Justice

by Blake, Russell

  “I know. It surprised me when you told me.”

  “It’s…it’s unbelievable.”

  “Did the kidnappers give you a ransom demand?”

  “Yes. Half a million dollars.”

  “That’s a lot of money. Do you have that much liquid?”

  “I called my parents. They do. They’ve made arrangements to have it available at the bank before closing time, and then he’s supposed to meet and trade the ransom for–”

  The sharp rap of footsteps approached from the rear of the house, and a man appeared, his face angry, Jet could see.

  “Sofia.” His eyes settled on Jet for a second, then swiveled back to Sofia. “What’s she doing here?” he demanded.

  “Tomás. You remember my friend Rebecca? And that’s Hannah.”

  Tomás ignored the introduction. “What’s she doing here?” he repeated.

  “I’m here to help,” Jet said simply.

  Tomás’ eyes narrowed to slits as he glowered at Sofia. “What have you told her?”

  Jet kept her tone neutral. “She told me about the kidnapping.”

  Tomás focused his barely constrained fury on Jet. “This is none of your business. You should leave. And tell no one.”

  “I think you’re making a huge mistake not bringing the police into this. You can’t trust criminals to keep their word, even if you give them the money.”

  “Rebecca, with all due respect, this isn’t any of your concern. We have to do what’s right for our daughter, not what my wife’s friends think or don’t think is appropriate.”

  “I adore Catalina, and I’d hate to see something happen to her because the police were never notified.”

  “Your sentiment is noted, but again, your opinion is only that. This is our affair, not yours, so I’ll tell you one final time. Keep your nose out of it,” he growled.

  Sofia patted Jet’s hand. “I’m sorry. He’s right. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

  “He’s not right. He’s gambling with Cat’s life here, and he’s making the wrong call.” Jet turned to him. “What guarantee do you have that if you give them the money, they won’t kill your daughter?”

  Tomás waved her away. “These thugs want cash, not to be hunted for the rest of their lives for murder.”

  “And if you’re wrong?”

  “I’m not.”

  Jet took a deep breath and struggled to remain calm. “I believe you are. And I have some experience with crooks from a past life. It’s a coin toss as to whether you get her back, even after you hand over the ransom. Remember, these are the lowest of the low, to kidnap a helpless child. They can’t be trusted in any way, and you’re trusting them. That’s a bad idea.”

  “Look, Rebecca. I don’t care what you think. I have to make this decision, and I’m saying we do this their way. End of story. Now please leave. I don’t want you causing more stress to my wife than what she’s already dealing with.”

  Sofia shook her head. “Tomás. Please. There’s no need to be rude. She means well, and she’s my friend.”

  Tomás looked like he was going to take a swing at her, but then bit back his anger with a visible act of will. “Fine. I need to finish what I was doing. I’m going to the bank in fifteen minutes. Rebecca? My wife is right. I’m sorry for snapping at you. But this is not my best moment.”

  Jet turned to Sofia. “This is a very difficult situation. A lot of emotion. It’s nobody’s finest hour. But I do want you to reconsider your decision. I can’t tell you how strongly I feel that you’re making a dangerous choice.”

  Tomás cut her off. “I heard you the first time. But it’s my choice to make, and I’ve made it. Now please don’t interfere with our private matters. Your unsolicited opinions are duly noted, for whatever they’re worth.” He paused, sizing her up. “If Sofia wants you to stay, that’s her business, but I’ve heard about enough of your thoughts. Good day,” he snapped and spun on his heel and stalked out.

  Tomás’ departure left a tension thick as a fog hanging in the room, and Hannah, who had remained quiet through the entire exchange, began to cry. Sofia rushed to her, beating Jet off the couch by a second, and hugged her as she cried herself. Jet watched them, realizing that the act of comforting Hannah was itself cathartic for Sofia, and rose.

  “I have to use the bathroom. Would you excuse me?” she asked.

  Sofia nodded with a sniff. “It’s down the hall, first door on the right.”

  Jet followed her direction, and when the door locked behind her, slid her cell phone from her back pocket and called Matt.

  “Well, hello, stranger. How’s the zoo going?” he answered, his voice light, filled with good cheer.

  “Change of plans,” Jet whispered. “Something happened.”

  Matt’s tone instantly became serious. “What? Are you okay?”

  “Yes. But I need you to do me a big favor. I need some help.”

  “Help? You got it. What do you need?”

  Jet explained what had happened, and Matt listened without comment. “I’m getting a really bad feeling from the husband. Something’s wrong there,” she finished.

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know. But something’s off.”

  “Fine. What would you like me to do?”

  “Get over here, wait outside without being obvious, and follow the husband. He’s supposed to head to the bank, and then I’m assuming he’s going to meet with the kidnappers to exchange the ransom for Catalina.”

  “Stupid bastard. That’s a great way to get himself killed.”

  “Exactly. So I want an insurance policy in place, and you’re it. Shadow him, and if anything looks sketchy, take action. Catalina’s the same age as Hannah…”

  “I get it. This hits close to home. What’s the address?”

  Jet gave it to him and described the house. “You probably have no more than ten minutes.”

  “That’s not very far away. I’ll be there in five.”

  Jet paused. “Thank you, Matt. I’m sorry to get you involved. Hell, I don’t want to be in the middle of this, either. It’s just that…she doesn’t have anyone else. She’s all alone, and her husband’s a first-class asshat.”

  “So you’re making it your problem,” Matt stated flatly. “I understand. Let me get going. I’ll call you when I get a chance.”

  The line went dead. Jet switched the phone to vibrate and slipped it back into her pocket, and then flushed the toilet and washed her hands. She wasn’t sure what about Tomás had rubbed her so wrong, but she’d long ago learned to trust her instincts, and they were telling her that he was a weasel.

  Or something worse.

  Chapter 9

  Matt coasted to a stop twenty yards from Sofia’s house and left the motor of his Vespa running so he’d be able to move quickly. He knew from experience that a reasonably well-dressed man on a scooter wouldn’t draw any attention in Mendoza, where the two-wheeled conveyances were common for shop owners and office workers on their way to work, with gasoline expensive and money hard to come by.

  He slid off the seat, keeping his helmet on, and crouched down as though examining his motor, eyes hidden behind his sunglasses as he watched the huge brick home’s driveway. Several minutes later his vigilance was rewarded as the wooden garage door slowly rose and a white Mercedes 300 series sedan backed out and pulled onto the street. Matt swung onto the scooter and pushed away from the curb, letting the car gain some distance, confident that he wouldn’t be spotted as they moved into downtown traffic, which was always congested, even during the late afternoon when most shops shut down.

  Tomás was jittery from too much coffee. So far his plan had unfolded as anticipated: Sofia’s parents had coughed up the ransom money without protest at the prospect of losing their only granddaughter. It had been a brilliant plan, and so easy to pass off as a genuine threat as to be laughable. Sofia had bought it without question, and she’d sold her parents – he hadn’t even had to do much talking, preferring to
let her heart-wrenching terror at her daughter’s mortal danger carry the day and persuade the old tightwads to cut loose the cash.

  He felt remorse at using his daughter to settle his debt with Luis, but only a little. He’d been a reluctant parent, her birth unplanned, and had only decided to stay with Sofia once she’d announced her pregnancy because he’d figured the parents could be depended upon to contribute to his and Sofia’s lifestyle – a good bet, as shortly before Catalina was born they’d bought the house and given it to Sofia so their daughter, and her child, would have a comfortable place to live.

  Her father had rubbed it in when he’d handed them the keys, underscoring that it was a shame that their daughter’s husband hadn’t met with sufficient success to afford something decent on his own. Just another in a series of slights they’d directed at Tomás, whom they’d grudgingly brought on to run one of their wineries after he and Sofia had married. His prior engagement as the winemaker at a mediocre label had run its course by then, as all of his jobs did when his arrogance with his subordinates and his frequent absences due to too many late nights caught up with him. So now he had his winery – ‘his’ only because the family had decided to throw a few crumbs their way. He earned enough after expenses to cover their living, but couldn’t keep up with his secret life of gambling and mistresses.

  Which is how he’d wound up so badly in debt to Luis – married to a woman he despised and stuck in a life where he was little more than an indentured servant to her parents, who contained their dislike of him only out of respect for Sofia’s choice. This had been the perfect scheme to clear his slate once and for all, reset his accounts to zero, and win himself a new lease on life. From his perspective, the kidnapping had been nothing more than self-preservation. He had no real idea of how connected Luis was, but he obviously had enough pull with the casinos to get Tomás’ credit shut down, and sufficient reach with the private games to be alerted when Tomás appeared.

  It was an insulting state of affairs, and he was relieved that it was almost over. The money would pay off his chit and show he was willing to do whatever it took to honor his obligations, restoring his standing with the clubs and proving that he was a man of his word. Besides which, the parents wouldn’t miss it – five hundred thousand dollars was a drop in the bucket to them, with their holdings of land, wineries, and housing developments, in both Mendoza and Buenos Aires.

  When his phone rang, he nearly jumped out of his seat and fumbled in his jacket pocket for it before pulling it free and answering it.

  “Hello?”

  “Tomás, how are we doing?” It was Luis’ second-in-command, Javier, with whom he customarily dealt. Luis’ appearance in his life had represented an undesirable escalation – his debt was owed to Javier, who apparently had some affiliation with Luis.

  “Good. I’ll pick up the money within the hour, and it will be in your hands shortly afterward.”

  “That’s promising. But listen. There’s been a little change of plans. Luis and I have been thinking, and with all the risk falling on our side, we’re going to change the terms of our arrangement. We want half as our cut for pulling this off.”

  Tomás sputtered, his color climbing in his face. “What? No! That’s unacceptable. We had a deal. Seventy-thirty. You get thirty for your part; I get seventy. Which goes to you anyway, but clears my tab.”

  “I know that’s what you proposed, but now that we have your daughter and the full extent of the risks involved have become obvious, Luis said no. Fifty-fifty.”

  “But that will still leave me owing you another hundred grand!”

  “Which you should have no problem winning back now that your luck has changed.”

  “You can’t change the deal now,” Tomás protested.

  “‘Can’t’? I’d be careful what you say, Tomás. We can always release your daughter downtown, and you still owe us the three-fifty…and have twenty-four more hours to come up with it, or your world comes caving in on you. Your choice.”

  “I want to talk to Luis. This isn’t going to fly.”

  Javier’s voice hardened. “Tomás. You don’t dictate terms. This isn’t a negotiation. The word came down from him, and that’s final. This is as good a deal as you’re going to get. So suck it up, go get the money, and meet me as planned. You don’t want to anger Luis. Trust me on that.”

  “I never agreed to this. I wouldn’t have done it if I’d–”

  Javier cut him off. “Spare me, Tomás. Now stop wasting my time. Go to the bank and then make the delivery like a good boy, and be happy that Luis didn’t decide to cut some fingers off…or let the boys have some fun with little Catalina. Who’s cute as a button, by the way.”

  “You bastard.”

  “I’m not the bastard, Tomás. I didn’t come up with the plan to use my daughter to extort money from my wife’s parents. Stop being a bitch, and do as you’re told. I’m tired of this conversation.”

  Tomás listened to the dead line with mounting rage. How dare that small-time punk try to change the deal once Tomás had done all the hard work and shouldered the risk! That was typical of a street thug like Javier, who immediately tried to jockey for the upper hand once he thought he was in the stronger position. Luis probably hadn’t even changed the deal – it was more likely that Javier had decided to stick an easy hundred grand in his pocket by bluffing Tomás. Yes, that was more likely. A guy like Luis couldn’t develop a reputation as a cheat, or nobody would want to do business with him. This smacked of Javier.

  And there was no way Tomás was going to let him get away with it.

  Tomás thought hard as he drove, and then an idea sprang to the forefront of his mind. He knew exactly how to deal with Javier and have him begging to go back to the original deal. All it would take was a single phone call.

  Tomás punched in the familiar digits and waited for his brother to pick up.

  “Yeah?”

  “Bruno. Long time. You busy?”

  “I’m still on duty, so make it fast. What’s up?”

  “I’ve got a problem.”

  “Welcome to the world.”

  “No, I mean a real problem. And I need some help.”

  Bruno’s tone became cautious. “Tomás, what have you gotten involved in this time?”

  Bruno had been saving Tomás’ bacon since they were children, and was sick of his brother putting the arm on him when the going got especially rough. But family was the ultimate bond, and he couldn’t refuse his younger brother. Blood demanded they stick together, no matter what stupidity Tomás had embarked on – no doubt another one of countless ill-advised adventures he’d undertaken, where Bruno had been forced to intercede.

  “It’s bad, Bruno. I…I didn’t have any choice.” Tomás’ voice cracked on the last words.

  “I can’t talk right now. I get off at five. Can you swing by the station then? Or call me back closer to quitting time. Maybe fifteen minutes before.”

  “Just promise me you’ll help me, Bruno. I’ll never ask for anything again.”

  “Gotta go. Call me later.”

  Tomás hung up, the gears meshing in his head. He knew he could count on Bruno, even if he would be furious about Catalina. He probably wouldn’t want to talk to Tomás for a year, but Tomás would deal with the fallout later. Right now he needed to do damage control, and to do that, he needed Bruno at his back.

  So engrossed was he in his drama he never noticed the black Vespa a half block behind him. He’d already moved on to how to put the fear of God into Javier so he would never mess around with him again.

  He made a lazy right turn on a major artery that led to the bank, glancing at his watch as he did. He had a half hour to kill before the money would be counted and ready for pick-up. Just enough time for a few fingers of whiskey to calm his frayed nerves and dull the pain in his rib from where Luis had savaged him.

  An insult he wouldn’t soon forget.

  After two stiff drinks he felt restored, if not invigorated, and
when he walked out of the bar he had a spring in his step. He’d arrived at some conclusions as he steadied himself with his good friend Ballantine’s. Javier was trifling with the wrong man, trying to play him for a fool, but he’d put a stop to that. Tomás was nobody’s bitch, as Javier had called him, and he’d soon regret his insolence. Tomás had suffered from a bad streak with the cards, but he was still a player, the head of a winery, married to a socialite, residing in a mansion. Javier was street scum who had to live by his wits, and this time he’d bitten off more than he could chew.

  The bank welcomed him into the president’s private office, where two armed guards flanked the door as the manager ran the stacks of hundreds through a bill counter to verify for Tomás that he was signing for the full amount. Twenty minutes later the guards were escorting him to his car, hands on their pistols, eyes roving over the street, alert. They stood on the sidewalk until he’d pulled away, and then returned to the bank, done with their final chore for the day.

  Matt watched as Tomás slid behind the wheel of his car, and called Jet, figuring he’d soon be on the road again.

  “He just picked up the money.”

  “This is where it’ll get dicey. Anyone tailing him?”

  “Besides me? Not that I’ve seen.”

  “That was one of my fears – that they’d hit him outside the bank, or on the road.”

  “What’s the point if he’s heading straight to the exchange?”

  “Crooks are crooks. Haven’t met one yet I would trust to wash my car.”

  “Fair point. Damn. I’ll call you back once I figure out where he’s headed.”

  “Perfect. My phone’s on.”

  Matt dropped his cell into his windbreaker pocket and took off after Tomás, narrowly avoiding the errant fender of an ancient Ford Falcon that sounded as though it was running on kerosene and a prayer. Tomás drove at a moderate pace, making it easy for Matt to track him as he headed north along Avenue San Martin.