Say Your Goodbyes

by Linda Ladd

  “De nada,” Novak said to the woman, wanting her to cut out the excessive show of gratitude. All the other women started calling out thanks, too.

  “All right, Señor Novak, let us go upstairs and find your friend. Just as I promised.”

  Novak walked the length of the foyer, his eyes darting from one person to the next, mostly female servants, still not sold on the Mayan’s show of friendly goodwill. There were no armed men inside, but he’d seen plenty outside. Sebastian Desoto had his own personal army. At the rear of the hall, a wide stone stairway turned to the right and rose to the second floor. They climbed it together, Novak just behind the assassin, mapping a way out if escape should become necessary. They arrived at a long hallway, with arched windows facing the rear lawn lining one side. They strolled to the far end. The Mayan opened a door and stepped out of Novak’s way.

  “Please, your friend is inside this room. I will return to my family now and celebrate the return of our daughter.”

  As Desoto walked away, back down the hall in the same direction from which they’d come, Novak stepped inside and shut the door behind him. A nurse dressed in modern white scrubs and soft-soled white shoes sat beside the door, knitting something red. He motioned her out with a jerk of his head. She looked startled, but then she gathered her yarn and needles in a hurry and scurried out of the room. Novak set the lock behind her. He looked over at the bed. It was Jenn lying there, all right. She lay in a swath of snowy white sheets near an open casement window. A soft breeze was billowing white gauzy curtains in toward the bed. A large and beautifully wrought black iron cross hung on the wall above her head. Jenn was lying on her side facing him.

  Novak crossed the room and stood looking down at her for a moment. His gut clenched. Her eyes were closed. Her forehead and the front of her skull were covered with bandages, professionally applied. No blood spotted the clean white gauze. She was being well cared for. Her eyes were still swollen. Novak looked around again, and then he shoved his weapon down in his back waistband. He pulled a plain wood chair close to the bed and sat down. She didn’t move when he took her hand and held it between both of his. Two IV tubes snaked up from her arms. Antibiotics and sedatives, most likely.

  “Jenn,” he whispered, leaning down close to her.

  That’s when she opened her eyes, blinked, and brought him into focus. Her eyes were bloodshot from what must have been one hell of a fight for survival. Then she recognized his face and squeezed his hand. “Novak, thank God. I thought you were dead.”

  Novak spoke softly, stroking her hand. “I’m sorry, Jenn. I got you into this god-awful mess. I’m so damn sorry that you got hurt like this.”

  “I’m all right. Whoever these people are, they’re very kind. They are taking good care of me.” She took a deep breath, swallowed hard. She hadn’t raised her head from the pillow. She was weak.

  “Good, good. You’re gonna be all right now. You look good and you’re going to be fine.” Novak was lying like a dog. She didn’t look good. He wasn’t at all sure she’d be all right, but he was going to make sure she got everything she needed. She was going to survive Marisol’s attack, if it killed him.

  Jenn didn’t buy it. Too damn smart, as usual. “She surprised me, Will. I was not expecting anything to happen. I messed up.”

  “You didn’t mess up anything. That girl we had with us? The one we called Marisol? Her real name was Luisa Mendez. She was working with Marisol, and I guess Marisol decided she didn’t need her anymore.”

  “She cut her throat. It was awful.”

  “Marisol Ruiz did this to you? You’re sure it was her and not the Mayan?”

  “Yeah, she grabbed my hair and then she—” Jenn stopped, squeezed her eyes closed. “Then she started slicing—”

  “Ssh, she didn’t get it done. We’ll get you all fixed up, I promise. We’ll find the best doctors in the world. But you are definitely sure it was her?”

  Jenn was getting worked up, trembling. “Yes, I heard the other girl calling her name out when they were fighting over the knife. Claire had just called earlier and told us where the exchange would be in the morning. I guess Luisa told Marisol about it. I don’t know, I don’t know.” Her voice trailed off. “If that little guy hadn’t gotten to me, I’d be dead, too. I’d be dead, Novak.”

  Novak squeezed her fingers. “Hey, don’t think about it anymore, Jenn. Just stay right here and let them take care of you until you’re better. The Mayan said he’s got a doctor watching over you. As soon as you can travel, I’m taking you back home with me so you can get well. I’ll take care of you.”

  “Don’t leave me here, Novak,” she said, trying to raise up off the bed. “Don’t leave me here alone.”

  “I’m going after Marisol Ruiz. I’ve got to. She’s not getting away with what she did to you. This whole thing goes back on her. I’ll come back for you, I swear. It’ll just be a couple of days. You can trust these people. I’m trusting them until we get back.”

  She closed her eyes and was quiet. “Please stay with me, just a little while.”

  So Novak did stay with her for a little while. He sat in that chair drawn up close to her bed, holding her hand, giving her small sips of water when she roused up and wanted it. He could hear voices outside in the courtyard, some laughter, lots of happy chatter. Seemed deadly assassins could enjoy cheerful homes on their off hours, no matter how many people they’d put in the ground. Nobody bothered Novak and Jenn, nobody entered the room, except the wary nurse who came on an hourly schedule to check Jenn’s vitals and bring food that Jenn did not touch. She brought him a tray, too. He ate his tamales and cheese and papaya and something else that he didn’t know what the hell it was. Best of all, nobody attacked him with bloodstained machetes or green obsidian ritual daggers.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  The next day dawned bright and clear. Blue skies, cloudless, no wind, no breeze wafting Jenn’s curtains. Hot as hell before the dew dried. Maybe that was an omen. Maybe they were preparing for a trip down into hell. Novak knew that what they contemplated posed a huge risk. Breaking into a powerful drug lord’s heavily guarded compound and taking out his beloved, if evil as hell, daughter was not something done every day—or any day, actually. But it was possible, and the two men knew it. Both of them had done similar things in the past. Both of them wanted this woman dead, and in the worst way.

  “So, what’s your plan?” Novak asked the Mayan.

  The two of them now sat downstairs alone inside a large, airy dining room with white walls and white curtains. Novak had gotten some sleep in the bedroom next to Jenn’s sickroom. Then he’d been summoned downstairs, where several women had served a breakfast of orange juice, chilaquiles (which turned out to be enchiladas with eggs), nice warm flour tortillas, and mangoes and oranges and some kind of sweet bread. Novak wasn’t hungry, but he ate what he was served and drank plenty of the strong black coffee and lots of water. He needed the nourishment, and he wouldn’t get another opportunity, if things went as he figured they would. If it was there and available, eat it and be grateful. The Mayan sat across from him, ate less, and said nothing. Which was fine with Novak. They might be out to kill a mutual enemy, but they were never going to watch Monday Night Football and eat pizza together.

  Desoto leaned back in his chair. “We enter the compound, find the girl, and then I will slice her flesh as she did to my Carmelita, and then I will kill her in the most painful way imaginable. Then we will leave her to rot in hell.”

  “Don’t sugarcoat it or anything, Desoto.”

  “I don’t understand what that means.”

  “You’re just planning to kill her at her father’s house, just like that? Slice her up, slit her jugular, and mosey on out? That’s your plan?”

  “Of course.”

  “That’s a terrible plan.”

  “What other way is there?”

  “Maybe a way where we both don’t get shot dead in the first three minutes.”

  “We can
get out alive. I know the house, the entire compound, very well. I grew up there. If Arturo catches us and knows we killed her, I will explain what happened to Carmelita and that Marisol wants him dead. I will play the audiotape I have on my phone of his daughter torturing Carmelita. He will listen to me. He is like a father to me. He trusts me.”

  “I’d say that takes a whole lot for granted, wouldn’t you?”

  The Mayan’s dark eyes flashed with anger. “Let me explain this to you. Arturo is a loving father, to me, to her, but he is the most brutal, mean-spirited man I have ever known. He can be extremely cruel to those he loves as well as those he counts as enemies. I have seen him whip Marisol’s back bloody when she defied him. She hates him for that and other cruelties. That is why she wants him dead, but she is afraid of him. She knows he will not hesitate to kill her if she betrays him. And she has betrayed him. She tried to coerce me to kill him for her. If I tell him that, he will not show mercy to her. Marisol has caused him much grief and worry throughout her life. He has become weary of dealing with it.”

  “If he believes you over her. That’s a big if, Desoto.”

  “I think he will.”

  “She’s his blood daughter. You are adopted.”

  “He loves me the same.”

  Novak observed him. Drained his coffee cup. “You’ve been in the army, I take it.”

  “I have been in several private armies. No more. This is my last mission. I wish to stay here in this house with my wife and daughter until I die peacefully in my own bed. But what Marisol did to me was a grievance that no father could leave unavenged. But that is the end of my killing. Are you a father, Señor Novak?”

  Novak stiffened, as he always did when somebody brought up his children, his beautiful little twins, gone before they had a chance to grow up. He didn’t answer.

  “If someone abducted your child, beat her, and chained her? Used a knife to slice into her flesh? How would you react?”

  Novak didn’t need time to consider his answer. “I would find them and kill them. Just like you intend to do. But I would do it on my terms, not on her home turf with her father’s goons there to protect her.”

  “They are loyal to him, not her. That is why she wanted him dead. They will never obey her while he still breathes.”

  “If he’s likely to show no quarter to her, why not just call and tell him the truth about her plot to kill him? He trusts your word, right? Let him listen to that tape and then handle it his own way.”

  “Because I cannot be sure how he will react. If he forgives her, which I doubt, but if he should, I would lose the element of surprise. Now, at this moment? They will not be expecting me to attack them, not inside their stronghold. But Marisol will be on guard and wary of what I will do. She knows me. She knows now that she should never have crossed me. I doubt very much that Arturo knows half the truth of what she’s capable of. She has probably told him lies about both of us.”

  “I say we surveil her movements for a couple of days. Wait for an opportune time. Get her outside the compound. Use our heads.”

  “No, señor. You are very good, but you are wrong this time. I can and will do this alone, if you do not want to be involved. Take that poor lady upstairs and go along on your way. I will avenge Marisol’s crimes against you as I avenge my own.”

  “She tried to murder and scalp my friend. No way am I letting that go. I’m in. I just think there are better ways to proceed. Safer ways for us to pull this off.”

  “I know the place. I know that mansion. Every room and hallway and back stair. I can get us inside and find her without alerting a single soul. You must learn to trust me.”

  Sure, but that was the thing. Novak didn’t trust him, not completely. Not at all, truth be told. He considered for a moment doing exactly what Desoto had suggested: taking Jenn and getting her out of Mexico, for good. His head was telling him that was the smart thing to do. But his gut was telling him to kill that crazy bitch who scalped women and cut up children, and make sure she died the kind of painful death she parceled out to others. Nobody got away with butchering his friends. Nobody. Not ever. It was just a thing with him.

  “I’m going with you. But if I think you’re making a bad move anywhere along the way, then I’m going to do it my way. Got that?”

  The Mayan showed him all those little sharp white teeth. No blood this time, but lots of bruises and black eyes that neither of them mentioned. Novak didn’t complain about his slashed shoulder, either. Nick Black had stitched it up and given him painkillers, but it still hurt. He just ignored the pain.

  “Of course I do,” the Mayan answered. “We both must seek our own personal vengeance. I hoped I had put killing behind me, and I did so for a long time. But my little Carmelita has suffered greatly. When I boarded their boat and found her below, lying on a mattress, soaked in her own waste, her little face bruised and arms striped with bleeding gashes, I knew I would kill Marisol. She does not deserve to live another day. Luisa and Diego were guilty for allowing my child to be hurt. None of them cared if Carmelita died. Marisol Ruiz is a woman with no conscience, no feeling, no compassion. She was born that way. Soon she will have no heart in this life because I am going to take it from her.”

  Novak said nothing to any of that. The Mayan was right on in his analysis. The Ruiz girl had a severe mental deficiency, all right. Why she did, he couldn’t say. But he’d seen what it had spawned, seen what she’d left behind. But she had messed up when she had attacked Jenn. Novak liked Jenn. Maybe he even loved her, not like he’d loved Sarah, but in his own way. Marisol was not going to get away with hurting her. No way. She had messed with the wrong man. Two of the wrong men. She was going down.

  “All right, let’s get something down on paper. I want to get this done. Get in, get out, and get Jenn out of the country.”

  “I, as well, mi amigo. Let us talk.”

  As it turned out, their plan remained fairly simple. Too simple, in fact. The Mayan knew the Ruiz property like the back of his hand, or so he said. Novak wasn’t stupid enough to believe everything the assassin was telling him. He had never been much of a kumbaya type, anyway. Being buddy-buddy with a murderous assassin with a hundred notches on his obsidian knife went against his grain. He called a spade a spade and entered every situation with his eyes wide open. He trusted no one, with the exception of Claire and Black and Jenn and a few army buddies. That habit had served him well and kept him alive. He had no need to deviate.

  One thing Novak did know—they should be creating a diversion for their escape. All they needed were a few timed bundles of C-4 at the front gate and a couple more at strategic points along the adobe wall around the house. The sun-dried brick wall would crumble like soda crackers under the blast. But the Mayan didn’t have any explosives lying around and nixed the idea because the guards checked the perimeter on the half hour. Novak didn’t like that, but he listened as the Mayan told him how they could go in over the inner east wall, very close in to the kitchen and servants’ quarters. The Mayan said it was a virtual dead zone late at night. Novak approved, but he had plenty of reservations about all of it.

  They flew to Mexico City on a private aircraft. Sebastian Desoto didn’t tell him who it belonged to but just took him back to the Merida airport, where they boarded without incident. Novak didn’t demand details, didn’t care, didn’t even want to know any details or names involved. He just wanted to get the job done and get Jenn home. A jeep had been left for them in the long-term parking lot at the Mexico City Benito Juarez Airport, and they got in and drove off toward the fortified hilltop where Novak had been taken before with a black hood over his head. Neither of them said anything. Conversation was no longer required. Novak checked his gear and found everything to be in order. Made sure he had plenty of ammo clips, because he was going to need them. The compound was an armed camp. He’d seen that himself. And he could be walking into a big trap, a double cross by the Mayan and his murderous adoptive family. Novak couldn’t come up wi
th a good reason for them to want to do that, but he didn’t know them all that well. He only knew that they were all brutal, godless killers.

  Sebastian Desoto took the jeep up a ton of winding roads that seemed to go round and round to nowhere. They passed through wooded tracts skirting eroded volcanic peaks, the dirt road gradually climbing higher into the scrub. Twilight descended with a slow pink-and-amber sunset and then a black velvet night. A good thing, considering where they were headed. They finally pulled off the narrow path they had been following, and Desoto stopped the jeep in a thicket of trees and killed the lights and the motor. They both climbed out, footsteps muffled on thick layers of rotting dead leaves, and started their trek west. Novak followed Desoto, not thrilled, but he didn’t know the area. He had to trust the Mayan to get them there. He kept his rifle ready and his eyes peeled.

  Maybe half an hour later, they came out at the back edge of the Ruiz compound. The white wall rose in front of them, seven to eight feet tall. Novak could see the lights on inside the house where it stood high on the hill, maybe two football fields away. He boosted the little guy up first, and then he jumped, got a grip, and swung himself onto the top. His injured shoulder screamed with pain, but he ignored it. He lay there on his stomach and gauged the fields before them with his night vision goggles. Nothing stirred. Nobody. No guards. No alarms. Probably nobody in the whole of Mexico would be stupid enough to penetrate the inner sanctuary of the most deadly drug lord in Mexico. Except for them.

  They dropped to the other side, hunched down, and ran across the fields, keeping about thirty yards between them. The second wall was lower and no problem to scale. Once they were on the other side, Desoto suddenly cut diagonally across the grass that led around the far end of the house, past the pool that shone brightly in the night and cast wavering reflections onto three stories of balconies rising high above. They saw nobody, except for the guards on duty at each corner of the house, standing around and smoking cigarettes. It was very serene and silent. A few lights had gone out since they started up the big grassy fields. Bedtime for the mafioso and his devil daughter.