by Jonas Saul
“How do we get a new vehicle? We don’t have the money to buy one.”
Parkman stayed quiet a moment while he watched Daniel maneuver the RV off the highway. After several minutes, he turned toward the back.
“Where am I going?” Daniel asked.
“Pull over in a large parking lot somewhere. I need five minutes.”
“Got it.”
At the back, he bent down to face the officer who was still out.
“We need him awake,” he said.
“We do?” Alex asked.
Parkman nodded. “He’s our answer to changing vehicles.”
“He is?”
Parkman shot Alex a pensive look. “Alex?”
“Yeah?”
“Can you wake him?”
Alex got down and slapped the officer twice. The man stirred, moaned.
“C’mon, wake up,” Alex said. “Time to get up.”
Parkman glanced at Benjamin, who sat watching from the corner of the bed. He shrugged and raised his eyebrows.
The RV took a hard right, pushing them all sideways.
The sound of flesh being smacked was much louder this time as Alex laid into the officer.
To Parkman’s surprise, the customs officer snapped awake and pressed his body into the carpet away from Alex.
“I have to warn you,” Parkman said. “These men are quite capable of ending your life for what you did.”
The RV turned one more corner, then slowed and came to a full stop.
“Parked,” Daniel shouted from the front.
The officer looked from Alex to Parkman, then back to Alex. Parkman read the fear in the officer’s eyes. He was told to do a job and fucked that up. The people who ordered him to leave drugs on the RV don’t like fuckups. He’s already in a world of trouble. If Parkman could make him fear them more, he’d get what he wanted.
“When you willingly entered this RV to plant narcotics, you pissed these boys off.” Parkman glanced at Alex, then Benjamin. Daniel walked up behind him. “And when you piss these boys off, they exact a price for that. The last guy died in a fiery car accident.”
“That’s true, actually,” Benjamin added as he got up off the bed. “In Greece.”
“Let me talk to him,” Parkman said softly.
Benjamin nodded.
Parkman addressed the officer. “These men are willing to let you live, though.”
Hope filled the man’s face. He blinked and swallowed the saliva he’d been holding.
“But you have to do something for us now.”
“What?” the officer spoke the word with a tentative warble.
“We need to borrow your car.”
Hope died in his face.
Parkman tightened his lips. “You do have a car, don’t you?”
The man nodded. “It’s at work.”
Parkman slapped a fist into his other palm. “Shit. We’re not going back to the border in this.”
“We’re not going back to the border at all,” Daniel said. “Too dangerous.”
Parkman sat on the bed in front of the young officer. “Tell us about your family. You live at home? Brothers? Sisters?”
“My mother. Live with her. One brother. Dead now.”
The boys looked at each other.
“Sorry to hear that,” Parkman said.
“Cartel business.”
“Cartel?”
“They used him. Then he got dead.”
“Tell me more,” Parkman prodded.
“No money for us when growing up. I went school. Learn for this job at border. My brother went to street. Before my brother die, he say to me I have to meet his cuate. I was told I would be needed in future. That was it.”
“How did your brother die?” Parkman asked.
“Someone call him a soplón.”
“What’s that?”
“A snitch.” The officer rubbed his eyes and then looked back at Parkman. “He was flayed and skinned, then left to bleed out and die. Then, even before the funeral, they say to me I have his debt to pay. I been paying it ever since.”
Parkman thought of another important question. “What cartel?”
“Enzo.”
Alex clapped his hands together making everyone jump simultaneously.
“Damn,” Parkman said looking at Alex. “Thanks for that.”
Alex looked away, but he kept smiling.
“Do you know why we’re here?” Parkman asked. “Did the people who told you to leave the narcotics also tell you why?”
He shook his head.
“We’re in Mexico to shut down the Enzo Cartel.”
The customs officer didn’t appear to hear him at first. His expression remained unchanged. Then, slowly, his face filled with color and tears dripped past his eyelids.
“You want me help?” he asked.
Parkman nodded slowly.
“What can I do?”
“We need a car. But not yours. Someone else’s. Your mother’s?”
He shook his head back and forth. “No car.”
“Shit.”
Parkman was stumped. He had ample cash in his account to buy a car but didn’t want to use his bank accounts. It would alert the authorities to where he was and he didn’t want them going after Aaron’s teachers.
“We still in Tijuana?” the customs officer asked.
“I pulled over on a road called, Los Insurgentes,” Daniel said. “We’re parked on the side.” He glanced outside. “Just down from a bank of some kind.”
“That’s good.” The customs officer made to right himself and sit up, but Alex stepped in and set a foot on the man’s leg, holding him down.
“I think it’s okay for now,” Parkman said. “Let’s hear what he has to say first. He’s unarmed and he isn’t going anywhere.”
Alex lifted his foot off and moved away, but remained very close, his body at the ready.
The young officer got up and put his back to the wall of the RV, the rear window above his head.
“I can get you a truck. An SUV. BMW.”
“Yeah?” Parkman said. “How?”
“The man who gave me the drugs for you. He lives three blocks from here. He works for Enzo. Small jobs. Here. There.”
They all exchanged glances. This was better than Parkman could have hoped for. Maybe this new guy could lead them to where Aaron was being held.
“What’s your name?” Parkman asked.
“Raúl, not José.” He lowered his head. “Sorry about that. Back at the border when that guy shouted for José to hurry up, I just thought, you know …”
Parkman shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. Nice to meet you, Raúl.” They shook hands. “It’s time to get your revenge. Lead us to this guy’s place. We’ll do the rest. You can stay out of sight. No one will know it was you.”
“His name is Manuel Garcia. And I don’t want to stay away. I want to hurt him for what he did to my brother and for putting me in this position.”
Better than I could’ve hoped for, Parkman thought.
“Then tell Daniel how to get to this guy’s place and we’ll help you get your revenge.”
Chapter 19
Aaron had drifted off. He woke once to urinate in the corner, saw through the cracks in the doorframe that the sun was still high, and went back to sleep. He wanted as much rest as possible for the escape this evening.
He rolled over, opened his eyes and watched Casper sleeping as the light outside faded. He had his doubts about tonight, but suspected that was fear playing with him. Fear of the consequences he would face if he didn’t get out of the compound. They already took one finger. If he didn’t make it out, what would they take next? A foot? Or worse, a leg?
He didn’t need a leg to stay alive while they waited to catch Sarah. They could torture him to an inch of his life and still wait for Sarah. He had to find the determination on the inside like Sarah does. With Casper’s help he’d make it. But that also weighed on him. Casper’s help meant Casper would pay
dearly for that help.
He laid his head back and stared at the dark ceiling. How did he lose his courage, his zest for a fight? When did they break him?
Going through the events of how he came to be here, he couldn’t pinpoint exactly when he lost his will to fight, but one thing was for sure—the fight inside him was coming back tenfold. He was angry with what they did to his hand. Angry at what they were doing to Sarah. Angry at everything. But he was angriest with himself for letting it get this far.
Spanish was a showman. He set up acts and played the scenes out using human beings as props. He intimidated people, tortured people, and killed people for his own gain. This was exactly the kind of man that Aaron detested. The kind of man Sarah would hospitalize or kill if needed.
What Aaron hadn’t mentioned to Casper was he wouldn’t leave the compound without killing Spanish. Even if he had a clear break for the woods surrounding the property, he planned on staying long enough to kill Spanish. Aaron’s life was different than Sarah’s or Casper’s. He ran a martial arts studio. He taught people self-defense. He didn’t run in underworld circles, fighting and killing people. He wasn’t a mercenary. But he’d make an exception with Spanish. That man needed to die, should die, as Sarah would say.
Casper stirred on the floor. He rolled onto his side and slowly got to his feet.
“You doing okay?” Aaron asked.
“Yeah. Just sleepy.”
“Losing strength? Hungry?” Aaron sat up. “You sure we’re doing the right thing, here?”
“Yeah. You’re leaving tonight. Tomorrow I’ll eat your portion of the food and start feeling better.”
Aaron didn’t state what they both knew. If Aaron successfully escaped tonight, Casper probably wouldn’t make it through the night.
Just as Casper started to urinate in the same corner as Aaron did a few minutes before, footsteps sounded outside.
“They’re coming,” Aaron whispered.
Casper finished urinating, shook, tied his pants up and turned around to face the door as the chains rattled on the outside.
Aaron checked the bandage over his wounded hand. It hadn’t been changed since he swam in the reservoir. The tip of his finger itched, but he knew it wasn’t there anymore. The gauze had thinned after being wet and parts of it had stripped off. He’d tied the remaining bits tighter to keep the wound covered as best he could.
The door opened and the last of the fading light filled the small cell.
“Get up,” the man in the doorway ordered. “Come outside.”
Aaron and Casper exchanged a look and started for the open door. Six men were gathered around, two on the periphery with machine guns cradled in their hands.
Spanish was not with them.
“The barn,” the man closest to Aaron said.
They started off without being pushed or guided. At the barn door, an armed man on either side opened the large wooden doors slowly. A wave of trepidation slithered over Aaron as he willingly walked across the threshold. Images of drowning under the water torture flashed through his mind. The raw pain of the blade as it sliced his finger off.
“You okay?” Casper asked.
“No talking,” one of the men barked.
“You’ve gone pale,” Casper said, ignoring the warning.
A second passed before Casper was shoved from behind so hard that he sprawled forward and hit the barn’s floor where he slid several feet before stopping.
“Get up,” the man ordered.
A defiant glare washed over Casper’s face, then disappeared as fast as it materialized. Before anyone reached for him, Casper jumped to his feet and rejoined the throng headed to the center of the barn.
Four more men waited for them, armed to the teeth, Spanish standing between them. The four men looked like a SWAT team. They were decked out in combat gear, Kevlar vests with hand grenades dangling from their chests and machine guns also cradled in their hands.
Spanish appeared to be unarmed. With the firepower he possessed in the men guarding him, he didn’t need a thing.
“Gentlemen,” he said. “Come. Join me for a little demonstration.”
Aaron was led to a wooden chair on the left and Casper to one on the right. Once seated, a man knelt down and secured Aaron’s ankles with duct tape. Then he did the same to Casper, leaving both their hands free.
Their escorts dropped back into the darkened regions of the barn leaving only Spanish and his four armed SWAT colleagues watching over their prisoners.
“I don’t believe we’ve been formally introduced,” Spanish said. “My name is Alejandro Gonzales. I work for Enzo Miguel Guzman, or the Enzo Cartel. And I will be your executioner tonight.”
Chapter 20
Parkman sat beside Daniel as they pulled onto the residential street that led to Manuel Garcia’s home. Daniel slowed the RV to a crawl on the dark street, then stopped two houses short of Manuel’s gated front yard. The BMW SUV was parked just inside the gate as promised by the customs officer, Raúl. A few of the houses on the street had interior lights on, but otherwise the area was quiet.
Raúl sat on the bed in the back of the RV and added few details about Manuel other than to say that he was working for the devil—The Enzo Cartel—and was doing what he could to impress the cartel. Manuel’s goal was to move up the ranks fast as the Enzo Cartel was a relatively new one. Not one to waste time, Manuel used people like Raúl to do his dirty work. Raúl understood that if he got caught framing them with the drugs in their RV it would be Raúl who got in trouble and not Manuel Garcia.
That was what got Raúl’s brother killed.
Daniel got out of the driver’s seat and headed to the back. Parkman pulled the curtains that enclosed the front driver and passenger area of the RV, then he followed Daniel to the rear to join the rest of them.
“What now?” Parkman asked.
Something had been bothering him since they had taken this side detour. It wasn’t the story itself. It was a good story and Raúl seemed sincere with the grief of losing his brother to Manuel’s dealings. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it yet, but something bothered him about Raúl’s story in general. Maybe it was how fortunate they had been to have kidnapped the one customs officer who could lead them to an Enzo Cartel affiliate. Maybe that was all it was. He wasn’t about to squander that gift, yet something still didn’t feel quite right.
“He knows me,” Raúl said, tapping his chest. “I go to the door. Knock. Tell him it worked. You’re in trouble at the border. He will let me in. Then you all come in.”
“I don’t know.” Benjamin shook his head. “If this is your friend, the door closes and you disappear. Then what do we have?”
“No friend,” Raúl pleaded. “No friend. Hate him.”
“Yeah, fine,” Daniel said. “But we don’t trust you.”
“No friend,” he repeated.
Parkman exchanged a look with Daniel, then met Alex’s eyes.
“What do you guys want to do?” Parkman asked. “We’re no closer to finding Sarah or Aaron. We’re floundering around here with a kidnapped customs officer who tried to frame us and the authorities are probably looking for this RV as we speak. The dark will shield us a little, but we can’t be in this RV come tomorrow morning. Do we steal a car, leave this guy tied up somewhere, and keep driving around aimlessly looking for a cartel? Or hope this guy is telling us the truth?”
“It is, it is,” Raúl broke in. “The truth.”
“Shhh.” Parkman held a finger to his lips. “What’s the verdict, guys?”
“Go forward with Raúl’s plan,” Daniel said. “But at any point, be ready to fight or break and run if it doesn’t work out.”
Parkman looked at Alex who nodded his agreement. Benjamin nodded, too.
He turned to Raúl. “You better pray you’re telling us the truth.”
“It is, Señor, it is the truth.”
“Will the gate be unlocked?” Parkman asked.
Raúl shrugged.
“I don’t know. But I can use the buzzer—what you call it—doorbell.”