by Don Easton
Lily Rae … are you in there?
As they walked toward the house, Jack discreetly took in as many visual details as he could. The home was built in a hollow, making it difficult to see far, but there were no other buildings within sight. He tried to memorize the layout of the land while trying to imagine what it would look like if he flew over it in a plane.
Near to the house, a plot of land was being used in a crude attempt to grow corn, but the stalks were few and the ones that had managed to grow were parched and only knee-high.
Big Al saw what he was looking at and laughed. “That used to be a gully,” he explained. “We used it to get rid of the dirt from the tunnel. From the air it will look like a garden. Good idea, yes?”
“Yes, replied Jack, wondering what else had been disposed of in the ravine.
They entered the house and were greeted by two men standing in the kitchen. Both had close-cropped hair, M-16A2 automatic rifles slung over their shoulders and each wore drab green military singlet T-shirts, sand-coloured camouflage pants, and army boots. Their skin was a darker brown than the others, leaving Jack to speculate they spent considerable time outside the house, as well.
They each gave a respectful hello in Spanish to Big Al, who nodded curtly in reply. The two men then smiled and gave a friendly nod to Berto and Eduardo. There was no doubt they had all been soldiers, or perhaps the two with the M-16A2s still were, thought Jack, as he recalled Adams comments that sometimes soldiers were used to protect large drug shipments.
Big Al interrupted his thoughts. “You are standing beside the entrance to the tunnel,” he said, smiling.
“Can you find it, Jack?” challenged El Pero.
“The entrance is in the kitchen?” replied Jack, looking around. The floor was made from yellow ceramic square pieces of tile. The grouting was a light brown and Jack looked to see if there was an area where the grouting was missing. It all looked in order.
The kitchen table, cluttered with empty beer bottles and a deck of cards was light-weight and easy to see underneath. The countertops were also cluttered with empty beer bottles, a few dishes, and men’s magazines. Nothing seemed particularly out of place.
Jack glanced at the fridge and stove, then looked at Big Al and raised his eyebrows.
“It is not under the fridge or the stove,” replied Big Al smugly.
“Is it okay if I search the rest of the house?” asked Jack, desperately wondering if Lily Rae was nearby.
“No, the entrance is in this room,” said Big Al.
“Then I give up.”
Big Al smiled and went over to a counter. On the wall behind it was an eye-hook from which a key-rack hung. He turned the hook sideways and Jack heard a small click. As this happened, Big Al grabbed the end of the counter and swung it away from the wall. One section of the counter was on hinges, attached to another section of the counter. Big Al then let go of the spring-loaded switch and the hook returned to its upright position.
Jack stepped forward and looked at the shaft that led into the ground from where the counter had hidden it. A ladder on the side of the shaft descended out of sight.
Big Al leaned in the hole and flicked a light switch. “Go ahead, climb down. Berto will show you.”
Jack climbed down the ladder after Berto. The ladder descended about one storey underground. When he reached the bottom, he came to a tunnel about twice the width of his shoulders. Periodic overhead lighting stretched for as far as he could see, given the darkened conditions.
“Wow! This is really something,” said Jack.
“And much cooler down here away from the sun,” replied Berto.
“Speaking of cooler,” said Jack, fishing to see if he would learn any further security details, “the two men upstairs with the automatic rifles are fairly dark. They must spend a lot of time outside in the sun, as well.”
“No, no,” replied Berto. “They are darker because they are not Mexican. They are mercenaries who have come here from South America. There are other teams who supply perimeter security. The house is never left empty.”
“I see. You and Eduardo seemed like friends when you greeted them, so I thought perhaps you were in the military together.”
“We have had similar training, which is what makes us friends,” replied Berto.
“It looks amazing,” said Jack, gesturing with his hand down the tunnel. “I have seen enough to know you are capable of moving a lot of dope.”
“You can walk along it if you like.”
“That’s okay,” replied Jack. “I should be getting back.”
“We have a special cart we use for moving big loads,” said Berto, as they were climbing back up the ladder. “But I think we need two carts. With one, it always seems to be at the wrong side.”
“Then you would have two at the wrong side,” replied Jack.
“You’re probably right,” chuckled Berto.
“So what do you think?” Big Al smiled when Jack reappeared into the kitchen.
“It’s fantastic. What about the other end? Is it well-protected?”
“Yes, much like here,” replied Big Al.
“Absolutely incredible. Your organization is exactly who we want to do business with.”
“That is great, amigo. I will have my men drive you back to your motel now. Señor Damien will be pleased, yes?”
“Yes, but first, is there a bathroom I can use?”
“Around the corner and down at the end of the hall,” gestured Big Al with his thumb.
Jack headed down the hallway. The first room held a laundry tub, under which was a thick lead pipe fastened close to the wall and used as a drain. A pail and bottles of cleaning fluid were in the corner, along with a dirty mop that had bloodstains on it.
Jack grimaced and continued on. The next room was a bedroom and the door was open. He glanced in and saw two mattresses on the floor and a cheap dresser.
The next room down the hall was padlocked shut.
Bingo … Jack nervously looked back to make sure nobody was watching and then held his breath and put his ear to the door and listened. He did not hear anything. Come on Lily … please be alive … We’ll get you out of here …
The sound of movement in the kitchen caught his attention so he quickly continued down to the washroom. He waited a moment, flushed the toilet and returned to the kitchen.
“I see you’ve got a bedroom door padlocked shut,” said Jack. “What’s in there?”
“Oh … that’s the men’s entertainment room,” said Big Al.
“Entertainment?” asked Jack.
“They get bored, so they keep women in there.”
“With the padlock, I take it they are not putas,” said Jack, smiling.
“No, we would not risk such a person knowing about Casa Blanca,” replied Big Al. “The women in there don’t come back. Whores make money. To kill them would not be good for business and would make some of our colleagues angry.”
“A bedroom does not seem very secure,” noted Jack. “Have you ever had anyone escape?”
“No. A woman cannot get out of there,” said El Pero. “At least not alive.”
“Would you mind if I see for myself?” asked Jack.
Big Al shrugged and said, “Why not.”
“I’ll show you,” offered El Pero, removing a key from the rack over the counter.
Jack, Big Al, and Eduardo followed El Pero down the hall. Jack watched in anticipation as El Pero fumbled with the padlock and opened the door.
Jack took a deep breath and stepped inside the room. He looked at the naked young woman who was curled up with her back to them on a bare mattress on the floor. Her long red hair told him he had found Lily Rae.
The mattress was so stained and dirty that the original colour was unknown. Jack didn’t know if he wanted to cry out in anguish at her suffering or feel elation because he had found her. He tried to look disinterested in Lily as he looked around the room.
The room was empty of any other fu
rniture and stunk of urine and feces. A plate of beans and rice was beside the mattress, but the beans had gone mouldy. Beside the plate was a plastic bottle full of water.
The only window in the room was covered with a thick sheet of plywood fastened to the wall with a multitude of screws.
Big Al spoke in Spanish to El Pero as Jack walked over to the closet. It was evident Big Al had not realized Lily was there and was still alive.
Jack slid one of two bi-fold closet doors open to reveal a plastic pail that explained the odour. The pail was the toilet. He pushed the door shut and tried not to let his rage show.
Lily had not moved and remained with her back to everyone. He stared at her to see if he could tell if she was breathing. Bruises covered her back and legs, but they were turning yellow and were obviously not fresh. Whatever fight she once had in her was gone.
“I am sorry, Jack,” said Big Al. “This is the girlfriend of the hombre who robbed us. I did not know she was still alive. I will have my men deal with her at once so you can assure Señor Damien that there are no … what you say … loose ends.”
“There’s no need to kill her,” replied Jack. “I can see there is no escape.”
At the sound of Jack’s voice, Lily turned her head to face the men. Her eyes fixed on Jack and he could see the new hope flash across her face at the sight of seeing a gringo. She half-rose from the bed and extended her hand toward him. “Please,” her mouth tried to say, but her throat was dry and only her lips mouthed the word. She swallowed several times and finally croaked out an audible plea. “Help me. You are English. Please …”
Jack’s face hardened at the role he knew he must play. He grabbed her face with his hand and shoved her backwards onto the mattress. “Fuck off, bitch!”
Jack then turned to Big Al and said, “I have to admit, she is very pretty. It would be a shame to rob your men of their entertainment … and I know Damien would feel bad about doing so simply to appease him. The important thing is I know she will never leave here alive.”
Jack glanced down at Lily. She lay on her back with her eyes staring blankly at the ceiling like she was in a trance. Her final bit of hope was gone. Her body relaxed and a calm settled over her emotions as her brain accepted she was going to die and there was nothing she could do to save herself. Perhaps, thought Jack, at this point she even welcomes death.
“She most certainly won’t leave here alive. Still, I am sure you would feel better if you knew she was dead,” he added, with a nod toward Berto, who reached for his pistol.
“Please, not now,” said Jack. “There really is no rush and Damien would be upset if he knew I was implicated in a murder. As a favour, I would appreciate it if you made sure I was away from here for at least a day or two. That way it could never be said I was somehow involved or responsible.”
“You never would be held accountable,” Big Al assured him.
“I know, but as I said, Damien has not met you and may not understand. He would be angry with me. He expects this first meeting to go without incident.”
“As you wish,” replied Big Al. He spoke in Spanish to Berto and told him to take care of her later. Berto replied that one of the men had told him she had not eaten or drank any water for several days. He expected her to die soon regardless.
Big Al shrugged in response.
Berto’s comment caused Jack to worry. Going without food isn’t a problem. Going without water in this heat will kill you in a matter of days. What if the operational plan to save her gets delayed for a day or two? Reconnaissance could take that long … will she still be alive then?
Jack knew to say something to give her the will to live could have disastrous consequence. It could be like trying to save a drowning person who panics and takes you with them.
As the men were walking out of the room, Jack decided to follow what his heart told him to do.
“Just a sec,” he said, giving an evil grin. “I’ve never tasted a redhead and there’s something I’ve always wondered.” With that comment, he returned to Lily and in full view of the men, slowly licked his lips, bent over, and made a show of nibbling on her ear and pretending to stick his tongue in as he shifted his body to block their view.
“Do not speak,” he whispered in her ear. “Things are not what they seem. I promised your friend that I would bring her little froggy home. Hang in there. Help is on the way.”
Lily did not move as Jack stood up. She stared at him silently as her brain, fuzzy from dehydration, tried to digest if what she heard was real or if she had dreamed it.
Jack smiled as he walked toward the men watching him from the doorway and said, “It is true. Redheads do taste spicier.”
The men laughed and El Pero slapped Jack on the back and said, “If you think redheads are spicy, amigo, you should taste a señorita,” a giggle shook his chubby belly and he wiped a tear from his eyes with the back of his hand before continuing, “with a habanera chile inside her. But be careful your own chile grande does not touch it!”
Jack forced a laugh to join the others and then smiled at El Pero and patted him on the shoulder. He hoped his smile hid his true thoughts.
I am going to kill you … I don’t know how … but I will …
Jack did not risk glancing back at Lily as El Pero closed the door. He was too afraid she might say something.
Lily stared at the door and heard the padlock click shut. A promise to bring little froggy home? Only Marcie calls me froggy …
Then it hit her and her body trembled as fear and hope washed over her at the same time.
That was the Uncle Jack that Marcie told me about!
She crawled over to the door and sat, wrapping her arms around her knees and trying to stifle her sobs as she listened, hoping to hear more of Jack’s voice. When it sounded like he had left, she crawled back to the bottle of water and drank.
chapter thirty-seven
* * *
When Jack and the men returned to the kitchen, El Pero was about to hang the key back on the rack, but before he could, something outside the window caught his eye. He swore in Spanish and ran outside.
“He saw the iguana again,” explained Big Al, shaking his head while pointing out the window to a big lizard clinging to the trunk of the tree. “It has become a matter of pride for him. Any of the other men here could easily kill it in a single shot … even if they were drunk. Unfortunately, El Pero has not had their training. He thinks the iguana knows this and is laughing at him.”
Jack watched as El Pero ran to his SUV and retrieved an H&R .32-calibre, six-shot, long-barrelled revolver from the glove box.
“He has replaced his pistol with a new gun,” observed Big Al. “Before his gun had a shorter barrel. Maybe now his aim will be better.”
El Pero rested the barrel on one arm and aimed, before firing two shots at the iguana. Neither shot came close enough for the iguana to even flinch.
“No, he is still a terrible shot,” muttered Big Al.
“Is there a danger someone might hear the shots?” asked Jack, concerned Adams or Rubalcava would hear the shots and come barraging in to try and rescue him.
“No,” replied Big Al. “The men often target-practise out here. The only people who could hear are security men.”
“I haven’t even seen any security,” said Jack, “other than these two,” he said, with a nod toward the two mercenaries.
“Oh, there at many others out there,” Big Al assured him. “And much better shots than El Pero,” he added, “who will be lucky if he does not shoot himself in his foot.”
As if to emphasize the point, El Pero fired two more shots and the iguana safely crawled higher into the tree, more perhaps, to escape El Pero’s string of profanity than from the bullets.
“This has gone on long enough,” said Big Al, sounding frustrated. “I will demonstrate to you that we do have security. Step outside and you will see something.”
With that comment, Big Al made a brief telephone call while Jack w
ent outside and watched as El Pero fired another errant shot up into the tree.
The iguana was barely visible, as it had sought refuge amongst some leafy branches. A second later, the sound of a single rifle retort from off in the distance was followed by the iguana tumbling to the ground with the top of its head missing.
Jack looked from where the shot came and could barely make out two figures near an SUV on a far hill. He turned back toward the house and saw Big Al standing on the porch smiling at him.
“Your example of security has been well illustrated,” said Jack, respectfully. “You have a hell of a good sharpshooter out there.”
“There are many such men out there,” replied Big Al, with a wave of his hands toward the surrounding hills. “Now, unfortunately we must go,” he added. “There is a delivery being made soon and some more men will be arriving to look after it. I was told you must not be here then.”
“I understand. Besides, I do not want to be late to call Damien.”
“Okay, we — excuse me.” Big Al stopped to answer his cellphone. When he did, he smiled at Jack and held up two fingers. “Wait here, I will be right back,” he said, before stepping back inside the house to continue his call.
There was something about Big Al’s smile Jack didn’t feel comfortable about. Were Adams and Rubalcava in the area? Did they hear the gunfire and think I need help?
Jack walked over and pretended to look at the dead iguana. In reality he was considering grabbing the revolver from El Pero if Adams responded to the gunfire. As he kicked the iguana carcass with his foot, he glanced around. The lone SUV parked on the far hill remained where it was. There did not appear to be any reason for alarm. Good, considering El Pero only has one bullet left in his revolver …
Jack glanced at El Pero, who cursed some more and shook his fist in the direction of the sharpshooter. When El Pero turned to face him, Jack shook his head in apparent sympathy while looking at the hills around them. Good, no sign of any rescue attempt …
