Hider/Seeker

by Hider-Seeker (epub)

  ‘And being part of that commission will really make a difference?’

  ‘It’s not just about clean water, although the people in the mining regions of San Marcos are desperate for such small mercies. Their plight is a symbol of the decay and corruption in our society caused by those greedy bastards in congress who are selling mining rights to whoever they want.’

  ‘I don’t mean to quibble, but you make a good living hiding the funds of the bastards.’

  He raised a dismissive hand in the air. ‘I don’t touch their money. What I do is within the laws of this land. What they do is a crime against humanity. The death squads are back on our streets again. We have no judicial system anymore. Criminal networks have the power to block government investigations. Evidence is destroyed. And if nothing is going their way, they find a patsy to take the fall or just rub out the opposition in the judiciary. We could talk about the subterranean world of Guatemalan politics all day long but you came all this way to see me about something else, I imagine.’

  ‘Angela Linehan.’

  ‘Aha,’ he said as if the name was a full explanation on its own.

  ‘I need to find her.’

  Ernesto looked disappointed in Harry and remained stony silent.

  ‘I know I’ve no right to ask this of you, but I’ve no choice,’ said Harry. ‘She’s set me up good and proper. The cops think I killed an old friend of mine and her husband too.’

  ‘Well there’s no safer place to hide than Guatemala. I can assure you no one will disturb you here because nobody frankly gives a damn about the criminals we allow to roam around the country.’

  ‘That’s comforting to hear. I’ll think about it as my back-up plan.’

  ‘Ninety-seven per cent of our homicides remain unresolved, killers just walk freely.’

  ‘I’m serious, Ernesto. There’s much more to my problem.’

  Ernesto sat down opposite Harry with his glass of brandy and listened to him recount his adventures over the previous weeks in London from start to finish, explaining that Angela Linehan had stolen money off an important investor from under the noses of the Marotta clan, who were now holding Bethany.

  The colour drained from Ernesto’s face on the mere mention of Marotta.

  ‘What’s wrong?’ asked Harry.

  ‘The Marottas are known here. The brothers are connected to the Cobar cartel, importing cocaine and money laundering their funds.’

  ‘The Cobar cartel was on the news when I arrived,’ said Harry.

  ‘It’s never out of the news.’

  ‘So will you help me find Angela?’ pressed Harry once again.

  ‘I’d like to Harry for the sake of Bethany, but I’m sworn to secrecy. I can’t give someone’s whereabouts even to my own mother, if she were still alive. It would mean the end of not just my business. You can understand that,’ he said, drinking the brandy and putting the glass down on the coffee table.

  ‘Who’d know?’

  ‘That’s the trouble. They always find out and trust me I have clients who would wipe us all out just on suspicion that we might be leaking their whereabouts. If Angela gets the slightest hint I helped you, she’d withdraw all her funds, liquidate everything and the banks would be asking awkward questions. I can’t risk it, Harry. It would be the kiss of death for me and my family.’

  ‘Just her PO Box address and I’ll go.’

  ‘Dear Harry, you can’t save Bethany whatever you think. That money taken by Angela is most certain to belong to the Cobar cartel. The Marottas will be held responsible by the cartel and they know what will happen to them if they let them down. Save yourself at least. It’s too late for Bethany.’

  Harry felt anger towards Ernesto, even though he might have been speaking the truth. There was no way he’d ever give up on Bethany.

  Ernesto continued. ‘Don’t underestimate our criminal gangs in this country, they’re like a parallel state – all ex-military and ex-cops – armed to their teeth with everything from surface-to- air missiles to converted M1 Abrams. If the Marottas have told them you are somehow involved with Angela, they’ll come for you, and they’ll find you. Make no mistake. But I doubt the Marottas will have told them yet.’

  ‘What makes you so sure?’

  ‘Because the Marottas won’t be safe either. My guess is that the deadline they’ve given you is all the time they’ve got before the cartel discovers what has happened to their money.’

  That was not particularly reassuring to Harry. But all he was focussed on was getting Bethany free.

  ‘A name of a town or city?’ pleaded Harry again. ‘That’s all I need.’

  Ernesto didn’t appreciate being interrupted and raised his voice as he went on to finish the point he was trying to make.

  ‘You know what they’d do to you if they found you? They start by pulling out your teeth and then move on to amputating parts of you with an electric saw, bit by bit, until you talk. I cannot bring myself to describe how they would finish you off. These are godless men – pure savages.’

  ‘Ernesto, please, I know Angela is close by.’

  ‘Anyone working for the Cobar cartel has to prove how macho they are. Part of their initiation ritual is eating a whole snake – alive. Can you imagine that? You can even hear them masticating the bones.’

  ‘You’re just telling me that because you know I’m terrified of snakes.’

  ‘Seriously, you don’t want to go head-to-head with these guys.’

  ‘The Marottas don’t know where I am,’ said Harry, growing weary of Ernesto.

  ‘Maybe not. But one of the brothers, Pasquale Marotta, is in town.’

  Harry edged forward on the couch. ‘How do you know that?’

  ‘I saw him drinking in the Vista Real last week.’

  ‘You know him?’

  ‘No, of course not,’ said Ernesto in an abrupt manner. ‘But I was dining with a friend of mine, a regional district attorney, who pointed him out to me. He told me Pasquale is untouchable here.’

  ‘Why didn’t you mention this earlier?’

  ‘Because I thought it was going to be easier to get rid of you.’

  ‘And you’re still not going to help me?’

  Ernesto shook his head he wouldn’t. ‘Just get out of the country by tonight before it’s too late. The longer you stay, the worse it gets for you. Criminal gangs have infiltrated nearly every government and law enforcement agency in the land. They run one half of the country and the government the other half. No one can help you if you get caught.’

  ‘Give me a clue, anything.’

  ‘Gabriela told me you brought a gun into our house. Was that purely to scare me and make me talk?’

  ‘Of course not.’

  ‘How can I be so sure you wouldn’t have used it to get information out of me about Angela Linehan.’

  ‘It’s for my own protection.’

  ‘From her?’

  ‘She tried to get me killed; split my head wide open like a coconut. That’s what’s worrying her. I know her new identity.’

  ‘So it should be easy for you.’

  Harry shook his head. ‘She’s probably changed her name by now. She knows what to do.’

  ‘What happens when you find her?’

  ‘I know what I’d like to happen.’

  Ernesto laughed out aloud.

  Harry didn’t think his response was that funny and got back to the purpose of his visit. ‘When was the last time you spoke to her?’

  ‘Two weeks ago by phone, why?’

  ‘Expect another call from her because she knows I’ll come to see you for help.’

  Ernesto shrugged. ‘It would not be in my interest to say anything.’

  ‘Are you going to let me go?’

  ‘No. Not until we have had lunch together. I know this beautiful place up in the hills that you’ll just love.’

  ‘Is Gabriela joining us?’

  ‘She’s too busy in the city playing Mother Teresa.’

&nb
sp; ‘And my gun?’

  ‘Let’s go outside, the car is waiting.’

  There were tomatoes, okra, snow peas, and cauliflower growing in the fields surrounding Ernesto’s colonial villa. Harry stood in tree-shade away from the others, mesmerised by the rolling fields and the volcanic hills in the distance. Ernesto was standing in the courtyard by the open rear door of the armour–plated Mercedes giving orders to a man in a black suit and sunglasses. On the rooftop above them were two teenagers with Uzis hung over their shoulders, training their binoculars on the road outside the house.

  Another five armed men, dressed in jeans and light jackets, were smoking cigarettes by a four-by-four. They had the sun in their eyes and were making fun of the two youngsters on the roof with their binoculars.

  Harry’s head was clearer now and colour was returning to his cheeks. He felt an unusual peace and harmony within himself as the sweet scent of wild cannabis growing along the outer walls of the house wafted towards him in the warm breeze. The world had become a greedy place, full of complications he no longer tried to understand.

  The power of the blast threw him to the ground, grit filling his mouth, his head ringing from the grenade’s explosion. It was the only sound he heard at first and then the yelling started. He spat out the dirt and rolled over to see flames licking the burnt, twisted metal door of the Mercedes where Ernesto was previously standing. Black smoke from burning rubber was drifting Harry’s way, making him choke. Machine gun fire spat out from above and he kept his head low to the ground. Two men running for cover in the courtyard were torn apart by the rooftop Uzis. Thut, thut, thut – gravel stones and dust flew up around Harry’s hands and feet.

  He got up and scurried through the smoke, holding a handkerchief over his mouth. The remaining men in the courtyard were caught in a hail of lead as they tried to make a dash for the perimeter wall, their arms flailing like dad-dancers at a wedding as they crumbled to the ground.

  Harry dived for cover behind the wrecked car, landing next to the body of the man in the black suit. Ernesto was alive, but only just. His hand was covering one of his eyes, his face was red with blood. Ernesto had enough breath left to order Harry to save himself. But Harry ignored him and crawled to his side as the bullets raked the gravel around them.

  ‘Death can surprise all of us,’ said Ernesto, ‘not least, under such a beautiful blue sky.’

  ‘Don’t talk.’

  Thut, thut, thut.

  Ernesto began to mumble a Hail Mary in his mother tongue but faded away before he could complete the prayer.

  The shooting stopped and Harry looked around at the bodies strewn across the courtyard. But it was too late to do anything. In his back, he felt the barrel of an Uzi. He got up to face the two teenagers. One of them went across to Ernesto’s body and kicked it to make certain the contract was fulfilled.

  The other took a picture of Harry’s face with his mobile phone. ‘They want to see if you have any value to them,’ he explained in Spanish. ‘It makes no difference to us when we kill you.’

  Twenty-six

  Harry rocked around inside the four-by-four’s boot, his head slamming metal on each pothole and bend. His wrists were burning from the tightly bound rope and his legs felt numb. There was no play in the knots behind his back, but he knew he had to keep moving his wrists if there was ever going to be a chance of breaking free. He couldn’t make out what they were saying because of the engine’s whine and had no idea where they were taking him.

  While he worked on the rope, he kept thinking about Ernesto. He couldn’t get over he was dead, and felt he could have saved him had Ernesto returned his gun in time. It angered him that his friend hadn’t done so. But there was no point looking back as he was now at the mercy of hired killers.

  Harry could now only focus on escaping, hoping an opportunity would arise. He had no idea where his three passports were and would need them to get out of the country. He assumed that the men in the car didn’t have them either as they wouldn’t have had time to search the house for his things. With a bit of luck, his passports and clothes might still be with Gabriela in the city.

  When the boot opened again, he’d feared execution. Instead, he was dragged out of the back of the car and thrown into the boot of another that smelt of vomit. A previous victim had been trussed up just like him in the boot not that long ago. He could tell it was a different driver at the wheel from the smooth way the car pulled away. So much quieter was the motor, he could make out a cell phone ringing in the cabin. The man picking up ranted immediately at the caller but stopped abruptly for some reason. Another call followed and the shouting started again. Wherever they were taking him, they would be there soon, the man had confirmed to the caller.

  Harry had little time left to make a move. He made some progress on loosening the rope but not enough to allow his fingers to unpick the knots. It was no good, he would have to take a risk.

  He hit his head repeatedly against the boot lid until he reopened his old wound and blood streamed down his face. His knocking caused alarm in the car and he could hear the two men quarrelling. The car skidded to a halt and Harry held his breath. He listened to the driver’s footsteps as he got out to open the boot.

  The fat man holding a gun blinked at what he saw. Harry wasn’t moving and there was blood all over his face. He shut the boot and returned seconds later to pour a bottle of water over Harry’s head. Nothing. He shook Harry with one hand, and then called his friend to come and see. They tucked their guns into their waistbands and pulled him out of the car, stretching him out onto the road. The sun was rapidly disappearing behind the hilltops and the two men stood looking at each other with blank faces. A kick in Harry’s ribs provided no response. The driver knelt down and lowered his head to see if Harry was still breathing. Harry head butted the driver’s face, splitting his nose open. Blood gushed through the man’s fingers as he held his hands over his face, writhing in pain on the ground. Harry then jammed the ball of his right foot against the shin of the other man standing over him, shattering his tibia. The man crashed to the ground screaming, his gun falling loose from his waistband and skidding across the tarmac. Harry got up awkwardly like a giraffe and kicked the gun into the ditch, his hands still tied behind his back. The blood-soaked driver was back on his feet, reaching for his automatic. Harry rammed him with his head, knocking him out cold.

  He looked around for something to cut the rope around his wrists.

  The steel rail guard at the side of the road proved sharp enough for the job. Harry then gathered the men’s cell phones and hurled them as far as he could from the top of the hill.

  Moments later, he was in the car and pulling away at breakneck speed. His foot never came off the floorboard until he reached the CA-1 highway, which he knew would take him into the heart of Guatemala City.

  Twenty-seven

  Harry guessed that Gabriela would still be at work. She rented a small office in a smart block on 14 Avenida in Zona 10, and shared a floor with an English language school. When Harry arrived there were students everywhere waiting for their evening classes to begin, and he pushed his way through them to reach Gabriela’s office.

  Her secretary had gone for the night and hadn’t locked the door. He walked straight into Gabriela’s office and found her sitting behind a pile of documents dressed in a smart suit with a white blouse. She took off her reading glasses and became alarmed by the dried blood on his forehead. There was grease on his jacket from being trussed up in car boots and his jeans were ripped from the fight.

  She went to him, her face full of fear. He held her tight in his arms and she understood immediately that Ernesto was dead. Gabriela buried her head in his chest and began to sob uncontrollably. They stood like that for five long minutes, just holding each other.

  Harry went into great detail about what had taken place earlier that day. She just sat at the end of the sofa with a box of tissues weeping. Her eyes were two blots of mascara, her nose red. Harry paced u
p and down the office, filling in more details about the two assassins who betrayed Ernesto.

  Through tears she told Harry that she had left the hiring of the private security firm to Ernesto, and didn’t even know the name of the company or how they recruited their men.

  ‘Do you think they’ll come here?’ asked Harry.

  ‘No, they’ve done their job. Ernesto is dead that’s all that matters to them.’

  ‘What were their plans for me?’ asked Harry.

  ‘Don’t you know?’ She said it as an explanation.

  Harry didn’t get what she meant at first, then it began to filter through his head that they were going to pin the blame on him.

  Gabriela blew her nose and cleared her throat. ‘I delivered you straight into their hands. Ernesto was angry with me for becoming so hysterical that night that he sent his men around to calm me down. You had that gun and you were mysterious about wanting to surprise him. What was I supposed to think? Stupid, stupid, stupid,’ she said, slapping her head three times with the palm of her hand.

  Gabriela explained that she’d convinced everyone, apart from Ernesto, that he was the assassin they’d been expecting after the anonymous tip-off. When Ernesto’s men turned up at her house that night, they were surprised to find she’d already taken care of Harry.

  ‘One of the killers took a picture of me with his cell phone,’ said Harry.

  ‘That picture will be on all the police bulletin boards and in tomorrow’s newspapers,’ she replied. ‘The powers that be have mastered such subterfuge to an art form, trust me. You’re going to have to leave tonight. But they could already be looking for you at the airports; it will be more difficult for you now they have a picture.’

  ‘Did you keep all my stuff at your house?’ asked Harry as Gabriela stepped into a small kitchen to clean the mascara from her face.

  ‘Still in the bedroom as you had left them,’ she shouted through the open door. ‘They put your motorbike in the garage.’

  ‘Did you tell Ernesto’s men about my passports?’