Justice

by Blake, Russell

  “Sore, but I’ll get over it. I got the better end of the deal than Tara, that’s for sure.”

  “She really thought she was the best.”

  “There’s no such thing. There’s just better than you. I was better than she was. It’s that simple.”

  Matt nodded. “How much exactly do we have in the safe?”

  “About a hundred and fifty thousand.”

  “Pesos or dollars?”

  “Dollars. Or as they’ll soon be referred to, American pesos.” Jet smiled. “We’ve got plenty of money, Mr. I’m Broke Boy.”

  “Well, I am.”

  She rolled her eyes. “You’ll never want for anything as long as you’re with me, doll face.”

  “That’s reassuring.”

  “Really. Stop worrying about it. We’re rich.”

  “You are.”

  “I’ll give you half my stash if you want. Easy come…”

  He shook his head. “Thanks, but I prefer to hang out with you and earn my keep.”

  She slid her hand onto his thigh. “I was hoping you’d say that.”

  They reached Mendoza at six p.m. as the sun dropped behind the craggy mountains and waited until dark to return to the apartment. Matt did two circuits around the block on foot while Jet patrolled it in the car, but neither saw anything out of the ordinary. The excitement of the robbery and the murder of their doorman had obviously waned and when they returned to the lobby area, they recognized the new man – the old doorman’s nephew, who sometimes worked the day shift.

  “Stefan, right? I’m so sorry to hear about your uncle,” Jet said as they entered, acting as though they’d just been out for dinner.

  “Oh, thanks. It’s horrible. Imagine. In this neighborhood. I mean, I could understand if it was in Buenos Aires, but this is Mendoza…”

  “Let us know if you need anything. Seriously. He was a good man. He’ll be missed,” Matt said, a Fidel-Castro-style cap masking his thermally induced alopecia.

  Matt retrieved his small ring of keys and cautiously opened their front door. The apartment had been closed up by Tara when she’d left and the police had gotten the building superintendent to open it so they could recreate the robbery that had ended with Matt and his attacker plunging off the terrace. A note from the super on the kitchen counter assured them that he’d been present the entire time the police had been inside and that nothing had been taken.

  Jet hurriedly packed a large bag with some of Hannah’s things and another with clothes for her and Matt, choosing to leave most of their possessions behind, except for the few photographs of them together. She instantly noticed the bookshelf photo was missing. A shiver ran up her spine. Her operational instincts told her that any images of her in the world were a bad thing, but she couldn’t rewind what had been taken; what was done, was done.

  She hurried into the bathroom with a pair of sharp scissors and gave herself a short haircut, and was pulling a hat on over her newly trimmed pate as Matt emerged from the bedroom with a small sack.

  She turned to him and nodded. “You inspired me to go short, too.”

  “Good thinking. Because there could be footage floating around from the casino cams…”

  “Damn. With everything else that happened, I didn’t even think about that.”

  “If the cops haven’t released the images yet, they will soon enough. Then again, you know how lackadaisical they can be…”

  “For all we know, every cop in the city already has our pictures,” she warned.

  “Good point. We should get on the road as soon as possible. Maybe even tonight.”

  “I told Sofia we’d be spending the night, but we can always blow that off.”

  “I’d say we should.”

  “Agreed. You have the loot?” Jet asked.

  Matt nodded. “And the passports.”

  Neither of them experienced any regret at walking away from their home. It was, after all, only a place, filled with easily replaceable trifles. A carryover from their former line of work, they didn’t get sentimental or attached. It was better that way, and they both knew it.

  “Poor Hannah. She’s going to be so bummed that she’s being uprooted again,” Matt said.

  “She’s resilient. She’ll make new friends. At her age, she can’t remember more than a few hours. She’ll be fine.”

  Matt packed the cash into their bag and then took her hand. “We all will be. You ready?”

  “Sure.”

  Matt shouldered their heavier bag and Jet hefted Hannah’s. After a final glance at the apartment, they closed and locked the front door for the last time and made for the stairs. At the ground floor, they bypassed the lobby and took their car from the garage, leaving the Renault to the vagaries of the Mendoza traffic police. The security barrier slid to the side and Jet pulled onto the street and headed for the highway, making sure they weren’t being followed, both of their senses now in operational mode after the events of the past day and a half.

  ~ ~ ~

  Leonid sat with his men in the bar of the Park Hyatt Hotel, nursing a beer as they endured the worst part of any mission: the waiting. His eyes followed a comely young waitress, a stunning waif with auburn hair and a radiant smile, as she brought an elderly couple a bottle of wine and opened it for them, taking care to pour each glass only a quarter full before setting the wine down in front of them. She graced Leonid with a coy grin and his breath caught in his throat. Perhaps the trip wouldn’t be all work, after all.

  He’d been assured by his Argentine contact that everything that could be done had been, and that it was only a matter of time until the woman surfaced – a glib assurance Leonid put no stock in. The man had an oily manner and Leonid didn’t believe a word he said, especially after he’d named a price for cooperation that was triple what would have been reasonable. They’d negotiated, but it had left a bad taste in his mouth and he was skeptical that the Argentine would deliver.

  When his cell phone rang, it startled him. He dug it out of his shirt pocket and answered, his eyes narrowing as he listened.

  “Are you sure?”

  More listening. Leonid nodded to himself and waved at the girl to get the check.

  “All right. Don’t do anything until I can rendezvous with you, do you understand?”

  He listened again and grunted, then hung up. His men looked at him expectantly.

  “Come on, boys. Time to earn our keep.”

  ~ ~ ~

  When Jet and Matt arrived at the villa, security at the house was heavy and the guards looked like they meant business. Sofia and her father came out onto the porch with Hannah in tow when they heard the car pull into the grounds. Jet stepped out of the car and her little face lit up, then she ran to her mother as fast as her chubby child’s legs would carry her.

  “Mama! Mama back!”

  Jet gave her a huge hug. “I am, sweet pea. Just like I promised. How have you been?”

  “O-tay.”

  “Did you play with Catalina a lot?”

  “Yeth.”

  “Wow. You must be tired.”

  Hannah shook her head no.

  Jet stood and approached Sofia while Hannah repeated her greeting ritual with Matt. Sofia’s father looked her over as though he’d never seen her before, his eye immediately taking in her new haircut under the cap and the fading swelling near the cut on her cheek.

  “Welcome. I have the wine open and ready, and dinner prepared. Come in, please,” he said as Sofia and Jet embraced.

  “Thank you so much, but I’m afraid there’s been a change of plans. We’re going to get going tonight.”

  Sofia and her father exchanged a look of concern. “What? Why?”

  “There may be some complications I can’t discuss. Suffice it to say that I think it’s for the best,” Jet said.

  “But surely you have time for dinner!” Sofia protested.

  Matt approached with Hannah. “It would be rather rude to say no, wouldn’t it?” he said, extending his
hand. “Nice to meet you all. I’m Greg.”

  They shook hands, and Jet relented. “If you don’t mind us eating and running, we’d love to have dinner with you.”

  “No problem. We all do what we must. But at the very least you can do so on a full stomach,” Sofia’s father said.

  The meal was Italian, oversized portions, each dish delicious, their private chef having pulled out all the stops, and Jet was glad they’d made an exception. For all they knew, this was the last quality meal they’d have for some time. Both Jet and Matt sipped at their wine sparingly, painfully aware that they’d be on the road late into the night in order to put as much distance as possible between themselves and Argentina. Their plan was to make it to Valparaiso, on the coast of Chile, bypassing Santiago for the more tranquil beach city, where they could take stock and develop a more coherent strategy for their future.

  “So…wait. You survived the plane crash after it had been hit by…a rocket?” Sofia asked, awe in her voice.

  “It was random chance that I made it. A matter of where I was sitting. If I’d been just a little more toward the rear of the plane, I would have been…it would have been unfortunate. Further forward, like the pilots, same thing. Just lucky,” Jet said.

  “And you swam to shore?” her father asked. “A mile or more of the river, after plummeting out of the sky.”

  “It didn’t seem like there were many alternatives at that point. And I’m a good swimmer.”

  Sofia’s father grunted his agreement.

  “I’d say so,” Sofia said. “You know, on the news there was a huge special feature on a distillery that was attacked. The owner was Dante Caravatio. He was killed in a helicopter crash at the site that’s still being investigated. Eyewitnesses reported seeing something like a missile blow it out of the sky.”

  “Sounds like poetic justice,” Matt said, offering a toast. “Live by the sword…”

  Sofia’s father raised his glass along with one gray eyebrow. “Indeed.”

  The housekeeper cleared the dinner table when they finished eating and they bantered pleasantly for ten minutes before Jet glanced at the time and leaned forward, hands folded in front of her.

  “Thank you so much for all the hospitality, but I’m afraid we need to get going.”

  Sofia shook her head. “I wish you would spend the night. The roads can be dangerous at this hour.”

  “I know. But I’m afraid we can’t.” Jet looked at Matt. “Would you take Hannah out to the car and strap her in?”

  “I’d be delighted,” Matt answered and picked Hannah up, her eyes already drooping as she nodded off, full and ready for her night’s sleep. Catalina ran to them and said good-bye to Hannah, who waved, neither of them realizing it would be the last time the best friends ever saw each other. Matt carried her through the front door as Jet rose to hug Sofia, who embraced her like a sister. When they parted, Sofia’s eyes were moist. Jet turned to Sofia’s father.

  “The dinner was delicious. Really amazing,” she said. “You’ve been far too kind.”

  “As I said, it’s the least I can do. Anything you need, any trouble you have, please, call me. Do you need any money?” he asked.

  “No. We’re self-sufficient, thankfully.”

  “Are you sure? I kept a hundred thousand dollars from the money I returned to the bank today, just in case.”

  “No, really, although I appreciate it.”

  “Please. I insist. Really. Think of it as my way of saying thank you.”

  Jet decided not to fight him on it. “You’re more than generous.”

  “Nonsense. Oh, and I took the liberty of getting a cell phone for you and programmed in my number. Remember. I’m absolutely sincere about my offer to help – although I’m not sure you really need it,” he said, giving her a long, appraising look. “I’ll be right back with the phone and the cash.”

  Jet watched him mount the stairs to his study and returned her attention to Sofia.

  “You’re father’s a good man, Sofia. Remember that when you’re angry with him. He has a good heart.”

  “I’ll try. But sometimes it’s hard.” She hesitated. “You know he knew about Tomás?”

  Jet shook her head. “Nobody’s perfect, Sofia. He was just trying to protect you. That’s what fathers do.”

  “I understand. But it still feels like a betrayal.”

  Jet had no words of wisdom to impart. She stood with Sofia, waiting as her father’s heavy footsteps moved through the house. They both looked up when he came back down the steps, a small phone and charger in a white box in his left hand, a bulging brown plastic shopping bag in his right.

  “Here you go. Use it well,” he said, handing her the phone and the bag.

  Sofia nodded. “Yes, and call us as soon as you arrive wherever you’re off to. To let us know you made it safely.”

  “I will,” Jet said – another in a long string of promises she had no intention of keeping. She hated misleading Sofia, but she had no choice. Her father’s flinty eyes told her he already knew the truth, and understood.

  Jet took a final look over her shoulder as she neared the front entrance, her heart tugging at her. The sight of a home, a real home, with a real family in it, now seemed like an impossible dream she’d never attain, instead doomed to being on the run, always only one step ahead of whatever threat was after them, a normal life light years away and pointless to wish for.

  She sighed and pushed open the door, and nodded at Carlos standing guard on the porch. He offered a small tilt of his head in acknowledgement. She descended the steps with a heavy heart and walked to where Matt was approaching her from the car, his shoes crunching on the gravel as he neared.

  “What is it?” she asked when she saw his face.

  “I’ve got something to show you.”

  Chapter 34

  The Chevrolet rolled south on Route 73, headed from Mendoza to San Raphael, cutting through the high desert at moderate speed, the stars overhead a tapestry of light at the high elevation with no pollution to cloud the view. The moon silvered the landscape with an otherworldly light, the barren brown soil nature’s cruel joke after the lush vineyards of Mendoza stretching to the horizon.

  A spotlight blinked into life overhead and traced along the freeway until it landed on the little burgundy sedan. Half a mile ahead a roadblock barred the road, two military vehicles pulled across it. A contingent of armed soldiers faced the oncoming vehicle, pointing their guns at the oncoming car.

  The Chevrolet slowed as it neared and coasted to a stop, the soldiers illuminated in the headlights. A second group of older, harder gunmen stood by the side of the road, Leonid at their head, a machine pistol in his hand. A uniformed officer approached the vehicle with two of Leonid’s men flanking him, their weapons pointed at the heavily tinted driver’s window.

  “Turn the engine off and get out of the car. Now. This is your only warning. Fail to comply and we’ll open fire,” the officer barked.

  The engine died, the automatic locks deactivated, and the door slowly opened. An Argentine man wearing a black windbreaker and brown slacks stepped out, his hands over his head.

  “What’s this about?” he demanded, eyeing the gunmen, his tone puzzled.

  The officer looked confused and peered into the car before he marched back to Leonid’s position and had a hasty discussion. They returned to the car together and the officer ordered the driver to open the trunk. The driver complied and Leonid found himself glowering at a spare tire and a few half-empty oil containers.

  “Where is the woman?” the officer growled at the driver, but Leonid had already seen enough. He turned to leave, the outcome already obvious to him.

  ~ ~ ~

  The forest green Ford Explorer sat in line at the border crossing, waiting for the vehicles in front to move. The Argentines seemed completely uninterested in doing much besides waving the cars through, but the Chileans were actually checking passports, seemingly randomly, based on how the immigration
officials felt about the occupants.

  Brake lights flashed ahead and they inched forward. Hannah slumbered behind Matt, her car seat transferred from the Chevrolet to the Ford, their bags in the cargo area, their cash distributed between Jet’s cargo pant pockets and Matt’s. Jet had kept the Glock, but had disassembled it and put the various parts in the tool kit, the glove compartment, the spare tire compartment, and her pocket. In her experience there wouldn’t be more than a cursory look at their bags, worst case, but she wanted to take no chances and had almost left it at Sofia’s until Matt had ventured that it had come in handy so far.

  The burner cell phone Sofia’s father had thoughtfully provided rang. Jet answered.

  “Hello,” she said.

  “The car was stopped at a roadblock just outside of San Raphael. It was the Argentine security service – the SIDE – and some unidentified third parties,” Sofia’s father reported.

  “Is Carlos okay?”

  “They roughed him up a little, but didn’t have any reason to detain him. He had the signed title for the car you left, so he’d broken no laws. They didn’t seem amused.”

  “No, I suppose they probably weren’t.”

  He grunted. “It’s a dangerous game you’re playing. I suppose after the missile strike I don’t need to tell you that.”

  “Nope. Can you get any information on who the third parties were?”

  “I can try. I’ve found spreading money around never hurts, but it could take some time.”

  “Will you be okay?”

  “I have enough guards, and now a contingent of police, to defend a prime minister. Nobody will mess with us. We’ll be fine.”

  “Good. Again, thanks for everything.”

  “You’re welcome. I’m glad you didn’t tell me where you’re off to. That way I can’t tell anyone, even if they asked. Which they might.”

  “It was the only reason I didn’t tell you.”

  “Very wise. Enjoy your trip, and be careful.”

  “I will. Take care of Sofia and Catalina.”

  She hung up and removed the battery from the phone before handing it to Matt, who put it in the glove compartment. He caught her eye and she relayed in hushed tones Sofia’s father’s account. He nodded.