The Transamerica Cell: A fast paced, gripping, action adventure, conspiracy thriller, with a superb, breath-taking ending (Hedge & Cole Book 3)

by Kevin Bradley

  The three of them walked slowly down the corridor to the elevator. Once inside, they selected the button for the car park, which was in the basement of the hotel. They decided not to bother checking out. The hotel wouldn’t be too concerned with that. They would bill all the charges to the same credit card that had made the initial booking.

  The elevator arrived at the car park level, and the door opened. They found themselves in a narrow corridor. They headed towards an exit sign. Just ahead of them a door opened and a young girl stepped into the corridor. She didn’t look very old, maybe eighteen or nineteen. She was wearing black trousers, and a long green shirt. That was clearly the uniform of the hotel staff, as across her chest were the words ‘Grand Avenue Hotel.’

  She smiled politely at the three of them, and then turned as if to lock the door she had just come out of. She stopped what she was doing and suddenly looked up. There was shouting coming from further down the corridor. The voice was loud and authoritative.

  ‘Get out of my way please. I am looking for a young lady with long, blonde hair. Have you seen her? This is urgent police business.’

  Cole stopped to look back. He couldn’t see anyone. Whoever was shouting out the orders was in an adjacent corridor. He must be heading their way though.

  The young girl’s eyes widened. She too was surprised by all the commotion. She looked at the two men, but then her eyes settled on Maddie.

  She was staring at her long blonde hair.

  Without saying anything, she opened the door in front of her. The one she had just come out of. She pointed inside the room.

  ‘Go in here. Quickly,’ she said.

  Hedge was nearest to the door, but he hesitated for a second. Could they trust this girl? They didn’t know anything about her. He decided that they had no option, as the loud voice they had heard was getting closer.

  As soon as they were inside, the girl shut the door and locked it. Cole stood by the door, listening. Maddie looked worried. Hedge felt very anxious. The room looked like it was used by the hotel staff. There were lockers along one wall, all with various names written boldly on the front. In the middle of the room was a metal table, with several chairs scattered around it.

  Hedge sat down in one of the chairs. He was feeling somewhat anxious about their predicament. On the table in front of him were some used paper cups. Next to these was a ceramic bowl with various small packets of sugar in it. There was brown and white sugar, and two types of artificial sweetener. Some of the packets were scattered across the table. Instinctively, he picked these up one at a time and placed them neatly back in the ceramic bowl. When he had finished the sugar bowl looked organised and tidy. He felt a little more relaxed.

  They could hear a man shouting outside the door to the room.

  ‘What’s in this room?’

  ‘It’s for staff use only,’ the girl was saying.

  She had a soft, sweet voice. Cole had his head to the door and was trying to hear the conversation. The girl’s voice reminded him of someone. He couldn’t quite place it. Maybe it was an old girlfriend from back in his army days.

  ‘Have you seen anyone down here in the last thirty minutes or so? I’m looking for a young woman with long hair.’

  There was a short silence. All three of them stared intently at the door handle. All three of them were holding their breath.

  They didn’t hear the girl respond. She must have shaken her head, as the next thing they heard was the police officer.

  ‘Well let me know if you see anyone like that. I’ll be in the hotel lobby checking for people leaving the hotel.’

  A few moments passed and then they heard the door being unlocked.

  ‘He’s gone,’ the young girl said.

  She stood back, and pointed them towards the exit. Hedge and Maddie walked quickly away, smiling at the girl as they did so.

  Cole hesitated.

  He looked down at the girl.

  ‘What’s your name?’ he asked her.

  ‘Maria,’ she replied.

  ‘Well Maria, that was a very kind thing you did for us, and very brave. Thank you.’

  ‘You’re welcome.’ She gave him a bright smile as she said this.

  He smiled back at her, and was just about to turn and go, when her last comment stopped him dead in his tracks.

  ‘And I hope you’re balls aren’t sore for too long.’

  She chuckled to herself, before walking off down the corridor.

  Chapter Eight

  Pancho was in a state of panic.

  It wasn’t something he was used to feeling. In this part of the world, close to the southern border of the United Sates, he was one of the top men. There were very few people who scared him around here. This part of Mexico was his home, and he controlled most of the illegal activity in the area.

  The Columbian was due to turn up in five minutes. He was never early. And he was certainly never late. Pancho hadn’t met him before, but he had heard many things about him. You didn’t get to control one of the biggest drugs operations in South America by being a nice guy.

  Pancho went to the toilet again. It was his fourth visit in the last hour. He washed his hands carefully, and then went outside to wait for his guest.

  The sky above him was cloudless, and the wind that was blowing strong earlier that morning had now abated. The sturdy iron gates at the front of the complex had been opened. All was ready for his guest’s arrival. He glanced across to his left at the large workshop. The front roller doors were wide open, and he could see several of his men busy at work. They were stripping down a blue coloured Ford Fusion. All four doors of the car had been removed, and the back seating had been lifted out. Behind this car were two others waiting for their turn to be worked on.

  Pancho beckoned to his chief mechanic. ‘How are you getting on with the Fusion?’

  The man raised his hand to his forehead in an attempt to shield his eyes from the sun. ‘It should be finished by tomorrow.’

  ‘Good, make sure it is. Now, shut the doors as our guest will be here in a few minutes. I want this place looking as tidy as possible.’

  The man waved back, and a few moments later the large, metal doors rumbled closed.

  Exactly on time, a black limousine swept into the vacant area in front of the small office building. Two large men jumped out. Both were dressed in dark suits, and they each had a compact, semi-automatic rifle gripped in their hands. One of the men opened a back door of the car, and the Columbian stepped out into the bright daylight.

  He was smaller than Pancho had expected, maybe around five feet four inches tall. A thin, wiry moustache lay just beneath his wide nose. The man’s eyes were as black as night. It sent a shiver down his spine as Pancho walked towards him.

  ‘It’s an honour. Please step inside and we can have a cold drink.’

  The Columbian ignored the outstretched hand. ‘Has the final vehicle been fully loaded?’

  ‘Yes, it will leave within the next few days.’

  ‘Good. And the border guards have been well paid?’

  Pancho swallowed hard. He hoped the man in front of him hadn’t noticed that nervous reaction. The Columbian had paid one million US dollars into a secure account. The money was specifically to be used to ensure the officials at the border wouldn’t ask any questions. Pancho had paid out just over seven hundred thousand dollars for that purpose. He was hoping to keep the balance for himself. After all, the Columbian could afford it. Rumour had it that he was a dollar billionaire. Most of that coming from profits on the drug shipments he regularly made to the United States.

  ‘Yes, they will not be a problem.’

  ‘And you used all the money?’

  Pancho hesitated, just a fraction too long. ‘Yes, the entire one million.’

  The Columbian stared at Pancho for a moment. Then he took out a white handkerchief from his jacket pocket, and slowly wiped his forehead. The sun was intense at this time of the day. He had started to sweat a little.
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  Just at that moment, a young man appeared at the door to the office. He approached and spoke quickly to Pancho. Apparently the lunch was ready to be served.

  The Columbian turned to the young man and asked his name.

  ‘They call me Angelo sir,’ he replied nervously.

  ‘So Angelo, would you say that your boss always tell the truth? He wouldn’t lie to someone like me for instance?’

  The young man looked frightened. His voice trembled as he replied. ‘He is an honest man. You can be sure of that sir.’

  ‘And you would bet your own life on that?’ A thin smile had spread across the Columbian’s face.

  Angelo nodded slowly. ‘Yes sir, I would.’

  The Columbian grunted. Then he turned to the closest of his bodyguards and clicked his fingers sharply. The man raised his weapon, and fired one shot. The bullet took the left side of Angelo’s head off, and he fell backwards onto the dry ground. He lay there kicking his legs for a few moments, and then he was still.

  The Columbian wiped his forehead again, before placing his handkerchief back in his pocket.

  He turned back to face Pancho and repeated his previous question.

  ‘And you used all the money?’

  Pancho was also sweating, but had nothing to wipe himself with. He swept the back of his hand across his damp forehead.

  ‘There’s some left. I will repay it back to your account immediately.’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘And the people are in place?’

  ‘Yes. I have a team, all carefully selected. We call our special group The Cell.’

  The Columbian nodded, and turned to leave. Then he stopped and stared back at Pancho.

  ‘What you are doing for me, it’s important. The American’s have hurt me, badly. The latest drone strike killed three of my own family, my cousin included. He was a good man, and one of my closest friends. They have closed down many of my routes. It’s critical that these shipments get through to their final destination. It’s very important to me. It’s my way of getting my revenge. You understand?’

  Pancho nodded. He understood. He glanced down quickly and noticed that blood from the dead man’s head had gathered in a puddle around his feet. His expensive, brushed leather shoes would be ruined.

  ‘Very good,’ said the Columbian.

  He got back in the car, the door closed, and the black limousine slowly pulled away.

  Chapter Nine

  The Mexican had to be persuaded to drive to San Diego.

  He really didn’t want to go.

  He lived with his wife and son in Tijuana, which was immediately to the south of San Diego, over the border in Mexico. Tijuana was a sprawling city, with around two million inhabitants. It was regarded as a dangerous place to live. Violence, gang warfare, and murder were all part of daily life.

  But the Mexican loved his city. He had a small home in the Villafontana area, on the east side of town. He worked in a garage owned by his uncle, or at least he used to up until three days ago.

  He had been approached by a friend of his uncle’s asking him if he’d be interested in earning some extra money. He had initially jumped at the chance. All he had to do was to drive across to the USA, and work for a car rental company in San Diego for a short while. He would receive further instruction once he had arrived.

  He had seriously thought about the offer, but had then decided that he really wasn’t interested. He didn’t want to leave his family for too long. In their few years of marriage, he had never spent a single night away from his young wife. Anyway, it all sounded a little suspicious to him.

  Within an hour of him calling to leave his answer, a car pulled up outside his home. His uncle’s friend asked him if he would come with him. The man had something to show the Mexican. It may help to make him change his mind.

  ‘My name is Pancho,’ the man had said. ‘I would like to see if I can convince you to change your mind about the opportunity I am offering you. Your uncle tells me that you are a good man. And I am always looking for loyal and reliable people.’

  The Mexican felt uncomfortable in the presence of this man called Pancho. He looked quite severe, and spoke in a tone that suggested that he usually got what he wanted.

  He was driven several miles outside of the city limits. The car eventually turned off the main road, which the Mexican had recognised as the Mexicali – Tijuana Federal Highway. They drove several miles out into the desert on a dusty track. Eventually, the car stopped just before an old, dilapidated building. The Mexican was told that it used to be a water pumping station, but was no longer in service.

  He wasn’t really interested. He felt nervous, and frightened. Why had they brought him to this remote place? It was miles from anywhere.

  As he got out of the vehicle, he noticed a large pickup truck that was parked just a couple of hundred yards away. His uncle’s friend pointed towards it, suggesting they start walking in that direction.

  As he approached the truck, the Mexican saw two men standing behind it. When he reached them, he looked down and stared in horror. In front of him was a young man staked out on the desert floor. His hands and feet were bound to four wooden posts, and thick, nylon rope held him fixed in place .His legs were spread wide apart, and he was completely naked.

  As the Mexican looked at the man on the ground, he felt a huge wave of anguish wash over him. His legs became unsteady, and his mouth dried up. He couldn’t stop staring at the man on the ground. Questions were racing through his head. Who was he? What were they going to do with him? But most worrying of all, why did he have a length of black, plastic hosepipe sticking out of his backside.

  He turned to look at the man who had brought him here. He was smiling back at him. It was a sickly smile though. Clearly the man was enjoying himself.

  ‘It’s a shame you turned down my job offer, as I thought you were the right person for it. But as I said, I am still hoping that you will change your mind.’

  He stopped talking for a moment. The Mexican didn’t know if he should say anything, or not. He took the risk.

  ‘It was kind of you, but I didn’t want to leave Tijuana. My home is here.’

  ‘We all have to do things we don’t want to do,’ said Pancho. ‘The man here in front of you also didn’t want to do a job for me. I don’t like to be refused. I take it as a personal insult. I don’t offer important roles to just anyone.’

  Pancho clicked the fingers on his right hand. The noise seemed loud in the still desert air.

  One of the men standing opposite him nodded, and then walked off towards the parked truck. He picked up a canvas bag from the back seat. From his jacket pocket he took out a pair of thick, brown, leather gloves. He quickly pulled them over his hands.

  Opening the canvas bag slowly and carefully, he looked inside for a few seconds. He then gently placed his right hand into the bag, and pulled out the creature from inside. It was about twelve inches long, but quite thin. Not much thicker than a standard pencil. The colour was quite distinctive, red mainly, but with yellow and black hooped markings all along its body.

  The man dropped the bag, held the animal out at arm’s length, and walked back to where the group were gathered.

  ‘It’s a Coral snake, not fully grown yet of course. You will note that my friend is holding it by the mouth as that is where the venom comes from. It has small fangs that are used to deliver the poison.’ Pancho was enjoying giving the explanation.

  The Mexican’s eyes were wide open, and his face had the expression of pure terror. He took a step back as the man with the snake approached.

  Pancho took hold of his arm to stop him moving further away.

  ‘We could of course simply let the snake bite our friend here, and then we would watch him suffer as the venom paralyses his breathing muscles. It would be a slow, painful death. But we could have more fun than that.’ Pancho laughed aloud, and nodded to the man holding the reptile.

  The man carefully kneeled down next to
the victim. He edged the mouth of the snake towards the end of the hosepipe, trying to feed the snake’s head into the opening in the plastic pipe. It was a bit fiddly, but eventually he succeeded. He pushed the animal into the pipe until about six inches had disappeared. At this point he was struggling to push the snake further in. The creature was obviously reluctant to enter the tube.

  ‘You may need to give it some encouragement.’ Pancho laughed as he spoke.

  The young man staked out on the ground tried to wriggle his body, but he couldn’t move very much at all. He was tightly tied to the four stakes. His mouth was covered with a dirty rag, so even though he was trying to call out, his voice was heavily muffled. The hosepipe had been forcibly pushed inside his anus, and it was very uncomfortable.

  The snake handler had now taken out a cigarette lighter from his pocket. He flicked the mechanism and a blue flame became instantly visible. He held the lighter close to the tail of the snake. The reptile must have immediately felt the scorching heat, as it instantly disappeared down the hosepipe.

  The men watching could only assume that the animal had propelled itself well inside the anus of the outstretched man on the ground, as he immediately let out a long muffled wail.

  In fact the snake was panicking. It had slithered into its victim’s small intestines, and was desperately trying to find a way out. It stopped occasionally to sink it’s fangs into the fleshy wall of the intestines, before carrying on its journey.

  The man on the ground was writhing wildly. He could feel several sharp pains deep within his body, mainly centred on the lower stomach. But worse, he sensed something was moving inside him. It was a terrifying feeling, and he could do nothing about it. He felt another sharp pain, like a bite, close to his stomach area. He tried to shout out, but the onlookers did nothing to help. Several of them just began laughing.

  The Mexican felt like being sick. He had never seen anything so revolting in his life. He could only imagine that the victim before him must be horrified. He started to wonder what the snake was doing inside the body, but he quickly stopped himself. It was too horrible to think about.