The Handler

by Roger Weston

  He was yanked up and led back up the hill with a shotgun at his back. They climbed through the vineyard until they reached the tree line. At the top of the hill he was shoved into a van. He was kept on the van’s floor at gunpoint. He heard the hatchet face man tell the blond brawny guy to return to Lloret de Mar to take care of Sargeant Gonzales’s family. Then he was instructed to return to the yacht after that to await further instructions.

  The blond-haired guy laughed. “Don’t screw this up, Mika. If you do, I may be hired to take care of you.”

  Mika gave him an icy stare.

  The van began to move and Chuck was driven sixty minutes to the north. Then the van came to an abrupt stop and the door slid open. Chuck was kicked out of the van. He was led into a barn that looked like it belonged to a million-dollar race horse. The only problem was that the metal shackles that hung from the cement wall of the stall didn’t look like they were meant to hold a horse. Without removing his handcuffs, two of the thugs attached the shackles to Chuck’s wrists.

  “We’ll be back,” Mika said, a shotgun draped over his shoulder.

  CHAPTER 16

  Hacienda de Toro Bravo

  Chuck stood against the cold cement wall of the horse barn. His legs burned, and his arms throbbed against the poor circulation from having his hands stretched above his head for hours. The heavy metal of the shackles cut into the flesh of his wrists. He stretched his arms for a moment to relieve the pain from the iron that was cutting into his bones. After a while his arms began to shake from the weight of the shackles and he lowered them an inch. He winced as the irons tore into his wounds once again. The pain from his crushed ribcage only intensified his misery.

  Ten minutes later the hatchet-faced man returned to the barn with two thugs trailing him.

  The man went into a room for a few minutes then returned with a horse whip, which stretched eight feet from end to end. Gripping the leather whip, he walked back and forth in front of Chuck several times. Finally he said, “Turn him around.”

  The thick metal of the shackles opened up new flesh on Chuck’s wrist as he was spun around to face the wall. He laid his right cheek flat against the cool surface. One of the thugs tore the shirt from his back.

  Mika lifted the long whip into the air. He wound up his arm, and then snapped it violently. The leather made contact with bare skin. Chuck’s body jerked and the chains of the shackles rattled. He gasped in pain.

  The men laughed.

  “Beat him like a dog,” one of them yelled.

  Mika whipped Chuck’s back again, only harder this time.

  Chuck’s muscles tensed in response to the searing pain. His crushed ribs felt like a knife in the chest.

  Mika wound up again, and Chuck heard a violent snap. He winced and nearly bit his tongue in half as he suppressed a groan when the leather made contact with his flesh.

  “I want to see you bleed,” Mika said.

  Chuck turned his head and saw Mika snarling at him, eyes lit up with pleasure.

  The whip tore into his back once again.

  Chuck clenched his jaw in anticipation of the next lashing.

  “I want to hear you scream.”

  The leather snapped across his back, biting hard. It sounded like the zap of an electric mosquito trap when it catches its prey, only louder. Chuck jerked and winced. He exhaled slowly through clenched teeth.

  The whip hummed as it sliced the air once again. It cut into the ripped muscles on his back. Chuck suppressed the moan that came from deep within his gut.

  Mika lashed the whip again. It cracked loudly in the horse stall. A thick strip of pain flashed across Chuck’s back. He twisted and groaned under the weight of the shackles. He cursed under his breath.

  “What’s that you said?” Mika threw the whip at his back as he stepped toward his victim. As he came closer, Chuck took a deep breath. “I said where’d you take her?”

  “Oh, you mean lovely Maria? You want to know where the girl is?”

  “I asked, didn’t I?”

  Mika put his face next to Chuck’s. “She’s mine. I’ll do what I want with her.”

  Chuck turned and slammed his knee into Mika’s groin. The man staggered backwards, stumbling and landing hard on the wood shavings that filled the stall.

  Mika lay on the ground for a minute. Then he got up slowly, and Chuck saw the fury in his eyes. His men were trying to hide their smiles.

  The big man unleashed his wrath on Chuck’s face. He punched him three times. Pain overwhelmed Chuck’s nerve centers as his head hit the cement wall each time. On the last blow his knees buckled, and he was suspended by the chains on his wrists. He felt blood draining from his nose. As he struggled to get back on his feet, Mika lunged forward.

  “You bleed real nice for an American. You are an American, aren’t you? I’d know that hissing accent anywhere. Let me see if I can increase the blood flowing from your precious flesh.” He picked up the whip once more.

  Chuck tried to fend him off with back kicks, but the whip was too long. It cut into his bare back as he struggled against the chains that bound him. He felt welts rising on his skin.

  Chuck twisted his neck and turned his blood-filled face away from the onlookers. He didn’t want to give them the satisfaction of seeing him humiliated in a horse’s stall.

  The whip sung through the air and crackled three more times. Chuck’s reflexes shook in response to the pain. The chains on his wrists rattled, and now he felt blood streaming down his back and onto the wood shavings below.

  “That’s enough!” a voice commanded.

  Chuck slowly turned his head and opened his eyes. A short, stocky man with a broad forehead and thick eyebrows had entered the stall.

  The short man pointed at the door and said, “Get out!”

  Mika stormed out of the stall and into the main barn area. He threw the whip onto the ground.

  His men followed. The short, stocky man stayed behind. He stared at the ground for a minute then looked at Chuck.

  “Welcome to my hacienda, amigo.”

  “Is this how you treat your friends?”

  “Everyone must be tested. For a man to be a true comrade, he must be loyal. Loyalty is forged through fear and pain. Loyalty is everything.”

  “And who are you?”

  “I am General Lazar, hero of Grozny. I’m sure you’ve heard of me. The world has been held in awe of my military ability since I avenged my country for the mistakes of the First Chechen War. My men are loyal to me and our cause. Mika understands this and you will too.”

  “Loyal to you?” Chuck laughed.

  The man grinned. “Being loyal to me is worth a lot. Good things happen to those who follow me.”

  “Like your whipping boy?”

  “Yes, Mika listens when he is spoken to, unlike you. He is a great Chechen warrior.”

  “Am I supposed to be impressed by that?”

  “You should be. He would have killed you tonight if I’d have let him.”

  “Why did you stop him then?”

  “You’ll find out soon enough.” Lazar turned and walked away.

  Chuck yelled out after him: “Where’s the girl? Where are you keeping her?”

  The man kept walking and Chuck exhaled slowly. His knees gave way, and his shackles dug into his wrists.

  ***

  Sun streamed in the window and rested on Maria’s face. She opened her eyes and turned her head quickly to avoid the bright rays that flooded her eyes. Once they adjusted to the light, she looked out the window toward the imposing Pyrenees mountain range that rose up from the fertile farmland to the north. She rose from the elaborately-carved wooden bed and went into an ornate bathroom to dress. As she looked in the framed mirror, she smoothed her hair and frowned. She made herself presentable, then headed down the hall to the kitchen. The kitchen was a large open room that was designed to feed a crew of farm workers. It was a sprawling tiled room lined with bench stoves and two thick wooden tables in the center.
The vaulted ceiling held recessed lights that were embedded among the hand-painted and colorful ceiling tiles. Maria breathed a sigh of relief that nobody else was there other than the cook. The woman was preparing a lamb to be roasted. The scent of fresh coffee filled the room.

  “Juanita,” Maria said. “When can I see my mother?”

  “Soon, my dear. She has run to town to buy a new dress. Your father is hosting a bull fight tonight. He expects you to be there as well. You must pick out your finest dress to wear. Your father said there is a special guest of honor attending tonight.”

  “I see,” Maria said as she walked over to the pot of coffee. “Please let me know when my mother returns.” She removed a mug from a hook and poured herself a cup of coffee. “I must speak with her as soon as possible.” Maria grasped the warm cup in her hand and returned to her room.

  ***

  Two miles up the road from the Lazar ranch, a truck drove down a long dirt road and stirred up an unseen plume of dust as it passed through an olive orchard. Also unseen was an infrared surveillance camera that was mounted on top of a three-meter, motor-driven hydraulic mast attached to a Range Rover. The surveillance vehicle was parked behind a row of olive trees.

  Sitting in the driver’s seat, Grigori Ivanoff watched the monitor with heightened curiosity and concern. Grigori was primarily stationed there to warn the security detail if anyone was approaching the Lazar estate. Working the joystick on his control, he angled the camera so that he could read the license plate. There it was. Mrs. Lazar’s sedan was approaching the gate.

  Grigori dialed up the security shack at the front gate of the Lazar ranch to let them know she was returning. Just in time. That was good. The general was known to erupt in a full blown rage if she was even one minute late.

  ***

  Chuck was half-conscious when Mika flung open the stall door. Chuck looked over his shoulder at him. The stretched skin of his grid-iron back welts and his crushed ribcage gave him a kind of misery that he’d managed to control during the night by moving very little.

  Mika had a gun aimed at him and was flanked by the same two men who accompanied him the night before. One of them stepped forward and unlocked Chuck’s shackles. Chuck rubbed his wrists while his eyes adjusted to the daylight streaming in through the open door. Once his eyes adjusted, he gazed out upon a sprawling hacienda situated on hundreds of acres of green pasture. He counted five stone buildings and a stone-walled enclosure. The buildings looked like living quarters, except for one, which appeared to be a church with a bell tower attached to it. The buildings were clustered in the middle of the pasture and the pasture was surrounded by olive trees on all sides. In the distance the rugged Pyrenees Mountains rose high beyond barren land that encircled the lush hacienda.

  A Spanish lady wearing an apron arrived holding a loose shirt. She asked Chuck to raise his hands. Then she helped him pull the shirt on. Chuck noticed that her hands were trembling as she pulled the linen garment over his head.

  Mika motioned at Chuck with his gun. “Let’s go.”

  CHAPTER 17

  Mika’s men seized Chuck’s arms and led him out of the stall. He was taken outside and around to the back of the barn. A long dirt road cut a huge swath across the land until it disappeared into the distance. They continued walking towards the door of an enclosed white-washed open air arena. Bleachers carved from hewn wood were positioned on opposite sides of the arena. Each had five rows of seats, around twenty-feet long. The thugs escorted Chuck up to the third row of the nearest bleacher. With the barrel of his pistol, Mika urged him to sit. As he lowered himself to the bench, Chuck endured the sharp pain in his back. He quickly scanned the arena and assessed the situation. There were only two exits, the one they came in and an arched walkway on the far side of the arena. As he sat down, his eyes scanned the bleachers that flanked the arched exit across the arena. He noticed two women sitting in a box seat on the far bleachers looking at him. A young woman with long brown hair and wearing brown sunglasses sat on the first row next to an older woman who could’ve been her twin. Chuck’s clenched his teeth. The young woman was Maria.

  Before he could process this new information, General Lazar appeared under the arch of the far exit with two bodyguards following ten feet behind him. The general stopped and studied the bull ring for a minute. He rested his big, thick, short arms on the metal railing of the arena and looked the place over. When he spotted Chuck, their eyes locked for a moment. Then the gargoyle of a man turned and walked up to the box seat at the top of the bleachers. He positioned himself between Maria and the older woman.

  A trumpet sounded and a procession started. A matador wearing a black hat and a white suit embroidered in gold entered the ring. Two men on foot wearing bolero jackets and carrying colorful banderillas followed. Then two picadors on horses brought up the rear. The group paraded around the bull ring. They stopped in front of Lazar and saluted him. Then the parade of men and horses made its way back around the arena and assembled behind two white lines that were drawn in the sand.

  A gate opened and a huge tan bull exploded into the arena. The beast raced around the sandy round ring. The bull was at once thrilled to be free of his prison and nervous in his new surroundings. His head thrashed around as he snorted loudly. He ran around the arena and looked for the trouble he knew was coming. He ran with great speed and power, and was a beautiful and formidable animal.

  The men on horses trotted forward. Thick padded protective jackets covered their horse’s backs, and blindfolds covered the animals’ eyes. The men riding the horses carried long lances tipped with diamond-shaped blades. They advanced upon the wild tan creature.

  The bull, seeing the horses approaching, charged at one of them, slamming horn first into the padded side of the blindfolded animal, causing the horse to be lifted into the air. The horse quickly regained its footing and turned to face the bull again. When the bull charged the defenseless mount a second time, the picador shoved the blade of his lance into the thick mound of muscle on the back of the bull’s neck, releasing a powerful adrenaline-like hormone. As the bull attacked again and received more stab wounds for his effort, blood splattered on the sand of the arena.

  Now the matador stepped forward in his glittering gold outfit. He walked boldly into the center of the arena. He unfurled his large magenta and gold cape and positioned it in front of him.

  The fearless bull charged at him with incredible speed and power, his head held high. The matador deftly moved to the side as the bull snapped through the cape. Then the bull turned and made another pass, whipping through the matador’s silky cape.

  The matador continued the dance. The bull raced back and forth, snapping beneath the shiny fabric, swinging its sharp horns as it did. Then the beast swung around to face the matador once again.

  Determined to gore his opponent, the bull charged again and again. All the while the matador watched the bull’s horns, paying close attention to how it held its head and which side it favored. The matador studied the bull’s chosen strategy of attack. He would need this information for the battle that was to come.

  The matador continued to confuse and disorient the winded bull by executing a rapid series of cape passes. As he did, the bull charged over and over, making unnaturally sharp turns in an attempt to stop its tormentor.

  On one turn, the bull tried to stop too quickly. Its front legs buckled, and it careened forward on his shoulders.

  Chuck cringed as he watched the animal struggle.

  After a moment, the wild thing regained its composure. Then two men carrying the colorful barbed banderillas stepped into the ring. The bull took off for one of the barb-carrying men. The armed man extended his arm and plunged his sharp tool into the thick muscular ridge on the bull’s neck.

  Angered by the sting of the injury, the beast charged the other man. This man thrust his banderilla into the moving flesh. The barbed tool imbedded itself deeply into the muscular neck and hung limply from the side of the formida
ble beast. Ribbons of blood began to pour down the tan hide, creating sleek strings of red that shone in the bright afternoon sun.

  Weak from blood loss and neck trauma, the bull faced the matador once more. Several strained cape passes caused the sharp blades in the bull’s neck muscles to tear through the muscle. The matador worked on coaxing the bull into the proper position for his final act.

  Once the bull was where the matador wanted him, he retrieved his sword and a small red cape from his assistant. Then he ran at the bull, thrusting his sword into the back of the bull’s neck, sinking the sharp metal deeply into its flesh. Then the banderilleros closed in, causing the bull to pivot around even with the sharp sword in its neck. The blade of the sword continued to do its internal work while the bull vomited blood. The great animal began to stagger. Finally, its legs buckled underneath him and he collapsed in agony.

  The matador removed his hat and bowed.

  Lazar clapped his hands enthusiastically and shouted, “Ole.”

  Then in one final swift movement, the matador plunged his killing sword into the back of the creature’s skull, severing the spinal cord, and putting an end to an untamed life. The banderilleros moved forward, sliced off the bull’s ear, and awarded it to the matador. The proud man waved it in the air for all to see that he was triumphant in battle.

  Minutes later, harnessed mules entered the ring and pulled the dead bull out of the arena. As they did their work, Mika pressed the gun into Chuck’s back. “Stand up,” he said. “Time to go.” Pressing the tip of his gun against Chuck’s freshly-whipped back, he urged Chuck to walk across the arena and up to Lazar’s box.

  When they reached the box at the top of the bleachers, Lazar stood up and extended his hand. “I’m glad you could make it, Brandt.”

  Chuck left his arms at his side.

  Lazar opened his palm and motioned towards Maria. “I believe you’ve already met my daughter.”