Justice

by Blake, Russell

  But first she needed her daughter to be in a safe place so she could concentrate on taking Tara out before she could discover that Matt only had a handful of the diamonds she was after – at which point she’d probably kill him, torturing him first to learn the whereabouts of the rest of the stones. An unthinkable outcome, and one that only Jet was in a position to prevent.

  The road to Sofia’s estate was even more rustic than the last one, the inky vineyards on either side rushing past as she drove further from civilization, the air heavy with the smell of wet earth and condensation. The moon bathed the landscape in an eerie pale light, lending it an otherworldly quality, as foreign to her as any she’d seen. Hannah sat quietly in the back seat, her eyes heavy as they bounced gently along, and Jet felt a stab of regret at having to leave her with Sofia, if even for only a few short hours. After a lifetime apart, it seemed that circumstances conspired again to separate them, a state of affairs she found intolerable, albeit necessary. Jet made a mental note to make Tara pay for that too.

  She watched the odometer and, when she’d come six kilometers, she spotted a road, barely more than a footpath, between rows of grapevines and stretching into the night. She’d been checking her rearview mirror religiously and was confident she wasn’t being followed – that mistake had been a costly one and she wouldn’t tolerate any more sloppiness on her part. Careless slips could be the difference between surviving the next hours, and not.

  She arrived at an iron gate and coasted to a stop. Two men with assault rifles materialized out of the darkness with their weapons pointed at her, their faces seasoned with the battle-hardened chiseling that only veterans had. Jet rolled down the window, careful to keep her other hand on the steering wheel where they could see it, and smiled when the first of the pair neared the window, his companion standing several yards away. The red dot of his laser sight danced on her forehead through the windshield.

  “I’m here to see Sofia. I’m her friend, Rebecca,” Jet said quietly. The man glanced into the rear seat at Hannah and grunted.

  “Open the rear cargo door so I can make sure you’re alone,” he said, his voice flinty, his tone flat. Jet did as instructed and after a few seconds the man returned and nodded to the other guard. “Let her through.” He turned to Jet. “Keep going straight. It’s about half a kilometer further. Drive slow. Even though I’m radioing ahead, everyone’s jumpy, and you don’t want any accidents to happen.”

  Jet nodded and left the window down, the cool air refreshing on her skin.

  “Will do.”

  The gate creaked open on corroded hinges and she drove on, reassured by the guards’ demeanor that they were taking their duty seriously. A two-story home appeared on her left, lights on downstairs, the walled entry filled with vehicles. Four men stood by the oversized wrought-iron gate, all with rifles, and all looking well versed in their use. Jet stopped, and the questioning and search were repeated before she was allowed into the compound. She parked next to the Land Cruiser’s twin and detected movement to her right as she shut off the engine. Sofia approached, looking frayed, and offered a fatigued smile.

  “You found it.”

  “Yes. The directions were good.”

  Sofia looked through the window at Hannah. “Hello, darling. You look so sleepy. Come on – let’s get you some warm milk and put you to bed.”

  Jet stepped out of the car, opened the rear passenger door, and unbuckled Hannah, who was barely conscious, the day’s events having caught up with her and her body’s demands for sleep shutting her down. Jet picked her up and followed Sofia into the house, past two more stern guards with dead eyes and granite countenances.

  Sofia’s father was standing in the dining room, a glass of wine in hand, regarding them with the patrician superiority of an elder statesman. He nodded in greeting but remained quiet as the two women moved past him and up the wide stairway to the second-floor bedrooms. Sofia helped Jet get Hannah ready for bed after issuing instructions to a housekeeper for warm milk, and soon Hannah was comfortably ensconced in a spare guest bed next to where Catalina slumbered, unaware of the new arrival.

  Sofia pulled the door closed, leaving it open a crack, and they walked softly to the stairs and joined her father in the living room, where he was sitting, a bottle of wine open, two empty glasses next to it, his in his hand.

  “Please. Sit. Have some wine. This is my private reserve Malbec – I only make a few barrels every year from the oldest vines on a half acre I tend to personally. I find it therapeutic to keep my hand in it, feel the earth between my fingers, prune the vines myself, oversee the crush and the winemaking. You know, before I entered government service, I was a simple farmer, which I still am, at heart.”

  “Oh, Papa, you’ve never been a farmer. Or simple,” Sofia teased, pouring the two glasses full of the purple wine and handing Jet a glass. Jet took an appreciative sip and smiled.

  “This is extraordinary. It’s the best Malbec I’ve ever tasted.”

  “I’m glad you think so. I was fortunate that year – nature cooperated. I only have a few more of this vintage left, but it gives me nothing but pleasure to share it with my guests. Especially in celebration of good news. Your daughter back, safe. Sofia’s–”

  “Yes, but, Papa, there’s been a wrinkle,” Sofia said.

  Her father studied Jet, his expression placid. “A wrinkle?”

  Jet told him what had happened with Matt, omitting the details of why Tara would want to kidnap him, preferring to leave it at being about money and extortion. When she finished, she sat back, her emerald eyes flashing as she held his gaze.

  He set his glass down. “I told you that anything I could do was yours for the asking. It would seem the time to ask is here. Sofia, would you excuse us? You must be tired.” Not so much a question as an order, and Jet got a brief insight into what Sofia’s upbringing must have been like.

  “Oh, of course, Papa. I’ll leave you two to your plotting. Rebecca, thanks again for everything. Hannah will be as safe as if she were my own daughter. I promise.” Sofia rose and moved to the stairs, taking her wine with her. When she was out of earshot, Sofia’s father took another drink of his wine.

  “What can I do for you?”

  “I need to get to Buenos Aires.”

  He nodded. “Yes, it sounds like it. I’ll make a call and see about having my friend’s jet ready as soon as possible. Although it could take some time to get the pilot out of bed.”

  “That would be incredibly helpful of you.”

  “What else do you need?”

  She told him about Dante and Tara’s likely objective – the bank, in only a few short hours.

  “I could use a few experienced men to help. There’s only so much I can do alone.”

  He studied her. “I find that difficult to believe. But think nothing of it. Again, I’ll wake some people up. I know such men.”

  “I figured you might.”

  “You are perceptive.”

  “I’ll also need some weapons. And ammunition.”

  “I would expect so. Tell me what you want and I’ll arrange for it.”

  “I have a Glock 9mm I took off the men who attacked your house, but I could use some more ammo. And a submachine gun. Whatever you can get your hands on.”

  He stood and carried his wine into the dining room, where his jacket was hanging on the back of an antique chair. He felt in the pocket, retrieved a cell phone, and began making calls. Jet took one more sip of wine and set the glass down in front of her. She stretched and closed her eyes as he held a hushed discussion in the other room. She felt like she hadn’t slept for a week. She could feel her legs and arms bruising from her brushes with danger, and her muscles ached from the demands she’d placed on them.

  She jolted awake to find the lights dimmed, Sofia’s father in the dining room, his calls finished. She glanced at her watch and saw she’d been asleep for almost an hour. Not good, with valuable time slipping away. She rose and joined him at the dining
table, where he was now drinking water.

  “I took the liberty of allowing you some much-deserved rest. The jet won’t be available until six for takeoff, so there’s no point in staying awake while you wait for it,” he reported.

  “You got it?”

  “Of course. I also did a little checking. This Dante is a very dangerous man – well known in certain circles, one of Buenos Aires’ most notorious gangsters. If the woman is mixed up with him, you can expect her to have infinite resources, especially on his home turf.”

  “That’s what I was afraid of. Then again, it didn’t do their Mendoza contingent much good.”

  “Hmm. I got a report from a colleague at the police. Apparently there was a massacre at a warehouse in town.”

  “If one lives by the sword…”

  “Yes, quite. I just find it remarkable that you have been able to be so…effective, in such a short period of time. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  “Every hunter knows not to get between a mother bear and her cub.”

  “Indeed. Wise words. But still, remarkable.”

  “I appreciate all the help. The jet will be a godsend.”

  “Ah, and the other piece of good news is that one of my relatives will be accompanying you. His nickname’s Paco, which is all you need to know, other than that he was a commando with the Argentine Special Forces for years and is now in the private sector providing security. The men here are from his group. I’ve asked him to take a personal interest in your difficulties, and he assured me that he’d have not only the weapons you need, but himself and four of his top men, at the airport by six. These are serious players, young lady. Hopefully they will be able to narrow your odds.”

  “That’s great news. And what about logistical support on the ground in Buenos Aires?”

  “Paco knows everyone. You’ll want for nothing.”

  Jet couldn’t help looking at her watch again.

  Sofia’s father frowned. “You still have several hours. I would advise you to get some sleep. It sounds as though you need it. Don’t worry. I’ll see to it that you’re woken with plenty of time to spare to make the plane. You’re half an hour away, so…say, a five o’clock wake up?”

  Jet sighed. “That would be perfect.”

  “You’ll find two empty guest bedrooms upstairs at the end of the hall. Take either one. And sleep well.”

  Jet managed a smile. “You really have thought of everything. I can’t thank you enough.”

  “No, it is I who can’t thank you enough.” He looked away. “Ah, and I got some unfortunate news from the hospital. Tomás passed away during the night. His injuries were apparently too serious.”

  “Poor Sofia.”

  “Yes, although my private opinion is that she’ll be better off without him. But still, he was the father of my granddaughter and my daughter’s husband, so I’ll speak no ill of the dead.”

  “I’m so sorry to hear about it.”

  “As am I – mainly for the pain it will cause Sofia. If she is up before you leave, please don’t say anything. I’d like to break the news in my own way.”

  “I understand.”

  Jet trudged up the stairs, bone-tired but her mind churning. So much had changed in just a few short hours, and would continue to. The reverberations from Catalina’s kidnapping continued to cause fallout, like the surface of a still lake after a stone is thrown into it. She understood Sofia’s father’s dislike for Tomás – he hadn’t been the most gracious host she’d ever met – but still, was saddened for Sofia and the grief it would bring.

  She crawled under the thick covers in the nearest guest bedroom and was out within seconds of her head hitting the pillow, her sleep restive as her body prepared for the ordeal to come.

  Chapter 21

  The Gulfstream streaked down the runway, turbines whining as it accelerated and lifted into the sky, the first amber rays of dawn still several hours away. The jet bounced as it climbed, but the passengers didn’t seem to notice. Carl and Isaac reclined in the sumptuous leather seats, behind where Tara sat, Matt beside her, his free arm cuffed securely so as not to pose a risk in the air. The pilots were well versed in clandestine missions and didn’t question the presence of a captive in the cabin, any more than they questioned the weapons the group brought on board, clearing customs no longer an issue now that they were flying within Argentina.

  Matt closed his eyes, his mind working at hyper speed even as his expression betrayed nothing but fatigue. Tara was a sociopath, but she was also brutally logical, which made her uniquely effective at her job. She’d learned to hide her absence of any remorse well, aping those with genuine emotions, having intuited from an early age that others actually felt things even if she didn’t.

  It had taken Matt over a year to figure out what he was dealing with when they’d been romantically involved and another six months after to understand that there was no changing that particular dysfunctionality, no therapist to see or pills to take. Tara simply didn’t have any emotions, other than her consuming sense of self-interest and self-preservation – and a paradoxical sensitivity to rejection that could have made a psychiatrist rich, and no doubt had its roots in her childhood.

  None of which changed that she was as dangerous as a black mamba, and held her grudges. Matt had no doubt that hers against him had been festering like an open wound for years – she’d never been dumped by anyone, and when he’d walked away from their pairing, she’d taken it badly. The irony that he’d probably achieved the near-impossible and engendered in her a genuine emotion – albeit the fury of a woman scorned – wasn’t lost on him, but it had given him no pleasure at the time, and even less now.

  The plane quickly ascended to cruising altitude for the hour and a half trip to Buenos Aires.

  Tara turned to Matt and nudged him. “So, did you miss me?”

  Matt grunted, not wanting to engage.

  “I’m sure you did. Although I see you took up with one of the local peasant girls. How charming.”

  “I’m taking you to the diamonds, Tara. What more do you want?” he asked, eyes still closed.

  “I want you to understand that if you cross me, I’ll kill not only you, but that bitch and her kid, too. I’ll do it just for practice.”

  “Doesn’t seem like you need any practice killing innocents, Tara. You’ve always been good at that.”

  Tara snorted. “Innocents? There are no innocents. There are obstacles and targets and collateral damage.”

  “Spoken like the woman I’d hoped to never see again.”

  “You screwed over the wrong people, Matt. That’s your bad.”

  “Yeah, shame on me for not wanting to participate in a global drug-trafficking network being operated off the books from within the CIA.”

  “No, shame on you for not being smart enough to stay out of things that don’t concern you.”

  “I’d say my country’s intelligence service, to which I devoted twenty years of my life, turning out to be the world’s biggest drug cartel made it my business.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong.”

  “Whatever, Tara. If you think working as an enforcer for these scum is anything honorable, you’re welcome to stay deluded as ever. You’re nothing more than an expensive hired killer working for dope dealers.”

  “Very noble sentiment. So you stole their quarter billion in diamonds…to punish them?”

  “No, to help destroy their network.”

  “Ah. I see. You know Arthur is no longer with us?”

  Matt played dumb. “What a shame. I guess Satan had an opening for operations manager, or master of dirty tricks.”

  “You don’t seem surprised.”

  “He was a parasite. It never surprises me when parasites are killed.”

  Tara paused. “I never said he was killed.”

  “He’s dead, isn’t he? What happened? Did he slip on a bar of soap and hit his head? Fall down some stairs? Have a heart attack?”

  �
�He was killed.”

  “Like I said, what a shame. The kingpin of an international drug-dealing network was killed. What are the odds? I mean, who knew that could be a dangerous line of work? I’m sure the scarfaced bastard will be deeply missed by whatever cockroaches he worked with. Other than that, the world’s a better place.”

  “Your righteous indignation is touching. But it doesn’t change that you took that which doesn’t belong to you.”

  “Ha! Really? That’s the moral approach you’re taking? ‘You stole money that was made by selling addictive poison to children all over the world, so you’re a bad man’? You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  “You picked the wrong guys to rip off.”

  “Yeah. Bloodthirsty thugs. Who’ve hired you to be their hatchet man. Woman. Whatever.”

  “Who is she?”

  “Who?”

  “Your friend. The mother of that brat.”

  “What does it matter? I’m on a plane to nowhere. You’re going to kill me as soon as you get the stones. Isn’t that how this is going to work?”

  “Nice deflection, but you didn’t answer my question,” Tara said.

  “She’s a woman I met here. Nothing like you.”

  “Something tells me you’re not being entirely truthful. She laid waste to Luis’ crew. I saw the footage from the casino. She’s a professional.”

  “You’re not the only one who’s ever been in the game, Tara. There are people like us all over the world.”

  “That’s reassuring if I ever want to open a theme bar. But it again dodges my question.”

  Like a seasoned politician, Matt decided to lie early and often.

  “She’s ex-SIDE. The Argentine equivalent of the CIA.”

  “Impressive. I had no idea they were that well trained. How did you meet her?”

  “We shop at the same gun store.” Matt sighed. “What does it matter? We met. That’s it.”

  Tara studied his face. “If you try to pull a fast one with the diamonds, I’ll skin her kid alive and make her watch before I kill them both.”

  “So you said.” He sighed again. “How would I pull a fast one? I already told you. The diamonds are in a box at the bank. By the way, that was impressive in Bangkok. Nice to see that the CIA isn’t above bank robbery in foreign countries to get back its ill-gotten gains.”