by Joe Gazzam
“I will send men for all of you. Maybe not right away. But some day. Maybe when you’re a little older. I may prolong it so you have to constantly look over your shoulders. So that you will be afraid to make friends or take lovers knowing that anyone close to you would be in danger as well. Think about it. I will ruin your lives for years and years before I finally choose to end them.”
I knew how far his reach extended. If we did pull off this trade, what he said was most likely true, and the threat sank deep into my bones.
Andy pushed past me and shoved Castillo back. “Enough talking. Callate la boca.”
“And you,” Castillo continued. “You’ll be easy. I already know where your family is. Last time I swatted you away like a pesky gnat. This time, I will keep you close, really make you suffer. You will have no life worth living before I take it from you.”
Andy’s jaw clenched, but his lips stayed pressed shut. Blood was beginning to seep through the wet sleeve of his shirt from the bullet graze.
My gut twisted with guilt, but I pulled out the Scandinavian’s phone. There was no going back now. “Let’s get this over with.” I pointed my gun at Castillo’s knee. “Nefasto’s number or I shoot you in the leg. And don’t tempt me, because I really, really want to do it.”
He kept his face void of emotion, but complied, telling me the number.
“Hello,” Nefasto’s familiar voice piped out of the cell phone pressed to my ear.
“Nefasto,” I said. “You know who this is.”
“Yes—”
“Don’t talk, listen. You have two hours to take possession of my father. Keep your phone nearby. I’ll call you with details for the exchange.”
“Wait—”
I hung up without letting him respond, and slapped duct tape over Castillo’s mouth, not wanting to hear his voice anymore. As I turned away from him, Mitch motioned me to the front of the boat, out of earshot.
“He isn’t kidding,” Andy whispered. “Those things he said.”
“Does he know you?” Mitch asked, trying to fill in the missing pieces.
“It’s a long story,” I answered.
Mitch’s face tightened, but he let it drop. “He’s right, though. We give Castillo back, and how long before he shows up at our doorstep? How long until he kills us, kills Dad, or someone else we care about?”
“And it won’t stop with us,” Andy added. “How many future deaths around the world will he be responsible for? How many terrorists will he supply, how many wars will Castillo contribute to? We can’t give him back.”
“You heard Nefasto’s sales pitch,” Mitch continued. “With the arsenal Castillo’s developing, they’ll be able to level a city with weapons you could fit in a car trunk.” He shook his head and looked up at me. “I should be happy that we got him, but exchanging him for Dad doesn’t feel right. Dad wouldn’t want this. He knows how dangerous Castillo is. He thought it was important enough to risk his life to get this guy.”
I stared past Mitch and into the hateful eyes behind him. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying we have to consider leaving, right now with Castillo. Get him into custody where he can’t hurt anyone anymore.”
Mitch’s plan clicked, and I flinched with shock. “And leave Dad?”
“Castillo’s the head of the snake. Cut the head and the body dies. I don’t want to leave him, but how many lives do we save if we bring Castillo in? What would Dad want us to do?”
I rubbed my face with both hands. Mitch was right. But screw logic. I wanted my dad back. “No,” I said. “I don’t care. I’m not leaving Dad.” I’d come too far to give up on him. It couldn’t end like this. Not after everything we’d been through.
“Tara...”
I looked up, truly vulnerable in front of Mitch for the first time. Desperation drummed in my chest and the full body ache I’d been pushing away drove deeper into my bones. “Please, just think. There’s gotta be one more plan in that big brain.”
Andy turned to Mitch. “Is there some way for you to go home with Castillo and your father?”
Mitch took a seat and closed his eyes.
I sat down beside him, using every fiber of my being to will him into an answer.
Mitch’s eyes finally snapped open. “I think I have something.”
“What?” I insisted. “Tell me.”
“It would be insanely dangerous, but...”
My fingertips dug into my bruised, bare thighs. “But what?”
“It’s within the faint realm of possibility.”
I STOOD WITH ANDY INSIDE his storage unit as Mitch loaded additional gear into yet another stolen truck, this time with Castillo tied up in the back. My head ticked back and forth as I scanned the alley. I didn’t like being here, but so far no one had showed and there’d been nothing to suggest anyone had been here. Maybe Jorge never got the chance to tell Nefasto about Andy, but I couldn’t ignore the risk.
“This plan of his is insane, you know that.” Andy stared at me, eyebrows arched, as I finished bandaging his wounded arm.
“Completely,” I answered.
He dragged a hand through his tousled dark hair and sighed. “I mean there is dangerous and then there is this plan.”
My gaze drifted toward Mitch as he sorted all the gear. It was divided by type of excursion: diving tours, base jumping tours, kayak & snorkel adventures, zip-line tours, etc. His plan called for a little bit of each. He rifled through specific piles, jammed what he needed into large duffle bags and lifted them over his shoulder with a grunt.
“Believe me...I know.” I smiled half-heartedly and reached for Andy’s hand. “But it’s all we’ve got.”
Mitch walked past us, struggling to carry the heavy equipment. “No really, you guys just take it easy. Good ol’ Mitch will finish loading up all the gear. Just keep staring into each others’ eyes.”
I laughed as Andy leaned in to kiss me, but Mitch returned in seconds, exhaling sarcastically. “Okay two things...one, I’m about to vomit. Two, I’m done loading the van.”
“I guess we should go, then.” I let Andy’s fingers slip from mine.
We all hopped into the van, and I yanked out the Scandinavian’s cell phone to call Nefasto.
As he answered, I gripped the phone hard. “Listen carefully. I’m going to give you instructions and then hang up, so you’d better be writing this down.”
“I’m listening...”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
THE EARLY MORNING SUN, while not yet visible above Avila Mountain, still brightened the sky. It slowly worked its way up, breaching a wide wall of clouds. Iridescent reds and pinks bled into each other like watercolors as a thick, swirling wind swept across the mountaintop.
At a large metal platform near the summit, Mitch and I waited beside one of the two available cable cars. They were empty, as was the rest of the gondola lift. According to Andy, it wouldn’t open for tourists for another two hours.
Castillo sat at my feet, still bound and looking smug as I stretched forward and peered through binoculars. The ground below resembled a bisectional ant farm. All around the base of the mountain, twenty different river outlets cut through the ground. The water spider-webbed across the landmass and eventually headed to the ocean.
I focused in on a specific section where Andy waited with our stolen boat, my chest tightening with worry. I’d tried to push my feelings for him away in the beginning, but there was no denying them now. The heart was a stubborn thing. If something happened to him, it was going to hurt. The vulnerability sat like a rock in my stomach. It was very possible at least one of us wouldn’t make it out of this alive.
My phone rang. I snapped to attention and answered it. The strong wind died and the whole world seemed to wait.
“I have your father,” Nefasto’s voice said through the phone.
My stomach unclenched with relief.
“Let me see,” I replied and turned the binoculars to the adjacent cable car platform at the
base of the mountain. I found Nefasto, who was flanked by five armed thugs. Behind them was a man, hands bound, with a cloth sack over his head.
“Here he is,” Nefasto announced.
I pulled the phone away, turned to Mitch. “I think I see Dad.”
I put the phone back up and focused my binoculars. Down below, Nefasto pushed the bound man into view and yanked off the hood. It was him. He was weak, soaked with sweat and blood, and his face was severely swollen. He stumbled and had to be held up by two of Nefasto’s men. I stared, flush with emotion. Tears brimmed in my eyes, spilling onto my cheeks. He was alive. My heart shed its hard shell, and reached for him.
“Now Castillo,” Nefasto’s voice returned.
I nodded to Mitch. “Show him.”
Mitch yanked Castillo to his feet and pushed him forward, closer to the edge of the platform, holding him by the shoulders.
“I see him,” Nefasto confirmed. “Now what?”
I paused. “Now the exchange. We control the cars. They will go at the exact same time, at my command. Understand?”
“Agreed. But if I see Castillo’s car so much as pause, your father is dead.”
Nefasto put the cloth hood back over Dad’s head and shoved him into the cable car. As he shut the door, all of the armed men aimed their guns.
“Okay,” I said to Mitch. “Let’s do this.”
He headed to the control box, a small open-air office near the back of the platform that housed the only set of gondola controls, leaving me with Castillo. The tape over his mouth had partially come loose. I peeled it off slowly and painfully, just to see him wince.
“Come on,” I said, shoving him toward the cable car. I threw open the door and positioned him in front of it.
Castillo looked over his shoulder at me and smiled. “We will meet again, my friend.”
I muted the phone. “Sooner than you think, shitface.”
As a confused look fell over Castillo, I put a foot on his butt and kicked him into the cable car. He flew to the far end, slammed against the metal wall and slumped down to the ground. I gave him a hard wink and slammed the door shut.
I nodded to Mitch, and unmuted the phone. “Nefasto. We’re ready. Cars moving in 3... 2...1...”
After I gave the hand signal to Mitch, he set the gondola in motion.
With a loud thunk, the two cable cars at either end moved at the same time. As they headed toward each other, I hung up the phone.
Mitch ran back carrying one of the duffels filled with gear, and the two of us took up positions next to the thick metal cables supporting the cars.
“Now?” I asked.
Mitch watched the cars with narrowed eyes, as if performing calculations in his head on the fly. Down below, all of the armed men kept aim on Dad’s car as it sped away.
“Not yet,” Mitch said. “About thirty more seconds.”
“There is a really good chance this ends badly.” I couldn’t look away from my little brother, and secretly hoped he’d chicken out. “If you wanna bail, I can make the jump.”
“No way.” Mitch shook his head and slipped on a small backpack. He handed a similar one to me. “Let’s be honest, there’s no way you’ll pull this off without me.”
“True.” I turned back toward the cable cars, hoping he hadn’t seen the fear in my eyes. As much as I wished he’d stay back, I knew he was right. I needed him. “I meant what I said before. I’m glad you’re here.” My stomach tensed as I imagined him plummeting toward the ground and falling to his death.
Mitch glanced at me and smiled. “Dad once told me...as sure as people live, they die. But as long as they do both with purpose, there’s never much to regret.”
“I like that,” I said, swallowing down my nerves. “Let’s hope we live.”
“Ready?” Mitch asked as the cable cars started to distance themselves from the platforms. “Now!”
With this, we sprang into action, attaching modified zip-line devices to the thick metal cable overhead and without another word, leapt outward. I braced myself for the pain of the harness against my already sore upper body. The zip-line hooks caught snuggly and carried us forward. Mitch let out a small gasp as the earth below our feet fell away. My heart raced with the familiar thrill of a mission.
This was going to work. We were almost there.
As we zipped down the wire, the ground, now thousands of feet below, blurred deliriously. Distant gun fire began to pop in erratic succession, but we were out of range, and I knew Dad would be smart enough to take cover. I glanced back at Mitch who had a grimace plastered on his face. I had to admit, I was impressed. During my first high altitude skydive I had to be forcibly thrown out of the plane. Mitch hadn’t even hesitated. The kid had guts.
As I turned back, we were nearly on Castillo’s cable car. At ten feet away, I pulled the gun from my waistband, steading myself with my other hand. At five feet away, I shot the glass out of the back door, just before slamming into the car. On impact, I let out a pain-induced groan, but managed to grip the doorframe and twist inside.
Mitch arrived moments later. I leaned out to secure him then yanked him into the cable car. We both turned to each other and let out equally heavy sighs, stunned that this first part even worked.
“Are you two insane?” Castillo’s voice came from behind.
I lunged for him, but Mitch stopped me. “Please...let me.”
He pulled back his fist and dropped Castillo with a hard right. The man fell to the floor, unconscious.
“What the...” I whispered, in shock.
Mitch turned to me and opened his hand. Inside was a thick piece of lead, the size of a roll of quarters. “Fishing weight from one of Andy’s excursions,” he said.
I nodded, impressed but focused on the moving gondola. “Coming up fast.” We were still out of range of the gunfire, but Mitch needed to make his move before that changed.
Pressing against the side glass, I honed in on Dad’s speeding cable car in the distance. I froze as I stared at it, and made the mistake of looking down. The distance was deadly. I pulled back, second-guessing our plan.
“Listen, Mitch,” I said, shooting out the glass sunroof of the cable car and stepping out of the way of the falling shards. “I can’t let you do it. I’m making the jump.”
As I prepared to grab the edges of the open sunroof, Mitch gripped my arm. “Wait! No way.”
“If you don’t make it—”
He shook his head violently. “The gap between these cars is at least fifteen feet.”
“And?” I asked.
“You won’t make it. The long jump record at county this year was only twenty-two feet and that’s with a running start. The winner of the standing broad jump was only nine feet.”
“Your point. Make it fast.”
“My point is,” he said, “you’ll never clear the distance. Not even close.”
“But you will?”
“I don’t know. But I’m the one who set both those county records.”
I held his gaze, desperate but afraid. “It should be me taking this risk, not you.”
“No time to argue.” Mitch leapt up, grabbed the edges of the sunroof, and pulled himself onto the top of the cable car.
As he looked back down, I handed the gun up to him. “If you don’t make this, I’ll never forgive myself.”
“I’d better make it then,” he said with a forced smile. He tucked the gun into his waistband, and I watched his feet disappear as he crawled carefully to the end of the roof.
From inside the cable car, I could hear the thumping of Mitch getting to his feet and imagined him riding the roof like a surfboard, the wind nearly sucking him off the side.
The crack of distant bullets intensified and another loud bump made me jump.
“I’m okay,” he yelled from above.
“Be careful!” I shouted, hoisting myself up just enough to see through the sunroof, unable to listen blindly to him staggering above me.
Mitch be
nt his knees to keep a low center of gravity. I prayed he was still out of range of the guns, though I knew he wasn’t.
My heart flipped in wild patterns at the zip and ping of shots fired, but the fact that he was thousands of feet in the air was a more immediate concern. He moved back to the far edge, trying to give himself as much of a running start as possible. My stomach whirled. I imagined his body plummeting, crashing onto the rocky cliffside on the way down, landing at the bottom. Dead. His skull crushed, his limbs turned at grotesque angles on the ground. I forced myself to stop. Dad’s car was less than a hundred feet away.
“You can do this,” I whispered to myself as the cable car zoomed toward us, getting closer, Closer, CLOSER.
I lowered down and braced for it, waiting to see Mitch flying across the gap through the glass windows. My heart beat furiously. I pressed my clasped my hands to my chin and squeezed them so tightly all blood receded from my knuckles. Please make it.
Right as the car was about to pass, I heard his running feet hit the roof, each thunk a slowed moment in time. He flew forward, the ground below deliriously distant, and my breath caught.
Make it. Please. Make it.
I pressed my palms to the glass as he stretched the last few feet, but it wasn’t enough.
“No!” I cried out as he landed half on, half off the roof of Dad’s car. His legs dangled against the glass window and he slapped desperately at the metal.
“Mitch!” I screamed, pounding on the wall of the cable car as he started to slide down. Just as he was about to fall, he found the metal lip of the roof and clamped onto it. A wave of adrenaline and fear screamed through my body.
All I could do was watch. He strained and twisted back, grabbed the roof with two hands and finally secured himself. I bit hard into my cheek as he froze for a moment, pressed against the side of the car.
Finally, he released his right hand, grabbed his gun, then jammed it to the side glass and fired. The window shattered and he fell with the shards inside. I closed my eyes, letting a layer of tension melt from my shoulders for the briefest moment, and rested my head against the cold metal frame of the gondola.
