by Jonas Saul
“Tell Sarah I will always love her.”
Casper went to yell again, but his voice cut off as Aaron fell backward out the open door of the helicopter and was lost from sight.
Aaron was gone.
Spanish smiled as the machine banked away and headed back to the compound.
Casper dropped to the floor of the chopper and wept.
He whispered a silent prayer for Aaron’s soul and vowed to kill Spanish for him.
Or die trying.
Chapter 8
Parkman stared out the back window of the recreational vehicle as they slowed to enter the hour-long line at the Mexican border south of San Diego.
They had stayed the night at the Travelodge and had Denny’s for breakfast not a mile from the border. The eggs, ham, bacon and pancakes that went down easy an hour before swirled in his stomach as they inched closer to border control.
He had made sure they were all apprised of the story. Just three Canadian boys, Daniel, Benjamin and Alex, on their way to Mexico for a few days to enjoy the food, swim in the beaches and have a good time, after they attend the Martial Arts Conference taking place south of Tijuana. As teachers in a Toronto school, Parkman was confident this would pass routine scrutiny. All three had up-to-date passports. As long as they stayed in character, this RV would cross the Mexican border without a problem.
Detective Folley, the man who investigated Aaron’s sister’s disappearance, had been pivotal in locating Parkman. When Daniel told Folley that Aaron had been kidnapped as had Parkman and Sarah’s parents, Folley did some looking into things. He called back five hours later to explain that Sarah’s parents were safe and being guarded. Parkman was being held at a safe house in San Diego.
When Daniel prodded Folley on how he could know such a thing, Folley explained that it wasn’t really a safe house. They were keeping Parkman geographically close to Mexico in case he was needed in Tijuana, minutes away on the other side of the border. A phone call to the right person, a favor used, and Folley had an address. Folley wanted to know if this favor wiped his slate clean. He felt he still owed Aaron. After Folley bungled Aaron’s case and Joanne, Aaron’s sister, was murdered, and Aaron was taken and almost killed too, Folley always needed to make things right with Aaron. Daniel assured him they were square and that he would pass that message onto Aaron when he saw him.
Aaron’s martial arts teachers had traveled to Greece to save his life. Traveling to the States to pick up Parkman and then heading to Mexico wasn’t just an option, it was the only thing for them to do. Sitting idly by while someone tortured Aaron made all three of them sick.
And they wanted Parkman along, who they had briefly worked with before in the past.
At the safe house, all three FBI agents were put to sleep. None of them was seriously hurt or killed. Parkman later learned the gunfire he heard outside the house was Benjamin emptying Special Agents Ellen Burns’ weapon out of frustration because she had almost shot him.
After a good night’s rest, food in their stomachs, it was time to enter Tijuana and locate Sarah. They had done some research on the Enzo Cartel and only came up with horrible details. Enzo was reclusive. His compound location was unknown to Mexican authorities. He came and went with stealth, rarely seen. His friend from youth, Alejandro Gonzales, was rumored to be his enforcer. A large, thick man with dead eyes. They had pulled up a mug shot from a five-year-old newspaper clipping.
According to the DEA, the Enzo Cartel was responsible for massive shipments of cocaine coming from South America and entering ports as far as New York, where it was cut and sold on the streets of America. Enzo Miguel Guzman had a new, startup cartel that was doing very well in its short two-year span. So well that other cartels in the area were feeling the pinch and had considered a war over territory, but nothing newsworthy had happened yet.
The arrest or death of a cartel leader often generated a war as rival cartels move in to fill the void left behind. To keep things calm, the Mexican authorities will often stop a shipment, arrest gomeros—opium growers—and falcones—eyes and ears for the cartels on the streets. They’ll even arrest sicarios—hitmen, to show the Mexican public and the Americans they’re doing something about the cartel problem.
But rarely do they arrest a cartel leader without the aid of the American authorities, and even then, sometimes they just don’t.
Which was why Aaron’s teachers felt they needed to be in Mexico to do what they could to extract Aaron before it was too late.
Parkman tried to reason with them. Four men against an army of cartel men wouldn’t work. But there was no turning them from their chosen path. No amount of pleading would stop them. So he had agreed to come along.
But now the FBI were searching everywhere for Parkman. Every cop in every cruiser watched for him. The news stated that an unknown militia group had attacked a safe house and kidnapped him. Trying to right this wrong information would expose them, so they had decided to let it go for now.
Parkman hadn’t left the RV since he entered it. Breakfast at Denny’s was served to him in the bedroom at the back of the RV, where he was about to hide as they crossed the border.
He lay back and rested his head on the pillow and surmised how stupid this all was. These three kids were idealistic. They had attacked FBI agents and were now attempting to smuggle their kidnap victim into Mexico to save a man who had been kidnapped by Mexicans. It was all fucked up. They would have to answer to the FBI when they returned to the States—if they returned.
But there was no stopping these three men. With Aaron in jeopardy, these boys were like sharks with the taste of blood in their mouths. And they were all lethal weapons as black belt teachers in Aaron’s dojo in Toronto. Parkman was confident the three of them could handle twenty men at once without one punch getting inside their defenses.
Yet he had reservations. They were young, wide-eyed boys going up against hardened criminals. A cartel like Enzo’s murdered people, tortured them, and then killed them again. It was the currency of cartel business.
He willingly came with them so he could keep an eye on them. In the end, maybe it would be him who needed the three boys. Without Sarah’s talent of hearing a voice from the Other Side, Parkman had to go on instinct and right now it was telling him to go ahead, cross the border, and see where this ride took them.
“Parkman?” Daniel shouted back.
“Yeah.”
“We’re getting close to the border. Benjamin’s coming back to settle you in.”
“Okay.”
Benjamin appeared in the doorway. Parkman rolled off the bed and got down on the floor. He knew what to do. They had practiced it last night.
He crawled under the bed and edged in sideways as far as he could go, the inner wall of the RV resting against his shoulder. Then Benjamin brought four duffel bags stuffed with martial arts gear down from upper cabinets and placed them in front of Parkman, shielding him from view from the inside of the trailer.
“Can you see me?” Parkman asked, the sound of his voice in the enclosed space coming back to him as if in a tunnel.
A duffel bag shoved deeper in response, butting up against his face.
“Hey, I have to be able to breathe.”
“Sorry,” was Benjamin’s muffled response. “We’re good now. They can take out two bags, but a third would expose you.”
“Chances of them searching the RV are remote,” Parkman yelled to him. “But if they do, let them.”
“We will.”
Daniel shouted something from the front but it was lost to Parkman.
“What did he say?”
“Ten cars away. I’m heading up to my seat now.”
“See you on the other side.”
The dull thud of Benjamin’s footsteps reverberated as Benjamin walked toward the front. Parkman breathed slowly, closed his eyes and rested his head. This would all be over soon.
The RV edged closer. Parkman felt the movement, then the braking and counted down on
e car. Maddeningly slow, Daniel pulled forward, then braked. Another car. Eight to go.
He focused on his breathing as it got stuffy, jammed up the way he was. He listened to the noises outside the RV trying to determine what caused them. A car with a hole in its muffler drove by. Someone shouted something in Spanish about drinking too much tequila. The car behind the RV had to be close because Parkman could easily hear Snoop Dogg on the stereo singing something about gin and juice.
The RV moved. Was that one more, or two? How close now? Five cars? Four?
The RV moved again.
Lightheaded, he dropped his head and closed his eyes. He wasn’t getting enough air. Benjamin had sealed him in too tight. A cool sweat broke out on the back of his neck and his stomach rolled with the nerves. Would he hyperventilate at such a crucial moment?
The RV moved.
He couldn’t budge an inch. Pushing a bag out to breathe was too risky. But he needed to breathe. He opened his mouth and thought of a landed fish flapping on a wooden dock, mouth agape, trying to breathe.
The RV moved, then braked.
Spots flitted across his vision.
If he passed out, who knew how long before they would haul him out from his hiding place. He needed air. Now.
The RV moved.
He grabbed the duffel bag on his face and went to push it out, but hesitated. What if a customs officer is looking through the windshield, staring down the length of the hallway? What if someone sees the bag move?
The RV edged forward.
He shoved the bag out and sucked in glorious air.
“Good morning,” Daniel said from the front, his voice barely discernible from where Parkman lay.
“Passports?”
Silence followed. Then, “What is your purpose in Mexico?”
Parkman breathed in blessed air.
“Martial arts tournament and conference south of Tijuana. Also, sun and sand at the beaches.”
“Yeah,” Benjamin chimed in, his voice overly happy.
“How many in the vehicle, sir?”
“Just the three of us.”
He’d warned him not to say just.
Parkman took one last long breath, held it, and eased the duffel bag back in place.
Then, in a gruff voice, loud enough for Parkman to hear from his hiding place, the officer said, “Pull the vehicle over there. Do it now. Then turn off the RV and remove the keys.”
Parkman’s heart skipped a beat. Pressure in his head pounded. Moisture in his mouth disappeared, leaving behind a dry, cotton-like mouth.
The RV moved.
Chapter 9
“This isn’t going to work,” Sarah said. “Vivian’s remaining quiet. She won’t give up cartel dealings for the DEA.”
“Will she give them up for you?” Darwin asked.
“What do you mean?”
“Give us a detail, a drop location, a place where cartel members will be meeting and we’ll hit it instead of the DEA. We can add pressure to the cartel ourselves. Is that something that’ll get her talking?”
Sarah shook her head. “She talks when she wants to.”
“Then we’re stuck. The Enzo Cartel is extremely secretive and for good reason. Two other cartels already own this territory and since Tijuana is a border town, this is prime land. Keeping to themselves, the newly formed Enzo Cartel avoids a war with the others. For now. But that also means we can’t find them without Vivian.”
“They didn’t keep to themselves when they took Aaron.”
Darwin glanced at her sidelong. “But they didn’t expect you to be a threat.”
Sarah paced the cabin floor. She walked to the window and stared outside. Thoughts of Casper and what had happened to the authorities in that hotel filled her mind. He was probably dead like so many of them. She would be dead by now had Vivian not directed her to go to the church.
All those agents dead and the newspapers weren’t releasing names yet. Even when they did, Casper’s name probably wouldn’t show up in the news.
A phone rang. Darwin jumped for it.
“Who’s that?” Sarah asked.
“Rosina. She’s the only one with this number.” He raised a hand as he pushed a series of buttons. “Don’t worry. This satellite phone is encrypted.” He brought it to his ear and stood beside her by the big front window.
“What have you found out?” he asked.
Darwin listened for a moment, keeping his eyes off Sarah. Then he lowered the phone and punched in a code. After a moment, he turned and placed the Sat phone on a corner table.
“Are you going to tell me?” Sarah asked.
“Rosina says hi.”
“That’s why she called?” Sarah put her hands on her hips. “There’s more. Tell me.”
“Because Parkman was taken, they’ve deduced there’s been a leak. They’re trying to plug it.”
“What about my parents?” Sarah asked, hysteria settling in over her system. “They’re in a safe house as well. How long before they’re taken because of a leak? How fucking powerful is this cartel?”
“I’m sorry, Sarah.” He came over to her. “I know how much Parkman meant to you.”
“Don’t. No, you don’t. Do not speak about him as if he’s dead. Until I see a body, Parkman is alive and well.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry.”
Sarah plopped on the couch and dropped her face in her hands. “I can’t believe this. It’s like my world is falling apart.” Despair clouded her thoughts. “They take Aaron. Attack the hotel. Casper’s probably dead. And now they’ve got Parkman.”
“They’re moving your parents and have doubled the agent detail on them. That’s all Rosina could get but she’ll keep us posted.”
Sarah rubbed her face and then looked up at Darwin. “Now what?” she asked. “I’ve never felt so lost.”
“We have no choice but to attack the cartel as soon as possible.”
“But how? Vivian’s gone. She’s offering nothing. We don’t know where the cartel is. We have nothing to go on.”
He moved to the couch and sat beside her. “The problem is time. They’re taking action against us every day while we sit here in seclusion. We have to do something, anything. If that means just driving around Tijuana and looking for falcones, then that’s what we do. We’ll come loaded for war and search the streets until we’re seen or see them. It’s all I’ve got.”
“Then let’s do it, but I can’t promise when we bump into them on the street that I’ll keep any of them alive.” She shook her head, hair flying up. “No, after what they’ve done, no one lives.”
Darwin grabbed the guitar case full of guns and grenades and headed for the door.
“No one lives,” he repeated, and stepped outside.
Sarah followed him outside while asking Vivian to wake up and give her something to work with.
Before Sarah reached the Hummer, Vivian’s presence oozed into her consciousness with a soft message.
I hate what becomes of you over the coming days, Vivian whispered. I don’t want to watch.
“Why?” Sarah snapped. “Why can’t you watch?”
Darwin spun around to stare at her.
Because I love you too much, baby sister.
“Tell me what’s going to happen,” Sarah demanded.
I’m going to lose you …
Vivian’s essence moved away. Sarah hopped inside the Hummer, chambered a round into her handgun and looked over at Darwin.
“You coming? Let’s go kill us a cartel.”
Darwin walked around, got in the driver’s seat, and started the Hummer.
With one last look at Sarah, he pulled away from the cabin.
Chapter 10
Casper was shoved off the helicopter when it was still five feet from setting down on the helipad. The carpet of well-manicured grass offered a soft landing, but the impact still forced a grunt to escape his lips.
Before he could get to his feet, hands that felt like slabs of marble hoist
ed him up and dragged him toward the small prison cell he had once shared with Aaron.
The fight beat out of him, the remorse he felt over the loss of Aaron was too much, so he allowed himself to be dragged all the way to the chained door.
Outside the door, waiting for it to be unlocked, the sun burned his back. He yearned for them to hurry, to let him in where he’d be out of the direct sun. But then what? What was next? More killings? Or would they torture him for answers he couldn’t offer?