“It’s not as bad as you think. I got most of it on video before I jumped into the brawl.”
He looked over at me. “It is as bad as I think. The first thing they’ll do is strip you and take away the camera.”
“Maybe, but they won’t get the camera. I figured you didn’t just want the video for your scrapbook. I ditched it in a crack in the sidewalk before I attempted suicide to save your ungrateful ass.”
That brought back the half grin. “Damn. Maybe you’re not a useless gringo after all.”
“Like I’ve been saying.”
He closed his eyes and took a few breaths. I did, too. I opened them when I heard the unexpected words. “Thank you, Michael. It was a dumb move. But I’m damned if I know anyone else who would have done it for me.”
I started to say something like, “You’re welcome.” He cut me off before I could get it out. “But next time obey orders.”
* * *
They hauled us out of the wagon at the back entrance to what looked like a district court with a jail attached. I was still groggy from what must have been blows to the head. The cops half-dragged both of us inside to a room that looked like a decrepit courtroom.
They put us in a cage with what appeared to be a collection of the homeless of Mayagüez. I looked up to see a man in a black robe seated behind the bench. The sight of a judge roused the lawyer instincts in me. On the other hand, by this time I knew enough to keep my mouth shut until I got the lay of the land.
People sitting on the benches in the back of the courtroom looked like either the bottom rung of defense lawyers or relatives of the hapless souls in the cage with us. There was one older man on the back bench who stood out. He was clad in a well-fitting suit that looked even at that distance like silk. He held my attention. I caught it when he gave a nod to the judge that seemed to indicate us.
The judge returned the nod. He called two of the cops who had brought us in. He pointed to Nestor and me. The two cops opened the cage and took each of us by the arm. They took us both over to stand in front of the bench.
The judge looked over his half glasses. “What charge?”
One of the cops stepped forward. “Resisting arrest. Assault on police officers. Attempting to flee.”
In the shortest criminal hearing of my experience, the so-called judge brought down the gavel. “Six months. Get ’em out of here.”
I caught another nod, this time with a smile from the judge to the silk suit in the back. Again the nod was returned.
Two of the cops who brought us in grabbed Nestor by the arms. In one lightning move that reminded me of his action with the card players, Nestor brought a flying fist into the bulbous midsection of each of the cops. They were on the ground whining in one lightning second. Four other cops were on Nestor almost as fast. Two grabbed his arms while a third brought a nightstick down between his shoulder blades. Nestor went down and stayed down.
I took that as a cue. I threw what by Nestor’s standards was a puny but well-aimed punch at the jaw of the cop to my right. That brought me a smack from behind that laid me flat on the floor beside my comrade.
The judge rose up to look over the bench. He yelled at the cops surrounding us. “Put ’em both in the pit.”
* * *
I have no idea how much later it was that I woke up on the filthy, urine-smelling floor of a jail cell without windows. I had aches in body parts I didn’t know I owned. My most overwhelming desire was to slip back into black oblivion. On the other hand, the squeaks and sounds of nonhuman toenails scurrying across the floor were an incentive to get on my feet.
When I managed to get upright, the single anemic bulb somewhere down the corridor gave just enough light to make out Nestor’s form seated on a plank laid over a couple of buckets. Recognition of his voice, tainted though it was with a touch of irony, was the best thing I could say for the surroundings.
“Good morning, Michael. And tell me, did you sleep well?”
“Remind me never to ask you that question again. Where the hell are we?”
“Right where we should be. You may not believe it, but in your own prophetic words, that went well.”
I flopped down on the plank beside him.
“You do have one ass-backwards sense of humor, Nestor.”
“No joke. We just have to wait.”
He hardly finished saying it when I heard two approaching sets of footsteps. One sounded human. The other sounded like the Sasquatch.
They left no doubt that they were heading for us. When they got in front of the bulb in the hall, I could see the outlines of two men. One was a guard of normal proportions. The other could pass for some mutant species with raging growth hormones. He was the largest human I had ever seen. Unlike most giants with gentle dispositions, this one gave no indication of gentleness.
When the guard inserted the key to open the cell, Nestor grabbed me by the shoulder. “This time listen. I’ve been hoping for this. Here’s what I want you to do.”
He gave me a couple of quick whispered instructions that ended with, “Then come back and glue your ass to this plank and keep it there. No matter what! Have you got that?”
Out of a fear that exceeded anything I can ever remember, I nodded affirmatively.
Nestor stood. I knew he had taken beatings that night that would keep any of the Boston Bruins on the disabled list for the season. But when he stood up, there was a smooth confidence in his motion that belied the pain. He simply stood there as if he knew what was coming.
The guard swung open the cell door. I could see him slink along the wall to crouch in one of the corners. The giant thumped on feet larger than I’d ever seen directly across the cell toward Nestor.
The giant was ignoring me. That gave me the chance to slip along the wall to the cell door. As instructed, I pulled it shut. The spring latch clicked into place and the four of us were locked in. I retreated to the nearest corner and plastered myself against the wall. I figured Nestor’s instructions just meant stay the hell out of the way.
When the giant came within reach of Nestor, he raised both arms like two sides of beef to grab Nestor by the throat. With a flash of strength I thought by now would be spent, Nestor chopped his open fists like blades upward into the back of the elbows of the giant. The shriek of pain filled the entire block of cells and sent small furry beasts scurrying into holes in the walls.
Nestor ducked under the open arms. In a moment, he was behind the giant pulling him backwards off-balance by the shaggy shoulder-length hair. One kick to the back of the right knee and then the left crumpled his ponderous weight sprawling on the floor in a thud that shook the plank off the buckets. Nestor was on him with the straight spike of his fingers dug deeply into the outside of the giant’s jugular vein.
Nestor said directly into his ear with a quiet gentleness that was unnerving, “Stay there. It’s over. I can sever the vein before you even think of moving. You’ll be dead before you can get to your feet. And for what? Do you hear me?”
At first the giant just froze in position. I was afraid of a sudden burst of motion that could break Nestor in half. As the seconds ticked on, I realized that being big as he was, and in severe pain from what Nestor had done to his arms, there was no sudden motion left in him.
In the next instant, both Nestor and I caught sight out of the corner of our eyes of the guard slipping along the wall toward the cell door. Nestor yelled to me. “Get him, Michael. Keep the door locked.”
The guard was about my height and weight, but disadvantaged by a paralyzing fear that was broadcast by every facet of his face. I just positioned myself between him and the cell door. He backed off and slumped to the floor.
Nestor turned back to the giant. “Listen to me. I don’t want to hurt you anymore.”
The giant’s eyes moved around to look in the eyes of the man who was holding him. The soft voice continued.
“I’ve heard of you. Your name’s Jorge Conchas, isn’t it?”
There w
as no response, but the giant was listening.
“None of this is your fault, Jorge. The people who sent you here, the ones who sent you to kill me, they don’t deserve your loyalty. They’d kill you in an instant if they couldn’t use you. That’s all they’re doing is using you. Do you hear me?”
The giant’s breathing became slower and more regular. I could sense the slackening of muscles.
“I could have killed you just then. Do you understand that?”
The giant grunted something low that sounded like an affirmative.
“But I didn’t. I promise you I won’t hurt you. I’m not your enemy. If you give me your word that you’ll stop fighting, I’m going to let you up. I’m going to trust you. Do you want that?”
A pause, then another affirmative grunt. Nestor took his hands away and stood back. The giant shifted his weight and sat up. He found that the pain in his hyperextended elbows still made his arms weak, but he managed to shift his weight until he was standing.
The giant and Nestor stood staring at each other for ten seconds before Nestor raised his arm to the giant’s shoulder. The giant flinched back at first, but then he seemed to relax. Nestor’s voice stayed calm, even friendly.
“Jorge, you’ve been misused by that gang of thugs. Those insectos treat you like a slab of beef. You deserve better. If you come with me, I’ll take you to people who’ll treat you like a man. With respect. Would you like that?”
Jorge seemed confused and hesitant. He finally nodded. “Why will you do that? I was going to kill you.”
“Do you still want to kill me?”
“No. They said I had to.”
“If you come with me, I’ll take you to people who’ll never make you do anything that’s not right.”
Jorge just dropped his head and nodded. I could feel a tidal change in that nod.
Nestor walked over to the guard, who was beginning to develop a distinct shiver. His voice was a whimper. “What are you going to do to me?”
“That depends on you. To begin, you’re going to give me some information. You have a prisoner. His name is Santos. Mickey Santos. Where is he?”
The shivers magnified. “I can’t. They’ll kill me.”
Nestor moved closer and dropped his voice. “Yes, they will, if you’re lucky. Think about this. You’re the man with the key to the cell. When they hear that you let us out, and they will, if all they do is kill you, it will be a mercy killing. You’ll be pleading for it. Do you agree?”
The fear on his face was turning to panic. He stood speechless.
“I want an answer. Do you agree?”
He just nodded.
“Then it seems you have no choice. I’ll have an answer to the question. Where is Mickey Santos?”
“What are you going to do to me?”
“If you do what I tell you, the four of us are going to walk out of this jail. Then if you have half a brain, you’re going to catch the first boat to the mainland and keep heading west. Do you understand that?”
He nodded.
“Then answer my question.”
“He’s down that way. He’s in solitary.”
“Good. Then let’s move. You’re going to lead. If you change your mind about which side you’re on, I’m close enough to break your neck with one swipe. Are we in agreement?”
He whispered, “Yes.”
Nestor turned to me. “Michael, stay close to me. Jorge, walk behind us. They’ll think you’re still with them. Like you’re guarding us. Are we ready?”
Nods all around. Lastly, but without equivocation, the nod came from the guard.
“Then let’s move, gentlemen. We have promises to keep.”
The poet, Robert Frost’s words never held so much terror. I thought, “And miles to go before we sleep.”
TWENTY-TWO
OUR LITTLE BAND of four moved out of the cell and down a scarcely lit underground corridor to the left. Silence was the rule until we reached a steel door on the right. The guard stopped. Nestor nudged him in the back.
“Is this it?”
“Yes.”
“Open it.”
The guard turned the key in the lock and pulled it opened. The four of us were looking into a pitch-black cell.
Nestor whispered a word to the guard. “Light.”
The guard took a flashlight from his belt and shone it through the door.
The faint beam of light reached to the corner of the dank cell. A man’s body was huddled there on the floor. He could have been on either side of the line of life.
“Inside.”
The four of us followed the order while Nestor went over to bend down over the body of the lone prisoner. “Keep the light on him.”
Nestor leaned close and spoke in his ear. There was no reaction. For the next minute, the question of alive or dead was a dice roll. Nestor lifted the man’s chest and leaned him sitting up against the wall.
Nestor kept pouring words of encouragement into his ear to no avail until we finally heard a weak cough that slightly moved the man’s chest. When his eyes slowly opened I tried to read what was behind them. The first message I got was cold terror. Then they froze shut again.
Nestor gently shook the man’s shoulders. He spoke in an unwhispered voice. The eyes opened more quickly. The message this time was somewhere between disbelief and the faintest hope. I’ve never heard words spoken with more depth. “Nestor. My God! My God! Nestor?”
“It’s me, Mickey. Tell me about you. Can I lift you?”
“Nestor. How did you find me?”
“Later, Mickey. We’re going to get you out of here. Can I lift you without hurting you?”
“Yes. No matter. Whatever happens. Please.”
“I’ll do it as gently as I can. Put your arms around my neck.”
Mickey raised his arms, but he used them to grab Nestor’s shirt. He pulled Nestor’s ear close to his mouth. He was barely forcing a whisper, but I could hear it.
“I didn’t talk, Nestor. I told them nothing. Believe me.”
Nestor hugged the weak body he was holding close to his own like a brother for several seconds.
“I know, hermano. I always believe you. Let me lift you now. We’re getting you out of here.”
Before he let go of Nestor’s shirt, he pulled Nestor’s ear close to his lips again. “In case . . . I don’t make it all the way, listen to me. The ship is due into the harbor . . . in one day. Tomorrow . . . Supposed to be in the evening . . . They won’t unload till the next day. . . . Ship’s called the La Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe. Did you hear?”
“I did. Now—”
“One more thing—The insecto who’s running the show.” He coughed, and I could see the strain of speaking in his features. He took a short breath and said it loudly. “Jose Ramos—He’s number one. You know?”
Nestor cast a look back at me. I took it to mean that Ramos was the insecto he had arranged to meet earlier on the corner on the Calle Post.
“I know him. That’s enough now, Mickey. No more. Try to relax your muscles. If it hurts too much, let me know.”
Nestor leaned in. He put Mickey’s arms around his shoulders. Feeble as the remaining strength was in those arms, I could see Mickey straining to hang on. Nestor got his feet under him and lifted. I could see by the contortion of Mickey’s face that the pain ran through his whole body. But no sound came out.
Nestor struggled to get him halfway to standing before he stopped. When he tried to lift Mickey onto his shoulders, it was obvious that the weight was too much for Nestor in his condition. They began to slant sideways. Nestor fought it, but they were slowly falling.
Before I could move to step in, I felt the giant form of Jorge move past me. In an instant he was beside the two men. He took Mickey’s arms from around Nestor’s neck. He put them around his own neck. The gentleness and ease with which he lifted Mickey’s body into his aching arms and rose to his feet must have been a godsend to every cell of Mickey’s body.
Nestor got to his feet. He assembled the group as before, the guard in front, Nestor and I in the middle, and Jorge close behind with Mickey in his arms.
Before we took the first step out of the cell, Nestor took the guard by the shoulders and turned him around. “Remember who your friends are, guard. One small lapse in your memory will be the end of your life. Understood?”
The guard had been noncommittal before, but when he said “Understood” this time, he said it like someone who fully comprehended the thread by which his life was hanging.
“Good. Take that walkie-talkie off your belt.”
He did.
“Call the sergeant at the desk upstairs. Tell him you need a patrol wagon at the front door. Immediately. He’ll ask why. Tell him the prisoner is ready to give information. Say you called Jose Ramos on his cell phone. He wants the prisoner brought directly to him before he says a word. No one else is to hear it. You got all that?”
The guard followed orders precisely. A tennis ball lump came up in my throat when I heard the sergeant at the desk tell the guard to keep the prisoner in the cell until he called Ramos to verify the orders.
The guard had apparently been truly converted. Without checking with Nestor, he came back to the sergeant without skipping a beat.
“That’s your choice, Sergeant. Just be sure he knows the call is coming from you.”
The voice came back. “Why?”
“Because this prisoner is on the verge of death. Señor Ramos told me to bring him there personally. If this prisoner dies before I get him to Señor Ramos, someone’s going to be feeding the fishes. I’m going to be sure it’s not me.”
There was a moment of hesitation. “I still think I should check.”
“Go ahead. Call his personal cell phone number. He gave it to me. Here it is. But you better know this. He’s not at his headquarters.”
“Where is he?”
“He’s at that house by the ocean. He’s with . . . do I have to tell you who he’s with? And when he’s with her, and you interrupt him to check on an order he’s already given . . . Just be sure he knows it’s you calling and not me.”
Fatal Odds Page 18
