Massive Attack (A Guy Niava Thriller Book 1)

by Dana Arama

  “That’s true.”

  “I am prepared to bet you that there is a swimming pool there. By the high-pitched voices I’m hearing, I’d say there are kids or young women there at the moment.”

  “By the way they are staring, I assume they are young women.” Zorro laughed quietly and then added, “I have an idea. One that could save our lives.”

  “I’m all ears,” I said.

  “I’ll knock on the main gate and create a jealous scene. While I am there, you can move in from here. Once I am inside, I’ll make a lot of noise, just as ex-Russian girlfriends do best. And when they finally bring me to him, you can make sure I don’t do anything stupid.”

  “You are not planning on killing him?” I asked in a forbidding tone. “I need information from him.”

  “Kill? No… But what about seduce?”

  “If it will get him to spill information.” I smiled under the binoculars and added, “I would like to think I have conquered you, but we both know the truth.”

  “He is my man. The love of my life,” she whispered gently. “I am not used to giving up without one last fight.”

  “I will be watching over you closely. If one of them draws a gun or points one at you, he will end up with a bullet in his head.”

  “I’m counting on it.” Zorro put her equipment in her backpack and started running, keeping low along the fence, until she reached the gate.

  Through the telescopic lens I could see her ringing the bell. When the gate opened before her, I cut the fence and returned to my cover amongst the bushes.

  ***

  Zorro entered and two menacing Mexicans immediately approached her. That was to be expected. There was still no reason to shoot them. I deduced by their hand movements that they were arguing. One of them picked up his rifle and said something, and in response, Zorro drew her gun, laid it on the ground and raised her hands. The other one phoned someone, presumably inside the house, for instructions. Every show had its questions. Here the question was whether they would let her in or not.

  It seemed the answer wasn’t unequivocal, which wasn’t a good sign. That meant that maybe the boss wasn’t there to give answers. If only we had more time to find out. But time was a luxury we didn’t have. The two men began arguing amongst themselves, which intrigued the three on the roof.

  I glanced once again towards the gate. Zorro kept her cool. Her hands weren’t above her head anymore. She now pointed towards the house and seemed to be explaining something, talking loudly in Spanish and gesturing wildly. Now, with all eyes were on her, I had enough time to pass through the open area between the fence and the first building. I quickly crawled through the opening I’d cut a few minutes earlier and began to run.

  An armed guard came around from the pool area, which was hidden from sight, an unlit cigarette hanging out of his mouth. He didn’t seem to be aware of all the commotion in front of the house, but definitely saw me running. He looked up from his lighter directly at me and immediately fired at me. I zigzagged and returned fire. He fell but it was too late.

  All hell broke loose when the guards on the roof began shooting. I shot in that direction and I saw one of them fall forward. I leapt under the closest balcony and paused. That was the end of our dream of a quiet infiltration.

  One of the guards on the roof bent over to try and shoot at an angle to hit me under the balcony. I rolled and went over to the side, and from there picked him off with a single shot, and he joined his friend on the ground.

  Two armed Mexicans ran out of the house, shooting blindly. One of the bullets grazed my leg. I didn’t stop to check the severity of the wound. A bloodstain spread lethargically across the fabric of my pants but stopped after a few minutes. There was no real harm done, as long as the leg carried on functioning. By this time, I was shooting all out and could only hope that Zorro was still alive.

  The only choice to gain the upper hand was from inside the house and so, while exchanging cartridges, I moved rapidly towards the pool and into a different type of chaos, into the hysteria of young women in tiny bathing suits everywhere, running around and screaming. I took advantage of the turmoil and pressed against the wall, hiding behind a curtain. I didn’t want to shoot any of these people, but I had to get a bit of intel on the house itself. From the other side of the compound, Zorro was brought in, her hands handcuffed behind her, held roughly by a short and stout Mexican.

  They passed right by me. I could have taken him out, but let him be, watching them from behind the curtain. The man pushed Zorro towards a large wooden door. He knocked on it, and a masculine voice answered from within. Zorro’s captor said something in Spanish, too fast for me to understand, but I caught the words chica and Zorro. The door opened and the two of them went inside. All eyes were on Zorro. The wooden door had been left wide open. I took advantage and leapt into a third hell: Two armed guards, the one who had opened the door and the other holding Zorro, and a big man, tall and athletic, who stood near a table that held a gun. He was wearing white clothes which accentuated his tanned, handsome face.

  Zorro whispered, “El Desconocido.” If I’d had any doubt about her love for him, it dissipated in that moment. The woman was head over heels.

  In a quiet voice, he said, “My love, I see you are not alone.” And with an almost imperceptible nod of the head, he indicated that she was to be released.

  “I only used him to get to you, Raphael.” Zorro moved towards him while rubbing her now free wrists, and smiled. “As far as I’m concerned you can shoot him now. The man is of no importance to me anymore…Oh, how I’ve missed you.”

  Laura Ashton,

  Approximately five kilometers from the El Desconocido estate, November 14, 2015, 9:00 a.m.

  Guy and Zorro quickly organized themselves. As he tied up the two protesting Mexicans, Guy glanced over at me and said quietly and casually, almost to himself, “If there is a trap waiting for us, then these two will be the only ones who can bring you to whoever is needed.” I thought I saw a flash of a smile at the corner of his mouth before he added, “If we don’t return from there, I trust you to find Jonathan and they,” he gestured to them with his head, “are your only lead as of now.”

  I nodded my assent, and as if to calm him I added that I would try to get information out of them in the meantime, though we both knew it was not possible. I didn’t cut a threatening enough figure to wring any kind of intel from them on my own. In my hands, our hostages were no other than an entrance ticket. My gaze wandered back to the preparations before me. Zorro had taken another cartridge with her and both her and Guy examined their own equipment, and then one another’s. I gazed at them surreptitiously for a brief moment and felt a pang of jealousy. They were so in sync with one another, like a well-oiled machine. Professionals, beautiful and determined. They were about to make their way into the forest, towards the nearby farm, and from there would find a way to penetrate the El Desconocido estate. When they arrive there, they would have to break into the house, avoid the guards spread about the place, reach El Desconocido’s office, and convince him to cooperate.

  Soon I was alone, a weapon in my hand, watching the two Mexicans that Guy had left tied up. I was left with the certainty that this was the time to stop talking and start acting. I felt the way I used to in college, before a final exam. Not just because my blood refused to acclimate to the altitude and the thin air, but because, in a way, the decisions I will make over the next few hours will be a test, which results could profoundly affect the fate of more than just one person.

  As soon as Zorro and Guy had left his sight, Joaquin opened his mouth to speak. “You look like a lady of your word.” He ignored my attempt to answer him and said, “You promised to let me go, señorita.”

  “Yes. I know. It is not possible right now, I’m sorry.”

  “Necesito una fix,” mumbled Manuel, and started moving nervously on the floor of the
car.

  I kicked him, without rancor, and told him that I expected him to behave nicely until I could set him free. He relaxed a bit and Joaquin tried once again to persuade me. “I am a man of the law, señorita. I can assist you in your effort to fight El Desconocido and his men.”

  “I am sure that if it were safe to use your services, they would have done so.” I tried to assuage his insistence.

  I looked out of the car. Guy and Zorro were still visible, walking in the distance.

  “It is not too late. I can call and have many cops come here,” Joaquin said.

  “That’s not a bad idea at all,” I answered, “Because after all… who knows this place better than you?”

  Joaquin exclaimed, “Exactly! You are right.”

  Manuel panicked, “No, no, no! Don’t allow him. He will bring all the Jalisco and they will butcher us.” He groaned again. “I need a fix,” he mumbled, over and over. His body writhed in pain. I felt sorry for him. I wondered if Gail was like this, so addicted it usurped every other thought.

  I looked away from Manuel and stared at the back window. Guy’s words still echoed in my ears and despite the fact that I knew he was right; I also knew that only one thing could spur me on. Guy had Jonathan, but I had Gail. I owed Gail a lifetime. I didn’t have a choice. As soon as Zorro and Guy had disappeared into the distance, I took the splint off my ankle and gently moved my foot. I hadn’t broken it. There was no doubt about that. The ache had subsided hours ago, without the help of the painkillers, which I had hid under my tongue until I could spit them out without being noticed.

  I took the gun I was holding and shoved it in the back of my pants, then faced Joaquin and smiled. In a relaxed movement, I took his hat off his head and put it on mine. “May I?” He smiled back and said, “How can I refuse a beautiful lady like you?”

  I smiled shyly at him and said, “Thank you for the compliment. How sure are you that El Desconocido is there?”

  “He’s there!” Manuel’s eyes narrowed, as if he smelled danger nearby.

  “And if he’s not there, where else could he be?”

  “This is his last hiding place. He’s there, I promise you! He moved there just under a month ago and the place looks like a fortress, so if you want to see your friends alive again, release me and let me call the police.”

  Manuel just nodded his head, his eyes glazed over. I ignored him.

  “Are there girls there?” I asked. If his answer was negative, then Jonathan and maybe also the others had a chance.

  He smiled with relief. “There are… a lot.” And then, laughing loudly, he added, “The guys like them and las chicas like the drugs. And there are lots and lots of drugs.”

  I howled inwardly and a voice inside of me screamed, ‘Mom I will save her, I will force her to detox and clean her up…’ But outwardly I smiled at him like I was in on the joke. I released the safety catch on the Cripple’s rifle, which still hung over my shoulder, aimed it at the captives and shot them with no hesitation.

  I put Joaquin’s hat on the seat, where the splattered blood hadn’t reached. I jumped out of the van carefully, but still felt a slight twinge in my ankle. It was still tender. I grabbed the ends of Manuel’s pants and pulled him out of the van. His long, narrow body was lighter than I had anticipated. Under his clothes he was apparently just skin and bones and a lot of white powder. I readied myself to drag him into the woods and hide his body in the bushes.

  Despite the pain in my ankle, I managed to lift him on my shoulder, as if I was carrying a sack of potatoes, and walked into the forest until I reached the third line of trees. Further out, the forest was too thick, and less forgiving of people attempting to hide bodies. I put Manuel’s corpse on the ground and looked at him for a moment. A wave of nausea arose in me. I had just taken a man’s life. He was important to someone, a sister or mother or girlfriend. I took a deep breath and walked back towards the van. This was not the time for sentimentality.

  Joaquin’s body was another story. He was solid and heavy. I managed to drag him across the floor of the van, over the trail of blood that served as a lubricant. But then his shirt soaked up all the blood and he became harder to pull. I tried to pick him up, but his body was rigid and too unwieldy. Left with no choice, I dragged his body through the clearing and toward woods. His head clunked each time it bumped one of the steps of the van or a rock on the ground, and the noise was nauseating, but it didn’t stop me. When I reached the first line of trees, I was sweating profusely. If I had known this would be so hard, I might have just walked off, leaving the two bodies behind.

  When I had finished moving the two bodies to the forest, I stood over them and crossed myself. It was strange, especially since I considered myself an atheist. God and I had turned away from one other years ago, under a bridge, in a flash of purple light, with the shrill sound of the truck’s blaring horn echoing over everything.

  I picked up Joaquin’s hat and straightened it on my head, then walked to the other side of the van and sat in the driver’s seat. The key was still in the ignition. I still had ten minutes before I had to be on my way, so I waited. They’d said it would take them an hour and a half to get there. I estimated that the two of them would do it in less time. I intended to drive in while everyone was dealing with the two infiltrators. I hoped to get there after they’d been found out. The guards would see the car and recognize the hat and be happy to see backup. The gates would open up before me. We had eliminated the original team who had taken this vehicle quite a distance away from here. News wouldn’t travel that fast, especially since no-one was left alive to tell what happened there. My plan was to sneak in and look for Gail without interruption. Once I found her, it shouldn’t be too difficult to get her into the van and escape with her. And then, only then, would I give my uncle the location. That was the condition we had agreed upon, and it was one that would help me keep my job.

  Then, planes would arrive at the exact coordinates of the compound, and bomb it, destroying whoever was in the house.

  Guy and Zorro would manage fine. Guy had said that the information was important to him. He had said his friends would get him out of there in time.

  Gail was the only important thing now. My imagination worked like a roller coaster whose brakes had failed. Open-ended questions filled me with doubt. Would I find her, after all this time, in good health? Had she become an addict? Would she recognize me and want to return with me? Would she be able to walk on her own or would I have to carry her on my back? Only now that I was so close did I allow myself to think these thoughts that I had suppressed for so long. Gail… A drug addict. My Gail, who, from the moment she’d taken her first breath, had been mine to worry about. My little Gail addicted to drugs because of me. Because I had abandoned her.

  We’d moved in with my mother’s brother after the accident and the adoption had become official shortly afterwards. Adulthood had brought the clarity that my uncle must have pulled some strings for it to happen. How else could one explain how a single man had been allowed to adopt his two nieces, with whom he’d had no contact. Our mother, his sister, had estranged herself from him years before we were born, no doubt because she knew his true character. And within a mere month after Gail and I had moved in with him, I knew what my mother must have known. I was thirteen, pretty and athletic, and the only one uninjured by that horrific accident. I was a girl whose happiness had been taken away from her in one fell swoop. All I can remember of him is that he was heavy. Even today, the thought of it sucked the breath from my lungs, as if his weight was sitting atop my chest, preventing the air from entering and filling them up…I can’t breathe. I remember him groping at me and then stopping, and just the thought of it sends a numb pain surging between my thighs. The memory lives in me. Him, putting his hand between my legs and into my underwear, caressing, rubbing, pausing. I remember how he took my hand and put it on something hot, smooth and different
from anything I’d ever felt before. Locking his large hand around mine and moving it up and down, so I couldn’t let go of this thing became harder my hand.

  Sometimes he would do more. It would be better for both of us, he had said, persuading me to lick him there, to put it in my mouth. Sometimes he would push until I gagged, but he would hold my head tight and not let me go. Afterwards, he would buy me presents and remind me to keep it a secret, otherwise they’d take Gail and me to different orphanages and we would never see each other again. For my fifteenth birthday, he allowed himself the gift of penetrating me. I shook my head, refusing to let myself sink into that memory, to not feel that sense of helplessness I’d felt back then. All that had happened to the body of a little girl. Once my body started developing into womanhood, he allowed me to go to boarding school.

  Once again, I shook my head and closed my eyes tight, and then opened them wide. The memories dissipated, but not the guilt. The thought of her addicted to drugs brought up the same feeling I’d had when he came into my bed -- paralytic helplessness. The picture in my head changed. I was not fifteen years old anymore and paralysis was not an option. And Gail still needed me. I glanced at my watch then started the car. They’d said that the road continued on until the farm, and then there was a left turn and another five-minute drive to the big iron gate. This was the destination I’d been trying to reach for over six months, from the moment that my inquiries had pointed me toward the head of the biggest cartel in Mexico.

  The vehicle swallowed the lonely road, as if it were a single ship at sea. This was the calm before the storm. I heard the first gunshots during the last part of the journey, and, perhaps foolishly, I accelerated. As I anticipated, the guards only glanced quickly at me, saw the hat and then opened the gates wide. I quickly scanned the courtyard. I couldn’t make out Guy or Zorro, but I did see bodies on the ground. This wasn’t a good base for peace talks, but I assumed it was only to be expected from two characters who’d lived much of their lives in the Middle East.