by Elise Noble
“Do you want to come over later in the week?” Roscoe asked. “We could cook dinner together.”
No, I absolutely didn’t want to. Not until we worked out whether he was a bad guy or merely a bystander who’d got caught up in this mess. I wished I could ask him outright what was going on, but if he was guilty, that would tip him off and we might never find out the truth. No, that wasn’t an option, so I had to stay saccharine instead.
“Sorry, I can’t. I have late lessons every evening this week, but I can still go to Parque Explora at the weekend.”
He cut another piece of pizza and popped it into his mouth, chewing slowly, then reached over to take my hand.
“Saturday?”
“Perfect.”
“I look forward to it. And I’m glad you came tonight. What do you think of the restaurant?”
“The view’s amazing.”
He broke into a smile and gazed in my direction. “Yeah, it is.”
Cheesy, but if I hadn’t been having doubts about Roscoe’s character, I’d have found it kind of cute. This double-agent thing was so freaking difficult, and I had to keep remembering to focus on my goal: find Izzy and rescue her from whatever trouble she’d gotten into.
“You know what I meant—the view over the city.”
“I do, but you’re beautiful, Lina-Catalina. I’m a lucky man.”
Lucky in what way? How much money would I fetch on the black market? Thirty thousand dollars? Forty? I forced a smile.
“I’m the lucky one. I’ve never met anyone quite like you, Roscoe.”
He leaned forward to kiss me, chastely since we were in public, and it felt better than it should have.
“Do you want dessert?”
I shook my head. “No, thank you.”
Because my insides were in turmoil. My heart wanted to believe Roscoe was innocent. My head told me to wait and see. And a niggle in my gut told me he was too good to be true, that no bona fide gentleman would pluck a girl like me from a place like El Bajo Tierra and make her dreams come true.
Did that twinkle in his eye hide darkness in his soul?
When we locked lips again at the end of the evening, I felt sick inside. I was lying, and maybe Roscoe was lying too. Everything between us was built on a foundation of quicksand, and I was getting sucked further and further into the mire.
“Where do you want to go?” Roscoe asked as we stood in line outside Parque Explora.
“The Mind exhibition. And the planetarium. How about you?”
“The reptile house and the aquarium. Did you know they have a replica of the Amazon basin? Have you ever been to the Amazon? One day, I want to see it for myself, but I’ve never gotten that far south.”
“No, I never have.”
Not in the last eleven years, anyway. In truth, I didn’t want to visit the aquarium because of the memories it would bring back, but I could hardly explain that to Roscoe.
First, the planetarium lulled me into a false sense of security. Roscoe held my hand as we learned the secrets of the universe, and I almost forgot why I’d come to Parque Explora in the first place.
Izzy. It was all about Izzy.
Predictably, he left it until we reached the aquarium to drop his bombshell on me. Right beside the piranhas, in fact, and either he was oblivious to the symbolism or he had a sick sense of humour.
“I realise this might seem a bit forward, and feel free to say no, but I’ve got to take a trip to Barranquilla next weekend to talk to a business associate, and I thought you might want to come for the ride. Nothing heavy…” He carried on, oblivious to the fact that my guts were trying to heave themselves up. “We can get separate hotel rooms if you prefer. But it’s an interesting city. Great nightlife, there’s a good beach nearby at Puerto Velero. Do you like salsa?”
He wiggled his hips, and I swallowed down bile.
“You’re a much better dancer than me,” he carried on, not bothered by my silence. “And the modern art museum is worth a visit.”
Across the tank of fish, my septuagenarian shadow caught my eye. He understood I was in trouble, but his face stayed impassive as he ambled closer.
“So, what do you think?” Roscoe asked.
I thought I wanted to run right out of the aquarium and carry on going until I found either my brother or a gun. Years had passed since I wished harm on anyone, but at that moment, I knew all our suspicions about Roscoe were correct and I wanted to strangle him with my bare hands. But only after I beat the information we needed out of him. What had he done with Izzy?
But I couldn’t do any of that, of course. No, I blinked once, slowly, in an attempt to hide the emotions simmering beneath the surface.
“Next weekend? I’ll have to check.” Rafe had suspected this would happen, just not so soon. And he was supposed to be in Cali for at least another week. “I promised a friend I’d go shopping with her. What about the weekend after instead?”
“Sorry. This guy’s only in town for a couple of days, and he won’t be back for months. We can fly there on Friday after you’ve finished work and head back on Sunday evening. No need to take any time off.”
Deep breaths, Cora.
“Let me make a call? I’ll see if I can rearrange.”
“Sure. Hey, did you see this eel?”
“I need to use the bathroom.”
I backed away, heart hammering against my ribcage. Roscoe was a monster in Ralph Lauren clothing. The last thing I wanted to do was go to Barranquilla with him, but I had no choice if we wanted to find Izzy quickly.
Outside, my hands shook as I dialled my brother. Please answer.
“Rafe?”
“What’s wrong?”
“He wants to go this weekend, on Friday evening. Roscoe. To Barranquilla.”
“Shit. That’s soon.”
“I know, and I tried to delay until next weekend, but he said that wasn’t possible.”
“He’s probably got a boat coming in.”
A tear leaked out. Mierda, I’d been so emotional these last few weeks. I felt a tap on my shoulder, and the old man handed me a handkerchief before melting back into the crowd.
“What should I say?”
There was a long pause, so long I thought the line had gone dead. But then Rafe spoke.
“Tell him yes. I’ll be back by Friday.”
“Are you sure?”
“Patata pequeña, I’m always sure.”
I smiled in spite of the tears. “I’m not a potato.”
“Cora, you’ll always be my potato.”
CHAPTER 9 - CORA
“WHERE THE HELL is Rafael?”
I paced the kitchen, only I didn’t look where I was going and stubbed my toe on the mini-suitcase waiting by the door.
“Ouch!”
Grandma sat calmly at the table, a cup of coffee in her hands.
“If he said he’d be here, then he’ll be here.”
“But I need to leave in an hour!”
Roscoe was picking me up from Esther’s building at six, and my nerves were bad enough already without my safety net going AWOL. All week, Roscoe had been messaging me sweet comments and more ideas for things we could do in Barranquilla. Did I want to go to San Nicolás de Tolentino church? Not unless it was for Roscoe’s funeral.
I tried calling Rafe again, but it went straight to voicemail. If he hadn’t answered my other ten messages, why bother leaving one more? I was just about to unleash another string of curses aimed at my brother when the front door crashed open.
What the…?
Rafe staggered in, clutching his arm, followed by the old man who’d been tailing me for the last two weeks. Grandma got halfway out of her chair, supporting herself on the table with her arms. She could just about stand in an emergency, and this sure looked like one if the blood dripping from my brother’s arm was any indication.
“It’s just a nick,” he said through gritted teeth. “It opened up again when I got out of the car.”
“You d
rove like that?” I gasped.
“No, Vicente drove.”
Vicente. So that was his name. But who was he and what was he doing with my injured brother? I took a closer look, and a vague memory flitted back of a similar-looking man talking to my father one night. Was Vicente from our old village?
I didn’t get the chance to ask before Grandma took over.
“Cora, call Dores. She’s at the supermarket.”
“And tell her what?” I shrieked.
My brother tried to protest. “I’ll be fine.”
Grandma was having none of it. “Rafael da Silva, you’re supposed to be going to Barranquilla in one hour, and we need you in the best shape possible to look after your sister.” She turned back to me. “Call Dores. Tell her she needs to do some sewing.”
My hands shook as I relayed the message. Dores didn’t say much, just that she’d be back in ten minutes. She sounded almost resigned. Why? What did she know that I didn’t?
Meanwhile, Rafe had taken off his leather jacket, and my knees went weak when I saw the huge red stain spread out over his white T-shirt.
“What happened?” I whispered.
“Did you finish the job?” Grandma asked.
“I don’t know. I hit him, but then someone shot at me, and I had to run.” Rafe screwed his eyes shut. “Fuck. I thought I’d accounted for all the guards. There must have been an extra one.”
“The bullet missed the bone,” Vicente added.
Grandma closed her eyes, breathing softly. No stress. She never got flustered.
Not like me.
“What the hell is going on?” I yelled.
Rafe and Vicente looked at each other, and I swear my stupid brother rolled his eyes. Grandma merely patted the chair next to her and beckoned me closer.
“Just tell me!”
“Cora, come and sit down.”
My legs didn’t want to hold me up anyway, so I collapsed onto the seat. “I don’t understand. What’s happening?”
“It’s time for you to have a little lesson in our family history.” She shook her head sadly. “I’d hoped to avoid this, but I should have realised it was inevitable.”
“What was inevitable?”
“That the past would come back to haunt us. Eight years ago, your brother followed in your father’s footsteps and joined the family business.”
Family business? “He’s a builder?”
My papa used to leave us for weeks at a time to work in the nearby city, building houses and shopping malls and warehouses. He built our house too, and basic though life was in our remote little village, I’d loved the peace and the closeness of nature. Every night, I fell asleep listening to the sounds of the jungle, whereas now the traffic kept me awake.
“Your father wasn’t a builder, Corazon. He was a sicario.”
“A what?” A hitman? No, no, no. She had to be kidding. This was a cruel, cruel joke.
“No. No way. My father was gentle. He was your son! How can you say that about him?”
“Because it’s true. Your grandfather was also a sicario, and so was I when I had legs instead of wheels.”
I couldn’t take any more of this. I ran to the bathroom and threw up, once, twice, three times, until there wasn’t anything left inside me. It was Vicente who passed me a handful of wadded-up tissue. He seemed to be making a habit of this.
“I know this must be a shock, child,” he said.
“I’m not a freaking child!”
“Until today, you still had that innocence. I’m sorry you’ve lost it.”
“Who are you?”
“A friend of your grandfather’s. I trained Rafael.”
“Then you’re… You’re also…”
I couldn’t even say the word.
“A sicario? Yes.”
“I want to wake up now.”
“We all wish for the nightmare to end.”
“But Grandma… Tell me she wasn’t serious. Is she suffering from delusions? Dementia?”
“Your grandma’s mind is as sharp as it’s always been. La Leona, they called her. The lioness. She was as fierce as they came. Even now, I don’t want to get on her bad side.”
“What about my mother? Was she involved in this…this business?”
“She was a fixer. Your grandma fulfils that role now.”
Once again, my whole world had been flipped on its head. Grandma played the piano and crocheted and made an excellent bandeja paisa. She didn’t freaking kill people. Right?
I staggered into the kitchen in time to see her wipe a vicious-looking knife on the remains of my brother’s shirt—now cut into tatters on the table—fold the blade up, and tuck it down the side of her wheelchair. Oh. My. Gosh.
“Why didn’t anyone tell me?” I asked hollowly.
Grandma sighed. “Because I wanted one person—just one person—in this family to turn out normal.”
A key rattled in the lock.
“Does Dores know?”
“Some of it. Vicente, would you mind fetching the first aid kit?”
Dores was silent, stoic, as she pulled a bullet out of my brother’s arm and stitched up the wound. If she was surprised at tonight’s events, she didn’t show it. Me? I paced the tiles like a woman possessed. My entire family were criminals. What was I meant to do? I could hardly turn them in.
“Corazon knows now?” Dores asked Grandma.
“We just told her.”
“Who did Rafe shoot?” I asked. “He shot someone, didn’t he?”
“Another drug lord,” Grandma told me. “Those are the only jobs we take now. Cocaine has been a scourge on this country and a scourge on our family for as long as I can remember. We lost our home because of it. The police, those that haven’t been bribed into turning a blind eye, only chip away at the edges of the industry, but we can make big holes right in the middle if we dig in the right place.”
“I can’t believe this.”
“I appreciate this is bad timing.”
“You think? In twenty minutes, I’m supposed to fly to Barranquilla and get sold into freaking slavery. What about him?” I pointed at my brother. “Will he be in a fit state to come with me, or am I on my own?”
“What’s this about Barranquilla?” Dores asked.
“Perhaps you could explain, Grandma, since you seem to be in such a talkative mood tonight.”
“You shouldn’t be fighting among yourselves,” Vicente told us. “Not today. Put your differences aside and get the job done.”
“Like Rafe did?”
“That was the first time he’s made a mistake, and it only happened because he was rushing to come back and help you.”
“So him getting shot is my fault?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“But you insinuated it.”
“Enough!” Grandma said. “Rafe, are you able to continue?”
“I’m fine.” He sounded subdued, sulky almost, a far cry from his usual assured self. “Just give me some painkillers.”
“And, Cora, can you cope? Or should we call the whole thing off?”
I glanced at Dores, and she’d gone a few shades paler. No, I couldn’t back out now, not when Dores and Izzy needed me.
“I’m going.”
“Good. However much we might have sheltered you, in your heart, you’re a da Silva. You were born to do this.”
“You can’t honestly believe that.”
“I do believe it. You’re like your brother in more ways than you would imagine.”
“What ways? I’ve certainly never freaking shot anyone.”
“You have the same inner strength. You’re smart. Those instincts that you try so hard to ignore? You should listen to them more often. Cultivate them. Trust your gut. It’ll get you out of trouble.”
“I thought Rafe was supposed to get me out of trouble.”
“He will. I have faith in him. I have faith in both of you.” She looked me up and down, and I swear her eyes had gone a shade darker. “You
need to change your shirt. That one’s got blood on it.”
“Mierda.”
“And then it’s time for you to leave. Your brother will follow with Vicente.”
“How? How will they get to Barranquilla?”
“In Vicente’s plane.”
Of course. How stupid of me.
“And how will they find me once they get there?”
“I’ll track your phone,” Rafe said.
Vicente stepped forward, digging around in his pocket. “I also have this for you.” He drew out a bracelet made from chunky multicoloured plastic beads, each one decorated with an abstract pattern. “It has a tracker concealed inside. See, here.” He pointed at the only purple bead. “There’s a tiny switch in this groove you can press with a fingernail. One click to turn it on, another to turn it off.”
“How do I tell whether it’s on or off?”
“The button will be raised when it’s off.”
I tested it, and Vicente nodded approvingly.
“What happens if someone takes the bracelet?”
“It doesn’t look expensive, so we’re hoping that doesn’t happen. But as long as it isn’t destroyed, we can track it to the thief and make him talk.”
Oh hell. This was real, wasn’t it?
“Or you can break that bead off and swallow it,” Vicente continued.
The mere thought of that made me want to puke again.
“And here’s your passport. Rafael said you were using the name Catalina?”
“Yes.”
It came out as a croak. Needing new identity documents hadn’t even occurred to me, but here I was, Catalina Perez, almost twenty-three years old and with a photo more akin to a mugshot. When I flicked through the dog-eared pages, they’d even included stamps for England. These people, my family who I barely knew, operated on a whole different level to me.
It took me three tries to get a fresh shirt buttoned up, and Vicente had to fasten the bracelet on for me because my fingers were trembling so much. Rafe’s bleeding had stopped now, and Dores’s neat row of stitches stuck out from his arm like a spiky black caterpillar.
“That’s better,” Grandma said. “We’ve suffered a small setback today, but we’ll win. We always do.” She took both of my hands in hers the way she had so many times in the past, except this evening, my brother’s blood speckled her tanned skin. “Come back safely, Corazon. I’ve already lost my husband and all three of my sons. You, Rafe, Dores, Isabella, and Vicente are all I have left. I can’t lose another three.”