by Robert Lane
I went to the keypad and entered 3-6-d. I heard the lock click and pulled the door toward me.
Two girls. One a little older than the other. Their clothes were dirty and the room had an odor of unclean bodies. The taller girl stood and the little girl was on the floor with a key in her hand. The girl on the floor had mangled hair that doubled the size of her head. The tall one had shorter back hair and a high forehead, as if she could view over the top of the world. It gave her a sense of maturity and I wondered how real it was. A ragged, one-eyed doll with a yellow flower lay on the floor. They looked at me with trepidation. I realized that I still had the blood of Elvis on my face. I brought my shirt up and wiped it over my mouth and face.
I glanced around the room. Paper littered the floor and several drawers were open.
“I’m here to get you out.”
“Rosa found the key,” the older girl blurted with pride while staring at me. “We searched until we found it.”
“Maria decided that we had to get out on our own,” Rosa said.
“You didn’t see a large envelope, did you?”
“No,” Maria said, and confusion masked her face.
“You sure?” I took a step in and started shifting through the mess, but it was mostly security cassettes and an odd assortment of memorabilia. There was a six-inch replica of the Eiffel Tower and a tin button of man’s first landing on the moon. It had a picture of the Apollo 11 crew: Armstrong, Collins, and Aldrin. They looked confident.
“Maria didn’t think you would come,” Rosa said. She stood up, bent her head back, and looked up to my face. “Are you Jesus?” She giggled.
“No. My name is Jacob.” I hardly ever use my proper name and wondered what possessed me. Rosa seemed to consider my response as if I had received partial credit. Then she gave me a second chance.
“Are you strong?”
“I am. Let’s go, girls.”
I wanted to get the girls to Morgan and then return for the letter and make certain that Garrett didn’t need help with the two extra men on the premises.
I bent over and scooped up Rosa with my right arm. It was like picking up a pillowcase with sticks in it. I looked at Maria to make certain she would follow and still didn’t view me as an apparition. Her eyes were uncommonly—even disturbingly—mature and calm, but there was more. An emanation of hope and relief. My back was to the door and I was facing her with Rosa in my arms.
“Annie,” Rosa said.
Maria bent over and picked up the doll, but when she looked back her eyes ran past me and the hope was gone. Her gaze was now mixed with fear and sorrow, and I thought it a most unusual combination for a child. I felt, in some unfathomable fashion, that I had already failed this person whom I did not know. I thought of dropping Rosa and making my move, but I couldn’t take the chance with the two girls and such a confined space. Twice in one night.
Maybe it was the wine.
CHAPTER 29
I spun around and faced the six-inch barrel of Raydel Escobar’s .357 magnum Smith & Wesson. It was a fine gun and always reminded me of fine wine.
Rotating chamber. Polished wood handle. The beginning of the “magnum” era. Introduced in 1934 at the height of the gangster wars—designed to blow speakeasy doors clean off their hinges—it was an instant classic. The word “magnum,” though, is a tad misleading. The Brits coined the term over 150 years ago when they developed an artillery cartridge twice the size of previous ones. The size disparity reminded the Redcoats of the difference between a regular bottle of wine, roughly the size of the standard cartridge, and the double-sized bottle, called a magnum. It’s been a marketing misnomer ever since. When I think of Dirty Harry, I think of 1.5 liters of aged liquid Bordeaux. I suspect I’m alone with that.
This particular magnum popped a serious cork and was aimed directly at me.
I had wasted precious time on Elvis. I would not make that mistake again.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Escobar asked.
“I want the letter.”
“What happened to your face?”
“I ate Elvis’s nose for dinner. What happened to your sense of decency?”
“I never had one. Your misjudgment will cost you dearly.”
“So did Elvis’s.”
“Where is he?”
“The floor of your study, just around the corner, swimming in his blood. I bandaged him up to keep him breathing, but you’ll still need a mop.” And I needed all the goodwill I could garner.
“How do you know about these girls?”
“I’ve been over this already with Elvis. I was doing laps a few nights ago off your dock, when he brought—”
“Shut up. They were never supposed to be here. I’m not in this type of business.”
“Looks like it to me.”
He took a step back from me. Smart move. His gun was level at my eyes. I didn’t think Escobar had the guts to pull the trigger. What if he did? I like my eyes. Maria had moved up close behind me and I felt her body next to mine. I wish she hadn’t done that. I couldn’t maneuver in such a tight spot with two girls attached to me. It would be a fine time for Garrett to make an appearance.
Escobar hesitated and then his conviction came. He took two steps back. “Downstairs. All three of you. You know the way. You try anything funny, I pull the trigger six times and we see what’s left. You understand?”
“If I try anything seriously, does that trigger the same response?”
“Start moving.”
I didn’t budge. “Have you even fired that thing before? It’s a beautiful piece, but puts out major noise.”
“I can pull the trigger.”
“You’d be surprised. That’s actually a lot harder to do than you think, and you just can’t imagine the nightmares that follow. You can still walk away, you know.” I threw it out with all the sincerity I could muster. “You can nail Mendis. The government is far more interested in him than they are in you. You’ll get a reduced sentence. More importantly, you’ll live. Don’t make the last mistake. Think, man. Think where this all leads.”
I was giving peace, and Raydel Escobar, every chance I could. His mouth tightened and his jaw clenched. A vein swelled in his thick neck as if his heart was pumping a tide of blood. He seemed, if only for the briefest moment, to see the precipice that his decisions had brought him to. He had choice; a minute decision that would form his life and determine what world awaited him. I felt Maria move closer as if even she understood the delicate situation.
Raydel Escobar couldn’t decide who he was, and in the end, that was his most defining characteristic. Like a leaf floating on the water, the currents and winds determined the direction of his life.
“Start walking,” he said. His voice was calm and resolved. His hand steady. We are who we are and we discover that at the most unexpected moments.
“Why don’t you go check Elvis out?” I preferred to keep the action upstairs and thought I could make a move on him if he went to Elvis’s aid.
“Walk.”
I turned and started down the hall. Maria moved to my left and I reached down and took her hand. She grabbed it tight as if she had been waiting for it, and I felt bad for not holding it earlier. Like a miniature parade we passed under Sophia’s antique seashell sconces. Maria’s boney hand was in my left hand and the ridiculous lightness of Rosa sat on my right hip. I took stock of what I had: two guns, two knives, two cell phones, two girls, one doll, and a double bottle of wine packed with gunpowder aimed at my head.
Everything but the letter.
CHAPTER 30
We had just reached the bottom of the stairs when the front door flung open and two men burst through.
“Cruz, haul them to the boat. I got to check on Elvis,” Escobar immediately instructed one of the men. Both men had rifles and I recognized them—Cruz’s soiled blue bandana looked as if it had never left his head—as the same two that had escorted the girls off the boat the other night.
&nbs
p; “Who the hell is he?” Cruz said.
“Just take them to the boat,” Escobar insisted.
“Where’s Elvis?” Cruz asked without moving.
“This guy jumped him. I got to see if he’s OK.”
Cruz faced me and cut a look at Escobar. “Tell me what’s going on, or Victor and I are gone. We’re not sticking our neck out for you.”
I started to say something, but remained silent. I wanted to see how this played out. Maria was slightly behind me. Rosa was still on my right hip, clutching her doll with her head tucked under my chin. I was a freakish caricature mutant of Mr. Rogers and Rambo.
Escobar hesitated. “This guy’s been trying to muscle in on us and Elvis caught him. Take him out with you on the boat and toss him over, after you put a hole in him.”
Cruz looked at me. “That right? You trying to move in on our trade?”
“Actually, I’m scouting for a children’s choir,” I said.
“You’re full of shit, Escobar,” Cruz said, but his eyes still held mine. “And you’re a lying fuck.” He took a step closer to me. “You tell me what’s going on, or you’re going to watch me take a fat broomstick to one of your little friends.”
“Go fuck yourself with it.”
His right came in fast and my first reaction was to jerk my head back. But Rosa was on my right and if I ducked I ran the risk of his fist missing me and hitting her. I stuck my face out to meet his punch while I moved my right arm down to lower her away from the incoming missile. It worked. My face stopped his fist, which is the most optimistic spin I can put on the whole sad situation. He rocked me back on my heels, but I stayed up. My head felt as if a thousand tiny needles in unison were fired from the inside through my skull.
I swirled my tongue around my mouth in an exaggerated manner. “You must be a lefty.” He started for me again, but Escobar stepped in.
“He’s provoking you, you imbecile,” Escobar said. “We got to get him out of here. You want to play games, do it on the boat. Now take him out. I’m going to get Elvis.”
“He won’t be joining you tonight,” I said. I had a piece of Elvis’s nose cartilage that had been stuck between my upper left cuspid and lateral incisor and it finally broke free courtesy of Cruz’s right hook. I spit it out at Escobar. “That’s part of his nose. See if you can put it back on for him.”
Escobar looked at the piece on his polished wood floor and then glanced at me like he was seeing me for the first time. But Cruz never took his eyes off me. He smiled. He smiled like he knew what he was dealing with and was back home on familiar ground. It was not what I wanted to see.
“Let’s go,” Cruz said in a calm voice. He drew a small pistol from his jacket and pointed it at Maria. “And if you say one more thing, one word, I shoot the little cunt that’s hiding behind you. I shoot her as she holds your hand, and you will still be holding her hand when her life leaves her. You will be holding her hand when you drag her bloody body over the floor. If you understand me, shake your head up and down.”
I nodded my head up and down.
Maria grabbed my hand and moved in close until she was pressed hard against Elvis’s gun. Rosa started to cry. A soft whimper, and then from the whimper, words of desperation as if they were no longer to be believed but they were all she had.
“Jesus loves me, this I know, for the Bible tells me so. Little ones to him—”
“Shut her up,” Cruz said.
I remained silent.
“—belong, they are weak, but he is strong.”
“Move!” Cruz shouted and pointed his gun in my face. I turned around and started for the back door when I heard the sound of rapid gunfire popping from the front of the house and down the street. I was beginning to think Garrett called in sick.
I pivoted and saw Escobar and Victor looking toward the front door, but Cruz never took his eyes off me or his gun off Maria. “My promise holds, comprende?” he said. I nodded my head up and down.
We heard the staccato retort of more gunfire. “What the hell,” Escobar said, staring at his front door as if he’d never seen it before. “Think that’s Ramon? Cruz, keep a gun on our friend. Victor, see what’s going on.”
Cruz said, “Maybe our friend here brought company, and Ramon’s having target practice with him. You ever meet Ramon?” He smiled at me. “He would have eaten that piece of nose. Escobar, you check on Elvis, Victor, watch this guy and shoot the girl if he moves. I’m going out front to see what’s going down.”
Escobar hesitated. I wondered how he would take the change of command. “I need to know what’s happening,” he said and followed Cruz out the front door. Elvis deserved better. That left Victor standing in front of me with a gun. The house was now strangely quiet except for the music, which I was beginning to think was part of the air that Escobar breathed.
“Jacob?” I was startled to hear my name coming from Rosa.
“Yes?”
Victor didn’t shoot me.
“Was that really part of a nose?”
“No. I made that up.”
“Can we leave now?” Rosa asked.
“What do you think, Victor?” I said, looking at him. “My assault team is outside shredding Ramon into noodles, Elvis is disfigured for life, and your two friends are next. Time to look out for yourself. Why don’t you ride the boat to freedom? Go, before I change my mind.”
He looked at me for a few bars and then said, “Shut up.” He had a pronounced scar that ran under his right eye and wore a turtleneck sweater the color of dirty snow. In Florida. In the summer. I couldn’t place his accent and wondered where he was from.
“The clock is ticking on your life. It’s your decision whether or not you see another day.”
“I said shut the fuck up.”
“You actually added ‘I said the fuck’ the second time around.” His jaw tightened and he cocked his head like a dog. There was hesitation in his eyes. I brought it home. “If you want to live, you need to leave.” This time he didn’t answer me, but kept his gun level with my eyes. I’d really had enough of that for one evening, but was carrying too much weight to do much about it.
“Jacob?” Maria this time.
“Yes?” She stepped out from behind me and took one pace toward Victor, which placed her between him and me.
“I need to use the bathroom.” Maria still held my hand and squeezed it several times in rhythm.
“What do you think, Victor?”
“She can pee in her pants.”
“Then she’ll smell like you.”
“Just shut—” He never finished as spitting small arms gunfire shattered our conversation. He gave the front door a quick look and shifted his weight. He glanced at me and back to the door. His gun was still pointed in the general vicinity of my head, although he lowered the angle as if considering my offer.
Maria continued, “I really need to use the bathroom. And Rosa should too if we are to go on a boat ride.”
I didn’t say anything. Maria squeezed my hand as if she were trying to tell me something. Maybe she sensed that my options were limited. Maybe she just needed to pee. The pain in my head increased exponentially with each beat of my heart.
She released my hand and took two solid steps toward Victor. “Please, sir, I really need to go.”
She was now directly in front of him and partially blocked his view. It was the gustiest move I’d seen all night. Maybe in years. How old was this girl? In a relaxed pose, I slipped my left hand into my pants pocket and felt the handle of Elvis’s gun. Two more shots echoed from out front. Escobar’s house was at the end of a deserted street and the nearest house was empty. Still, between the fireworks and guns, it wasn’t hard to imagine the police soon responding to someone’s curiosity. Besides, although I doubted it, Garrett might be in trouble.
It was time to close down romper room, clamp my wise-ass mouth, and get the job done.
“Victor, let her pee and let us go,” I said. I shifted Rosa so she was sitting
higher on my right hip. She held her head up straight and clutched her doll in her right arm. I stood relaxed with my left hand in my pocket holding Elvis’s gun.
Victor looked at me. My own gun was under my left shoulder. He knew I couldn’t reach it without dropping Rosa.
“Go,” he said with a tone of resignation and didn’t take his eyes off of me. Was he telling me to leave with the girls, or letting Maria know it was OK to use the bathroom?
“Where is it?” she asked.
Victor took his eyes off me for a split second and glanced around the room. I chose not to question his last word. I had already screwed up by burning time to bandage Elvis. Victor was about a foot taller than Maria, but it hit me that no one stood taller than her in Raydel Escobar’s great room. I brought my right arm up, hooked Rosa’s head, and turned her into my body while I simultaneously kept my eyes on Victor’s gun. I quickly raised Elvis’s gun and squeezed the trigger twice. At the last instant I looked past his gun and into his eyes, and I wish to hell I hadn’t done that. He met my gaze with surprise and then he went down.
We are who we are and we discover that at the most unexpected moments.
Maria stood over the fallen body and then calmly turned and looked at me. There was no expression on her face, and that rocked me more than Cruz’s right.
“You shot him?” Rosa asked. She sat erect on my hip and looked down at the body as she might peer at a fish in a pond.
“He was a bad man. I’m putting you back into the security room.”
“But Maria needs to use the bathroom,” Rosa said.
“No I don’t.”
“Let’s go,” I said and stepped toward the stairs. I wanted to get them out of there.
“No,” Maria said from behind me. I turned and looked at her. She stood with her feet apart and her arms at her sides. Victor’s body was on the floor behind her, but now the once white sweater was turning crimson as if invaded by a creeping medieval plague. “Not there. Anywhere but there.”
“Fine. I’ll put you in the kitchen.” I hurried down the long hall and Maria followed.
“Why did you say you had to use the bathroom, Maria?” Rosa asked. Maria didn’t answer.