BOOKER Box Set #2 (A Private Investigator Thriller Series of Crime and Suspense): Volumes 4-6

by John W. Mefford

  “Man?”

  He shrugged his shoulders.

  I turned to Sean. “The last thing I recall was Amador snorting so much coke he started tossing glasses at the wall, while trying to convince Britney to participate.”

  I lifted out of the chair, padded over to the tray, and held up a bottled water. “Want one?”

  “Sure,” Sean said, taking the water bottle, cracking the top, and chugging at least a third of it. I followed suit.

  “Just to confirm, no one heard anything about Esteban, or even a kidnapping in a general sense?”

  They both shook their heads.

  “But we really don’t know,” Sean said, walking over and picking up a plate of mangú. “Since Britney wasn’t wearing the mic, they could have easily had a conversation out of earshot. We need to talk to her.”

  He stuffed a full fork in his mouth and nodded. “Great stuff, Bolt. Make sure you tell your buddy thanks.”

  “He believes he’s doing this for the national security of our two countries,” he said, a smirk forming on his face.

  “We might have embellished slightly,” I said.

  “Em-be-llish?”

  “Overstating the truth so that he would help us out.”

  A long nod of the head. “I think I’ve done that before.”

  “You could teach a course on it,” I said with a grin.

  “Actually, I think I could convince you otherwise, Booker. That this was…is a threat of national security.” Sean twisted his head. I think he was attempting to communicate that he would have no other reason to be given this assignment unless it involved national security of the US. Extending that premise to the Dominican Republic wasn’t difficult, given how Amador’s cartel controlled so much of the drug trade. Add in his connection to the L-FARC terrorist group, and this island might be the number one hotspot for the CIA in the Western Hemisphere.

  I traded a stare with Sean, and he could see that I’d come around on his national security claim without me having to say another word.

  Trying to clear the cobwebs and mute the stomach growls, I ate from a plate of mangú and downed three bites before taking a breath.

  “Where’s your plate, Bolt?”

  “Couldn’t wait. I finished everything before I brought in the tray.” He flashed a quick grin.

  Resuming my position just right of the screen, I stared at Britney’s feet. They were so still. Was she asleep, or had something happened in the last hour, maybe from ingesting too much coke? Perhaps Amador had killed her in her sleep. Strangling seemed like a possible method that would fall in his wheelhouse. A knot of anxiety mixed with my spicy breakfast.

  “We don’t know enough to draw a conclusion one way or the other,” Sean said.

  “How do you know what I’m thinking?”

  “Saw you staring. I’m wondering the same thing.” Sean chewed a mouthful of banana and mangú, his eyes fixated on the screen.

  Bolt picked up his makeshift hacky sack and started kicking it around near the layered towels that had served as his bed for the night.

  “Make sure you don’t knock over the tablet.”

  “I’d have a lot more room if I wasn’t crammed in this corner.” He caught the sack of bath salt in his hand. “If you treated me like an adult and allowed me to actually help you on this operation, we could have found Esteban by now.”

  A fork loaded with mangú stopped just before entering my mouth. “Really?”

  “Okay, I might have embellished slightly.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Obvious.”

  “Ha. I get your sarcasm, Mr. Booker. Very clever, I must say.”

  He resumed bouncing the bath-salt pouch off his knees.

  “Okay, you can come take a quick look. There’s really nothing to see right now.”

  Dribbling the sack off his ankle then back to his knee, Bolt made his way around Sean and me.

  “Any thoughts on our next steps if Britney doesn’t get anything out of Amador?” I asked Sean, each of us scarfing down our food.

  He looked off to the corner for a second. “First, we make sure she’s alive and well.”

  I nodded, glad to hear him agree with another internal thought. “Then?”

  “Remember, we have multiple goals here. I might need to try a more direct method. Not something you should be involved with.”

  Starting at his food, he forked in the last bit of mangú, then set the empty plate on the desk.

  “What if I said I wanted to help?”

  “Too dangerous.”

  I glanced back at Bolt, his eyes focused on his own impressive dribbling skills.

  “That’s for me to decide. But you do know my number one goal. Returning a kid back to his dad.”

  “I get it.”

  “Hairy beast on the move,” Bolt said, pointing at the screen.

  Shifting my vision to the tablet, I caught a quick flash moving right to left.

  Sean said, “It’s Amador. Looks like he’s walking out of the bedroom.”

  “He’s shouting, but I can’t make out what he’s saying,” I said.

  The screen went still like a photograph again. Not wanting to interrupt any dialogue, I pointed at Britney’s feet. Despite Amador jumping out of bed and racing out of the room, she hadn’t moved an inch.

  “Not a good sign,” Sean said.

  I leaned on my knees, hoping she would wake out of her slumber, but knowing the more seconds that ticked by, the more likely her body had turned cold. Perhaps Amador had awakened, made a call, and was arranging to have the body removed.

  “Dammit!” I finally said, scratching the back of my head.

  With Bolt leaning on the desk, the three of us stared at a blank, motionless screen. The only sounds came from outside our small office, hotel employees unpacking boxes of goods, discussing the morning weather. I was able to glean that it was already another humid day in Santo Domingo.

  “Do you think he just left the body—Britney—there for now? Maybe something else urgent came up,” I said, looking at Sean.

  “Could be something going down with this El Jefe character.”

  “He is running a multimillion dollar business with a multimillion dollar target on his head. He’s got a lot to worry about,” I said.

  The noise outside our room dropped to a couple of low-key voices. “We can’t just sit here. We’ve got to know if Britney is okay.” I smacked my hand off the desk.

  Sean nodded, responding with a calm tone. “I understand.” Sean lifted from his seat, adjusted something in the back of his waistband. “First we need to find out if Amador is still in there.”

  “I know, dammit. We need a bigger team.”

  “Hello. I know you think I’m a gullible kid who’s afraid of his own shadow, but that is not the case. I can find out if Amador is in the room. Leave it up to Bolt.” He thumped his chest, then marched to the door.

  I held up my arm, stopping him in his tracks. “Not so fast.”

  “I’m going up there,” Sean said, ensuring his wig was on securely.

  I instantly wondered what Sean would do if he ran into Amador. End his life right there? But would we ever know where Esteban was being held? And would Sean survive?

  “But—”

  “This isn’t the time or place to take this to the next level, I realize that,” Sean said.

  “Wait, are you wearing a disguise?” Bolt held out a finger, then shifted his eyes back to me.

  “I knew something was screwy. You are undercover, aren’t you?” Bolt’s face lit up, as if he’d just figured out the real identify of Santa Claus. Then again, he may not have ever been visited by Santa during his childhood years.

  Sean’s lips drew a straight line. I could sense his radar going up, the kind that detected risk. I couldn’t blame him. Just a couple of days back he’d run into me trying to navigate through the cloak of darkness to a drug cartel and terrorist training camp. He used it as an opportunity to finally open up and share his life’s secre
ts with the one person who had resented him most in the world—me. I could tell taking that step was monumental for him.

  But sharing it beyond a blood relative? He had probably killed for less.

  “Bolt,” I said, rising from my chair. “It’s complicated, that’s all I can say…we can say. Up to now, I’ve entrusted you with far too much for a kid your age. In turn, it’s gotten you injured, almost killed.”

  “How many times do I have to tell you, I’m not a kid. I’m a young adult.” His voice carried an extra edge of agitation. Perhaps not enough sleep, like the rest of us.

  “Okay. You’ve experienced more than most any other kid….uh, person, your age. But right now, it’s not safe for us to share anything more about who Sean is and why he’s wearing a disguise.”

  He nodded, his lips tight.

  “That means you can’t share this with Fernando, or any other friend.”

  Another head nod.

  I tried to recall what it felt like to be a teenager. “You can’t even share that you know something they don’t.”

  “Entiendo.”

  “You understand?” He and I locked eyes, then Sean put his hand on the doorknob.

  “Gracias,” Sean said to Bolt, turning his eyes to me. “As soon as I know something I’ll call you.”

  He swung open the door, stepped into the adjoining room.

  Turning my head back to the tablet, nothing had changed. I kneeled down and touched the screen. “Are you still with us, Britney Love?” Staring into a blue maze of industrial carpet squares, my mind pulled me back in time for a brief second, disconnecting me from reality.

  Bolt came back around the desk. “Mr. Booker, you’re sad about Britney, no?”

  “No,” I said, pushing up to my feet. “I’m sad for Esteban, who had no control over what these insane adults did to his life. I hope like hell we can find him before it’s too late…if it’s not already.”

  A moment passed, and I took in a fortifying breath, knowing we still had hope.

  “Alisa!”

  Jerking my head to the screen, Amador marched into the bedroom while slipping on a shirt. After seeing him barely able to stand on his own two feet late last night, it was a small miracle he could function any time before noon. But something had infused his body with a jolt of energy. He walked off camera to Britney’s side of the bed.

  “Alisa. You must wake up.”

  Bolt pointed at the same moment I noticed—Britney’s toes wiggled.

  “She’s alive, Mr. Booker. She’s alive.”

  “Try to catch Sean,” I yelled out, my eyes peeled to the screen.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Bolt run out the door and cut left.

  Britney moved a foot up and down her opposite shin. Why did every movement have to be so damn sexual with her? Or was it just me? Hell, she was a sexual dynamo, a pheromone magnet.

  Her legs moved up, as if she was bringing her knees to her chest. I listened closely.

  “Oh, I…I feel so loopy,” she said. “I feel like I’ve been trying to wake up, but I couldn’t for some reason.”

  She still had her British accent, which told me she was either quick on her feet or had been in character while she lay in bed.

  He chuckled. “I think I know why.”

  She giggled, but it sounded forced, her lilt not as convincing. She sounded tired as hell. I’m not sure Amador noticed.

  “My dear Alisa, I have urgent business I must attend to. I didn’t want to just run out on you. Last night was one of those magical nights,” he said.

  Her foot moved, rustling the sheets at end of the bed. I heard lips smacking.

  Gross.

  Amador walked back into camera, turning back to Britney at the door. “When all of this settles down, we must get back together. You’re not going back to England any time soon are you?”

  “I was due to leave a couple of days from now. But I suppose I could extend my stay.”

  “Until then,” he said.

  “Señor Amador, tenemos que darnos prisa antes de que sea demasiado tarde.”

  Another man’s voice. He must be standing near Amador, and it wasn’t Four Fingers. This voice was deeper and croaky, as if he hadn’t slept in the last two days. I thought he said something about leaving before it’s too late? I wasn’t sure. Where was Bolt and his translation skills when I needed him?

  I heard a low growl, then Amador paced back in the room, a hand to his scraggily chin. “Mi tiempo con la bella dama se ha interrumpido. Esto es una mierda. Miguel Amador le enseñará a esta persona una lección que nunca olvidarán.”

  I said aloud to myself, “He used his name in the third person. Not a good sign. Dammit, where the hell is Bolt?”

  “Right…here.” Bolt burst into the room gasping for air, holding up a finger. “I…I think I heard Amador. He said…”

  “What happened?”

  “Your friend Sean decided to take the stairs. Probably a smart move, but he’d already made it up twelve floors. I…I came back as fast as possible.”

  I glanced back at the screen. Amador’s heels bit the carpet with each pacing step.

  “So?”

  “He’s angry that his time with the beautiful lady was interrupted. He said it was bullshit.” Bolt shrugged his shoulders. “I am just the messenger, don’t forget.”

  I nodded, urging him to continue.

  “He said that Miguel Amador will teach this person a lesson they will never forget.”

  My accelerated pulse just downshifted and punched the gas. “I wonder if there’s any way this is connected to Esteban and his kidnapping.”

  “Doubtful,” Sean said, turning into the open office, his face lined with sweat.

  “By the way, you’re quick,” he said to Bolt.

  “It’s required for my job,” Bolt said.

  “How could I forget?”

  “You were saying?” I looked at Sean, who picked up his bottled water and downed a swig.

  “I can’t see Amador making that kind of statement about some teenage kid. He doesn’t seem easily intimidated. This is about something much bigger, or someone more threatening, I’m guessing.”

  Suddenly, Amador picked up a glass from a table and hurled it against the wall, the sound of shattering glass penetrating my pores.

  “He’s got anger management issues,” I said.

  “On steroids,” Sean added, arching an eyebrow.

  “Vamos. Goodbye, my sweet Alisa. We will talk soon.”

  Amador walked off camera, and I turned back to Sean. “We need—”

  “Wait, Miguel.”

  My eyes almost did a double take. Britney ambled out of bed dragging a sheet. She jogged straight at the camera, most of her torso uncovered. And she didn’t seem to care.

  Sean stepped in front of Bolt.

  “What am I missing now? The natural beauty of a woman?”

  “Deal with it,” I said.

  Britney leaned directly in front of our view, her eyes narrowed while she chewed on her lower lip. Suddenly, the picture went dark, and the device sounded like it had been tossed into a garbage disposal.

  “What the hell?”

  “She plucked the device off her dress,” Sean said.

  Seconds ticked by, then I heard, “And don’t forget to call,” Britney said. That was followed by a return of the garbled sounds, drowning out any conversation. Then the irritating noise quickly dissipated. But the screen remained dark, only a faint bit of audio coming through, as if someone was moving.

  “Did something happen to Britney?” Bolt called out from behind Sean.

  “Shit, I don’t know,” I said.

  Sean added, “He sounded smitten by her, but he’s been taking a lot of drugs and he’s volatile. It’s possible he could have seen her with the bugging device and responded by killing her.”

  My phone rattled off the metal desk.

  I punched the green button while looking at Sean. “Britney?”

  “H
e’s gone, finally,” she said releasing an audible breath. “Pardon me. What do you think you’re looking at, asshole?”

  I held the phone away from my ear, and Sean’s eyes grew wide with confusion.

  “Britney, I don’t know what you’re thinking—”

  “Just because your boss fucked me last night doesn’t give you the right to stand there and get your jollies. I’ll leave when I’m ready to leave. ¿Comprende?”

  I heard a door slam.

  “Britney, you there?”

  “Yes. This fucking asshole thinks he can screw me? Thinks I’m nothing but a whore? Fuck you.”

  I realized my jaw hung open. Even with all of her flaws, and they were plentiful, I’d never witnessed Britney so raw and direct.

  “One of Amador’s bodyguards?”

  “Hell yes.”

  I could hear her nostrils pumping air into the phone.

  “Is he threatening you?” I didn’t want to ask, but it spilled out.

  “Doesn’t matter. I can handle myself. He’s in the other room, or left the suite altogether. I’m fine. Give me a second.”

  By the time I locked eyes with Sean, she came back.

  “Had to throw my dress back on. I don’t think last night will be one I want to share with Mom or Dad.” She tried laughing at herself. Or was her sarcasm replacing a round of tears?

  “Booker, you there?”

  “Yes, I’m here. Sean too.”

  “And me,” Bolt said. “Am I allowed to leave timeout?”

  “Shhh. Yes,” I said with my hand covering the phone. “Britney, what happened in there?”

  “It doesn’t matter. But you need to follow him.”

  “What? Why doesn’t it matter?”

  “Because I placed the bug in Amador’s coat pocket without him seeing me. You should be able to track him.”

  I turned to Sean, who had already reached for the tablet and was tapping icons.

  “We’re on it. That was smart.” The words lingered too long, neither of us filling the dead air. Finally, I continued my line of thinking. “Anything on Esteban?”

  “I tried every trick in the book. And yes, that’s a loaded answer.” She giggled, sounding as if she was rubbing her mouth. “I stroked his ego and everything else I could find, but he just didn’t go there.”