Shadows Across America

by Guillermo Valcarcel

  “Well done. It was a good choice,” Ethan said. “Have you planned how we’re going in? I don’t like to make things up on the fly.”

  “The girlfriend will be there, with him or without him. Definitely in the front area. They never move. They park their cars in front and go in and out of that door, but the warehouse has a rear entrance they don’t bother securing. That’s how we’ll come at them. Are you a good shot?”

  “Yes, but it’s been a while.”

  “I don’t think it’ll be necessary, but we should be careful. If she’s alone, we’ll interrogate her. If they’re together, we’ll separate them and take turns. You know you can’t speak, don’t you?”

  “This isn’t my first time. No one will hear my accent. We’re not going to make it easy for them.”

  “If you do speak long enough for them to recognize you, we need to shoot them there and then and make sure they’re dead. Understand? It’ll be them or us.”

  Ethan had met lost or angry souls who’d committed murder in fits of emotion, addicts driven to criminality by their habit, and gang members raised in violence and turned into rabid animals. He had fought with people he considered to be evil, people with perverse egos, and parasites willing to kill just to make themselves feel powerful. But all Suarez gave off was solitude and sadness. When he’d first met him, he’d thought he was a good man, a professor type who calmly defeated his opponents at chess. He never would have imagined him hurting a fly. But that same person had just suggested killing two people in cold blood. Planning with a mercenary’s cold pragmatism, he hadn’t thought twice. Suarez’s judgments were purely practical; morals didn’t come into it. When you’re fighting monsters, at what point do you have to become a monster yourself?

  “But killing them would be dangerous too. You know the consequences.”

  “Yes.”

  “The best scenario is to interrogate them without revealing our identities. We need to find out who their client is without their suspecting what we want.”

  “I’m sure that you’ve thought hard about it.”

  “I see it like this. Together with the list of victims we were given, I obtained several more, so we have more than a dozen. I’ll ask them about each ransom, and if they tell us that one or two weren’t a kidnapping, I’ll ask them who their clients were, and that will lead us to the girl. God willing, they’ll think what I want them to think: that we’re a gang looking to move in on their territory. They won’t suspect us of looking for a girl stolen from a poor family.”

  “It might be that they have money after all.”

  Suarez raised his eyebrows. “You’d know more about that than I do.”

  “Well, let’s be optimistic. The motive wasn’t money. What about Jonathan’s death?”

  “As I said, they haven’t even heard about it, but I considered it. He was one of their informants, and all the cases we’re going to ask them about are linked to him. The more we ask about, the more they’re going to be thinking of a rival gang, not the girl.”

  “Still, it doesn’t seem as though we have a choice.”

  “I don’t know. This seems to be the best way to me. What worries me most is if we don’t get them straightaway. There might be shooting. In that case, I have no idea what might happen.”

  Ethan nodded. At what point do you have to become a monster yourself?

  They barely spoke during the remainder of the short drive, which took them out of the center and into the suburbs, where slums alternated with industrial estates. They were both lost in their own thoughts: the game was about to begin. After driving up some small hills, they found themselves looking down on a neglected industrial park. Suarez pointed to a building on a large lot about half a mile away. They methodically changed into entirely black outfits. Suarez handed Ethan a bulletproof vest, and they blacked out their eyes before pulling on balaclavas.

  “Is there any trace of the other victims?”

  “No, they know how to get rid of them.”

  “You don’t think she’s alive, do you?”

  “You were sure she was.”

  “Not anymore.”

  Ethan checked his gun for the last time and watched Suarez walk around to the trunk, from which he took a case for a long-barreled firearm.

  “You’re bringing a shotgun?”

  “Oh yes, a real beauty. Beretta, a modern classic. With a gas intake for different kinds of shot. It has a computer underneath that counts each shot . . .”

  Ethan was surprised by Suarez’s enthusiasm. Suarez, the emotionless hermit, completely lacking in human feeling or a sense of humor, was getting all worked up over a shotgun. Given what he thought of the man, Ethan couldn’t help laughing. “You’re really going to bring a hunting weapon? Wouldn’t you rather something more . . . appropriate?”

  “She’s been with me for many years. She’s good, reliable, and very quick. I’m very happy with her. She’s my baby.”

  “Fine, fine.” Ethan smiled sardonically.

  “Yes, I know. You young people just want what you see in the movies. You want guns that look cool, like a Hollywood gangster. But then you have no idea how to use them, care for them, or even clean them.”

  “I’ve used a pistol and my short-barreled Remington all my life, and I’ve never had any trouble.”

  “Have you ever had to kill anyone?”

  “I’ve been in some serious shootouts. I can handle myself.”

  “But what I’m asking is whether you’ve ever had to shoot a beaten man, knowing that he had to die. If you’ve ever looked anyone in the eyes before killing them. It’s not the same as shooting into a cloud of dust when there’s noise raging all around you, even if there is a cadaver behind it all.”

  He’d made fun of Suarez, and the bitter ex-cop was fighting back. Suarez was determined to have the last word one way or another, and he was always on firm ground because he didn’t make things up or take gambles. His gaze was both hollow and deeply sincere.

  “No. I’ve never executed anyone in cold blood, if that’s what you mean.”

  “Well, you should prepare yourself. Is that your weapon?”

  Ethan brandished the automatic. “Considering the fact that I’ve only been in the country a couple of weeks, this doesn’t seem a bad option.”

  Suarez opened the cushioned case. Inside, in addition to the shotgun was an older stablemate: sawn off like a pump-action, with a filed-down muzzle and milled flutes. Suarez handed it over.

  “You’ll do better with this one. You won’t have to look into anyone’s eyes, just the smoke and dust. It’s pretty powerful.”

  He handed Ethan a snub-nosed cartridge with green plastic casing. The tip had been scored hexagonally, while the end was bronze-colored metal.

  “This is a Remington 12/89, an eighty-nine-millimeter super-magnum.”

  Ethan studied it, imagining the damage a cartridge like that could do. “I know it well. If we use this, anyone standing in front of us had better say their prayers.”

  “I pray that we won’t have any trouble, but if there is any shooting, it’ll be at close quarters, and this is my best friend for short-distance work. It has quite a kick, but I’m used to it. I hope you will be.”

  “I will be.”

  “You don’t need to aim this one like a pistol.”

  “I won’t need to aim it at all.”

  They walked over a weed-covered hillock to a run-down chain-link fence into which Suarez had at some point cut an opening. From there, the hill sloped down about fifteen feet to the building, from which a weak light shone. Crouching down, they surveyed the terrain. There was a pair of windows on each side where the offices must have been, with no other protection than fold-up shutters, a main gate for vehicles, and an entrance for pedestrians cut into the corrugated iron. At the end of a gravel path several feet away sat two black SUVs. Suarez pointed out, unnecessarily, that both the man and the woman were inside.

  They waited a few minutes for night to fall com
pletely and crept down the hill along a makeshift track. Once at the bottom, they slipped along the length of the warehouse, which was made from concrete blocks, until they got around to the back, where there was a metal door for the service entrance similar to the one around the front. As Suarez had already found on a scouting mission, the building hadn’t been built with security in mind, and the kidnappers, who had grown overconfident after years of activity without a single hiccup, hadn’t bothered to make any improvements. The lock was the kind you’d see on a garden gate and gave easily. Waving to his partner to stay quiet, Suarez opened the door little by little, and they poked their heads inside.

  A large space stretched out in all directions beneath the metal roof twelve feet above with saw-toothed openings for skylights. In front of them was a four-foot-wide passage flanked by two seven-foot-high partition walls. They enclosed a small bathroom next to the door they’d opened and another three rooms placed where they’d seen the windows from outside. Suarez pointed to the second on the right and put his hands together at the wrists, as though they were tied up. Then he put his hand over his mouth like a gag. Ethan indicated that he understood: the kidnapping victim was in there.

  At the other end of the passage, about fifteen feet along, was another half-open metal door that led into the warehouse’s working area. Its frame stood out in the darkness. That was where the man and woman were. Some lights placed low down, perhaps table lamps they’d brought with them or light bulbs connected with extension cords, gave off a dirty yellow glow. At a sign from Suarez, they each advanced along the walls on either side, scouring the empty space for anything that might get in their way. The place hadn’t been maintained for a long time; a thick layer of dirt had accumulated, and the passage was scattered with apparently abandoned objects: the frame of a chair, a bicycle, and lots of damp, grimy papers. The sliding windows that looked into each room revealed only a darker black. Suarez pointed, and Ethan saw the silhouette of the girl tied to both ends of the bed, lying still. Was she sleeping? Could her eyes, which must have grown used to the dark, see him? Trying to avoid any unforeseen consequences, Ethan stopped before he got to a strip of light coming from the door at the end of the hall. There was barely any sound on the other side, no voices at all. They listened harder and recognized the muffled, urgent, excitable sounds of a couple having sex. Suarez smiled, not like a voyeur but like someone who knew they’d arrived at exactly the right moment. Each man took a deep breath. Suarez looked to Ethan to make sure that he was ready. Ethan brandished the handcuffs in reply, and Suarez gave the signal.

  A kick to the door sent it smashing against the wall with a bang, and they burst out from the darkness like something from their targets’ worst nightmares.

  “Back! Back! Get up, you bastard; then don’t move!”

  They moved farther into the room, pointing their guns at the lovers, who were dumbfounded and unable to react. Suddenly they had been confronted with a pair of monstrous, hooded shapes casting huge shadows onto the ceiling, filling the silent space with barked shouts that echoed around the huge metal shell, shrill, cold, and intimidating. As the sound bounced between the different surfaces, it grew almost inhuman.

  The man froze while the woman opened her eyes in terror and fell back on the sofa where they’d been lying. The sofa was a cheap red one that stood next to a fold-out bed a few feet away. Other furniture included a table and fold-out chairs, a small portable stove, and a squat refrigerator connected by a mess of cables that also led to three standing lamps, the only lights in the room. The man stood up in his wrinkled shirt, obeying the orders of these howling ghosts.

  “Behind your back! Hands behind your back! Behind your back, you bastard!”

  Surrendering, he put his hands behind his back. He was watched by his companion, who was still on the sofa. She tried to put an arm across her chest, but this action was immediately answered with a shotgun barrel in the face.

  “Stay still! Don’t move!”

  She meekly raised both hands, letting her breasts fall free. Ignoring her, Ethan handcuffed the man and kicked him to the ground, where he lay still. Both of the prisoners were familiar with armed raids and quietly obeyed the orders. With the man on the ground, Ethan turned to the woman and cuffed her in the same way, with her hands behind her back. Suarez grabbed the man by the legs and pulled him a few feet away to make room. Then he rested the gun barrel on his head to emphasize his orders not to move. Next, Ethan took out a cloth and shoved it into the woman’s mouth before tying a gag over it. He grabbed her by the right elbow and led her to one of the chairs, making her sit down. Then he carefully tied her to the back.

  When she was properly trussed up, he started to breathe more easily. His mask was damp with heavy breathing, and his heart was thumping in his chest. He allowed himself a moment to catch his breath. So far, everything had gone well. Then he looked at her naked chest and her frightened gaze and instinctively buttoned her blouse. For a moment he felt empathy for her, forgetting she was an unscrupulous criminal who had kidnapped, tortured, and killed innocent girls.

  Ethan turned to the male prisoner, who was lying still with Suarez’s gun to the back of the head, but he saw something he hadn’t expected. Although his partner’s face was obscured by his black camouflage, he was clearly unhappy. Suarez looked him in the eye and slowly shook his head as though something were wrong. Ethan was confused, but he decided to finish the job before asking any more questions. Without saying a word, they picked up the man and in the thick, dreamlike silence broken only by the squeaking of the chair legs and rustling of the rope, bound and gagged him as well. Then Suarez took out a roll of duct tape that Ethan hadn’t noticed before and covered their eyes in several layers, letting it painfully glue to their eyelids. When he’d finished, they went back out to the rear, returning to the shadows, which fell slowly down from the ceiling to meet them. Once they’d gotten through the door, they disappeared completely. They walked down the gloomy passage and once they’d got to the service exit, took off their hoods so they could speak in whispers.

  “What’s wrong? You look upset.”

  “It’s not him!”

  “What?”

  “It’s not the deputy chief. It’s one of the others.”

  “Who? One of the other policemen?”

  “Yes! One of the underlings.”

  “Huh, fuck.”

  Suarez put his hand to his head and wandered away for a few feet before coming back. “Great. So she’s fucking around behind his back.”

  “So it would seem.”

  “And we’ve arrived right in the middle of it. That’s why they were so afraid when they saw us. They thought we might be him.”

  “I think so.”

  “They might even be relieved that we’re not the boyfriend . . . but that won’t help us. He probably doesn’t know shit.”

  Suarez shrugged. He continued to walk around, growing more and more frustrated.

  “I had them bugged! They switched shifts; the boyfriend was supposed to be here.” The quintessential perfectionist, the mistake was driving him crazy. “I’ll ask them why they switched shifts.”

  “And how will that help?”

  “You’re right.”

  In the distance, they heard something howling. Eventually, Ethan spoke. “Well, we have to go back. If we leave them alone too long, it’ll seem stranger than it already is.”

  “But now we don’t have the time we thought we had. We have until the boss gets here. Maybe when the game ends, in about an hour—I’m not sure. I didn’t watch them all; I don’t know if they’re expecting him; I don’t know if he’s even coming. You understand? I don’t know why he didn’t come or if he’s coming later.”

  “The only thing we know for sure is that those two weren’t expecting anyone. That gives us an advantage. So now what do we do?”

  “The guy won’t know anything, that’s for sure.”

  “What about her? She might still be useful to us.”
>
  “It was the boss we wanted, but she’ll have to do.”

  “How do we play it? What if we say that we’re here to free the girl who was kidnapped?”

  “Then tomorrow they’ll kill her whole family.”

  “Right, I wasn’t thinking. We’d better stick with the plan, but now we really need to keep them separate.”

  “Now especially. She saw you do up her blouse; she won’t be so afraid of you.”

  “I’ll take the guy out into the passage and cover his ears too. You’ll need to be quick.”

  “I will be.”

  “Give me a moment.”

  Ethan left a confused Suarez and went to the room where the kidnappers had put the victim. He put on the balaclava and cautiously crept inside, trying not to wake her, but after all the commotion she was obviously already awake. When his eyes got used to the dark, he could see her face. She was exhausted, dirty, and bruised, gagged with what looked like a sock, and her hands and feet were tied to the bed. Her ankles and wrists were covered in cuts and gashes, some of which looked infected. The girl shivered when she saw him, her eyes bulging, utterly confused by what was going on and scared that the worst was to come. Ethan went over and tried to convey reassurance, although his hurry, not to mention the balaclava, didn’t help.

  “We’re going to set you free. Try to hold on a little longer.”

  He loosened the ropes on her legs, and she responded with a muffled groan of relief. Then he went back out into the passage, where Suarez was waiting, unhappy at his time wasting. Ethan gave him a defiant look.

  “I had to. We couldn’t leave her like that.”

  Then the two shadows went back to the couple, who’d spent several minutes in absolute limbo, blind and gagged with no idea what was going on. They were suffering the worst kind of fear: fear of the unknown.