Her expression makes me painfully aware that I’ve just pointed out the obvious. “After being almost beaten to death, I was sent to a ghastly prison. A few weeks later, I was allowed a visit with a lawyer. Sure, he was a lawyer, but he was a lawyer for Jesus. I was given a picture of my sister with a gun to her head and reminded that her life was dependent upon my silence. After that, I returned to the cell and wailed like a baby.
“The only thing I could do in there to pass the time was talk to the other inmates. Because of all the traveling we did with my father’s job, I’d learned to speak conversationally in several different languages. So many women there were in the same boat as me, forced or tricked into being a mule. I learned all their stories and kept a mental list of how everything was connected. These women didn’t think they knew anything, but those tiny details I picked up told me who they were really working for.
“When I wasn’t muling, Jesus paraded me around like some sort of prized pony, passing me out to his friends like a joint. He was so proud of his captive whore who was too scared to ever fight back. He was sure the hold he had on my sister would keep me loyal and submissive, and he was right.
“When they got high, they’d talk. Talking in front of me never bothered them because, what was I going to do? I acted like I wasn’t listening, but I gleaned massive amounts of information about their cartel, partnering, and rival cartels. If cocaine was being distributed, I could probably tell you where it came from based on the chemicals it was cut with.
“Because of the weight I was caught with, my trial was on the tele. They wanted to make an example of me, made a big hullaballoo when they announced I would be executed. The UK Ambassador to Singapore saw me, and even though I was using a fake name, he was certain I was the minister’s kidnapped daughter. He called my father, and the next thing I know, the full weight of the crown was bearing down on the Singapore government. They didn’t want to let me go, but I offered them a deal. I gave them all the ways that people were getting in and out of their country so they could tighten their security. Drug seizures went up twenty-two percent the next year.
“I was called to testify in front of the UN Office of Drug and Crime. After that, Interpol picked me up. Undercover investigations and rescue missions are my bread and butter. Nigel and I often cross paths, as you can imagine.”
“Your sister?” I ask.
A fierce look flashes across her face. “They killed her the moment I was arrested. Moments after they took the picture they showed me, I’m guessing. Her body was found in a landfill during my trial.”
I search for comforting words, but I come up empty. Which shouldn’t be a surprise. I’m hollowed out and have nothing to offer her.
Hearing her story explains so much of her persona. She was stripped of her humanity, defiled in the worst possible ways, and that experience jaded her, turning her into this hardened, calloused woman I see before me. But I see her in an entirely new light now. Whilst I used to be impressed by her tough-as-nails personality, now it just makes me empathetic. Someone so young to have been through so much. I respect that she’s still fighting the good fight, but I wonder if her heart is in it. Or is her heart too marred by tragedy?
The shrill sound of her mobile breaks the silence. She looks down. “I’ve got to take this call.” She flicks her cigarette and walks to the other side of the garden.
Chapter Twelve
Lily
How many other people do they have tied up in dark, scary places? Five? Ten? Twenty? From what I’ve read, K and R is a big business for them, right up there with sex trafficking. I wonder if it goes hand-in-hand. Those they can’t get enough for in ransom, they sell? I remember their biggest seller is little girls. Especially little white American girls. Those poor things are probably brought down to Mexico for family trips to the beach, they wander away, and poof, they’re gone without a trace. God, just the thought of it makes me sick.
Either they draw the line at selling boys, or there isn’t as big of a demand, or they keep it on the DL, because I didn’t see any reports of them taking boys for anything other than ransom. I’m really stumped as to why they took Ash’s kid. He has no family left to pay the ransom. Unless they thought I would pay it. Gavin probably would have, but with the exception of breaking into my condo, they haven’t tried very hard to collect.
My heart breaks when I think about Arrow. That poor kid’s only three or so. He lost his mother and was thrown into foster care only to be stolen. Do they have him tied up in a hole somewhere like this? He must be petrified. A lump forms in my throat as I picture him, frightened and confused. He didn’t ask for any of this! Why does he need to pay for the sins of a father he probably never knew? He should be making mud pies, playing with trucks, and eating worms, or whatever the hell little boys do.
If I get out of here, I’ll find him. I can’t undo what’s been done to him, but I’ll find a way to save him, to give him a good life. I know better than anyone how hard life is when you lose your parents and no one wants you. When you don’t belong anywhere or to anyone. No kid deserves that. And let’s face it, if I’d been a better wife, maybe Ash wouldn’t have strayed, and Arrow never would have been born into this mess. He wouldn’t be stuck in a hole, hungry, and scared. I’ve had a hand in shackling him with this fate, so I have to help him.
If I can ever get out of here…
Chapter Thirteen
Gavin
Isla takes her call, and I seize the opportunity to run inside for a status update. Roger’s headphones are on, and he’s typing furiously on his laptop. I tap him on the shoulder, and he pulls off the headphones.
“Nige has been to three docs, and nobody’s had any Mexican clients or ones who match Lily’s description in the last three days,” he says. “The three of them have decided to split up so they can cover more ground.”
I slam my fist on the table. “Damn. I was hoping they’d have found something by now. How many backdoor doctors can there be?”
Roger snorts. “More than you think. I’ve been trying to figure out when these bastards got here, and I finally found them. They landed in Liverpool two weeks ago, under aliases. Then they rented a car, so I’m trying to see if I can hack into the GPS on the rental car.”
I pat him on the back. “Hack away.”
Isla blows through the door. “Want to see some action?”
“You know I do,” Roger retorts.
She smacks the back of his head. “Pervert. I was speaking to Gavin. I have a lead. I just got a call from an informant who used to be a doctor in Peru, and he’s now living here. He and his wife bought a small farm, and they raise sheep or chickens or something. He can’t get a license to practice medicine, but he’s gotten a reputation of being able to help those who can’t get help through normal channels. Apparently, he’s got a new client.”
I look at Roger. “I’ve got to go.”
Roger shakes his head. “You should stay here and let Nigel take care of it.”
Isla says, “He’ll be fine. Stop trying to wrap him in bubble wrap.” She turns to me. “I assume you have a weapon.”
“Follow me,” I reply.
Roger stands and blocks my way. “This is a mistake.” He leans in and whispers, “Isla likes to play fast and loose. She gets off on the risk. Don’t let her suck you into her games, mate. I’ve seen it happen before, and that bloke ended up in a body bag. Why do you think Richard despises her so much? She’s reckless.”
I look him in the eyes. “I have to go. What if Lily’s on his table? I can’t just sit here any longer.”
Roger holds up his hands. “Fine.” He glowers at Isla. “You’d better call Nigel and have him meet you there.”
“Sure thing,” she says with a sneer. Isla gestures to the door. “Shall we?”
After a brief stop in the gun room, I grab a Berretta, the cleaning kit, and a tray. “I have no idea when this was last cleaned. Last thing I need is it jamming on me. I’ll clean it in the car.”
Isaac s
tops me before we make it out the front door. “Where’re we going, sir?”
“Isaac, you can stay here. I don’t want you to get mixed up in this.”
He blocks the door. “Where you go, I go. Period.” He pulls a set of car keys from his pocket. “I’ll drive.”
Isla smiles. “Works for me. I hate driving. Lead the way, Jeeves.”
Isaac unlocks the car with the remote, and we pile into the back of the BMW. Isla gives him the address in Harmondsworth, and I disassemble my gun.
She nudges my shoulder. “You’re pretty good at that.”
“I’ve been cleaning guns since I was about six or so. I can do it in my sleep.”
She raises an eyebrow. “That’s a unique childhood chore. Especially for a posh brat like you.”
I tap the button on the door. “All right if I roll down the window?”
“You’d better. I’d rather not choke from the fumes.” She taps the back of Isaac’s chair. “Crank up the heat, my good sir.”
I crack the window then return to taking apart my gun. “My family designed and manufactured guns. Learning to shoot and clean a gun went along with tying my shoes.”
She scoffs. “My childhood was all about dolls, playing princess, and grooming me to grow up to be just like my mother. Sweater sets, fancy hats, and strings of pearls, married to an ambassador or something. I actually looked forward to finishing school.”
I look at her ripped jeans, skintight top, and safety-pin necklace. “It’s hard to picture. You’ve certainly changed a bit.”
“Yeah, well. Life’ll do that to you.” Her leg bounces, and she fidgets in her seat.
“Nervous?” I ask.
“Excited. I’ve been after Jose Louis for years. He did unspeakable things to my sister and made me watch. The fact that I may be moments from getting him in my clutches…” She sniffs and her eyes go wide with excitement. “It makes me high.”
“I’m so sorry. I know there are no words to take away the pain you’ve endured, but I am sorry. No one should ever live through that.”
She tucks her hair behind her ears. “In some ways, it’s a blessing she died. They destroyed her. Took a beautiful, vibrant woman and shattered her. Whilst they thought killing her was the ultimate punishment, it was really an act of mercy. Living this life, haunted by the ghosts of what she’d seen, what she’d been forced to do… it would have made her mad.”
I catch a brief glimpse of pain in her eyes before she puts her mask back in place.
She points at me and glares. “I told you, we’re not doing that. I don’t give you the pity eyes. You don’t give them to me.” I open my mouth to speak, but she interrupts me. “Forget I said anything. I need to ring Nigel or he’ll have my arse.”
When she calls him, I hear Nigel screaming from all the way across the car.
“You forget I don’t work for you, Nigel. I don’t have to follow your rules. If you want to meet us there, feel free. But don’t ever yell at me like that again!” She clicks off. “What an arsehole.”
“You’d best text him the address. Whilst you don’t work for him, he will make your life hell if you cross him.”
She rolls her eyes and pulls her mobile back out. “I suppose.” She types in the address. “Hope he’s happy.”
About thirty minutes later, Isaac turns off M4.
“We’re getting close,” Isla says. “Are you ready?”
I snap the magazine into my gun. “Ready.”
“I meant are you going to be able to keep it together when we get in there,” she replies. “If you see the man who, at a minimum, kidnapped your girl, and very possibly killed her, will you refrain from slaughtering him? I just want the fucker dead, but you, you may want answers.”
“I can handle myself just fine,” I say, hoping to exude confidence. As much as I want to end this man, I need him alive so I can find out what he knows about Lily. My medical training will allow me to make his last moments as painful as possible.
Isaac turns down a dirt road.
“I suppose I should have asked this earlier, but how do you know this informant?” I ask.
“Emilo was a doctor in the mountains of Peru. As a result, he ended up sewing up lots of cartel members. It took me a few years, but I eventually got him talking, and his information was pivotal to taking down a huge cartel. Even though he was never an official witness, it was still too risky for him to stay, so he and his wife retired here. He hates his farm and misses medicine. For the most part he treats illegal immigrants, but occasionally he gets a criminal or two. He always gives me a heads-up when he does.”
“Did he say anything about Lily?”
She shakes her head. “His message was coded. He just said I needed to get there if I can.”
Isaac pulls off to the side of the dirt road. From here we can see a small farmhouse, a barn, stables, and what I’m guessing is a chicken coop.
She points at the barn. “He has a room in the back of the barn. That’s where they’ll be.”
Eager to get in there, I reach for the door handle. “Let’s go.”
Isaac locks the doors. “Not till Nigel gets here.”
“Lily could be in there!” I scream.
“And if you blow in there, you could get her killed,” Isaac snaps. “If you’re doing this, you’re doing this right.”
I kick the seat in front of me. I know he’s right, but sitting here will kill me. We watch for twenty minutes. No one comes in or out. Finally Nigel pulls up with Richard and Peter in the car. Nigel motions for us to come to him whilst Richard and Peter open the boot.
“Peter, Richard, and I will go in and see what’s what,” Nigel explains.
“Yeah, sure. You’ll be right behind me,” Isla says. “As the only one here with a badge, I’m taking point.”
“Always got to prove your cock is bigger, doncha?” Richard says.
A nasty grin spreads across her face. “It’s not my fault God didn’t make you well-endowed.”
“Enough,” Nigel whisper-shouts. He points at me. “You stay here until I give you the all clear. Is that understood?”
“I’ll make sure of it,” Isaac says.
I want to protest, but I know that will only prolong us getting in there. “Fine, just get on with it.”
The next few minutes are chaotic as the team storms the building. Richard steps out and gives us the signal, and I bolt. The rancid smell of animal dung hits me when I cross the threshold of the barn.
“Is Lily here?” I shout as I enter the back room. No one answers. All eyes are on Nigel, who has an MP5 pointed at man in blood-covered scrubs.
“Tell us what you know,” Nigel says through gritted teeth. “Don’t make me ask again.”
Sweat drips from his brow into the man’s eyes, but he stares at Nigel coolly. “You’re not the first man to point a gun at me, sir. It doesn’t scare me, but I find it hard to have a civilized conversation this way.”
“Someone answer me,” I demand. “Is Lily here?”
Coming from a back room, Isla screams, “Son of a whore!” She pushes past Richard then stands between Nigel and the doctor. “Put your bloody gun down. He’s not a criminal.”
I try to push farther into the room, but Peter and Richard block my entrance. No one says anything. They just look back and forth at each other.
“Someone answer my bloody question!” I scream.
Nigel doesn’t take his eyes off the doctor. “I’m sorry, mate. Lily’s not here, but it’s Soto. He’s dead. Died on the table.”
Shocked by disbelief, I shove past Nigel and enter the back room. The bastard’s lying on the table, his body grossly bloated. The sepsis was too far gone—there was nothing the doctor could have done to save him. Not in these conditions. I stare at his face. This is the animal who took Lily. If we can’t find his partner, we may never find her. Rage erupts from the depth of my soul, and I pull the gun from the back of my trousers and unload the magazine into him.
Nigel ru
shes into the room. “You still with me, mate? How ‘bout you put the gun down?”
I hand him my gun. “I’m fine, the magazine’s empty anyway. I just needed…”
He takes the gun and pats me on the back. “I know. No explanation needed. If I were in your shoes, I may want to do far worse.” He looks at his watch. “I think it’s best if we get out of here. Isla’s going to handle the police.”
“What about Lily?” I ask. “She could still be out there somewhere.”
“And we still have a good chance of finding her. Roger’s on it. If this guy is out there, we’ll hunt him down.”
“He couldn’t have driven here by himself,” Isla says. “How’d he get here?”
Emilo wipes his hands on a rag. “Another man brought him in. Blue Vauxhall Corsa. He left about forty minutes ago.”
Isla pulls out her mobile. “Leo! We’re looking for a Blue Vauxhall…”
“Jesus. Only the most common car in the UK. That’ll be easy to pin down,” Richard grumbles.
“You used to be a surgeon, right?” Peter asks. “Visualizing is a big part of your job, right? Time to put those skills to work. I need a description. Height. Weight. Defining features.”
Emilo finds a piece of paper and pencil on the desk. “I’ll sketch for you. I’m no artist, but it may help.”
Isaac pops into the room. “Sir, I have to insist you leave now. The last thing you need is to be connected to this.”
I take one last look at the piece of shite on the table then follow Isaac out the door.
“Just texted you the description and my guess at who it is,” Isla says to Nigel. “I’ll be back later tonight.”
“What about the body?” the doctor asks. “You can’t just leave me with the body.”
“Don’t you worry about that. The task force will send someone down. You won’t get into trouble.” Isla looks around the room. “Just hide some of the rest of your medical supplies, okay? I’ll cover your ass, but don’t make it so obvious what you do back here.”
Nigel walks me to the car. “Don’t give up hope yet.”
When Fates Align Page 9
