by Jay Begler
His response surprised her. He put his hand on her shoulder to comfort her. She recognized his intent and did not bat it away. Morales looked at Rebecca straight on and said, “Rebecca, right now your immediate release is beyond my control. If you work with us and we are successful or if you are diligent and despite your best efforts we don’t succeed, we will let you go home.”
She interrupted. “That could take years. I don’t want to be a prisoner here for the rest of my life.”
“Give us six months. If we don’t succeed by then, it will be too late for us. Our drug business will be on its way to being destroyed.”
“As to your financial situation, just as a gesture of good faith, we will set up an investment in your company of five million dollars. We’ll take care of that by the end of the day. Tomorrow, a company will contact Daniel and let him convince them to invest.”
“Look Hector, you are probably the most wanted man in the world. You kidnapped me, so there is no reason for me to believe you. All I know is you committed a crime against me and indirectly against my family. Your promises are hollow. As to your promise to fund Daniel, since I can’t talk to him, there is no way to verify this.”
“Everything you say is true, Rebecca, but I can make one promise and that you will see will be true. Those two men that abused you and Daniel, and that affected you so deeply, will never bother you again.”
His answer surprised her, “You know about that?”
“Yes, we know everything about the Event.” She was surprised that they knew its name. “We also know about your depression and daily torment worrying that those thugs would return, your talk of suicide and your carrying a gun wherever you go.”
She seemed to stare into space as if looking at an image and said flatly, “Yes. They ruined my life and in a way Daniel’s life. So, I suppose this is the final insult.”
He picked up his phone, said some words which she couldn’t hear. “We’re going for a short ride; why don’t you put on some daytime clothes and take a jacket as it’s become a bit blustery?”
“Where are we going?”
“Trust me, Rebecca.”
“Really Hector. Trust you? That’s laughable.”
She had thought of resisting, of refusing to move, but that option didn’t seem realistic given her circumstances.
Rebecca had not inspected her closet closely and was shocked when she did so. Somehow, the Cartel replicated the contents of her entire closet: clothing, undergarments, shoes, bags and other accessories. “For what purpose?” she wondered. It was as if they had transported all of her clothing from her home. Ten minutes later, dressed in jeans, a sweater, tennis sneakers and a windbreaker, all identical to those she wore at home, except for the Chula Ranch baseball cap, which she put on to protect her from the impending rain, Rebecca joined Morales in front of the guest house. Two vans pulled up. The driver of the first van, a fit-looking man in his fifties, approached, held out his hand and said, “Rebecca, it’s been quite a long time.”
She studied his face for a moment and then realizing who it was, said “Jeb?”
“Yes. It’s good to see you.”
“Well, I wish it was under other circumstances. I suppose you can’t help me.”
He didn’t reply. Isabella and Louisa exited the first van and approached. Isabella, as if meeting an old friend, hugged Rebecca, who stiffened and did not reciprocate. “Rebecca, I’m glad we finally have met. I’ve heard so much about you. But, like Hector, I’m very sorry and angry that you are here against your will. Both of us were against this plan. And, I am trying to figure out a way to get you in touch with your husband. We’ll work on that.” Assessing Isabella’s looks, Rebecca wondered, despite Morales’ explanation, how he could have married her. With no other alternative, she followed Isabella into the van. A quarter of a mile from their starting point, the van stopped and edged slowly towards a large glass building fronted by a sign: “The Meyer Shapiro Veterinary Research Center.”
Morales said, “I thought you would want to see this. Your father was a superb scientist and an important figure in the Cartel. He made many important contributions to our group.”
The realization was immediate; her father worked for the Cartel. For Rebecca, it was at once stunning and unbelievable, yet she knew her conclusion was correct. She often wondered how he could make such large donations year after year to their local synagogue and take them for their lavish annual vacations in Israel. Rebecca never pressed the issue since her holier than thou father might interpret her questions as an accusation of some impropriety,
Morales interrupted Rebecca’s momentary thoughts about her father. “If you join us, this is where you’ll be working. You’ll find that the technology we have is as good as or better than anything in the states.”
Still thinking about her father, Rebecca ignored Morales, put her head between her knees and said in a tone reflecting disgust, “Jesus.” She peered out of the window of the van. The brightness of the early morning was gone, replaced by dark storm clouds and gusts of drizzle filled wind. They drove past pastures filled with steers, large industrial looking buildings and a small airfield. The hill the van climbed was the one on which she and Morales first walked up when they were sixteen. For a moment she felt a mix of sentimentality and abject sadness. This was not at all for a lost love, but for a time when things seemed simple. Optimism and hope filled her life. Terror was something she never experienced or even imagine. Now, everything was the reverse; everything was hopeless. Her only saving grace, she thought, was that as long as they housed her against her will in this sanctuary for criminals, the two brutes who ruined her life couldn’t find her.
The van drove into an area surrounded by a high cement wall and came to a halt. The drizzle, had progressed to showers. Men holding green golf umbrellas embossed with “Chula Cattle” met the van and escorted each of the passengers to a designated place under a large awning. Six people emerged from the second van and walked past Rebecca, shook her limp hand and introduced themselves, each saying “Thank you for coming.” She thought the remarks were ridiculous considering her circumstances, but did not press the issue, or bother to say you’re welcome. She stood mute while a blur of smiling faces passed in front of her.
At a distance of about thirty-five yards from them there were two men, hooded, with their arms and legs shackled to the wall in a spread-eagle position. Morales took Rebecca by the arm and moved out of the protection of the umbrellas to a point ten feet away from the men. He said, “Stay here,” and removed the hoods from the men. Rebecca recoiled upon seeing them, particularly the larger man, and for an instant, became unsteady, but then regained her composure. Realizing that they could not harm her, Rebecca approached them.
“Do you know who I am?”
The smaller man just shook his head with sad resignation. She took off her cap, and said more adamantly to the larger man, her primary attacker, “Do you know me?”
The larger man, knew that it was a certainty that he would die, and summoned up the most macho attitude he could. “Sure, the bitch from Sands Point who almost gave me a blow job. Too bad your husband came back; I would have loved to have had you; maybe next time.” Then he shook his arms as if he could free himself from the wall and come after her. Rebecca stepped back as if frightened. He made a mock kiss. Seeing his hopeless condition, she stepped closer to him.
She said quietly, “Do you know you ruined my life?”
The smaller man replied, “I’m terribly sorry,” but the larger man responded, “Like I really give a shit” and he spit, intending to hit her but missing his mark. Morales went to strike the man, but in a commanding tone, which surprised everyone, she said, “Hector, stop! Come back to the awning with me.” She approached Jeb and asked, “Do you have a weapon?”
Surprised, he answered, “Well, yes. A Glock 55; the latest thing.”
“May I borrow it?”
He looked at Morales who, somewhat bewildered, nodded affirmati
vely. Jeb took the weapon from his jacket and handed it to her.
She asked matter-of-factly, almost as if she were a law enforcement officer discussing weapons. “Are the rounds hollow points?”
“The latest and best kind, double the expansion rate when they enter a target.”
“Perfect.”
Morales asked incredulously, “You know about these things?”
“Unfortunately, because of those two thugs, for the last five I’ve gone to the shooting range three times a week. I have a license to carry. So, through talking with some of the regulars, I’ve learned a lot.”
After a few minutes of feeling the weight of the gun and checking its sight, she told the man holding the umbrella to follow her. She stood in front of the group, held out the Glock and said. “Last chance for you to apologize.”
“Fuck you.”
Rebecca said nothing further. She shot the larger man three times in his crotch, the expanding hollow points ripping his penis apart and destroying his testicles. A large red circle of blood of ever-increasing circumference formed on his pants at the place he once had genitals. One round splintered and smashed into his liver; another destroyed his spleen. He was beginning the process of dying, though it was unclear to Rebecca and the onlookers whether he knew this. Without a scintilla of emotion, she shot him in each of his shins, shattering them, and causing him to slump and hang from the wall. She walked closer to him and spoke in a voice full of fury. She had never let herself get angry after the Event because she was afraid of any confrontation.
“Apologize for ruining my life,” she screamed, but he could only look at her with a glazed expression. He seemed incapable of speech. Saying nothing more, she walked back to the group, turned around quickly and with lightning speed, shot the man in the throat allowing him to choke to death on his blood. She then turned to the second man and shot him in the head three times. Morales and his entire entourage standing beneath the awning, mesmerized by what they saw, were speechless.
Louisa noticed a change in Rebecca immediately, and whispered to Isabella, “Look Isabella, she isn’t stooping; she’s standing perfectly straight. We may be witnessing a metamorphosis of sorts, a return to the original Rebecca. Who would have expected that?”
In a quiet and polite way, Rebecca said to one of Morales’ men, “Please unshackle them and place them on the floor.” When he did this and her dead attackers were on the ground, she pressed the muzzle of the gun against each of their heads and fired two more rounds, splattering their brains on the ground. The group applauded. Despite her situation and the grimness of her act, she smiled, momentarily forgetting that she was a kidnap victim.
Jeb said to Morales with admiration, “She’s an unbelievable shot.” She handed the Glock back to Jeb and said, “Thanks. Nice weapon.” The tone of her a voice was different; it was the voice of the original pre-Event Rebecca, confident and assertive.
Louisa whispered to Isabella, “I can’t believe it. She’s an entirely different person.”
“If that’s true, do you think it will help us or hinder us in our efforts to turn her?”
“I have no idea.”
Rebecca said to Morales, “Hector, I need one more thing to happen.”
“Whatever you like.”
“I want them cremated. Nothing fancy, just pour gasoline over them and set them on fire.”
Morales spoke to one of his men and five minutes later two of his men soaked the dead thugs with gasoline.
Morales said, “Do you want to do the honors?”
She was not smiling now, but had a serious expression. “Of course.”
One of them men lit a rag, handed it to Rebecca, and cautioned her not to get too close to the dead men. She held her arm out, dropped the rag and stepped back. A flame exploded, fully engulfing the dead men, and black smoke rose from the fire. Rebecca stared at the smoke as it rose in the sky, and, as if hypnotized, she seemed to chant. No one could quite hear her, but she was murmuring in a manner that one recites a mantra, “free, free, free, free.” Simultaneously, she moved her raised arms in a circle. She appeared to be watching the men, more the memory of them, disappear. To some onlookers, it seemed she was performing some sort of religious ritual. Louisa described it as akin to an exorcism. After forty minutes, the fire went out, and all that remained of the corpses were their ashes. Rain drops that hit the hot ashes made a hissing sound. Everyone stood in stunned silence; no one spoke for five minutes after the fire went out.
Finally, Morales whispered to Rebecca, “What would you like us to do with their ashes?”
She thought for a minute, and in the way that she used to do, she put her hand on his arm and said, “Put their ashes in a place where your cattle shit.”
What began as one of the worst days of her life, now turned out as the best moment she had since the Event. She was a captive, but she also was free. The torment and the tormentors no longer existed. The undercurrent of fear that gripped her every day had vanished. She was ebullient and calm. She was aware of her calmness and wondered when was the last time she felt this way. As they road back to the hacienda, Louisa asked, “How do you feel?”
Despite her position as a prisoner, she said, “I feel empowered.”
Isabella asked, “Would you like to have lunch with us at the hacienda?”
“No, I think I just want to be by myself for the rest of the day.”
As Rebecca left the van, Morales said, “May I come by later to see you?”
“I can’t stop you, but I really would prefer to be alone.”
“I’ll respect your privacy for as long as you want.”
Louisa came up beside her and said, “I just want to give you a bit more orientation. There is a den next to your bedroom. You’ll find a television set with all of the streaming services, and a film library of the latest movies. No computer, I’m afraid. Down the hall there is a fully equipped gym, and we can get you a yoga and a Pilates teacher. You’ll find the cuisine extraordinary, all you have to do is dial 44 on your phone. Order anything you want. As you can see, we have a lovely pool. If it’s ok, I’ll come by in the morning. If you want, we can go for a run.”
Before the Event, running was a daily activity for Rebecca. Each morning at six, weather permitting, she would run about five miles on the lovely narrow roads of Sands Point. Taking the same route every day was an activity in which she took great pleasure. After a while, people along the route, who she called the “six o’clockers,” mostly Wall Street types, cell phones in hand, making ready to head for the city and other runners, would recognize her and wave or issue a word or two of encouragement. She also loved running by the mansions of the uber rich, and in particular, the beautiful gardens fronting their houses. These runs would give her both a sense of peace and also act to clear her head. She used to say that she did some of her best thinking while running. Since the day of her assault, however, Rebecca had no desire to exercise. At first, she ran to placate Daniel who, along with her psychiatrist, urged her to resume running because they thought exercise would help Rebecca psychologically. After a while, she made excuses not to run and then even stopped making excuses. Running, like their lovemaking, became a thing of the past. Now, she felt energized and thought a run would be just the right thing.
“Thanks. I’m going to have some lunch, take a shower and go for a quick run. I’ve got to get back into shape. I also need an alarm clock. I used to run at six in the morning and need to get back to that.” Her tone changed, and she admonished, “But do not interpret that under any circumstances that I’ve agreed to stay or to help you. That’s not happening.”
“Understood. Can I run with you tomorrow?”
“Sure, but be out in front at six sharp.”
Morales, Isabella, Louisa and several other psychiatrists from Louisa’s team met in a small conference room. Morales asked, “Well Louisa, what do you think?”
“Frankly, I don’t know what to think. I never imagined that Rebecca would kil
l those two men. And, the manner in which she did it, calmly, confidently, and with no apparent remorse, was shocking to me. Obviously, killing them lifted a terrible burden that she carried for many years. I suspect that her act was transformative and that just as the Event transformed her to the poor soul we abducted, this event, so to speak, somehow changed her back to what she was just prior to the original Event. I think she ritualized the killing to make it her event, one that she controlled. Was she assertive when you were with her that summer?”
“Almost to the point of being bossy. She knew her mind and was not afraid to speak it. That was one of the things I loved about her.”
Louisa said, “Well, we will need to play it by ear. If this new, or I should say, old assertive self takes hold, we may never turn her or she may turn herself. Ironically, she is now the one in control of the situation, not us.”
“So, Louisa, what’s the next step?”
“I’m running with her tomorrow at six in the morning. That’s the time she always used to run. So, she is reverting to her old disciplines. This is purely intuition but I think I should be perfectly honest with her about my role in trying to turn her and the choices available to her.”
Isabella asked, “Do you think that will work?”
“I don’t really know, but I doubt if deception will work
Nineteen
•
The Temptation of Rebecca
The following morning, Rebecca was in front of the guest house stretching before her run. Referring to the dog running alongside of Louisa as she approached, Rebecca asked, “Who’s your friend?”
“His name is Chip.”
Chip, a two-year-old Rottweiler, stood behind Louisa and looked tentatively at Rebecca.
Louisa said to Chip, “Chip, friend.”
Hearing this, the dog began to wag his tail and approach Rebecca who, being a dog lover, got down on her knees and began to pet him. Louisa handed her a few small pellets. “Here. Give him some of these treats, and he’ll be your friend for life.” Rebecca held the pellets in her open hand, and the appreciative dog devoured them, then sat waiting for a command.