions to herself. He also whispered that he’d chosen her, and only her, because of her great beauty.
Even an untruthful compliment can melt ice.
Erica managed a smile, reseating her dress as she made a quick trip to the restroom before going back into the bedroom, deceiving her friends by saying she’d helped him with their dead friend’s name and names of relatives.
Now Xavier could relax, again reclining in the chair, drinking a cold beer as the warm afterglow of fresh sex swirled around him.
As he waited, he glanced down at the beautiful dead girl next to him, regretting that he’d not been able to enjoy her before she died.
Pity.
* * *
An hour later, after a heated exchange over his exorbitant fee, Cortez Redon ingested a double shot of scotch, following it with a strong peppermint. He crunched the mint, taking a sip of water, repeating the script he’d created in his mind in a whisper. When he’d run through it twice, he frowned importantly and nodded at Fausto. “Bring them out.”
Fausto opened the door and said a few words to the girls. The quartet sheepishly exited the bedroom. Several of them gasped when they saw their friend, despite her now being covered with a sheet. Redon looked upon the girls admiringly, remembering what Xavier had said about the orgy that had just begun at the moment of the young lady’s untimely, drug-induced passing. Their presence, and intoxicating smell, caused Redon to make a mental note, reminding himself of the wicked treasures that could be had in Lloret this time of year, especially at the misdemeanor detention center.
When Redon was just a young prosecutor, he’d habitually pop in and spring a cute coed or two with a quick bribe or a few threats. Afterward, free and clear of charges, they were as pliable as plumber’s putty, willing to do all sorts of things to express thanks for their liberation.
The good old days.
He snapped his fingers, speaking English. “Just line up right there. Face me.”
He waited until all eight cried-out eyes joined his.
“The gentleman you came here to…visit tonight has been arrested for felony possession of cocaine. He called someone in the local coroner’s office he thought was a friend when your friend here passed away. I suppose he thought he could hide her death.” Redon shook his head and clucked his tongue. “But that so-called friend at the coroner’s office thankfully took such lawlessness seriously. And that’s why the man you were here doing drugs with is now looking at seven years in prison.”
“Who are you?” asked the tallest girl. Though her makeup was gone, Redon found her quite delicious, warring with himself not to be flirtatious.
Removing his credentials, Redon stepped forward, holding them close to every girl’s eye as he swept down their small line. “My name is Cortez Redon, and I’m the top acusador in the state of Catalonia. I’m an officer of the court, and of the law. We’ve had Señor Espinosa on our radar for some time,” Redon s
aid, lying about Xavier’s last name. “And tonight begins his retribution to the society he has harmed for so long with his illegal drugs.” Redon tapped his foot. “But now I am puzzled as to what I shall do with you four.”
“But we didn’t do anything wrong,” the tall blonde protested.
Redon smiled thinly. “My dear, you were taking illegal drugs. There are enough narcotics here that I can charge each of you with intent to distribute. You were also in possession of drug paraphernalia. And, most damning, an attempt was made to illegally dispose of a corpse, along with a potential for those charges to elevate to some sort of wrongful death. If I so desire, I can easily push for time in one of our roughest prisons.” He narrowed his eyes. “Just imagine what the prisoners, and the guards, would do for a chance at a lovingly innocent Dutch girl.”
“We didn’t do any of that,” the blonde pleaded. “We just came here to visit.”
“You came here to have an orgía,” Redon snapped, turning his nose up as if even mentioning the word somehow dirtied him. “This, of course, will be a portion of your official arrest reports and, because of Señor Espinosa’s high profile and the many leaks with the local police, the media will certainly run with it.” He spread his hands above him. “Just think of the headlines and news stories—bevy of Dutch girls in five-on-one sex romp with Spain’s largest drug dealer.” Redon jolted, as if something occurred to him, whispering to himself but purposefully loud enough for the girls to hear. “So that’s why his attorney insisted that he be immediately examined by a doctor. They’re going to collect DNA from his genitals and try to implicate those he copulated with.”
Redon glanced up sharply, seeing looks of abject horror on the faces of two girls: the striking blonde and the slightly pudgy one with brown hair. It was all he could do not to laugh.
A few of the girls began to cry. The tall blonde shook her head, eyeing Redon as she pleaded with her eyes. One girl covered her face in her hands.
Let it burn…
Let it burn…
When they eventually began commiserating with one another in Dutch, Redon spoke loudly as he pinched his chin in a pontificating manner. “I suppose there is one possibility for you young ladies not to be implicated.”
They each looked at him as if he were ruler of the world.
Redon gestured to Fausto, standing off to the side. “This gentleman worked for Espinosa, but has been most helpful on this evening. I’d very much like to spare him the indignity of an arrest—as long as he continues to be compliant.” Cocked his eyebrow. “And if you agree to what I’m considering, then I suppose I could afford each of you the same courtesy.”
The girls pleaded in three distinct languages. One girl even fell to her knees.
Perfecto!
Redon explained that he had more than enough evidence to convict Señor Espinosa for numerous crimes dating back over a number of years. Then, as if he were working it all out aloud, he again spoke of his desire to prevent a media circus by choosing to ignore what had happened here tonight. “Because, in actuality, it would take away from Espinosa’s arrest. I don’t want it cheapened by it transforming into a sex story. I want him exposed for the drug-pushing monster he is.” His eyes wandered to the sheet, then to Fausto.
“If you were to drive the girls and,” he gestured to the corpse, “her…back into Lloret, the dead girl could be positioned somewhere on a quiet street, the beach, wherever. Her friends could ‘find’ her and she would simply be pronounced as one of the resort’s many unfortunate tourist overdoses. And I, in my great benevolence, could make a call to Lloret’s jefe de la policía and tell him to resist his urge to scrutinize.”
Redon turned eyes to the women. “I could also tell him to forget the drug tests they typically administer to the friends of the deceased, provided each of you agree to leave quietly and never breathe a word of this to anyone.”
The young ladies eagerly agreed to cooperate. Redon felt they would have done anything he asked.
Fifteen minutes later, after Fausto and the girls deposited the corpse in the trunk of the Mercedes and headed off to find a remote area of Lloret, Xavier exited the bedroom from where he’d listened to Redon’s performance, clapping slowly. “Bravo, Señor Redon! That was a stage-worthy performance.”
Xavier walked into the kitchen, coming back with a brown paper sack weighted down with several stacks of bills. He pulled it back before handing it over, saying, “And you’re certain this won’t be traced back to me?”
“Did you have sex with her?”
“Which one?”
“La chica muerta.”
“I never touched her.”
“Then it won’t come back,” Redon said, taking the bag and setting it aside. He pressed his lips together, smirking at Xavier.
“Why the face?” Xavier asked, lifting the remnants of a beer and drinking it.
“Because the money in that bag is peanuts compared to what you will soon be paying me.”
“What are you talking about?”
“What else was it that you wanted from me?”
Xavier shrugged. “It’s been a long night, Cortez. I don’t feel like solving riddles.”
“Do you recall what you requested of me at the wedding?”
“About tracking a satellite phone.”
Redon nodded.
“What about it?” Xavier snapped.
“After a number of painstaking inquiries, I’ve found a dirty American military general at a joint air base down south in Andalusia.” The acusador took a majestic breath, his face triumphant as he said, “If given a region, he can relay all satellite conversations coming to or from that region. When your man is picked out through computer voice recognition, the general can pinpoint him down to the meter.”
Xavier, seemingly unimpressed, shrugged. “Very good, Cortez…now all we need is the old bastard to make a call.”
Pressing his tongue into the pit of his cheek, Redon trembled with excitement.
“What?” Xavier yelled.
“Well, señor…guess who I had a meeting with on this very evening? Guess who has found a new patsy to insert into Berga? And guess who will be communicating with him…by—satellite—phone?”
“Why didn’t you call me?” Xavier roared. “We could have killed him tonight!”
Redon dismissed this with an effeminate wave of his hand. “The precautions that man takes. I was picked up very far away. They searched me, then drove me to another car, checking for tails the entire way. I had no idea where we would meet.”
“You could have worn a bug.”
Redon shook his head. “They swept me. No phones either. I’d have been brutally killed for trying.”
Xavier cursed.
“You’ve missed the point. As I said, Navarro is back in business. All we do now is pay this American general for his services, and we wait for the call.”
“You’re certain another man is going into Berga?”
“Almost certain. He tried to act disinterested but Navarro has thrown so much money at him, how could he possibly say no?”
“How much money?”
“Millions for the full tenure.”
“Did he pay the others that much?”
“No. It’s an indicator of his fear.”
A flush spread over Xavier Zambrano. His eyes moved all about the villa as he processed everything he had heard. “This is it,” he whispered.
“Pardon?”
“I know it, Cortez. I feel it in my bones. This will be the old prick’s death knell—his fatal mistake.” Xavier’s white teeth gleamed. He opened his arms, leaning back and letting out a victory shriek.
Chapter Nine
As promised, Gage had awoken early and planned their trip after speaking with the hotel’s concierge. That done, he’d found a pay phone and called Colonel Hunter, bringing him up to speed and asking for any information the retired officer might be able to glean from his contacts. Hunter told Gage to call back tomorrow.
He turned his eyes down to Justina, sleeping steadily with her head in his lap. As he swept her hair back from her face, he wondered exactly what this trip might bring. Earlier, before they’d departed, he told her that they would need to pinch their pennies in Paris, drawing laughter from Justina after he’d explained the colloquialism.
“We can just go camping if you’d like,” she’d said. “I just want to spend time with you, with no pressures and no worries.”
But Gage had insisted on Paris. Partly for his own catharsis.
He stared out the window, past the Rhone River, to the hills surrounding the Rhone valley. The last time he’d traveled to France with a woman, he’d gotten her killed. The sudden burst of horrid memories sent a tremor through Gage. He wiped his palms on his shirt, regulating his breathing.
Never again.
Justina stirred, looking up at him. “Where are we?”
“Near Valence, France,” Gage whispered. “Go back to sleep.”
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