by Andy McNab
They swung me onto the floor of the first empty cage and one of the moustaches grunted an order. My Timberlands were wrenched off and stashed in a black bin-liner. A boot pressed down hard on my neck and my shirt, neck pouch, belt, jeans and boxers followed.
The cage door was locked and four pairs of eyes looked in at me. They weren’t glaring or laughing or taking the piss. It was much worse than that. They obviously pitied me.
The three dogs were still going berserk. The head of the nearest one smacked against the mesh and its saliva splashed onto my chest. I scrabbled towards a sheepskin-lined dog-bed in the furthest corner. Leaning against the back wall, I scanned the row of cages. We all had one.
The air-con down here was severe. I grabbed the sheepskin and pulled it round me for warmth. The four gave me one last glance before heading for the door, one of the younger ones clutching the bin-liner. They turned off the lights as they left.
The dogs started to lose interest in me. It wasn’t long before all I heard was the gentle padding of paws on concrete as they went back to their beds.
I felt my way slowly to the door of my cage and took in as much as I could of my immediate surroundings: a solid concrete wall along the rear; another to my right; to my left, three steel cages and three German Shepherds.
I felt around the key well and tested the fastening: a lever lock. The square steel mesh was wide enough for me to poke all four fingers through, stopping at the web, so the cage felt more like a police station drunk tank than a kennel. I climbed high enough to confirm that it was secured to the ceiling. Could I maybe bend it or prise it loose? Of course I couldn’t.
I guessed the dogs would only be bolted in, not locked, so grabbed the fence between me and the first Shepherd and gave it a good shake, hoping I could somehow dislodge the bolt and wriggle through. He went ballistic and his mates joined in. I pulled and pushed against the mesh, but nothing gave.
I hunkered down in the bed and wondered if it was where Dino had spent thirteen months of his life. I listened to the whirr of the air-con and the dogs barking occasionally in the darkness for no better reason than that they were dogs. I hadn’t seen much of the room as I’d been dragged in, but the echoes told me it was probably as big as the kitchen.
The dogs eventually got bored. When they finally shut up I started to hear the drip of a tap. I sat with my legs crossed and the sheepskin wrapped more tightly around me. All I could do now was wait, and think about the slickness of the lift. There had been no panic, no shouts or screams, no rounds sprayed at an unexpected intruder.
They’d been waiting.
13
The fluorescent lights flickered on again an hour or so later and three women trooped in, dressed in the traditional flower-patterned pinnies. I stayed where I was, curled up but watching. They kept their eyes to the ground as they headed for the cages alongside mine. The dogs were very pleased to see them – up on all clawless fours, barking away, wagging their tails.
The whole of one cupboard was stacked with litre bottles of mineral water to replenish their heavy ceramic drinking bowls. I watched as the women filled three stainless-steel dishes with dried food, but not as eagerly as the German Shepherds did. They worked quickly, putting bowls and dishes in front of each of the cage doors and then throwing the bolts. Never once did they catch my eye.
The dogs didn’t either. They went for their dinner as if they hadn’t eaten for days – as dogs do.
I stood up, wrapped the sheepskin around me sarong style, and shuffled to the front of my pen. ‘Agua? Agua, por favor?’ I pointed at the shelves. If they didn’t help me, I didn’t know when I’d get fed or watered. ‘Agua? Agua?’ I rattled the mesh to catch their attention. ‘Por favor?’
It wasn’t only about getting liquid down me. The bottles weren’t going to fit through the mesh, so maybe they had a key. If that was the case, I’d follow Dino’s example and make the quickest exit possible. I’d plunge back along the tunnel and take my chances at the other end.
The women still didn’t look at me, but at least they mumbled to each other and seemed to be nodding in my general direction. A decision was made. The youngest one selected a bottle. She unscrewed the top as she came over, waffling to me con spiratorially and raising a finger to her lips.
‘No habla …’
I nodded.
I forced a couple of fingers through on each side to help support the neck as she pushed it through the mesh and sucked in two or three serious mouthfuls as the other women came past, a dog each on a lead, and disappeared around the other side of the wall.
I carried on forcing as much water down my throat as I could. When I stopped to take a breath, what was left splashed around as the bottle was able to recover its original shape. She tilted it back as if to give me time to breathe, but then started to retreat, an anxious look on her face and the bottle only half empty.
‘Gracias, Señora. Gracias …’ For all I knew I might be seeing her on a daily basis, so I wanted to stay in her good books.
‘De nada.’ She didn’t look back.
She put the bottle down to one side, ducked into the cage furthest away from me and escorted the third dog to join the rest.
I could hear water spraying round the corner, and the odd canine murmur of approval. A sweet citrus smell wafted my way. It sounded like the dogs were being treated to a shampoo and some loving. The women were obviously devoted to their work: there was no more waffling.
I sat back on my bed as the dogs were blow-dried.
It must have been at least an hour before they returned, clawless paws making hardly a sound on the floor. They now looked twice the size, their glossy coats fluffed up, like early eighties porn stars’ hair.
They went back into the cages, the bolts slid into place and bowls and dishes were removed once more. Buckets and mops swung into action and the whole place soon reeked of disinfectant. They worked in silence, still avoiding even the slightest eye contact; it was as if I simply didn’t exist. They left as soon as they’d finished and turned off the lights. The dogs skulked back to their beds.
I still had no idea of what time it was.
There was nothing I could do but try to sleep, which wasn’t too hard. I was fucked, and in any case, I’d always grabbed some kip if I got the chance, no matter what was going on. ‘Whenever there’s a lull in battle, get your head down. You never know when you’ll be given another chance.’ It had been drummed into me as a sixteen-year-old soldier, and I’d stuck with it ever since.
14
Fuck knows how long I’d been lying there before the dogs started whining and mumbling again. Seconds later, all three sprang up and went berserk.
The door burst open, and above the racket I began to make out the sound of a woman singing.
The fluorescent lights flickered on.
I stayed curled up, one eye half-open.
I recognized the singer at once, even after all these years.
The body in front of her was blindfolded with a red silk scarf; she had a guiding hand on either side of him. If this was Peregrino, he was well on his way to emulating his dad’s waistline.
She didn’t acknowledge me: she was too busy congratulating herself on his early birthday surprise. They were both in riding boots, light-brown jodhpurs and matching brown-and-white-striped polo shirts – collars up, of course. The dog walker who’d given me the drink followed behind them, struggling to carry the kind of gilded chair that Louis XV would have been pleased to give some arse time.
Still serenading him and ignoring me, Liseth guided Peregrino all the way to my cage. Whatever the song was, the dogs seemed to like it. They had calmed right down and gazed at her adoringly as she treated each of them in turn to some quality eye contact.
Peregrino liked it too. His smile widened beneath the silk. It was a surreal moment: I felt like I’d been invited to one of those makeover shows where the good-looking presenter is about to reveal to the minging home-owner how they’ve just redecorated h
is living room.
Liseth hadn’t aged a bit since I’d last seen her. Her hair was still jet black and centre-parted, and now reached past her shoulders. Jesús Junior was a lot taller, and needed to hold back on the fritadas if he wanted to look remotely presidential.
Liseth still didn’t acknowledge me; it was like my cage was empty. The dog woman positioned the chair to the right of them, put a crisp white envelope carefully on the seat and left as quickly as she could. Whatever was about to happen, she wanted out of here.
I thought I heard a couple of ‘Peregrinos’ in the tune.
The dogs gave a little yelp as Liseth came to the end of her song; she wagged a finger at them and gently admonished them in Spanish. Then she turned and raised her hands to the knot in the blindfold. She whispered something in Peregrino’s ear, then whisked away the silk with a theatrical flourish and a beaming smile, proudly presenting him with the curled-up mess at the back of the cage.
He might have been twenty years older, but I was always going to remember those eyes and the way they had stared at me, unblinking, like stone. He recognized me too: from the contortion of his face it was clear I’d featured in his three a.m. nightmares.
His eyes burned into mine with a mixture of anger and hatred. ‘Papa … Costa Rica … matado …’ The words came out in a low growl as he moved towards my cage.
I watched him every step of the way and got myself into gear for when he stepped inside to kill me.
15
I stayed motionless on the bed. Unless he pulled a weapon and shot me through the mesh, he was going to have to open the gate.
Peregrino stopped and draped his fingers through the steel. He stared at me without blinking as the scene played out in his head: his dad bleeding to death under the pick-up as the rain pounded down on the tin roof of the shack … me running with the weapon that had dropped him still in the shoulder, to make sure I’d finished the job …
His mother moved half a step behind him, gently murmuring to him, but Peregrino’s eyes, dark and lifeless, never left me.
At length he turned, kissed her cheek and made to leave. Liseth stopped him; she seemed to be reminding him that his work was not yet done.
He pulled a smartphone from his jodhpurs and took a couple of snaps of me curled up in my basket.
Liseth wasn’t happy with my pose – she looked at me for the first time and motioned with her palm. ‘Sit up! Sit up!’
I wasn’t happy either, but I stayed precisely where I was. Maybe she’d get someone to open the cage and come in and teach me a lesson. But Peregrino checked his screen and was happy with what he saw. With another kiss on his mother’s cheek – and one last searing glare at me – he left us.
Liseth reached for the envelope and sat down, slowly crossing her legs. She sent soothing sounds to her three babies to her half-right. The one to her half-left, she ignored.
She flicked her hair back and finally gave me her full attention. ‘My son, he’s grown into a fine young man, don’t you think?’ Her gaze was as steadfast as his. ‘Do you think he looks like his father? But maybe you cannot remember. After all, you only saw him through a rifle sight …’
Her eyes pierced mine, searching for a reaction. A waft of perfume, heavy and cloying, made its way to the back of the cage.
I kept quiet. Maybe she’d open up and let the dogs in. If that gate opened, I’d take my chances.
She paused for a couple of seconds.
‘My English is very good, Nick, isn’t it? I’ve been taking lessons every day for over two years now. I’ve had to – English is the political language of the world.’
I stayed quiet. I didn’t think she was really looking for an answer. Her entire demeanour belonged to someone confident in command, happier on transmit than receive.
‘Nick, you have nothing to fear from me. In fact, I have you – partly – to thank for our good fortune. But you are my gift to El Peregrino. What he chooses to do with you is entirely up to him.’
One of the dogs barked its agreement, its nose pressed up against the mesh. She uncrossed her legs, slid a finger into the envelope, and leaned towards me.
‘Of course you’d like me to tell you how we found you. I think I owe you that.’
She smiled, but I didn’t join in.
She extracted a photograph and held it up triumphantly: a blown-up version of the Anna and Katya snap, with me in the background making a brew.
16
She let the photo drop to the floor, and showed me another. ‘He has this one in his bedroom. Don’t they look wonderful together? She is also a gift to us …’
They were both a few years younger. Katya looked radiant, and he wasn’t so fat. She was in her doctor’s kit, standing outside a hospital – I could see a Red Cross and a bunch of important-looking signs in Spanish. There were lots of smiles and the sun was shining. Katya had gathered up her hair in a big messy bun.
Liseth turned the photo to take another appreciative look at it herself. ‘He always wanted her. Always. But she … she needed time to come to her senses …’ She smiled. ‘An awareness of destiny can be a heavy cross to bear.’
She turned back to her darlings.
I pulled myself up. ‘You found me because of a picture?’
‘Destiny again.’ She said it to the dogs and they seemed to enjoy the joke. She took the applause for a moment, then fanned them quiet with the picture of Katya and Peregrino. She waited for them to settle before turning back to me. ‘The strange thing is, I wasn’t even looking for you.’
She stood up and took a step closer to me. ‘I had no idea you were going to be returning to our lives until I saw this photograph of you and your lovely lady. Anna … such a beautiful name …’
I pictured her and the baby in the safety of the clinic under Frank’s protection; at least something was OK.
‘Our young business partners in China – a scheme you have only delayed, by the way – seemed to think you were on some kind of rescue mission. They explained about the photograph – and the moment I saw the scan of it, I realized the Fates had presented us with a gift my Peregrino could not be denied.
‘Then we simply had to wait as you made the journey to the Casa Esperanza. And now here you are.’
She took a third photograph from the envelope. ‘I had this taken for you. I suspected you might be asking after them.’
She held the glossy ten-by-eight against the mesh, and it didn’t leave much to the imagination: two naked, mutilated bodies; razor-thin slices all over their bruised and battered torsos; hair matted with blood. Sophie’s arms were bent at angles they shouldn’t have been. Bruce’s intestines had been reintroduced to the daylight. They’d taken a long time to ‘explain’.
She sighed regretfully. ‘We cannot tolerate inefficiency, you know that. Tolerance would make my Peregrino look weak. And as you are about to find out, weakness leads to defeat.’
As if to demonstrate that she was already tiring of me, she turned back towards the door. ‘Miguel! Miguel!’
It burst open and two guys almost leaped into the room. The older, moustachioed one acknowledged Liseth. His younger, smooth-faced sidekick didn’t even dare look at her: he kept his eyes fixed firmly on the bin-liner he’d brought with him.
Liseth pulled a lever-lock key from her jodhpurs, handed it to Miguel, then strode from the room.
Fuck knew what was going to happen next, but the dogs seemed to think it was show time.
17
The two heavies both had Tasers and big pistols in polymer holsters tugging at their belts; the leather sagged between the hoops where the weapons were attached.
The younger gun pulled my shirt and jeans out of the bin-liner. I kept an eye on it in case the mobile was still there in the pouch, but I couldn’t see anything.
Miguel fetched nylon-webbing leads and harnesses from one of the white cupboards and the dogs began to hyperventilate. Then he went into each cage in turn to rig them up, taking a lot of care not to
mess with their coiffures.
Once they were fully kitted out, he motioned for me to go to the back of my pen, then unlocked the gate and threw in my clothes, minus the boots. They both stood and watched as I got dressed. I wasn’t fast enough for Miguel’s liking.
‘Rápido, rápido …’
The Shepherds were right with him: they barked their heads off, raring to go.
As I fastened my belt, the young gun handed his weapons to Miguel and joined me in the cage. He harnessed me up like my furry friends, which didn’t worry me at all. It meant I was getting out of there. It meant I had options.
Young Gun went to grab the other dogs and was soon standing there with two leads in his left hand and one in his right.
Miguel beckoned me to join them. ‘Vamos, vamos …’
I looked around as he handed over my lead, but no way was I going to be able to make a break for it right then. I didn’t care. I was no longer under lock and key. Every step I took from now on was a bonus.
Miguel kept behind us with the weapons as my three new best mates and I were led into a long, wide, bare corridor. The casa’s skeleton was constructed from reinforced concrete and, like any office block, they hadn’t bothered primping the below-stairs bits.
I could see admin rooms through arches each side of me, like a series of large, cube-shaped caves. There were washing-machines and dryers in one, sheets and pillows in another. Then a steam pressing room, where the staff suddenly got extra busy with the folding, not wanting eye-to-eye. The next cave along was stacked with dining chairs.
Wide concrete steps led to a set of large double doors that opened onto the first floor of the living quarters, which was where the luxury began. The main staircase towered above us as we headed down to the front of the casa.