by D. V. Berkom
"What do you mean? The money was in Salazar's van, at Salazar's house."
"Yeah. Well, that van was on its way to Anaya's camp in the mountains. It was Salazar's payment to Anaya for a shipment." Frank shook his head. "You really fucked up, Kate. Not only did you steal from Salazar, but in reality, you actually ended up stealing from both of them."
The import of what he said hit me like another blow to the stomach. I was a dead woman. Vincent Anaya wasn't known for his temperate ways. With Salazar, I might have had a slim chance of staying alive. He loved me, once. Didn't he?
A cold-blooded bastard, Anaya's reputation had risen to mythic proportions in the Mexican and Central American drug running communities. No one messed with Anaya. Not unless they had a death wish. Or were incredibly stupid.
Apparently, I fell into the latter category.
Frank pulled his gun from its holster and stepped next to Oggie. He rammed the barrel against his temple. Oggie closed his eyes.
"Where's the money?"
"I told you, I-" He pulled the trigger and I screamed.
Click.
I stared at his hand. The gun hadn't fired.
Frank chuckled as he raised the gun, as if to inspect it. "Hmm. Must not have had a bullet in there. Fancy that." He pulled the slide, chambering a bullet, and held it back against Oggie's head.
"Don't give him the satisfaction, Kate." Oggie practically spat the words out.
Frank sighed and rolled his eyes. "Where's the money?"
"I told you, I don't have it anymore." My voice shook.
"Not the answer I'm looking for."
"Wait-" A sob escaped me. I squeezed my eyes shut. I had to tell him.
But then Frank would kill us both.
Out of nowhere the theme from the 1960s television show Hawaii 5-0 filled the small house.
"Shit," Frank swore under his breath. He pulled his gun away from Oggie's head, reached into his front pocket and took out his cell phone.
"Lanzarotti," he said, as he turned and walked away.
I tried deep breathing to calm myself, but the adrenaline proved too much to conquer. Oggie had his eyes closed. His thin chest rose and fell with his breath. Frank stopped talking and walked back to where we sat, holstering his gun.
"Seriously. Hawaii 5-0, Frank?"
"Why not? At one time I was quite the surfer. Nobody rode the tube like I did."
My shock must have shown. A strangely defensive expression crossed his face.
"Hey, I was a teenager once."
"Were you an asshole then too, or did you grow into it?"
"Fuck you." He produced a switch blade and stepped behind me. I winced, waiting for the pain. It never came. He cut my hands free, then bent down to do the same to my ankles.
"Hands in front," he barked.
I did as I was told. He wrapped duct tape around my wrists, and yanked me to my feet.
"What are you doing?"
"Time to go," he said in a clipped tone.
"Where?"
He didn't answer.
***
Frank parked the SUV in the expansive front drive, under the portico. Salazar's hacienda-style mansion hadn't changed in the short time I'd been gone.
But I had.
I'd known where we were headed as soon as Frank turned onto the familiar highway. The hammering in my chest made it hard to breathe.
Once Frank had secured me in the front seat of the SUV at Oggie's, he'd gone back inside the house. A single gunshot shattered the quiet. I hung my head in despair. The old man was right. Bad spirits surrounded me. I hoped Wild Bill would be all right.
Frank had laid Manny on his good side in the backseat. He'd slipped in and out of consciousness during the long drive. As soon as we arrived, two of Salazar's armed guards hustled out and carried him inside.
Frank came around to my side of the truck, threw open the passenger door and yanked me onto my feet. He dragged me up the tile steps to the huge copper doors leading into the courtyard. The beauty of the setting didn't register. I was Salazar's prisoner.
Again.
Frank shoved me through the door into the cool interior. Salazar's imported Italian gravel crunched under my feet. I used to love coming home to the splashing fountain in the beautiful courtyard. Now it grated on my nerves. The cheerful yellow walls and lush hanging plants had been my idea. How could something that once seemed so good turn so bad?
That's the last time I fall for the head of a drug cartel, I thought. Oddly, the gallows humor made me smile.
I was sick, sick, sick.
"Bring her here."
I looked up to see Salazar standing on the second floor balcony. His dark hair framed his tanned, handsome face, and I reluctantly remembered why I'd fallen for the bastard. Conflicting emotions fought their way to the surface. Revulsion, attraction, fear. I checked, but found no trace of tenderness. There might be hope for me yet.
"Move it," Frank muttered. He grabbed my elbow and pulled me toward the stairway.
My legs wouldn't budge. I'd seen Salazar's men take others up these stairs against their will, and my body froze. I was now one of them.
Frank half-dragged, half carried me up the steps. We reached the second floor. I dug in my heels and dropped to the floor. Frank wheeled around, his face twisted in anger.
"Get up." He reached for his gun.
"I'm not going in there, Frank. People don't come back out." I shook my head and squeezed my eyes shut to stop the tears. Salazar would view crying as a weakness, and he despised weakness.
"Let her go." Salazar stood at the end of the long hallway, smoking a cigarette. His eyes held the same flint-like coldness as when I saw him slit the throat of his friend. It seemed like such a long time ago, although I'd been gone only days. I tried to say something to him, but my mouth had run dry.
Frank released me and I struggled to my feet. I wiped my eyes with the back of my hands and stood tall. Damned if I'd be on my knees when he killed me.
Salazar walked slowly to where I stood. He ran his hand under my jacket, caressing my breast, and smiled. I shivered, though not from desire. I thought my head would explode from the searing hatred that coursed through my body. I fought to keep my expression neutral.
Salazar made a tsking sound as he circled me like a wolf with its prey.
"You disappoint me, mi corazón." He leaned against the balcony railing, and shook his head. "I give you all this-" He spread his arms wide. "-and you repay me with betrayal. Not only that, but you have betrayed Vincent Anaya, and at the same time trampled my name in the dust." He stared into the distance. His jaw flexed.
I didn't say anything. He would not let me speak unless and until he gave his permission. I'd seen a similar game with those below him in the pecking order, although it was different with me. Not only had I betrayed him, but in his world, a woman would never leave him. His enemies would view this as a crack in his control of the organization.
Frank stood by at a discreet distance, hands clasped in front of him. The perfect soldier, I thought. Just in case the crazy American woman did something stupid, like hurl herself off the balcony into the courtyard below.
I had to admit, it occurred to me. If I could have guaranteed myself no broken bones, I'd have launched myself over the railing as soon as Frank let me go.
Salazar turned to Frank and muttered something about whether he had recovered the money, to which Frank replied that he hadn't. Salazar gave him a dark look. "Anaya's waiting by the pool. I will be there shortly." Frank nodded and left. To me he said, "Walk with me."
Salazar's voice was deceptively gentle. I mirrored his slow, deliberate steps down the long corridor.
"You know I have to make an example of you, yes?" He glanced at me, as if to gauge my reaction.
"Actually, Roberto, you could prove your great strength by letting me go free. Only the most confident of men would let his woman go in peace, with no need for revenge." It took a tremendous amount of effort to keep my v
oice steady.
Salazar erupted into laughter. Not the reaction I'd hoped for.
He wiped his eyes and draped his arm around my shoulders. "I have missed your unique way of thinking. It's so refreshing."
We stopped next to a closed, wooden door. He pushed it open and we entered the room. I tried to calm the voices inside my head, urging me to turn and run. I knew if I tried anything, things would turn out far worse.
The smell of fresh paint still permeated the air, and the tile floor looked like it had recently been scrubbed. The desk and chair in the corner belied the room's true function.
There were no windows. Illumination came from a bank of track lighting along the ceiling. On the wall opposite the door hung various lengths of chain with leather cuffs attached to the ends. These chains were connected to a pulley that dropped from the ceiling. My former body guard, Eduardo, sat at a large console with rows of buttons in the middle of the room.
Eduardo stared straight ahead, avoiding my eyes. At the end, he'd been the one shining example of humanity in this madhouse of ego and greed. He always excused himself from Salazar's "meetings" and I'd never seen him raise a hand to anyone. If I ever needed a person to talk to, he was always there to listen.
And, he taught me to shoot.
He'd been the one who showed me how to handle every kind of weapon Salazar possessed, including a machete. The other guards called me mujer Americana loca because of my dedication to target practice. I liked being referred to as crazy. People left me alone.
I cherished my time with Eduardo.
The fact that Salazar chose him to perform whatever torture he'd devised for me spoke volumes. But of course, he would blame Eduardo for my escape. He was my body guard. He'd been assigned not only to protect me, but to watch me, too.
"Eduardo has been given the task to find out where you hid the money." Salazar walked to the wall of chains and lifted one, inspecting the cuff. "He has my permission to use any means necessary to extract your confession." He stared hard at Eduardo, then at me. "Any means. Although, I have ordered him to keep you alive. For now."
"I don't have the-"
"Silence!" Salazar's expression held a sharp warning. I swallowed my words.
As Salazar walked out, he paused for a moment to whisper something in Eduardo's ear, then moved past me and closed the door with unnerving finality. The room started to spin and I placed my hands against the wall to steady myself. I wondered briefly what would happen if I fainted.
Eduardo rose immediately and came to my side. He guided me to a chair and lowered me into it. Old habits, I thought. I leaned back and watched the only person I'd thought of as a friend during my time here. I'd been wrong about that, too.
"Eduardo, please-"
He held his finger to his lips, a warning in his eyes. Silently, he slipped over to listen at the door. After a few moments he came back and squatted in front of me.
"You know that Salazar or one of his guards is outside that door, listening for your screams," he whispered. I nodded, unsure what he was getting at.
"We have to make this look real, like you've been tortured in the extreme, or Salazar will replace me with someone who is not sympathetic to you. ¿Tu comprendes?" Again, I nodded that I understood.
"I will have to use some electricity to shock you." He glanced at the console in the middle of the room. "I can make it so that you only feel a light jolt, but you must moan and carry on as if it's the most excruciating thing you've ever experienced." A vein throbbed in his neck. "But first you have to tell me what you did with the money."
My body tensed. So that's the way we were going to play it. Good body guard, pretending to be bad, but getting the information all the same. If I broke down and told Eduardo where I hid the money, there would be no reason to keep me alive. If I didn't tell him, I'd be alive, at least for a little while. Only then Salazar would replace Eduardo with some sadistic creep who'd be happy to draw out the pain.
Eduardo reached over and took my taped hands in his, looking deeply into my eyes.
"I am not going to let them kill you, if I can help it. You must trust me."
An idea began to formulate in my brain. Why hadn't I thought of it before?
In a low voice I said, "Frank stole the money."
Eduardo looked surprised for a moment, then a slight smile played at the edges of his mouth. "You're lying."
"What do you mean? He took the money."
Eduardo shook his head. "Your eyes move to the right when you lie. Remember that when Salazar questions you." He thought for a minute. "They'll confront Frank. They have to. Salazar and Anaya are already paranoid about each other. If you cast doubt on Frank, it will buy us time."
I didn't know why Eduardo thought more time would help my situation, but I would work with whatever he decided. At the moment, he was my only chance.
"We need to begin. Someone will come in to see why I haven't started yet."
Eduardo led me to the wall of chains. He cut through the duct tape that bound my wrists and then slid a cuff over each one, securing them. Little wires sprouted from each cuff, attached to a larger wire that had been threaded through the chain attached to the ceiling. The rest of the wiring ran to the console. He walked back to the controls and flicked a switch. The chain started to clank its way through the pulley, and as the slack decreased, it lifted my arms over my head, stretching me so that my toes barely touched the floor.
The first shock came as a complete surprise. I didn't have to pretend to scream. My muscles contracted and I jerked like a fish on a line. I glared at Eduardo.
"Where's the money?"
"I told you, Frank stole it." My voice came out shaky at first, but grew stronger.
Another shock wracked my body, this time less intense, but still nothing I wanted to repeat. It reminded me of the time I'd accidently grabbed onto an electric fence on a friend's farm. I screamed, hoping it matched what others had done before me. By the look on Eduardo's face, I was convincing.
"Where's the money?" Eduardo raised his voice.
"Frank has it," I said, through clenched teeth.
The shocks continued before finally he signaled to me that I needed to ratchet up the screams. The next bolt of electricity shot through me. My fingers curled in on themselves as my body contracted with the current. I broke out in a cold sweat as I threw my head back and screamed.
"Where's the money, Kate?" Eduardo's voice echoed off the walls of the small room.
"I- told you." The words came out in a ragged gasp. "Frank."
Eduardo nodded and rose from his chair. I heard the door slam as he walked out. My arms had no feeling left in them. My shoulders throbbed as though they'd been dislocated from their sockets. I hung my head, too weak to look up. I realized he had to do what he did, and shuddered to think what the real thing would be like.
Eduardo returned a few minutes later. Or maybe it had been a few hours. I'd drifted.
"Look at me." A hand grabbed my chin and yanked my head up. I opened my eyes and stared into Salazar's face. The anger in his eyes would have made me weak in the knees, if I wasn't there already.
"You told Eduardo that Frank stole the money?"
I nodded.
He dropped my chin and began to pace.
"Anaya will never believe it," Salazar muttered.
"Of course not." Eduardo replied. "Don't you see? It's the perfect alibi. Why take her word against his?"
"Yes, yes, I see. But we can't accuse him in front of Anaya. He would kill us both for the insult, even if it is true." He stopped pacing. "You're sure she's telling the truth?"
"She didn't change her story, even when I gave her the highest voltage I could without killing her."
Salazar's breathing was the only sound in the room.
"Take her down."
***
I struggled out of the dim fog that shrouded my brain. They'd left me lying on a bed in a dark room with the shades drawn. Disoriented, I sat up and slid backwa
rd on the mattress until the headboard stopped me.
Something thudded against the door. I froze, holding my breath as I strained to hear.
Silence.
With difficulty, I rose from the bed and groped my way to the door. I thought I heard movement in the hallway. I tried the light switch, but nothing happened.
I slid my hand along the wall, and backed away from the door. First a chair, then a dresser impeded my progress. Neither of them held anything I could use as a weapon. There wasn't even a telephone.
The sound of a key being inserted into the lock had the same effect on me as an electric shock; both my muscles and my breathing stopped. I recovered and backed against the wall, wanting desperately to hide, knowing I didn't have a chance. I slid to the floor and curled into a ball.
The door opened, followed by the thud of more than one set of footsteps. Several hands grabbed my arms and hauled me to my feet. A ripping sound preceded a piece of tape slapped over my mouth. I couldn't get a good look at anyone, even with the light from the hallway. Each of them wore dark clothing and a ski mask.
Then someone yanked a hood over my head.
My executioners had arrived.
Last Chance (Chapter 4)
The hood over my head disoriented me and I stumbled, but my captors held me steady. Unable to do anything except try to stay on my feet, I didn't have time to think about what was happening. The group moved me through the hacienda with a silent swiftness that left me wondering why Salazar would want to keep my execution quiet.
We stopped, and someone threaded a strap of some sort underneath my arms and cinched it tight across my chest. Someone else stood behind me and wrapped their arms around my waist in an iron grip. We frog marched a short distance, then they lifted me off my feet and pulled me backward over what must have been the second floor railing. The falling sensation hit me hard, but a zipping sound told me we were connected to something that would break our landing.
We reached the ground, and the strap around my chest loosened. Other sets of feet hit the gravel in addition to the one who had a hold of my arm. We'd gone maybe ten steps when the first pop of gunfire echoed through the compound.