by Brock Booher
Angelica dropped the skateboard and hugged Julio. “I was worried sick about you,” she said, squeezing him and holding him close. “I was concerned when I saw you with the gang, but when I heard the gunshots, I was mortified.” She released Julio and stepped back with wide eyes. “What happened?”
Julio sighed and picked up his skateboard. He stared at the ground. “I tricked los mALditos into thinking that they could get money from Isak.” He shook his head. “I thought they would be a good distraction, and I was hoping that Isak would teach them a lesson, maybe scare them away.” He looked up at the drizzling sky and took a deep breath. “Isak taught them a lesson, all right.” He looked at Angelica and shook his head. “He killed them. He shot Sergio and Turco.”
Angelica shook her finger at Julio. “That’s not your fault. They punched you in the stomach. I saw them. Their type brings trouble on themselves and eventually they get more than they bargain for.”
“But they let me go, and Isak still shot them,” he whispered.
Angelica shook her head. “You didn’t pull the trigger. Isak did.”
Julio put his face in his hands. Angelica embraced him again and pulled his head onto her shoulder. “It’s okay,” she whispered as she rocked him back and forth. “It’s not your fault. It’s okay,” she continued to whisper.
Julio hugged her for several minutes as he regained his composure. At last he released her and exhaled sharply. “So, you got in,” he said.
Angelica smiled. “I got in.”
“How did you know when to open the door?”
“Simple. I put my ear to the back door and listened for Isak’s footsteps.” She chuckled. “His feet are so big it’s easy to hear him.”
“Did you have any trouble planting the mole?”
She looked at him with feigned shock. “Trouble? I planted it and was out of there in less than two minutes, just like riding a bicycle.”
“What do you think we will find?”
Angelica shrugged. “I hope we finally get the hard evidence we need to stop them.”
“Oh, I almost forgot,” said Julio. “Comandante Ugarteche showed up as the investigator.”
Angelica’s eyes grew wide. “Did he say anything to Isak?”
Julio shook his head. “If he did, he didn’t say it in front of me.”
“Good. Maybe we can trust him to help us, once we have something concrete.”
Julio rubbed the chip in his left hand. “How long do you think it will take Martín to find what we’re looking for?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe a day or two.”
Julio reached out and took Angelica’s hands in his and looked into her eyes. “Promise me something,” he demanded.
Angelica chewed at her bottom lip. The drops of mist clung to her eyelashes. “If I can.”
Julio squeezed her hands. “If Martín doesn’t find anything by Sunday night, we go to Doctor Barilla and get the chips removed. Deal?”
Angelica squeezed back. “Deal.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
La Herida
(The Wound)
The gray light of the morning struggled past the black plastic window coverings as Julio awoke with a start. He sat up in bed and looked over at Raúl’s mat, but it was empty. He collapsed back onto his thin bed mat and stared at the concrete ceiling, watching the morning light grow progressively stronger until hunger compelled him to move.
He arose and dressed methodically. His jacket was still damp, but he had nothing else to wear, so he pulled it over his head ignoring the damp smell. He grabbed his skateboard and backpack and shuffled down the stairs. Doctor Barilla’s kitchen was dark and quiet. The metal door scraped against the uneven concrete as he shoved it open and stepped onto his skateboard.
He was hungry, but instead of going to buy breakfast first, Julio skated over to El Infierno. The plastic crate where Turco sat was empty. Julio skated to the front entrance and listened. The abandoned warehouse was quiet and dark. He tucked his board under his arm and ducked inside.
He crept up the stairs listening for any activity, but when he reached the top, he found the entire place deserted. He walked over to the fire pit, stepping over food wrappers and discarded bottles. He kicked the black ash with his foot. The fire had been out for hours.
The abandoned building didn’t look so menacing in the daylight. He could see several makeshift sleeping mats made of old fabric scraps scattered among the unsalvageable sewing machines. He walked over to the elevator shaft and surveyed the famed structure that gave the hideout its name. The smell of rotting fabric and urine burned his nose as he approached the open door, but he continued closer. He could see the mound of fabric scraps and the opening to the drainage pipe. He shuddered as he remembered crawling through the filth to get out of hell. At the top of the shaft hung a pulley and broken cable. In the dim light of the morning, he noticed a metal ladder mounted in the wall to his left that would have been impossible to see in the dark. He shook his head. He could have simply climbed out of the shaft that night if he had known. He turned and looked out the window. Raúl, where are you?
He descended to the street and skated to the supermarket for breakfast. The market was busy on a Saturday morning, and the crowd made him nervous, like someone was watching him. He bought a pastry and a small bottle of milk and skated to the plaza to eat. He stared at the passing crowd halfway expecting Raúl to come skating by with los mALditos, but the only person he recognized was the security guard from Roky’s.
His phone vibrated. It was a text from Angelica. Meet me at Martín’s. NOW.
On my way. He tossed the empty bottle in the trash and hopped on his skateboard.
Angelica was leaning against the front of the store when Julio skated up. When she saw him approaching, she rushed to meet him and hugged him before he could even get off his board. After an excited hug, she grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the door. “Come on! Martín says he found the evidence we need to expose Caritas.” Her eyes sparkled.
Julio grabbed his skateboard without letting go of Angelica’s hand, and let her pull him inside. Martín’s lanky frame was hunched over his computer as usual when they hurried through the door. As soon as they were inside, she locked the front door and turned the sign over to close the store.
“So? The mole I planted worked, right?” asked Angelica.
“Like I told you,” said Martín as he still typed at his keyboard, “physical access is total access.”
“And what did you find?” prodded Angelica.
Martín looked up from his computer screen and stretched his arms like he had been in front of the screen all night. His normally clean-shaven face was covered in uneven stubble, and his eyes were red. His Yankees ball cap was pushed back on his head exposing his thinning hair, but he was grinning from ear to ear. “I told you I was right!” he said as he shook a finger at Julio. “That chip inside of you is amazing.” He stood and grabbed Angelica’s hand. “That little chip,” he said, pointing to the space between Angelica’s thumb and forefinger, “can be programmed to control your spending, track you wherever you go, monitor your vital signs, and monitor your blood for alcohol and drugs.” He pointed at Julio with his free hand. “Just like we thought, it also has a tiny dose of flunitrazepam, a sedative, built into it that can be released on command. That is how they got to Graciela. They knocked her out and then showed up to finish the job in person.”
“Bueno, we believe you about the chip, but then what? Why did they kill Graciela?” asked Angelica.
Martín released Angelica and began pacing. “According to the emails, it is just like we suspected. They are harvesting organs, but it is more elaborate than that.” He stopped pacing and talked faster. “They chip street kids here in Lima and give them a little bit of money each day—enough to live on. They give them health care, schooling, and an opportunity at a life.” He began pacing again, waving his arms as he continued to explain. “Then they sell some sort of organ-insurance policy t
o rich people over in Europe. Apparently a lot of Europeans opt out of the presumed consent law and the demand for organs is greater than the supply. The poor kids enrolled in Caritas are simply a live organ pool. They get an opportunity at a great life, until some rich kid in Europe needs a kidney, then the chip sedates them and they get chopped up for organs.”
Julio felt the blood drain from his face.
Martín sat down at his computer. “This would never have worked a few years ago, but now they can keep the organs alive during transport, or just transport the body using the same technology.” He pushed back his cap and shook his head. “It looks they harvest most of the organs at the Caritas facility, or at least prepare the body. They can get an organ, or an entire body, all the way around the world without losing the ability to transplant it.”
Angelica fumed. “I knew it,” she hissed.
Martín continued, “It’s actually a brilliant system. I’ve seen the actuary tables and they have done the math. For every one child that they harvest, they can feed, clothe, and teach almost one hundred needy street children.” He smiled. “And make a tidy profit on the side, not to mention the money from the United Nations. All of that money is gratis—icing on the cake. To top it all off, since Caritas membership is voluntary, everything they are doing falls within the bounds of international law. Unless they harvest someone outside of Caritas, they’re practically untouchable.”
He rubbed his hands together like he was about to eat his favorite dessert. “So I focused on what I do best. I couldn’t hack into Isak’s personal account, but they have over fifty thousand euros in the Caritas account.”
“Okay, Martín, enough,” said Angelica. “How do we stop them? What do we need to do to shut them down?”
Martín adjusted his Yankees hat and shook his head. “I’m not sure we can.”
“What?” screamed Angelica. “You said you found the evidence we needed.”
Martín waved a finger in Angelica’s face. “No, I said I found proof that the chip was controlling you.” He sat down at his computer and pulled up a window. “If you look at the agreements that you signed when you joined, you agreed to allow your organs to be harvested in the event of your death, and even then the laws of presumed consent take over. Even though it’s very likely that Graciela was sedated by the chip, we don’t have any real proof. The only paper trail they left was the insurance policies and the sale of her organs, which by current international law, was perfectly legal. Again, unless they harvest someone outside of Caritas, they are practically untouchable. It’s a lot of information to sift through, and it looks like foul play, but it’s mostly circumstantial evidence. Nothing like irrefutable evidence.”
“What about Ariano?” asked Angelica. “He was knifed.”
Martín shook his head. “The police found nothing. His organs were harvested and sent to Europe.”
“And Joselín?”
Martín shrugged. “No mention of her.”
Julio sat on his skateboard and put his head in his hands. “What about Sergio and Turco? I saw Doctor Kozyar hooking them up to some sort of machine after they died.”
Martín typed at his keyboard. “I don’t see any record of them, but I could dig a little deeper.”
“Bueno. Print out the evidence you do have,” said Angelica, undeterred. “Julio and I will find someone to help us.”
Martín shook his head. “No, I have other plans.”
“Other plans? What do you mean?”
Martín pointed at his computer screen. “Come here and look at this.”
Angelica gave Julio a puzzled look and approached Martín’s off-limits computer desk. When she leaned in to see the computer screen, Martín reached up with something black in his hand and held it to Angelica’s neck. Julio heard a series of short pops, and Angelica collapsed to the ground with a groan. Her arms and legs were twitching involuntarily.
It took a second to register in Julio’s mind. He just tased her. Julio jumped to his feet, but as soon as he moved to save her, Martín put the black weapon to her neck and gave her another shock.
“Come any closer and I’ll do it again,” threatened Martín.
Julio stopped, but he looked around for something he could use to disarm Martín. The display counter only had a few cell phones. His skateboard would work, but by the time he got close, Angelica would get shocked several times. He stood there feeling helpless as Martín rolled Angelica over and bound her hands with plastic restraints like Comandante Ugarteche had used on Julio.
Having regained some of her control, Angelica tried to scream, but it sounded more like a stifled groan. She kicked her feet. Julio flinched when Martín shocked her again and then stuffed a rag in her mouth.
Martín rested on one knee beside Angelica and held the Taser to the back of her neck. He looked up at Julio and pushed his Yankees cap back on his head. “Now that I have your attention, here’s what you’re going to do for me. You will go to the bank at the plaza, Groupe BPCE, and you are going to withdraw some money for me. I have removed the restrictions on your chip and given you access to all the money in the Caritas’s account. So you shouldn’t have any trouble. I want fifty thousand euros on a free chip. Use my name as the password. When you bring it back here, I will release Angelica.”
Julio clenched his teeth. “Huevón. I never did trust you.”
“Smart boy, but you were stupid enough to trust Isak and Caritas.” Martín held the Taser to Angelica’s neck. “You have thirty minutes, and if you try anything, I will trigger the drug in her chip and then in your chip. Then Isak can come carry you both off and chop you both up.” He waved the Taser at the door. “Now go, before I lose my patience.”
Julio looked down at Angelica and could see the fear and anger in her eyes. He wanted to run over and set her free, but he knew that Martín would have both of them both tased and tied before it was all over, not to mention activated the chip sedative. Then it dawned on him that Martín couldn’t get the money himself. He needed Julio or Angelica to make the withdrawal.
Julio picked up his skateboard, but instead of leaving, he faced Martín. “I’ll go get you the money, but if you want me to deliver it to you, you have to give me all the information about Caritas on a flash drive in exchange. I want copies of emails, information about the chip, medical records, everything.” Julio glanced down at Angelica and thought he saw her smile.
“Fair enough, but if you try and double-cross me, you might find yourself suddenly getting sleepy.” He pressed the Taser to Angelica’s neck. “If you are late, I will tase her every minute until you get back.”
Still clenching his teeth, Julio nodded and looked at the clock on his cell phone before hurrying out into the street. He kissed the Saint Michael’s pendant, made a running start with the board, and kicked like he was being chased by los mALditos again. He made it to the bank in four minutes.
This time he knew the drill. He swiped his chip and entered, nodding at the guard as he tried to catch his breath. He handed off his backpack and cell phone to the front counter and got in line for a teller. Fortunately, it wasn’t very crowded, and within a couple of minutes, he was face to face with the same teller that had helped him a few days ago, and her eyes sparkled with recognition.
“How can I help you today?” she asked with a genuine smile today.
“I need to withdraw some more money,” answered Julio as he swiped his chip over the sensor. “Can you tell me the balance on my account?”
“Certainly.” When she looked at her screen, she wrinkled her forehead for a moment. She squirmed in her seat but regained composure and smiled. “Let me jot down the balance for you.” She scribbled on a small piece of notepaper and slid the paper across the counter for Julio.
Julio read the figure on the note and had to suppress his surprise—€ 52,321.47. He took a deep breath to stay calm and asked the teller, “How much is available for withdrawal?”
She looked at the screen and shrugged. “It app
ears that all of it is available.”
“Good. I want to withdraw all of it and put it on a free chip.”
The teller leaned forward and whispered, “Well, sir, if you do that, you have no protection, except for the password. That is a great deal of money, and I wouldn’t recommend it. I think it would be safer if you left it controlled by the smart money chip in your hand—”
“I know. It’s just that . . .” He knew he couldn’t tell anyone the truth. They would never believe him. “Well, when Mamá died she left me some money, but she left my uncle in charge of the account.” He put on a pitiful face. “I am sad to say that my uncle has been stealing money from me. This is the only way to protect my money from him.”
“Well, we could change the account protocols,” said the teller as she studied the screen. “No . . . it appears that this account is locked out.”
Julio leaned forward. “Like I told you. This is the only way.”
“Do you have a chip disguise already?” she asked, still speaking in a low voice.
“No, I need one. Do you have a silver crucifix?”
“We do. Are you sure you want all of the money on one chip?”
Julio fingered the Saint Michael pendant around his neck. “Let’s put fifty thousand euros on the crucifix, and the rest on my personal one.”
The teller arranged the transactions, and after the obligatory hand scan, Julio walked out of the bank with over fifty thousand euros around his neck. He wondered what would happen when all the other participants from Caritas tried to use their money chips. The transaction would most likely be denied, and they would go hungry, but that was better than the alternative. He stepped on his board and kicked down the street, anxious to save Angelica. He checked the clock on his phone. He had only been gone fifteen minutes.
He stopped. He needed a moment to think. He had only one chance to get this right. If he gave Martín the crucifix before he freed Angelica, she would never get free. They would have to make the exchange at the same time. How do I keep Martín from sedating us both before we get away? He dug into his backpack and pulled out the glove Martín had given him to shield the signal. He wasn’t sure if it would work, but it was his only chance. He slipped it over his left hand before he skated back to make the exchange.