Killers

by Olivia Gaines

  “When my boyfriend gets here, he’s going to kick all your asses,” she screamed at the man, who shoved her hard.

  Please don’t say my name. Please don’t say my name.

  Yuńior prayed silently as he moved towards the crowd of people. Slipping into the group, he held his head low, stopping his shoulders as he too was pushed aboard. Small children stumbled and fell, nearly getting trampled as he bent and swooped a child into his arms. Soothing words were whispered as he carried the toddler girl down into the dark recesses of the belly of the ship. The overwhelming stench of unwashed bodies and human waste nearly made him gag as he held tightly to the child. Melissa, still causing a scene, received a back hand to the mouth by a large man who promised to come back and teach her some manners.

  Stupido.

  She was acting like a very dumb person who didn’t want to live. The 50 odd children he boarded the ship with were only a small number when added to the crowd already awaiting their arrival in the bottom of the vessel. Fear crackled in the air like bolts of electricity which prickled his skin.

  “This is not good,” Yuńior said, looking around the darkened space for an opening, a separate door, or a recess to climb through to get help. There were none. He thought of his father and the lecture he’d receive once he found out. That was if he lived through it. Melissa banged on the door, screaming to be let out, and Yuńior came up behind her, standing close.

  “Silence,” he said, yanking her arm. “If they come back in here, where they take you next will not be pleasant.”

  “Ed!” Melissa screamed, throwing herself at him. “We have to get out of here. All of these children that no one will miss and stuck down here in this stinky hovel. Babies, Toddlers. Separated from their families. What are they planning to do with all of these children?”

  “Silence!” he said, raising his voice. A quietness fell in the vessel. “They are planning to sell these children to the highest bidders as labor or worse. You have put yourself in danger as well because you will fetch a high price.”

  “Me? What do they want with me?” Melissa said, her eyes wide. “Get us out of here, Ed. We have to get out of here!”

  She turned and started beating on the door again in a wild panic, which infuriated him beyond measure.

  “Stop it!” he commanded wanting to shake some sense into her. He inhaled slowly, reaching for his amante, rubbing his hands down slender arms.

  “Melissa, drawing attention to yourself will not turn out well. You must be calm and quiet so I can think,” Yuńior said.

  “Think, my ass! We need to get out of here!” she said, going back to the door, ready to bang on it again.

  “You are endangering everyone on this vessel,” he said through clenched teeth. “I told you not to come here and that there was no glamor in this course of action. If you don’t stop, those men will come back and take you to their quarters, and you will never be heard from again. Cease this ridiculousness and be quiet.”

  “Ed, but we can’t stay in here, the smell, oh my God,” she said, retching.

  Yuńior rubbed her back as he looked about the dimly lit space. The gentle sway of the water rocked the ship back and forth while children moaned and sniffled. They were afraid, as they should be. He wasn’t far behind them.

  Taking the phone he had used to track Melissa, he scrolled through the contacts, locating the one number his father said to use in case of emergency. This was an emergency, and the phone dialed the number. It was one in the morning in Texas. Yuńior prayed Saxton the Blakemore would answer.

  “Blakemore,” the strong voice came through the line.

  “Señor, it is Yuńior Delgado, and I am in trouble,” he said in the line.

  “Where are you?”

  “San Ysidro, on a ship, I don’t know the name,” Yuńior confessed. “There are at least 100 children here, as well as Melissa.”

  “Melissa!”

  “Sí, Señor, it seems as if your wife’s stories led her to believe she too could, how do you say, be a badass,” Yuńior said. “There is no way out of the bottom of the ship. My phone is at half-life, and I think they are planning to sail with the morning tide.”

  “Yuńior, does your father know where you are?”

  “He thinks I’m close to your ranch, but Señor, this is a very bad place with very bad men,” Yuńior said. “I would not have called had I seen a feasible way out of this with minimal casualties.”

  “Don’t worry,” Saxton said. “I’m sending help. Turn off your phone when I hang up. In exactly one hour, turn it back on. I will give you further instructions then.”

  “Señor, I called you instead of my father for a reason,” Yuńior said.

  “I understand,” Saxton said, “One hour.”

  “Una hora,” Yuńior said, ending the call and turned off the phone. He set the timer on his watch for one hour. Melissa was at it again, at the door, banging on it. “Jesus, son of Mary.”

  He grabbed her by the arm, pulling her into a dark corner. “Tome asiento!”

  “No, I will not sit down,” Melissa yelled. “We have to get out of here!”

  “If you keep this up, you will get out of here and be the fuck toy of every man on this ship,” he whispered. “They will probe every opening on your body until your jaw locks in an open position and you will not know the difference from having to pass gas or take a shit. When they finish using up your body, if you’re still alive, they will throw you overboard as a snack for the sharks. Is that what you want, Melissa?”

  Her eyes were wide as she searched his face in the darkened hold. Fear made her start to hyperventilate, and for the first time since meeting her, Melissa looked ugly to him. The outer beauty faded in contrast to the naïve woman who believed she could make a difference by running into the fire in petroleum-soaked clothing. Yuńior only hoped they didn’t all burn from her actions.

  “Get down and do as I say, and we may all live,” Yuńior said, looking for a place to hide the phone. He needed to keep it close by and was grateful that he had a slim device which he slid into his briefs and under his sack, wedged in his taint. It wasn’t the most sanitary place to keep the device, but at least it would be safe until he could turn it back on in an hour.

  He only had to wait the hour for a call from Saxton the Blakemore. In the interim, his mind began to work on ways to aid in the rescue of the children, who understood better than Melissa the fate which awaited them. The horror stories from their parents had been ingrained in them on the treacherous journey to a better life, knowing that many would not make it or fall prey to the current circumstance which held them all hostage.

  Yuńior needed to think.

  “FUCK,” SAXTON BLAKEMORE said, as he sat up in the bed. His wife Odessa, just having gotten to sleep, groaned in protest, turning over to give him the hairy eyeball.

  “Saxton, what is it?” she said.

  “Some jackass has taken Yuńior Delgado,” he mumbled.

  “Oh, dear God,” she said, sitting up and reaching for her phone, but Saxton stopped her.

  “The last thing we need is a panicked Eduardo Delgado,” he offered. “Let me make some calls and get a plan in place. I told Yuńior I would call him back in an hour.”

  “Who are you going to call to go rescue him? I mean, where is he?”

  “In the belly of a ship just below San Diego,” he said.

  “Does he know the name of the ship? There could be hundreds of vessels in the port. How will you find him?”

  “I don’t need to find him,” Saxton said, thinking of just the person for the job. “But I know someone who can.”

  He began to dial the number of Brody Johnson, a man they called Mr. Yield. Brody was no killer, but a retrieval agent with the nose of a bloodhound. He would find Yuńior. However, if there were to be gunfire, Mr. Yield would need help.

  It was a job that called for a special man, a crazy woman, and a guy who wouldn’t take no for an answer. Neither would he. The cost didn’
t matter. If a hair was harmed on that kids’ head, it would mean war. That he couldn’t afford.

  BLAIRSVILLE, GEORGIA

  Nathaniel Mann was angry enough to shoot the first person who walked through the front door. For the third time in less than two weeks, rabbits and deer had gotten past the security measures in the backyard to nibble at the fresh crop of vegetables he’d planted. He kept his curse words to a minimum as he double checked the fence, adding a battery to the garden and attaching two jumper cables to electrical the wiring.

  “Let those lil’ bastards try to come for a late-night snack again, and I’m going to have rabbit stew for supper,” he said proudly.

  The vibration against his leg made him stop just before he connected the cables. He didn’t recognize the number from Houston, Texas and he almost didn’t answer the call. As angry as he was, it would serve whoever had the nerve to call him just desserts to get an earful of pissiness. Growling into the line, he took the call, answering with an angry, venom-filled “Hello.”

  “Nathaniel Mann, this is Saxton Blakemore,” the deep voice said.

  “Yeah, and?”

  “I need your assistance with a specialized job that will provide you 50,000 tax free reasons to hear me out,” Saxton said.

  “Don’t freelance,” Mann told him.

  “This isn’t freelance,” Saxton replied. “I have a very precious object which needs to be retrieved as soon as possible. There may be a bit of fireworks, but if we can minimize it, that would be the preference.”

  “Again, I don’t do freelance,” Mann told him, ready to hang up the line.

  “Understood, but someone has taken Yuńior Delgado, and we need to get him free before his father finds out and starts a gang and turf war in North America,” Saxton said.

  “Not my problem,” Mann told him.

  “It may not be today, but if Eduardo Delgado finds out, I called and asked for your help and you refused,” Saxton said with a pause, “and his son is harmed before we can get him out of there, your nights of peaceful sleep are over. He may feel gracious and allow Rocky and Nate Jr to live, but he would probably sell Shanice to the highest bidder.”

  Mr. Mann was not happy at his words. He let Saxton Blakemore know exactly what was on his mind. “Listen, calling and threatening me or my family will not get you what you want. What it will get you is a midnight visit from me. The last thing you ever want is to wake up and find me standing over your bed,” Mr. Mann said in slow measured words. “I’m not the kind of man you fuck with, Mr. Blakemore.”

  “Exactly why I need you for this job,” Saxton said. “Besides, that bitch ass system that you have rigged up on that wiring is not going to keep those rabbits out. Put down some lime and Epsom salt. That will do the trick.”

  Mr. Mann shocked, looked up and around him to see if there were eyes in the sky. How in the hell did this man know what he was doing?

  “We, and I say that loosely, always know what you’re doing and where you’re doing it,” Saxton said. “Because you operate for The Company, we don’t bother you. Listen, I wouldn’t have called if I truly didn’t need you. Doing me a favor is like money in the bank. Do this, and I will take care of all your tax issues.”

  “I don’t have tax issues,” Mr. Mann replied.

  “Not yet you don’t,” Saxton said. “Mr. Yield is already in the air. I’m sending a chopper for you, and from there we get you to Los Angeles where he is.”

  “Sounds like I don’t have a choice,” Mr. Mann grumbled.

  “Mr. Mann, we all have choices. I’m just helping you make the right one,” Saxton said. “The helicopter will land in five. Grab your bag and get moving. Time is of the essence.”

  ROCHEPORT, MISSOURI

  “Daddy! Daddy!” Johnnie called from the back porch as Cotter Wihlborg chopped wood to ensure there was a sufficient supply for the upcoming winter months. “You have a phone call. He said his name is Saxton Bookmore.”

  “Why are you answering my phone, Johnnie? I told you to never answer my phone,” Cotter chastised the child.

  “I didn’t answer your phone,” Johnnie said. “Yours kept ringing, then it stopped, and then my phone rang. I answered my phone.”

  “What in the hell?” Cotter said, thinking of the Kiddie Call phone they purchased as a learning aid for the child. The phone didn’t make calls, only sent text messages to him and the kid’s mother, Judy.

  “Mr. Bookmore says it’s important,” Johnnie said, handing him the bright yellow and pink phone.

  Mr. Stop felt like a fool taking a call on the silly device used for counting and learning. He got the willies thinking some weird person had found a way to hack the phone. Soon as the call was over, he planned to crush the thing with his axe. However, first he wanted to give the person on the other line a good thrashing for messing with his kid.

  “Who the fuck is this and what the fuck do you want?” Cotter said into the phone.

  “This is Saxton Blakemore,” the voice said. “I need your specialized skills, like yesterday. There are 50,000 tax free reasons for you to get in the helicopter that is about to land in your back yard in the next few minutes.”

  “No,” Cotter said and hung up the phone.

  He lay the phone down and raised the axe, and Judy, his wife, called from the kitchen window.

  “Cotter, there is a Saxton Blakemore on my phone and he said to not chop up Johnnie’s phone,” Judy called, looking out the window up at the sky. “How does he know you were about to chop up her phone? Why were you about to chop up her phone?”

  “Jesus,” Cotter said, walking towards the shamble of a shack his wife called a house to take the phone. He growled into the line, “You’re persistent, aren’t you?”

  “Mr. Wihlborg, I need a man who will not stop until this package is retrieved,” Saxton said. “If you don’t want the cold hard cash, I can have a crew on site as early as tomorrow morning to shore up those rear walls of the house, or I can have a new house, pre manufactured, delivered by the end of the week. Upstairs, downstairs, including a study if you like, or I can even have a safe room that you can use for your weapons collection installed after the fact. You name your need, but get on that fucking helicopter and help me.”

  “You would deliver a whole house to where I live?” Cotter asked in disbelief.

  “Yes, and have it installed on the right-hand side of the property, closer to the stream, right behind the tree break,” Saxton said, knowing he had the man’s attention. “Not everything in this life is about money. Sometimes it’s about comfort. I have the money to make you the comfortable home you’d love to have. Help me and I help you.”

  “Helicopter, heh?”

  “Ten minutes, back yard. Bring your gear,” Saxton said, clicking off the line.

  Cotter stood still on the back porch he’d repaired twice, but the foundation was all wrong and by the time a heavy snow came, it would need to be revamped. The whole house was a pile of crap and try as he might to fix what he could, they needed another house.

  “A whole damned house by the end of the week,” he said, looking at Judy.

  “We’re getting a new house?” she asked, looking around the one she’d physically built by hand. Cold air seeped in during the winter, the roof had collapsed twice, and half the time the solar array didn’t work worth a damned.

  “If I take this job,” Cotter said.

  “What is the job?”

  “Track someone down and bring them to that Blakemore guy,” Cotter said.

  “Cotter, this sounds dangerous,” Judy said.

  “Yes, but we would have a new house by the end of the week, with an upstairs and a real master suite, with our own bathroom,” Cotter said, almost salivating. He was tired of hair barrettes and little girl panties in the bathroom floor. A man needed his own privacy and not have to share a bathroom or worry about the kid bursting in when his wife was washing his back. A new house would be worth the trouble.

  The sound of the helicopte
r in the distance pulled him out of his stupor. He pointed to the piece of land where the Blakemore man had mentioned placing the house. It was the exact location he’d thought about building a new home himself.

  “Damnit,” he said, going inside to get his gear. He planned to meet this Blakemore to find out how he knew so much about his living arrangement plus how he hacked a kid’s toy to get to him. “Baby, I should be back by the end of the week. You and Johnnie know the protocol.”

  “Be careful, Cotter,” she said, providing a hug and passionate kiss. “Come home to us.”

  “Of that, you have no doubt,” he said, grabbing his work bag and heading to the landing helicopter. He blew a kiss to Johnnie, promising to bring her back a gift, but she wouldn’t let him leave without a hug and a kiss.

  “I love you, Daddy,” she said, squeezing him around the neck.

  “Love you, too, sweetheart. Look after your Ma. I’ll be back by the end of the week,” Cotter said, swatting her on the bottom and pushing her towards the house.

  She was a sharp kid and nobody’s fool. He admired that about his wife—teaching the child survival skills in an unfriendly world—but Johnnie’s young survival instincts paled in comparison to Yuńior Delgado’s.

  The file inside of the helicopter provided by Saxton Blakemore gave a dossier on the young Delgado. A young man nearing his 20th year, his childhood differed from other children, as he was trained to survive in any situation. A born thinker and natural problem solver, he had more than one difficultly facing him on this long night. Cotter understood the whole concept of stepping forward from his father’s shadow would mean he’d entered the game as not just the heir, but a man ready to take the lead.

  It seemed to Cotter, based on the information provided that all young Delgado really wanted was just one more year to enjoy life and experience the beauty of the world as an anonymous citizen passing through the portal of time, watching the moon rise and the sunsets. People like him didn’t get that kind of deal on the gaming tables. He would be dealt a hand and allowed to win a few because of who he was before a slick Willie decided young Delgado was a mark and proceed to fleece him for all he was worth.