He put his other hand over her mouth, stifling her screams, and said, "Take all the time you wish, Liesbet. Danielle and I are in no hurry." Still squeezing her breast, he removed his left hand from her mouth and ripped his briefs away as she continued to scream, her eyes wide with fear. "We are just getting started, Danielle and I."
The screen went black.
"Bastard," Marie said. "We will make him scream like that."
"That's fine; he's got it coming. But that wasn't Dani."
"You are sure? She looked like Dani to me, but the picture wasn't so good."
"Yes. She's never called me Liesbet in her life; she certainly wouldn't under those circumstances. And she probably wouldn't have called herself Danielle, either. Besides, she would have spat in his face after he slapped her. Dani would have teased him for hitting like a girl; that's one of her favorite lines for provoking would-be tough guys."
"But in that situation, what woman would provoke — "
"Come on, Marie. This is Dani we're talking about."
Marie shook her head and thought for a minute. "Yes, I think you are right. He has made me angry, that one. It clouds my judgment."
Chapter 20
Lucas was driving home from his office when his cellphone rang. "Lucas," he answered.
"Is this Detective Constable Lucas?"
"Yes. Who is this?"
"I'm calling for Mary Jordan; she's here in the emergency room. Just a second."
Rattled, Lucas pulled onto the shoulder of the road.
"Zack?"
"Yes. Mary? What's up?"
"She got me."
"What? Who got you?"
"Her. In the parking lot. She was in my car, and ... "
"Mary? Hey! Mary?"
"Sorry, detective." Lucas recognized the woman who had placed the call for Jordan. "Ms. Jordan drifted off; it's probably because of the painkillers, but she wanted us to get you on the phone."
"What happened?"
"As best we can piece things together, she was visiting two women who work with her, and when she went to get in her car here in the parking lot, somebody attacked her. She was beaten badly, but she's going to be okay. She may have a limp from the shattered kneecap, but other than that — "
"When did this happen?"
"Well, she was found maybe half an hour ago. It's visiting hours, so there's a good bit of traffic in and out of the parking lot. She probably wasn't lying there too long. I — "
"How long before I can talk to her?"
"They're going to move her to a ward now. She's in and out, because of the pain medication, but you can see her anytime. Wait ... she wants the phone."
"Zack?"
"Yeah?"
"The Cuban woman ... can you come?"
"Yeah. Ten minutes."
Lucas pulled back onto the road, his tires squealing as he made a U-turn across traffic. He pulled into the hospital parking lot a few minutes later and found a spot next to Jordan's car. He parked and got out, hurrying over to her car, his eyes scanning the gravel parking lot beneath the driver's door, looking for anything she might have dropped.
He saw a blinding flash of light and felt himself falling. As he hit the ground, he felt the pain in his temple from the blow that had stunned him. Semi-conscious, he didn't resist as someone pulled his arms behind him and cuffed his wrists. He sensed that he was being dragged, and heard a car door close. He drifted off as the car began to move.
He had no idea how much time had passed when he was roused by a sharp slap to his cheek. He shook his head, trying to clear it, and realized with alarm that he couldn't see. "What — "
"Cállate, cabrón. Maricón chingao, shut up, you fuckin' faggot."
He knew as soon as she spoke; the Spanish obscenities gave away more than her accent. "Look, I'll — "
He gasped in pain; something hard was forced into his upper belly, just below his breast bone. Probably a baton, he thought, remembering the two guards. She kept it there and applied pressure. He pictured her leaning on it, driving it into his solar plexus.
"You will see what it is to be beaten when you are helpless, cabrón, but if you do what I say, maybe I will not break the knees, yes?"
He grunted as she worked the baton again.
"Entiendes, mamalón? You understand, motherfucker?"
"Yes," he groaned, "Sí, señora."
"Está bien, cabrón. Those three men, the ones you had to take the Berger woman, who is it they were working for?"
"A man named Theodore Barron. But — " he gasped as she thrust the baton into his stomach again.
"Dónde está, this Barron? Where I can find him?"
"A nightclub on the southern outskirts of Castries, going toward Marigot. The only one; he owns it."
"Okay, cabrón. Now you learn what is to have the beating, like you make the Berger woman."
He heard a tearing sound, followed by a brief ripping noise. It was familiar; he was still trying to identify it when he felt her put duct tape over his mouth. As she did that, he realized that she had taped his eyes while he was unconscious earlier; he was momentarily relieved that he wasn't blind, but then the pain began.
He heard the whistle of the baton as it ripped through the air, accompanied each time by a grunt of exertion from the woman. Each grunt was followed by an instant flash of white-hot agony as her blow found its mark. Soon, he was lost in a world of pain; he prayed for oblivion. Periodically, the blows would stop, and he would think it was over, only to hear her shift her position to begin anew.
****
"You think we should call Lanjwani before we go?" Liz asked.
Marie thought for a moment, her lips in a pout. "No, but perhaps we should go now."
"You mean not wait until three?"
"Yes. Waiting until three, we would hit them when they were tired, asleep. But if we go right now, they will not be expecting it, and we might save the woman. Whoever she is, she doesn't deserve that treatment. If we move quickly, they will be congratulating themselves for what they think they have done and waiting for you to call."
"You're not talking about sneaking in, then?"
"We may still sneak in, but we will not hide our presence, once we are among them."
"We're likely to have to kill some of them; there are too many, if Lanjwani's there with the six men whose passports we have."
"This is troubling to you? After what you saw that animal — "
"No, Marie. You misunderstand. Only two things bother me. First, we need guns; the odds are bad for knives, especially at this time of night. They'll probably all be awake."
"Yes. That is not a problem; we have silenced pistols in the secret compartment in the bilge. What else?"
"The bodies. I don't think it's a good idea to leave that kind of scene for the police to find."
"Ah! Of course, this is so. But there is no worry. The team will clean up behind us. There will be no bodies. Anything else?"
"Yes. We need Lanjwani alive, at least long enough to find out what he knows about Dani."
"We both know him by sight; if we must shoot him, we will be careful, yes?"
"Yes. I think we should try to get inside as if they were asleep — not by breaking down a door," Liz said.
Marie nodded. "I agree. How do you think we should approach?"
"I think from the rear," Liz said. "We can go out the marina gate and follow the road to our left, like we're headed for the village of Gros Islet. There's a building where they sell cellphones behind the hardware store. If we cut through there, behind the hardware store, we should come out on the boundary of Lanjwani's property, between his residential compound and the back of the store. The stairs to the apartment must be back there; they aren't on the front."
"They could be in the store," Marie said.
"Maybe, but I doubt it, because he has rented out the upstairs in the past. There's probably outside access."
"Good. You are right, I think. I will go first," Marie said. "You keep me
in sight, but stay far enough back to keep a clear field of fire. If there is a sentry on the stairs, I will take him out and wave to you to come. If there is no sentry, follow me up the stairs, but if there is a landing, stay one flight behind me and cover me, yes?"
"Okay," Liz said. "Can you pick the lock?"
Marie smiled. "But of course. You will cover me while I do that. When you see me nod, I will crack the door open and slip in on my belly. You come in behind me and stay high. I take the right half of the room, and you take the left, you think?"
"Sounds good. Let me put on some dark clothes. You need anything?"
Marie shook her head. "No. While you change, I will get the pistols from the bilge."
****
Theodore Barron sat on the couch in his office, eyes glued to the wide-screen television on the opposite wall. Selwyn Graves stood next to the couch, to Barron's left, watching the video he had just made.
"She is very convincing," Barron said. Graves had continued recording after the uploaded clip was finished, and unlike the upload, this recording was high definition and full color. "We can use this to help sell her, when the time comes."
"She needs some taming, yet," Graves said.
"She looks to be under control, here. What do you mean?"
"She fought like a cat when I let her out of the chair. I had to damage her. Melinda thinks she will heal, but she's useless for now."
"It looks like you were able to use her, all right."
"Yes, before all the swelling set in. And Melinda had to take several stitches where she was torn. Trust me, she isn't usable now. After the stiches come out, we will see."
Intent on the video, neither man had seen the door open. By the time Graves saw a flicker of motion in the reflection on the screen and turned his head, the baton struck the bridge of his nose and he collapsed across Barron's outstretched legs.
Barron dumped his stunned bodyguard to the floor as he tried to stand, but the woman drove her foot into the side of his knee with her weight behind it. He went down screaming just as Graves got to his feet. Graves dove for Barron's desk and snatched the stiletto that Barron used for a letter opener. He spun to confront the woman, who grinned and said, "Nice try, cabrón. Perhaps your culo need some stitches after I put the baton in. You like it en el culo, yes?"
As he lunged at her with the stiletto, she brought the baton down on his wrist. He screamed and dropped his weapon, grasping his shattered wrist with his left hand. She scooped up the stiletto and in one smooth motion drove it up under his chin, through his soft palate, and into his brain. As he convulsed, losing control of his bladder and bowels, she turned to the still-screaming Barron.
"Cállate, maricón. Shut up, or I will put the baton up yours, since your lover boy can't play with us."
His eyes wide, Barron scrunched back against the couch, moaning as he grasped his broken knee in both hands. "Who are you?"
"The last person you will ever see, comepinga."
"What do you want?"
"Want? I want to kill you, but first, you will tell me some things."
"Fuck you, bitch. I'm not gonna tell you nothing."
"I heard you got a pingita. That's too bad, but it still hurt to lose it, no? I mean, it may not be much, but when it's all you got ... " She shrugged and laughed.
Reaching in her pocket, she took out a pair of handcuffs. She stepped to the side and put a foot on Barron's shattered knee. As he grabbed at her ankle with both hands, she snapped a cuff on his right wrist and jerked the chain, simultaneously putting weight on his knee. He screamed, and she stepped back, pulling his right arm out straight.
Dropping the baton, she cupped his right elbow in her left hand and hyperextended his arm, shifting her right hand from the handcuff chain to his wrist and twisting. She forced him to roll to the side and brought his right arm up behind his back.
"Put your left wrist behind your back so that I can cuff you, or I'll break your arm and do it anyway."
"Fuck you," he said, "Why should I — "
He screamed as she put pressure on his right arm. "Okay, okay," he said, doing as she had ordered.
She snapped the cuffs on and stepped back in front of him, pulling a combat knife from her waistband. "So now we see what you got to lose, comepinga."
With a fluid motion of the knife, she cut the crotch out of his pants, exposing him. Laughing, she teased his penis with the tip of the knife.
"Es verdad," she said. "No wonder you a maricón, amigo. You hardly even gon' miss that little thing."
"What do you want to know?"
"I like to hear you squeal, like that girl in the video. You gon' squeal for me when I cut that pingita, comepinga?"
"I said I'll talk. What do you want to know?"
"Ah, malpalo, you don' want a girl to have no fun. Okay. You tell me who killed Herbert Watson, and I let you take the cute pingita to hell with you, maybe."
"Hamid Lanjwani. He's the Pakistani guy that owns the grocery store and car rental in Gros Islet. Or maybe his brother-in-law, Samir Gorshani. But either way, Lanjwani's responsible. Why do you give a — "
He was interrupted when she grabbed his hair, jerking his head toward her. She drove the combat knife down into the back of his neck, the blade horizontal, just below his skull and centered between the two big tendons. The keen blade severed his spinal cord and entered the back of his throat.
As she stood, the door swung open, and an East Indian man stepped into the office, a pistol in his hand. She saw his hand begin to shake as he took in the carnage. She was considering her options when his eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed in a dead faint. She laughed, vaulted his body, and ran full tilt into a second man who was entering the office.
She grabbed his hair and head-butted him. He grunted, but stepped back and charged at her. With a vicious kick, she drove the stiletto heel of her right shoe into his thigh. He went down, but her heel was stuck, and his momentum knocked her off balance. She tugged her foot free of the shoe and rose to a crouch, delivering a sharp kick to the side of his head, knocking him unconscious. Using both hands, she retrieved her shoe. She studied the shoe for a moment, shaking her head. She wiped the bloody heel on his shirt and put it back on her foot. Stepping around him, she dashed through the hallway and out the back door.
Chapter 21
Although Lanjwani's voice was soft, Rashid could tell that his brother-in-law was furious about the Cuban woman's escape. "She was very fast, emir. When I heard her voice through the door, I was confused by the woman screaming on the video. I thought Barron was having a party, maybe."
"And you are sure that she killed Barron and his bodyguard?"
"It had to be her, emir. There was no one else. And emir?"
"What?"
"He gave you up before she k-killed him," Rashid said.
"Barron?"
"Yes, emir."
"You are saying that Barron told her about me?"
"Yes, that is — "
"How do you know this. You said he was dead."
"I heard him as I was coming down the hall; his office door was open."
"What did he tell her, then?"
"All I heard was your name and Samir's, and he told her you owned the grocery store. There was a little more, but — "
"And you let her get away. Where was Mohammed?"
"Coming down the hall behind me. She tripped me as I came into the office and knocked Mohammed down. His nose is broken, I think, and she stabbed him in the leg."
"Are you still in Barron's office?"
"Yes, emir, I — "
"Can you open his safe?"
"It was open. I have the money; it was in an envelope with your name."
"Is there more money in the safe?"
"Perhaps. I — "
"Fool! You did not look?"
"No, emir, not yet. I wanted to call you and — "
"Of course," Lanjwani snarled. "Now listen to me, Rashid. I want you to take everything that is
in the safe. Just scoop it into a bag, and bring it. Okay?"
"Yes."
"Good. Now, the Cuban woman will be headed for the store, most likely. Is Mohammed able to function with his injuries?"
Rashid glanced at Mohammed, who held a handkerchief to his swollen nose. He nodded at Rashid, having overheard Lanjwani's question.
"Yes, emir."
"Good. Both of you, get back to the store as quickly as possible. When she shows up, capture her. Call me and I will have further instructions for you then."
"Yes, emir." Rashid heard a click as Lanjwani disconnected.
"You heard?" he asked Mohammed, who nodded.
"What about the bodies?" Mohammed asked.
"They are not our problem. Did you touch anything? We must not leave our fingerprints. The police will think the woman killed them, maybe."
"I have touched nothing," Mohammed said. "She will not surprise us this next time, I think."
"No. We will take her before she knows what happened. We must, or Lanjwani will be truly angry."
"Who is she?" Mohammed asked.
"That is what Lanjwani wants to know; well, more like who she works for, I think," Rashid said.
"Perhaps we should question her when we take her," Mohammed said.
"Lanjwani said to — "
"I know what he said, but we can take the initiative. Perhaps we can make up for letting her slip by us that way."
Rashid smiled, watching the video that continued to play in a loop on the wide screen television. "Yes, perhaps so. Certainly, we can soften her up for him. That is a good idea, Mo."
****
Liz stood on the right side of the door, her back to the wall, the pistol held against the outside of her thigh. She watched as Marie worked the lock picks. Liz was feeling an adrenalin rush; things had gone smoothly so far. There were no lights on in the front of the apartment, where the door was. They had noticed on their approach that all the lights were in the back windows.
Marie had called the man in charge of the surveillance detail when they were still 100 yards from the property. Expecting their call, he had been brief. There had been no one entering or leaving the upstairs since late morning. Lanjwani and a woman, presumably his wife, had gone in a little before noon, carrying a stack of Styrofoam boxes.
Bluewater Jailbird: The Tenth Novel in the Caribbean Mystery and Adventure Series (Bluewater Thrillers Book 10) Page 15