Chapter 12
The large Spanish Colonial sat on a bluff overlooking a green valley that led to Bogotá. The views from the backyard were nothing short of spectacular. It was perfect for entertaining, which is exactly what Javier Peña had planned for that day-long celebration. He and the rest of the family were celebrating the fifteenth birthday of his youngest daughter, Rosa. It was her coming-out party, her quinceañera.
“Blanca, bring me the platter,” Javier called to his wife from his position near the large grill. “The fish is almost done.” The swordfish covered one half of the stainless steel grill, later to be topped with mango salsa. The churrasco, skirt steak, covered the other side. Javier had grilled enough food for twenty-five people even though only fifteen of them had gathered.
The proud father searched for Rosa and quickly spotted her encircled by family. She had easily assumed her position as the center of attention. Happiness stretched from cheek to cheek, and her large brown eyes twinkled without the help of the sun. It made him remember the coming-of-age celebrations for his two older daughters. Both had grown into beautiful young women he could be proud of. Maria, the oldest at twenty-four, was married with her first child on the way. Ana, the middle child and tomboy, studied engineering at the university.
The family gathered in the dining room and took their seats at the large, formal dining room table. Food had been laid out along its entire length. Every glass had been filled with the sweet red wine loved so by the patriarch. Javier took his place at the head and smiled at his guests. Sitting directly across from him, at the other end, was the equally strong matriarch and the love of his life, Eliana Peña. He had swept her off her feet at the tender age of seventeen and hadn’t stopped.
She smiled as she watched him raise his glass, prepared to start the feast off with a toast to their youngest. But what they all heard instead, none of them expected.
The sharp crack of wood splintering followed by a rush of heavy footsteps had grabbed their attention. Before Javier could explore the cause, armed men filled the room. One shoved him back into his chair. His son-in-law stood up. Before he could get two words out, the butt of a rifle came crashing into the side of his face, splitting his lip.
“Everyone, sit!” his attacker yelled.
Javier’s daughter, Maria, jumped to her husband’s side and quickly pressed a cloth napkin against his mouth to curb the bleeding. The attacker took a step toward the cowering couple but stopped when Javier spoke out.
“What is this? Who are you?” he demanded.
The armed man walked over to Javier and delivered a backhand that sent the man’s face to the side.
Javier spat before clenching his jaw and turning back. His breathing now elevated, his lips curled and eyes narrowed. “Do you know who I am?” he asked in a low growl.
His attacker said nothing, staring back with a slight smirk. Before Javier could utter another word, a cigar-chomping man entered the dining room.
“Of course he knows you. We all know you, Javier. And you know us. What I don’t understand, and perhaps you can help me out here, is, if we know each other, why were we not invited to your little gathering?”
Javier’s body stiffened. That voice: he knew it. He had heard it not once but many times over the phone. He had never met the man behind the voice. Very few had.
Javier’s head slowly shook side to side upon the realization of who had entered his home. His chest fell upon him like a heavy bag. Sweat trickled down his face and rested in the thin folds of his neck. His arms were lifeless by his side, and his feet might as well have been cemented to the floor. Could this really be him? Had he finally graced me with his presence, or is this a dream? He wondered what he had done to merit a visit from the one they had all come to call El Monstruo.
He was indeed a monster. Countless stories had supported what this man had done, yet no one could prove his existence, not even a top lieutenant like Javier Peña. Even Javier took his orders from El Monstruo via phone. It was rumored that the men El Monstruo used as guards were often killed after their services were no longer needed. Javier knew this to be true. The men who stood there that day didn’t.
Because no one dealt with him in person, no one could prove he existed beyond a voice. But if the stories Javier had heard were true, that only the dead could ID him, well, he didn’t want to think of the what ifs. His only focus was getting his family out the house safely. He was prepared to do anything and everything for their safety, even if it meant giving up his own life.
El Monstruo walked over to the table, shoved his fingers into the platter of churrasco and plucked out a piece of savory meat. He dangled it above his mouth for a moment before slurping it in and chewing vigorously while nodding his approval. “Very good. Very good, Jaiver,” he said, licking his fingers. “Tender. Seasoned just so. It’s perfect.”
El Monstruo swallowed loudly and smacked his lips. He walked over to Juan, Maria’s husband. “What happened here?” he asked.
Maria shot him a look. “One of your men attacked him. My husband did nothing to deserve this.”
El Monstruo tugged at the napkin to reveal a now badly bruised and swollen lip. “Tisk, tisk, tisk. This is not good. Tell me, woman: which of my men performed this atrocity?”
Maria motioned with her head to the man with the large grin and horse-like teeth.
“This man?” he said, pointing as he took a few steps closer to him.
She nodded.
Within a second, El Monstruo had pulled out a handgun and fired off a round straight into the man’s head. The back of his skull erupted, and his lifeless body crumpled to the floor. Chunky fragments of brain, blood, hair, and skull clung to the wall where he’d once stood. The shooting happened so fast that the silly grin still lived on his face. No one spoke or moved. Not even a breath could be heard. Only the plop of brain matter hitting the floor broke the silence.
El Monstruo looked back at Maria. A smile appeared on his face. He spoke softly. “Better?”
Maria froze, unable to answer. The rest of the guests kept their heads tilted down toward their plates, avoiding eye contact. Javier shifted his eyes to his youngest.
Rosa’s head twitched ever so subtly. Her bottom lip quivered on and off. A sheen formed over her eyes thanks to the slow build of her tears. Both her arms were against her sides, hands gripping the chair tightly. Javier prayed she’d keep her fear under wraps and not draw attention.
With each step he took around the table, El Monstruo’s heavy boots scuffed the floorboards. Rosa sat three guests away, but he was walking in her direction. From the look of his shifting eyes, Javier was unsure whether the man terrorizing his family had noticed the little one. Yet.
Javier had heard all the stories of how El Monstruo had particular tastes—an appetite for young teen girls. Rosa might as well have been a bloody steak tossed in front of a pack of hungry wolves.
With one side of his jacket pushed back so his hand could rest on the holstered gun, El Monstruo continued his steady walk around the table. His foot landed on a loose floorboard, one that set off a long, wavering cry as his weight rested on it. He stopped where he stood, right beside the teenager.
Rosa kept her head down, her chin nearly touching her chest as her body trembled. From afar, one would think she was cold, but Javier knew better to than to believe that. He again prayed for his daughter to keep it together.
Just then, a meek but steady voice rose above the sound of silence. “Who are these men, Javier?”
Javier’s head whipped away from his daughter and to his wife. He quickly motioned to her to be quiet.
Too late.
She had caught the attention of the cigar-smoking man. “You must be Mrs. Peña. Javier has mentioned you on occasion,” he said, making his way over to her.
El Monstruo stopped no more than an inch away from the back of Eliana’s chair and puffed on his cigar before asking, “Is it true? Have you not told your lovely wife about me?”
Of course he hadn’t. Why would he?
Javier said nothing and watched as his boss ran the back of his hand along Eliana’s hair. She slapped it away, and within a second, he had grabbed a handful of hair and yanked her head back. The room gasped as one—the first sign they were aware of what was going on.
Javier jumped out of his chair, but before he could take a step, he felt two large hands slam down on his shoulders, forcing him back into his seat. The cool metal of a gun barrel pressed against his right temple, and Javier stopped struggling.
He watched the man he had spent the last seven years working for bring his nose within inches of his wife’s slender neck. “Your perfume is lovely,” he said, his eyes still closed. He pulled her head to the side, exposing her neck as he inhaled deeply. “It’s getting stronger. Your body temperature is rising.”
Javier watched the man’s eyes open and look directly at Rosa. El Monstruo let go of his wife’s hair and straightened his jacket, all the while never releasing his eyes from the young girl.
In an attempt to refocus the attention back on him, Javier spoke up. “Let them go. They’ve done nothing. They know nothing.”
“Let them go, he asks,” said El Monstruo as he looked around the room. The way he slowed his speaking voice and utilized his arms, one would think he were onstage performing in front of the audience.
“I don’t believe we are preventing anyone here from leaving. They are free to go.”
“They are not a part of this,” Javier continued.
“Oh, yes, they are,” El Monstruo shot back. His eyebrows dipped at Javier. “You made them a part of it when you stole from me.”
“I didn’t. I swear. It wasn’t me. I would never do that.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“It wasn’t me. Please don’t hurt my family. Let them go. Do what you want with me, but please, spare my family.”
“Family is important, isn’t it? I considered you part of my family. I trusted you. But you turned on me, Javier.”
El Monstruo spun on his heels and walked briskly toward the doorway leading out of the dining room. On the way out, he shoved a hand into the cake on the serving table, scooping out a hunk.
“Rape the women, and make sure the men watch,” he ordered. “Then kill them all.” He turned to Javier one last time. “Consider this my present.”
Chapter 13
Maybe Colombia had rubbed off on me. Instead of tea, I got a cup of coffee.
I was sitting at my desk, sipping, when I heard someone at the front door. Finally! I had a lot of questions for Cabrera and was anxious for answers. The jiggling continued, and I figured it would be faster if I got up and opened the door. By the way, where are the video monitors? I followed the instructions posted next to the door and heard the dead bolt unlock.
“Miss me already…”
The last part trailed off as I stared at a strange man. My smile faded.
He was shorter and wider than Cabrera. His greasy hair fell across his face, covering an eye but did nothing to hide his pockmarked cheeks. He was expressionless.
“Can I help you?” I asked.
He pushed past me like I was a piece of décor.
“Excuse me,” I said with my voice elevated as the tiny hairs on my tiny arm stood up on high alert. “This office is property of the United States.”
He dropped his belongs onto a desk and let out a loud sigh before looking back at me. “You must be the new agent.”
He knows who I am. Who is this guy? “And who are you? Better yet, I’d like to see some identification.” I swung my jacket off to the side and rested my hand on the butt of my weapon. He never took his eyes off of me while he reached into his back pocket and pulled out his badge. “I’m Special Agent López.”
López! “Sorry, I was under the impression you were out of town for a few days.”
“Yeah, well, I’m back.”
He didn’t seem interested in my presence at the office. I watched him take a seat at the desk near the rear, away from where Cabrera sat. If they were best buds, why didn’t they sit near each other? He unpacked his laptop and then relegated himself to tapping. I was at a loss for words. Was this ape socially inept? The thought of being stuck in this office with Special Agent A-Hole didn’t thrill me. If that’s how it was going down—fine. I’m the queen of the silent treatment. I sat back down at my desk and busied myself with the report.
For the next hour or so, neither of us said a word to each other. In fact, that jackhole didn’t even offer to grab me anything from the market downstairs when he went for a soda run. I don’t drink soda, but I might have wanted a piece of chocolate. My nerves had started to get the best of me. I had lost all my focus, and the only thought I had was to yell at Cabrera for leaving me there. It was a monumental waste of my time, and the investigation had essentially come to a grinding halt.
I snuck a few peeks at López as he busied himself. How could this agent sit there and ignore another agent a few feet away? It didn’t match the office culture Cabrera boasted of. López didn’t appear bothered by the silence, and his complete lack of courtesy seemed out of place. What the hell is wrong with him?
I stood up in a huff, grabbed my purse, and headed toward the door. I figured fresh air would help calm me down; slamming the door on the way out helped as well.
I stomped down the stairs and over to the convenience store, where I proceeded to buy myself the biggest bar of chocolate they had. I then slipped into the canteen and asked for a cup of hot water. Two cups of tea and three quarters of a bar of chocolaty goodness later, I had calmed down. I’m Abby Kane, FBI. I don’t get riled.
I tucked the last bit of chocolate into my purse for later and headed back upstairs. As I expected, the stump had not moved from his desk. I sat and stared, wondering how long it would take for him to look up. Ten seconds? Twenty? A minute? I leaned back and kicked both feet up on my desk, letting the heels clank down on the metal desk. He stopped typing. A beat later, he looked up at me.
“You got something you want to say?”
For someone who attended university in the States, his English was rough, and his accent was thicker than one would expect. “It’s Fredy, right?” I stuck with casual. He didn’t deserve to be addressed properly. “You treat every visitor to this warm hospitality of yours?”
He let out a breath. “Look, I’m not here to babysit.”
“I don’t see any babies around here.”
“Funny, I thought I heard whining a second ago.”
“No, that’s the sound of the FBI doing the DEA’s job.” Zing!
“Oh, okay. Then ask them why they sent a secretary and not an agent.”
Oooh, someone wants to get knocked the eff out. My fists balled up tighter than ever; I felt my nails cutting into my palms as they shook under the desk. What a low blow. López might have had a height advantage, but I inherited my father’s love for bare-knuckle fighting. I was quick. I was short. And if given the chance, I always placed my first punch where they least expected it. Men think all women want to play with their family jewels. When are they going to realize we like sparkly, not hairy?
I belonged to a gym in North Beach and got consistent sparring time with a few of the local boxers. So the fact that we had just gone from not talking to “I want a good clean fight. Let’s touch gloves and come out at the bell!” in a matter of seconds didn’t bother me at all. Ding! Ding!
The tension was thick as we sized each other up. It didn’t appear that either of us was going to look away, let alone blink. We had insulted each other past the point of no return. Whoever gave in now would be the weak one. It had been a while since I’d had to put up with any misogynistic crap, but I knew this game. I spent years as a detective in Hong Kong. They were still calling me “delivery girl” when I made Chief Inspector.
Someone had to crack. The staring competition was boring me. Luckily for him, my cell phone rang.
“This is Abby Kane.”
/> “Abby, it’s Dom. How are you holding up?”
“Not so good. Your other half got back early.”
“Who? Fredy?”
“Yup.” I watched López close his laptop and slowly push his chair back from the desk.
“Abby, it can’t be. I spoke to him twenty minutes ago. He’s still in Medellín.”
I didn’t answer, and Fredy López continued to stare me down.
“Abby?”
I watched him reach down to his side, and I heard a slow zipping sound.
“Abby? Can you hear me?”
“Yes.”
“Is Fredy clean shaven?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“Fredy has a beard. Get out of there now!”
Chapter 14
No sooner had Cabrera spoken those words than Fake Fredy lifted his right arm up and pointed a large silver handgun at my face. My instincts took over, and I flew off my chair and hit the floor as the gun boomed. It was high caliber—the kind that punched holes in people. I had my service weapon drawn, a Glock 22, no match for his firepower but enough to spill his brains.
I peeked around the side of my desk and squeezed off two rounds, forcing him to duck and giving me the chance to scramble further away behind another desk. He let out a low grunt. I had nicked him, but a surface wound wouldn’t slow him. If anything, it just pissed him off. My only shot at survival might be out that front door.
“Agent,” he roared, “you can’t escape.”
We’ll agree to disagree. I had gotten closer to the door, but mostly I hoped one of the businesses downstairs had heard the gunshots and had called the police.
No footsteps. He wasn’t on the move.
Suddenly, the top of the wooden chair next to me splintered into pieces. Shit! I could hear a low guttural laugh coming from his direction. It was a game to him. He wanted to hunt me. I had a terrible feeling he could have killed me already but instead chose to have fun.
I couldn’t stay put. I scrambled on all fours toward the last desk. Another shot rang out, hitting the file cabinet I had passed. I popped up and had him in my sights. I pulled the trigger twice. This time, I saw red explode off his left arm. He reeled back a few steps and howled. I had rendered it useless. Unfortunately, he appeared to be right-handed and managed to return fire, forcing me to duck. Again.
Tenderloin (Abby Kane FBI Thriller) Page 5