by A. J. Adams
I’ve not been to Kyle’s often, but it’s one of my favourite places. Sitting by the river with Raoul on my lap, demanding every second popper as his fair share, I felt at peace. I had just brought Kyle up to date when Chloe came running over, her face white with shock.
“I just called Solitaire,” she gasped. “Arturo, she’s upped and gone!”
Chapter Twenty-Four: Solitaire
I scrambled into the meat delivery truck. “Shut up, close the door, and drive into town,” I told the driver. He stared at me for a few moments, then nodded and slammed the door shut. He had decided not to question the jefa.
The meat truck was always checked on the way in for people and explosives but not on the way out. Nobody would dare steal from Arturo. I sat in the back, thinking that Rafa was going to have a hissy fit when he heard what I’d done. It was his day to supervise house security, and with both Arturo and me haring off without our protection details, he would take it personally.
Just the day before, he’d been incandescent when one of the crew visiting from Nuevo Leon had suggested I be checked out again by Kyle.
“You never know,” the little country mouse shit had whined. “Women are totally hormonal. They can’t help it, but they can’t be trusted, you know?”
“Capullo!” Rafa growled. “I’ll shove your teeth down your throat if you talk about the jefa like that again!”
Afterwards he refused to talk about it, and by the way Chumillo was all tightlipped, I reckoned he’d been bashing matters out with his people, too. The situation was becoming desperate.
If they’d asked a week earlier, I would have sworn up and down that I was clean, but now I wasn’t so sure. My dreams were evolving, and in the last few I had been a haunted by a recurring nightmare.
Someone was stroking my cheek as I said, “Hey you. Want to be rich? I can give you a network worth millions.”
“Tell me!” His voice was an excited whisper.
The words echoed through my mind, sending sick horror piercing my gut.
I tried to kid myself that it was just a bad dream and that it was my fear talking about something I’d never done. But a part of me thought it might be real.
I thought I might have turned rat for a very good reason. You see, I’m strong, but I’m not Superwoman. At some point even the bravest people break, that’s just a fact. I’m a practical girl, and so I had to confront the fact that if Songbird had been at Escamilla’s, I might have tried to buy my way out. Logic told me that Songbird would already have had the goods on Escamilla, so I would have had to offer something fresh.
If I’d sold Fuentes to get away from Escamilla, that would make me Songbird’s accomplice. It meant I was a rat, even though I had nothing to do with the Istanbul disaster. Frankly, it scared the hell out of me.
I knew that if I had talked, Arturo would forgive me. He knows that people break, and he would know it was a one time thing. He’d keep me too if nobody else knew, but if word leaked out, I’d have to leave. Arturo would help me hide and try to protect me, but he couldn’t allow a known traitor to be in his inner circle. In our world, one principle is clear: once a rat, always a rat. It’s a good one, because it keeps us safe.
I knew Songbird was here, gunning for Arturo, and I knew it had to be me who lured him out. I had to find out if I’d ever talked. If I had, I hoped I had the strength to deal with Songbird before the others got there. If not, I’d have to leave Arturo. That thought alone killed me, but the thought of murder to cover up my crime made me feel sick, too.
There didn’t seem to be a happy ending in sight, and I must admit I was becoming quite maudlin. Luckily the truck slowed and stopped before I gave in to waterworks.
When the doors slid open the driver stood there gasping, scared by the gun in my hand. Normally I don’t pack, but quite apart from Songbird, there’s the Gulf, Arturo’s archenemies, who are always looking out to score. I thought I might need some extra protection, so I’d taken a Glock from Arturo’s office.
As it turned out, the driver wasn’t secretly a Gulf supporter or working with Songbird. He danced back, face pale, hands up in the air.
“Thanks for the lift,” I told him. “Now go about your business, and forget you saw me.”
“Sí, jefa!” He took off, and I knew he’d be in a bar ten minutes from now, telling everyone there in complete confidence what he’d seen. It was bound to bring Songbird my way. All I had to do now was be covert, but still traceable. I wanted Songbird to find me, but I’d have to watch out for the Gulf and Arturo’s other enemies wanting a bit of revenge.
I was about to call Arturo when Chloe rang. “Solitaire, I want you to come and stay with us for a few days. Then when Songbird pulls another stunt, you’ll be in the clear.”
Isn’t she a sweetheart? And naive? As if logic would clear me with the crew! The only thing they’d accept was a body, preferably alive and confessing.
“Chloe, I’d love to but I’ve already taken steps. Tell Arturo I’ve taken off, that I’ve put the system online and that I’m ditching my phone. He’ll know what to do.”
Chloe gasped. “Solitaire, no!”
“Chloe, tell him to do what must be done. We must settle this.”
I hung up and put my phone on the top of a dustbin. Someone would pick it up in seconds, and sell it. That was fine because I had three GPS chips on me and with the golden goose being live, Arturo would have no trouble tracking me. If he left now, he’d be half an hour behind me, just enough distance for me to look as if I were alone, and close enough to swoop when Songbird got to me. All he had to do was not jump in too soon. I knew he’d want to, but I rather thought he’d do the right thing. Especially as Kyle would point out that it would be crazy to throw away a game well begun.
I walked down the road, thinking I’d stay at a cheap hotel, somewhere without too much interest in security. That way Songbird could pick me up without straining his resources.
“Solitaire! What the hell are you doing here?” It was Mateo, driving along in a silver BMW 4 Series coupe. He stopped, looked around and then got out. “Where is your protection detail?”
Of all people to see me, it had to be him. Mateo had so little clout that he couldn’t be Songbird. He was never involved in the actual day-to-day business, and he was often out of the loop because most people loathed him. It wasn’t just because he was a fearless auditor, either. Mateo could put up backs quicker than the Cowboys and the Packers put together. “Best you pretend you haven’t seen me.”
“Don’t be stupid,” Mateo snapped. “If the Gulf see you, you’ll be dead meat. Get in my car.”
“Mateo, don’t take this the wrong way, but bugger off, okay?”
“You had a fight with Arturo?”
“Yes. No. Not exactly.”
Mateo frowned. “Is this about Songbird?”
“Yeah. Look, I don’t want to talk about it. I’m not Songbird, but I can’t prove it. If I stay, everything will fall apart. Your family will fall apart. I can’t do that to Arturo.”
Mateo sighed. “I’m sorry.”
“Drop me at the bus station?” There were some pretty decent places to stay there. “It’s not out of your way, is it?”
“No,” he was looking around nervously. “But –”
“Please, Mateo.”
“Okay.”
Mateo drove south, heading out of town. “Don’t run off. I’ve got a place near the airport,” he said. “Stay for a couple of days. Think it over.”
I sat quietly, thinking Mateo’s idea might actually be better than a hotel. I would have to keep him out of danger’s way, though. Songbird’s best bet was to snatch me, but he might see Mateo as expendable. Arturo wasn’t fond of Mateo, but he’d hate for his difficult, moody, bitter half-brother to be hurt.
I wasn’t worried about myself. By now, Arturo would be tracking the GPS tags in my bag or the one I had hidden in my shoe. I could feel the bump under my heel. It was terribly comforting. Arturo was going to
be hopping mad at the end of this, but he’d forgive me.
When I’d proposed the plan to him in my office, Arturo hadn’t liked it at all.
“We need to flush out Songbird,” I told him firmly. “The best way to do that is to lure him into the open. We know he’s here, right? So we pretend I walk out, and Songbird will pick me up. He’ll either want to bleed me for everything I have on you, or ransom me to you.”
“Are you crazy? No!”
“Think of your family, think of everything you’ve built. It’s going down the tubes.”
“I won’t sacrifice you!”
“Nobody says you have to. I storm out, dump my phone in an obvious manner, and you follow me by satellite. He’ll get me in hours probably, two days tops. Either way we’ve got him.”
“Absolutely not! I forbid it!”
We had a huge fight, and it had ended with Arturo storming out. The second I saw his flashy Merc flying out of the compound I panicked.
“For Christ’s sake somebody follow him!” I yelled.
Rafa jumped on a Harley and raced after him, and I rushed to the secure room and punched up the GPS chip scanner. Instantly the chips in his car, phone and watch told me he was heading south. Arturo was going to Kyle’s.
I punched up Kyle’s number. “Yes.” The quiet strong voice instantly calmed me.
“Arturo took off by himself. He’s on the road to your place. Rafa is following, but there’s no way he can protect him if something goes down.”
“I’m on it.”
Fifteen very long minutes later he called back. “He’s roaring down the drive, safe and sound.”
“Thank God.” My legs had gone rubbery with relief. “Kyle, listen to him and make him see sense.”
“About what?”
“He’ll tell you.”
I waited an hour, thought things over, and decided that Kyle might not be able to talk Arturo round. In fact, the big lunk might not even try, seeing he’s got that “protect women and children” thing going on. The more I thought about it, the more I became convinced that they would refuse to think straight about this.
At that point the meat van had arrived. I’d taken it as a sign from heaven. Now Arturo would have to play along. All I had to do was keep my nerve. Funnily enough it wasn’t difficult. Not knowing where the trouble was coming from had been killing me, but now I was convinced I’d soon nail Songbird, and I was feeling chipper.
So I sat in Mateo’s snazzy ride, looking out of the window, making sure I’d be seen by passers-by so that Songbird could trace me when I caught a glimpse of Mateo’s reflection in the window.
It’s funny how reflections look quite different from the real thing. Mateo’s sharp nose was blunted, and his large eyes, the legacy of the Velazquez family, became smaller and narrower. It was a very familiar sight; I’d seen it in my dreams.
“Don’t do anything hasty,” he repeated. “Arturo is crazy about you. Stay at my place.”
“I’d like that,” I heard myself say. I looked him in the eye and smiled. “You’re a good friend, Mateo.”
He looked smug. “I just want the best for my brother.”
Mateo’s place was a small bungalow, built a mile or so out of town.
“Close enough for utilities, isolated enough for privacy,” Mateo said as he pulled up.
I opened the car door, upset my bag, spilled the contents all over the floor of his BMW and swore as I started to pick everything up. Mateo didn’t see me flick the GPS chip under the seat. Now Arturo would know where to look for me even if Mateo destroyed the other one hidden in the bag’s lining or the one in my shoe. “I’ve not been sleeping,” I said apologetically. “I’ve got butterfingers.”
“It’s been very stressful.” Mateo piloted me inside, grinning as if he’d won the lottery.
The inside of the bungalow was an eerie replica of Arturo’s dungeon, being decorated with black leather furniture and red walls and carpets. The windows were blacked out with blinds and curtains. Mateo liked his privacy.
“Nice place,” I said quietly.
Mateo shrugged, produced a gun and pointed it at me. “Drop your purse, go sit on the sofa and keep your hands in sight.”
I tried to pretend ignorance. “What on earth are you doing?”
“You know.” Mateo waited till I sat down, and then pulled up a chair, carefully keeping the gun on me. “You remembered something when you were in the car.”
“You’re Songbird.” It seemed impossible.
“Not exactly.”
“We are Songbird.” Miguel Fuentes appeared from behind Mateo. So much for Jorge’s message that Fuentes had buggered off back to Morocco, devastated by the loss of his man and his first consignment.
Fuentes was wearing a pair of shorts, and his hair was wet. From the blast of soap, he’d just had a shower. He walked up to Mateo and put a casual hand on his shoulder. “I thought we were going to lure her out to the Boys’ Zone tomorrow and take it from there? How on earth did you get her here?”
From the way they leaned together, it was clear the buggers were an item. Suddenly a lot of things became clear. Frighteningly clear.
“I was in town and saw her walking down the street. I couldn’t believe it! She just stepped into the car!”
“You’re sure she was alone?”
“Yes, and I saw her dump her phone.”
Fuentes frowned. “Why did she do that?”
I knew Fuentes was second rate all along, but his question made me revise my opinion: Fuentes was a complete idiot. “Her phone has a tracker,” Mateo explained. “Standard procedure.”
Fuentes bounced up and grabbed my bag. “Shit! What if he’s planted another on her?”
“It wouldn’t matter,” Mateo said quietly. “I don’t want people spying on us, so this place is covered by a jammer.”
That wasn’t good news. Bloody Arturo had trained the little bastard too well, and now it might bite me in the arse.
“But you came by car! He’ll trace her!”
“Got a jammer in that too,” the smug shit responded.
“Does he know about this place?”
“Nope. It’s in my mother’s name, and I’ve never brought anyone here but you. We’re safe, querido.”
I was in trouble. Instead of Arturo swooping to the rescue, he’d have to track me down. He would talk to the meat truck driver in minutes, find out where I’d been dropped off and then his halcones, the watchful ‘falcons’ he had dotted around town, would report seeing me go off with Mateo. They might have seen us drive south, but still, finding me was going to take some effort.
“Worried, Solitaire?” Fuentes was laughing. “You just keep running into trouble, don’t you?”
I shrugged, knowing disinterest would spur him to talk and delay whatever it was they had planned. “Whatever it is you’re after, Miguel, it won’t work. You just don’t have the brains to plan anything properly.”
Fuentes wasn’t even mad at me. In fact, he seemed to be enjoying himself. “We have you. Seems to me we’re on the winning side here.”
“Oh, I don’t think so.” I sat back and gave him my best sneer. “So, how long have you two been dancing the chocolate cha-cha?”
“Since you brought us together,” Fuentes said calmly.
“Me?”
“I got a call from Mateo a week after you walked out on me,” Fuentes grinned. “He’d discovered that Escamilla’s new entertainment was my ex, and he’d taken an inexplicable dislike to you.”
“Thin skinned bastard, isn’t he?”
Mateo glared at me, and his finger whitened on the trigger.
Fuentes squeezed Mateo’s shoulder warningly and smiled at me, “I told him all about dear old mum.”
I wanted to kill him. To rip him into pieces. I forced myself to be calm. Revenge could come later. This was a time for answers.
“I invited him to swing by the Moroccan office on his way home, and we hit it off,” Fuentes continued.
“You decided to team up, take over from Escamilla and cut Arturo out.”
“Quite right. We knew Arturo and Escamilla would soon be at each other’s throats, so we leaked those customs contacts to stir things up. Escamilla was so busy with you that he paid very little attention to anything else.”
I saw the sick pleasure in his eyes and knew it was true. I decided at that point I’d see him dead before the day was over. Pepe Rojo’s lessons on neck snapping would come in handy after all. I’d lure him in by riling him up.
“I don’t believe you. You didn’t have access to Escamilla’s safe.”
“We did,” Mateo laughed. “He used the 1234 code for his E-field, right? Well, he left his office safe’s factory settings intact right until the day he locked down.”
I just stared at him. “He spent a fortune on a security and then didn’t configure the access code?”
“That was Escamilla!” Mateo shrugged. “Lazy to the bone. I picked up the list of DJs too, just to make sure everyone knew where the leak was from.”
“And because I had never been to Escamilla’s or even England for years, I was above suspicion,” Fuentes gloated.
So simple and yet so devastating. With Escamilla betraying Arturo, the two would have blamed each other for the leak. While they were fighting, Mateo and Fuentes could step in and take over.
“You couldn’t have kept control,” I said slowly. “You’re a transporter, and you’re not cartel.”
“We reckoned Arturo would eventually come out on top,” Fuentes said. “Wars are hell on staffing levels, so he’d put up with my learning curve. And with Mateo being my right hand man and his half brother, Arturo would have felt we could be trusted.”
It was brilliant, and it would have worked. It would have been a hell of a step up from accountant and transporter to regional managers – a promotion worth millions. “Pity you fucked up.”
“Well, events did move faster than we anticipated,” Fuentes conceded. “Arturo took direct control before we were ready to make our move.”
“A shame.”
“Well, when we heard he’d taken you in, we were a bit concerned,” Mateo admitted. “I knew that if you remembered me, Arturo would kill me.”