Hard Time - Debt Collector 8 (A Jack Winchester Thriller)

by Jon Mills

  Jack gestured to a stack of cigar boxes. “You sell a lot of these cigars?”

  “Most orders come from the U.S., though I have a few contacts in the San Pedro Sula and Guatemala region. But enough about what I do. Liz never mentioned she would send anyone. Is there a problem?”

  “Not that I know of. No, she wanted to try a different approach. She thought because you have already established a connection with the prison, that you could get me in to speak with the warden.”

  José smiled and leaned back in his seat. “Ah, smart lady. And may I ask how much she sent?”

  “We can discuss numbers when you have made an appointment.”

  He huffed. “I would need to know in advance. The warden is a busy man and he doesn’t open his door for just anyone. He needs a good reason.”

  “How’s fifty thousand dollars sound?”

  Seven - Trouble Brewing

  José’s ears perked up at the mention of cold hard cash. He leaned forward in his chair and regarded Jack with skepticism. He picked at a gold tooth with a thin wooden pick, then took a large toke on his cigar. Jack kind of figured he would want to see it and he didn’t plan on flashing it around.

  Without saying another word José reached for the phone on his desk and placed a call. His voice was hushed as he spoke. Jack gazed around at the various stone sculptures he had. On the wall were several awards for cigars he had manufactured, and one related to his work as a lawyer. One that caught his attention was of a school. There were several teachers in the photo along with about fifty children.

  “I built that school,” José said. Jack turned to find him staring and holding a hand over the receiver. “Cost twenty grand for the building, furniture, equipment, books and the fence around it.”

  “Twenty thousand goes a long way.”

  “So does fifty.”

  After a couple of minutes he hung up. “I’ve arranged an appointment for this afternoon.”

  “That soon?”

  “Money speaks around these parts.” He stood up and came over. “In the meantime, can I give you a ride to a hotel? I recommend the Hotel Casa Encantada.”

  “I have a ride outside but thank you.”

  José glanced out the window.

  “The taxi?”

  Jack nodded before glancing at his watch. It was a little after eleven in the morning.

  “Meet me here at two,” José said. “I’ll take you to see Lázaro.”

  Jack thanked him for his time and exited. He cast a glance over his shoulder and saw José was back on the phone.

  Mario wasn’t to be found in his vehicle, so Jack jogged across the street to a sports bar. He adjusted the bag on his shoulder as he stepped inside. It wasn’t much to look at inside, a few tables, bar stools and a simple bar with a fridge full of foreign beer. Mario was sitting at the far end talking to a young girl. Some trashy pop song was playing on low in the background. The bartender tossed him a glance as he passed by.

  He tapped him on the arm. “Mario, time to go.”

  “Ah, I was just telling Kelyn here about your visit to Honduras. She says we could join her and some of her friends if you’re interested.”

  “Not interested. Let’s go.”

  He tugged on his shirt and Mario said his farewell.

  “You know, Jack, women like that are hard to come across in the city. For a few dollars, you and I could have one hell of a night.”

  “No time. I have business to attend to.”

  Mario still had a beer in his hand.

  “You allowed to drink and drive?”

  He laughed. “Half the people on the road are drunk.”

  Well that explained the crazy driving.

  They had just made their way back to the taxi and Jack was waiting for him to unlock the doors when five guys made their way across the street. Two were still drinking and they didn’t appear to be looking to hail a cab.

  A few words were muttered in Spanish. Sensing trouble, Mario put his hands up and fired back a few words.

  The next thing Jack knew, Mario was struck across the head with a bottle and then another guy tried to grab Jack’s backpack. Jack held it tight and backhanded the guy. After which all hell broke loose. A bottle was smashed on the hood of the taxi and a guy came at Jack holding the shattered neck. He thrust forward and Jack sidestepped to the right, kicking him in the stomach. Meanwhile Mario was getting the shit kicked out of him by two guys.

  The jagged bottle came at him again and this time, Jack swung his bag and then fired a right hook that knocked his attacker clean off his feet. One thing about these Honduran people, they weren’t exactly built for battle. It was like hitting a feather. He followed through with a sharp kick to the nuts. He let out a groan and doubled over. Jack grabbed the next guy by the back of the neck and unloaded two jabs to the stomach only to have someone kick him from behind. His bag dropped to the floor. As he scrambled to get up, one man took a running kick. Jack grabbed the guy’s leg, twisted and yanked it towards him, causing the guy to lose his balance. Out the corner of his eye, he saw the first guy dart in, scoop up his bag and sprint away. Wasting no time, he raced after him around a section of stores, across a street and down through the narrow streets. The guy gave a fearful glance over his shoulder. He vaulted over a fence, and tossed several trashcans at Jack but he kept moving forward. As they raced past a construction site, Jack eyed a pile of loose bricks, he scooped one up as he shot by and took aim while running after him. A few seconds later, the guy hit the ground with a gnarly gash to the back of his head. Out of breath and ready to lay down a serious beating, Jack grabbed up his bag and opted instead to just give the guy a quick kick in the gut.

  “Asshole,” Jack muttered while curious onlookers watched on.

  By the time he jogged back to where the taxi had been, it was gone and Mario was lying motionless with a pool of blood around his abdomen. A crowd had formed, and several people were shouting in Spanish. Jack squeezed his way through the crowd to take in the sight of the cheerful guy who was alive and well only moments earlier. A police siren could be heard wailing in the distance. Locals scattered as if expecting to be carted away for just being at the scene of a crime.

  Jack remained there looking down.

  “Jack!” a male voice called out to him. He turned to find José beckoning him towards his factory while casting a nervous glance up and down the street. Once he made it over, José pulled him in and locked up the front door. A police vehicle screeched to halt not far from the body and several officers carrying semi-automatic weapons jumped out, fanning in multiple directions.

  The fear among the people was tangible.

  Jack peered out through a slot in the door. An ambulance roared into view, sirens blared and lights flashed. A mishmash of blue and red. It all happened so fast.

  “You don’t want to go out there for a while.”

  “This happen a lot?”

  He chuckled. “More than you know.”

  Eight - The Warden

  Jack skipped booking into the hotel. José promised to take him there later once they’d been to see the warden. Instead, they slipped out back and traveled to his home twenty minutes away. He spent the following hour on a guided tour of the place. Glass was embedded into the top of the walls and three vicious Rottweilers roamed the inner courtyard. Over lunch he shared some of the cases he’d had, those that had failed and others that were a success. One thing he made clear was that the justice system worked very differently from the one back in the States. Rights were a joke down there. Had Jack been caught out in the open when Mario died, he would have ended up being brought before the court and sentenced within forty-eight hours. Judgment was swift and punishment far worse.

  “Have you bought out an inmate?”

  He nodded, puffing on his cigar and patting the head of a snarling dog that had been eyeing Jack for the past quarter of an hour. It looked as if it was just waiting for the attack command.

  “Are those necessary?
”

  “Without a doubt. Home invasions are very common down here. Police don’t go out to every call. Hell, sometimes the police are involved. Dozens of officers have helped gangs by deleting gang members’ records and providing them with fake driving licenses for big money. Just a few months back, thirteen out of sixty-seven police officers were on the payroll of a powerful gang that operated here in Honduras. They took ages to push that one through the court system. Judges get paid off all the time. And because you never know which cops are involved in extortion, murder, bank robberies, auto theft, kidnapping and drug trafficking, you can’t stick around at a crime scene. That’s why people are afraid when they hear them coming. The people here have huge trust issues. But I’m sure you get that back in the USA.”

  Jack chewed away on some melon that was stacked on his plate. “It happens. It’s not as common but dirty cops exist.”

  “You are taking a big risk coming down here, and an even greater one carrying around the money in that sack of yours.”

  Jack stared back at him.

  “I saw you run after him. No one runs after anyone down here unless there is value or they want to die.”

  “Perhaps I want to die.”

  “That can be arranged,” he said with a smile. “Stick around here long enough and your wish may be granted.” He paused for a second to take a hard pull on a long, fat cigar. The end burned hot. A smile flickered on his face as he waved away the gray smoke. “You know, your brother is not the first American that has been pulled in for drug trafficking. It happens a lot.”

  “Makes little sense. Why would anyone place drugs in his bag? They must have known he would get searched at the airport. It’s a dumb way to try and get drugs into the USA.”

  “Who’s to say they were trying to get it into the USA? Perhaps they needed to get it out of the area. Maybe they would take it back when he reached the airport. There are many reasons they might have done it.”

  While he was speaking, another man came into the room and whispered into his ear. “Superb, Carlos, get the car ready,” José said, then turned back to Jack. “You ready to meet Lázaro?”

  For whatever reason Lázaro Torres chose not to meet at the prison. Whether he thought the place was under surveillance or he didn’t spend that much time there was anyone’s guess. The journey was a short ride out to a home on the south side of Danlí. It was in an upscale neighborhood similar to José’s, yet even more extravagant. For someone that worked for the government, his two-story villa seemed a bit extravagant.

  The winding road that led up to the property gave them a breathtaking view of the valley. Only the wealthy could own such homes in the area. That was the thing about Honduras, or any third world country. A person could drive through the slums but then within twenty minutes be basking in the glory of wealth.

  Once they parked, José was clear about letting him do all the talking.

  As they ascended the steps up to the stone terrace, Jack caught sight of a silver-haired man with a thick beard. He sat at a table reading a newspaper, with a cup of coffee in front of him. He wore a white shirt, and black pants. He noticed them but continued to read even as they approached. They must have stood there for a few minutes until he folded his paper.

  José greeted him in Spanish but he replied in English. It wasn’t perfect but it was clear enough to carry on a conversation.

  “Lázaro, this is Jack Winchester.”

  “Take a seat. Can I get you some coffee, juice, perhaps?”

  “Coffee would be good.”

  Lázaro motioned to a butler and he disappeared inside.

  “How is business, José?”

  “Can’t complain.”

  “I heard there was an incident outside your factory.”

  His eyes drifted over to Jack who stared at him before turning away.

  “Nothing that the police weren’t able to handle.”

  “And so you wanted to see me about an inmate?”

  José spoke again in Spanish. Jack knew enough Spanish to understand what he was saying. There was mention of the money. His brother’s name was dropped and that they were looking to reach an agreement.

  “José, English. I’m sure your friend here would like to understand.”

  “I understand well enough, thank you,” Jack replied, to which Lázaro smirked.

  “Fifty thousand for the release of your brother?”

  Jack nodded.

  “That’s a lot of money. Under any other circumstances, I would be more than obliged to come to an agreement. It’s rare that we get any Americans in Danlí Prison and those that we do aren’t able to offer such a lucrative amount. Though, I have to ask myself, is it worth it? I mean with the judicial system breathing down on our necks, I need time to weigh up the pros and cons.”

  “Is it not enough?” Jack asked.

  “Why, are you offering more?”

  “Look, let’s not jerk each other off. What is it going to take to get him out?”

  Lázaro ran a hand over his mouth and smiled.

  “Fifty thousand is a nice round figure, except he is worth more inside.”

  Jack screwed up his face. “How so?”

  “You’re not familiar with the way things work down here, are you?”

  “Not exactly.”

  Lázaro shrugged. “As much as I like you, Mr. Winchester, I’m afraid I cannot help you.”

  “Seventy-five thousand.”

  “Mr. Winchester.”

  “A hundred and that’s it.”

  He snorted and took a sip of his coffee. “That’s a lot of money to be carrying around even for a man like yourself.”

  He had to wonder what he meant by that. He didn’t know him unless he’d had him under surveillance from the moment he stepped off the plane. It wouldn’t have been the first time he’d seen a criminal element keep tabs on foreigners arriving. Word traveled faster, even faster if those working for the airport were connected to gangs or the warden. Though more than likely, José had seen him fight and he was referring to his ability to protect his property.

  Jack was done with vague figures. Money spoke volumes when seen. He pulled his bag around and was about to unzip it when two men stepped forward with their Glocks raised.

  He raised a hand. “Just getting the money out.”

  “You must excuse my men. They get a little nervous around strangers.”

  Jack unzipped the bag and pulled out one hundred thousand all in hundred-dollar bills and wrapped in several bags. He placed them in front of him and Lázaro glanced at them before picking one up, peeling off the wrapping and thumbing his way through it.

  “I still need time to think about this. Our prison has been under review as of late and if I move ahead, it must be dealt with in a manner that doesn’t bring into question the initial decision of the Danlí courthouse. You understand?”

  Jack nodded and went to take the money back. Lázaro placed his hand on top of it.

  “It stays here.”

  Jack screwed up his face.

  “Don’t worry. You have my word. If I decide to not go ahead, you will receive the money back.”

  “No offense but after what happened today, I have trust issues.”

  He laughed. “I like him, José.” Lázaro bit down on his lower lip. “Okay, but I will keep hold of fifty thousand, a deposit so I know you are serious and not wasting my time.”

  Jack looked at José and raised an eyebrow.

  “Do we have a deal, Mr. Winchester?”

  Jack released his hand from the money and gave a curt nod.

  Nine - Night Raid

  Later as Jack checked in at the Hotel Casa Encantada for the evening, the afternoon’s meeting with Lázaro preoccupied his mind. He wasn’t comfortable leaving half the money with him but at this stage he had few options. José had treated him to a meal at some fancy steakhouse in Danlí before dropping him off at the hotel. On the surface, everything appeared to be fine. José tried to ease his concerns
about the warden backing out, or stealing his money. He assured him that wasn’t how it worked. The warden had to be careful.

  Hotel Casa Encantada was just as gorgeous as described. Though it wasn’t up to the standard of American hotels, it looked better than some of the bug-infested motels he’d seen so far.

  It was Mexican in appearance and almost reminded him of the structures seen in old Western movies. A two-story building with a wraparound balcony. Everything was made from a deep red wood. The rooms were basic but comfortable and clean. It offered all he needed. A double bed, tiled floors, a stunning bathroom and a TV. If he hadn’t heard from Lázaro within twenty-four hours he would collect the money and look at alternative options for getting Noah out. How? He had no idea. A lot was riding on the fact that the system was defunct and they were open to bribery. What José had shared about the police being dirty was a good sign. It meant that the chance of being able to get Noah out was high.

  Jack called down to the front desk and asked for room service to bring up a bottle of beer as they had no mini fridge in the room. He took a quick shower, keeping an eye out for roaches. Though it looked clean enough, he wasn’t convinced that it was bug-free. He’d seen one crawl across the floor in the reception area.

  Once he cleaned up he placed a phone call to Liz to update her on the situation. She’d persuaded him to take the fifty thousand and use it, and he had contributed some of his own. He kind of figured that they would want top dollar for an American.

  “No, it’s okay, I have made the arrangements.”

  “Jack, I can’t thank you enough.”

  “Well don’t break out the bubbly yet. I’m still waiting to hear from him.”

  “You don’t think he will pull out, do you?”

  “Anything is possible down here.”

  Jack didn’t want to tell her about how his taxi driver’s life had been snuffed out. She had enough on her plate as it was.

  “When this is over, will you stick around?”

  “I don’t know about that,” Jack replied.