Solid Gold

by Stephanie Andrews

  Oh, great. She was worse than Ruby.

  The man barked with laughter, and one of the men behind us said something in Spanish that I didn’t understand. He stepped forward and put his hand on Selena’s shoulder, and then was on his knees screaming in pain, his hand somehow bent back to the breaking point by Selena’s iron grip. It happened so fast I can’t even describe it.

  Everyone began to move at once, including Slick, who brought his pistol up toward Selena and cocked it.

  “Enough!” called a voice from a doorway at the back of the garage. All the men stopped, and I had just been standing motionless like an idiot anyway, so I kept doing that. The man walked forward, leaning heavily on a cane. He wasn’t as old as Uncle Elgort, but he was pretty old nonetheless. He had the stoop of a man who used to be tall and powerful, a long time ago, but had settled and shrunk over the decades.

  “Mr. Tuttlethrush?” I asked. He turned his attention to me. “Elgort Shelby sent us.”

  His bushy eyebrows raised above the frames of his tinted gold eyeglasses.

  “You’re Wrigley?”

  “Sometimes,” I said, truthfully.

  “I expected a man,” he said, unapologetically, then turned to look at Selena. “Miss, if you wouldn’t mind. Either break his wrist or let him go, we have business to attend to.” He turned and headed back toward the doorway.

  I looked at Selena and mouthed, “Let him go,” but she didn’t respond. She applied a little more pressure, until the man made an audible gasp, then let go and followed Sherman.

  I looked around at the three men who were still standing and gave them my most charming smile. “She’s a little cranky sometimes,” I said, apologetically, and then turned and followed.

  The old man walked slowly through the back office to another door that led out of the back of the building and back into the blazing sunlight. I took my sunglasses from the front pocket of my shirt and put them on as we moved across the yard to where tall stacks of crushed cars loomed over us like towers. We followed him into the shadow of one of the towers. The bottom car here was less compacted than some of the other cars, and Sherman gestured to it with his right hand. The mechanic from the garage stepped from behind us and moved to the trunk of the car. Crap! I hadn’t even realized he was there until that moment. I needed to keep a better eye on things.

  The mechanic pulled a set of keys from the pocket of his blue coveralls and opened the trunk of the car, revealing two black duffel bags. He pulled them out and set them on the ground, unzipping each one to show us several pistols, a rifle, some brass knuckles and those cool metal batons that telescope out. I wanted one of those.

  Selena squatted down and looked quickly through each bag, then zipped them shut and stood. She looked up at me and nodded. I turned to the old man.

  “Excellent, what do we owe you?”

  He made a dismissive grunt and waved his hand sideways like he was shooing a fly.

  “It’s covered.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “It’s taken care of. By Mr. Shelby.”

  I shook my head. “No, thank you, and thank Mr. Shelby, but I take care of myself. I don’t want to owe any debts to Mr. Shelby.”

  He laughed. It wasn’t a kindly, grandfather kind of laugh. “I’m sure no one would like to be beholden to Elgort if possible. But, it isn’t always possible.”

  “How much?”

  “Ten thousand dollars.”

  Crap. I was pretty sure he had inflated the price just to mess with me. I looked at Selena, who shook her head imperceptibly side to side.

  “Gosh,” I said in my chipper Mary Ann voice. “That’s a little pricier than I expected. I didn’t bring that kind of money with me. How about seventy-five hundred?” I brought four thousand dollars in cash, so I wasn’t sure how well this negotiation was going to go. Surely, Selena had traveling money, but how much? Turned out not to be an issue.

  “Okay,” said Tuttlethrush. “I see you don’t want them. I’m sorry you have wasted my time, Miss Wrigley. I have better things to do.” He motioned to the mechanic, who bent to pick up the duffle bags.

  “Wait.” I was stuck. “I’ll take them. On Mr. Shelby’s bill.” I sighed, and Tuttle said something under his breath, I can’t swear that I heard him correctly, but it sounded like he had called me a stupid bitch.

  “What was that?”

  “Nothing, nothing. Good luck to you. It seems like you will need it.”

  The mechanic handed each of us a duffel bag, and then the four of us walked around to the front of the building, toward the gate to the street. The mechanic peeled off and entered the dark garage, where laughter erupted. I ignored it.

  “Well, Mr. Tuttlethrush, It’s been a pleasure,” I said, without a whole lot of warmth. “Let’s go,” I said to Selena and we turned to leave.

  “Hey, putana!” yelled a voice behind us. We turned to see the man whose wrist Selena had injured, standing in the open garage doorway, the sun just reaching him. There was a thump as the duffel bag Selena held hit the ground. She walked slowly toward the garage entrance while I stood dumbly rooted to the spot. She looked nonchalant, hips swaying, but I could see her hand subtly palm the switchblade out of her pocket.

  “Umm, Ginger?” I called. “We really need to be going. Like, right now.”

  She kept walking, now about thirty feet from the man. Her only response to my plea was to raise her right hand in the air and flick open the switchblade.

  I turned to Tuttletwat. “You’ve got to stop this. Tell him to apologize.”

  His eyebrows rose again. “Me? She’s your partner. She’s your problem. She can’t take a little name calling.”

  “It’s not her I’m worried about.”

  The man at the entrance of the garage looked at the knife and laughed, and from the darkness behind him I heard other voices laughing as well.

  “Putana,” he said again, his voice taunting. “You bring a knife to a gunfight? Esta loca?”

  Selena flicked her forearm, snapping her wrist at the end, and the knife launched from her hand straight into the dim interior of the garage. The man flinched, then gave a barking laugh when he realized the knife had gone wide. A second later, however, a gunshot echoed off the cement followed by the sound of a gun clattering to the hard floor. The man turned back around to look at Selena, but she had already closed the gap between them and he caught only a momentary glimpse of her boot as it struck him hard in the face. He flopped down like a sack of shit, for obvious reasons, and Selena sprinted past him and into the garage.

  “If she hurts my men I will kill that fucking bitch,” growled the old man next to me, and I turned around and punched him hard in the face.

  I’d never knocked someone out with a punch before. It happens all the time in the movies and on TV, but in real life people usually just roll around on the ground and scream and bleed. Not Sherman, he fell to the gravel and was out like a light. Sure, he was eighty years old, but I was still a little bit proud of myself.

  I rummaged around in the duffel bag until I found the metal baton. I doubted any of the guns were loaded and I didn’t want to waste time on that. I dropped the bag and sprinted toward the garage, getting my angry face on and shouting a war cry as I entered.

  I skidded to a stop, my cry faltering. The fight was already over. Slick was laying on the ground next to the pickup truck, Selena’s knife in his shoulder, blood streaming from his nose. The two other henchmen were also on the ground. One had his leg bent in an unnatural position and was unconscious, the other was curled into a fetal position and was moaning loudly, one arm cradling the other. Selena stood just inside the door, holding Slick’s pistol under the chin of the offensive mechanic, who was on his knees at her feet.

  “Thank God,” I gasped, out of breath. “Looks like I got here just in time.”

  Selena actually laughed. Now I was even more proud of myself. I was going to get a big ego if this kept up.

  “Give me that,” s
he said, indicating the baton.

  “What are you going to do with it?” I asked warily.

  “Give it to me or I will be forced to shoot him.”

  I tossed her the baton and she caught it in one hand, gave it a flick that sent it telescoping to full length, and brought it down hard on the mechanic’s head as she pulled the gun out from under his chin. He bellowed in pain and fell to the ground, both hands coming to the top of his head, which had already begun to bleed profusely. I winced, because witnessing pain makes me wince.

  Selena walked over to Slick, put her right boot on his chest, and then reached down and pulled her knife from his shoulder. He groaned but made no attempt to move. She wiped the blade off on his dirty white tank top, closed it, and put it back in her pocket. She wiped the gun down on her own sparkling white shirt and then tossed it in the back of the pickup.

  “Vamanos,” she said, and squinted as we walked out into the yard. We stopped next to Sherman and picked up the duffle bags. Selena gave him a little prod with her toe. He was breathing, but just.

  “See?” I said, “I knocked my guy out cold.”

  “He’s a hundred years old.”

  “You’re just jealous.”

  We got in the hot taxi, both of us in the front seat. Selena made no comment this time. She turned the engine on and started the air conditioner.

  “This will get you in trouble with Senor Shelby?” she asked quietly.

  “Ugh.” I leaned my head back against the headrest. “Probably, but we will burn that bridge when we come to it.”

  “I’m sorry.” She put the car in gear and headed east.

  “Don’t be.” I tried to decide between laughing and being filled with dread, but I got caught somewhere in between and made a weird snorting sound.

  “Are you okay?” Selena asked.

  “Yes, but you’ve ripped your blouse.”

  She looked down at her shirt and swore in Spanish. “This is why I wear the bodysuit! I hate fighting in my good clothes.”

  “Yeah, where is your wonder suit.?”

  “It’s in the trunk, in my bag. You said we wouldn’t need to be armed.”

  “And did we? Need to be armed?”

  She smiled. “Claro que no.”

  I leaned forward and started messing with the radio. The results were unsurprising. Texas.

  “I’m exhausted,” I said, giving up. “Let’s find a place to spend the night and check out the pipe yard tomorrow.”

  “No!” Selena exclaimed, animated.

  “Sorry?”

  “No, we go now, to Crosby, to pipe place. There is not time to lose, not if Valentina might be there. We are close, Red, I can feel it.”

  “But we need a plan!” I protested.

  “Because your plans always work so well?”

  “Okay, well, no. But, food. Can we at least get some food?”

  “Drive through.”

  “Oh come on, that stuff is terrible for you, I went cold turkey when I swore to get in shape.”

  “And what, you are going to find hip vegan restaurant on the highway 90? Like Upton’s Breakroom on Grand?”

  My stomach rumbled.

  “My God, I love that place.”

  “No,” Selena declared. “Out here you get the Arby’s, and the Burger King.”

  “Hurray,” I said in a defeated voice.

  In the end, we compromised. A few miles outside Crosby, we rented a motel room where we could check our weapons and supplies and wait until dark. Also, we found a Subway sandwich shop when we stopped for gas. It was the best we could do.

  The town seemed busy and depressed at the same time. Damage from the storm was still evident, but there were also construction vehicles and pickup trucks parked at construction sites everywhere. Lots and lots of pickup trucks.

  In the motel room, I lay on my back on the bed with my eyes closed while Selena checked through all the gear, making a pile for her and a pile for me. Flashlight, cable cutters, rope, baton, knuckles, pistol.

  “I don’t want a gun,” I said, without opening my eyes.

  “I know you don’t, nina,” she answered, “but you’re taking one anyway. Put it in your boot, for a last resort. I will take the rifle, there is only one.”

  “Did you just call me a little girl?” I asked.

  “It’s a term of endearment,” she said. “I’m going to take a shower.”

  I opened my eyes and raised my head, but she had already left the room, and in a second I heard the taps turn on.

  I’ll be damned, I thought to myself. She almost sounded like a human being.

  When Selena came out of the bathroom, I was already up and dressed. I still wore my jeans and boots, but I had traded my checked hayseed shirt for a black t-shirt and had pulled my hair back into a short ponytail. Showering was for wimps.

  I turned to find her in her white bodysuit, her wet hair falling freely past her shoulders, her feet bare.

  “Okay, so I get the bodysuit, for fighting, but why white? It gets filthy.”

  “For the surprise,” she said, bringing a towel up to her hair and rubbing vigorously. “That first moment they see it, the men, they stop for a moment. I make them pay for that moment. You should try it.”

  “I don’t think I could pull it off,” I admitted, inadvertently staring at her chest. I looked away, embarrassed. “You should put some socks on, this floor is gross.”

  She snorted with derision and threw the towel on the bed. “You Americans and your germs.” She sat on the bed and reached into her pack, withdrew a hairbrush, and began brushing out her long thick hair.

  “Besides,” I went on. “I haven’t figured out what my superhero costume should be. For now, I’ll stick with basic black.”

  “This is not a superhero costume,” she said, glancing down at her gleaming white legs.

  It was my turn to snort. “Of course it is. All you need is a gold cape and mask. You’re the closest thing to a real superhero I’ve ever seen.”

  She put the brush back in her bag. “This is not who I am, or want to be. I just want to find Valentina.”

  “Then what?”

  “Go back to Isla Grande. Teach gymnastics to girls. Simple life.”

  “Maybe self-defense, too.”

  “Si, I can teach them how to beat up old men. No, wait, that’s you, not me.”

  Maybe she should be the standup comedian.

  Twenty

  “Red, there’s one other thing you should know.”

  “Don’t call me that.” It was Park, on the phone.

  “I thought it was like a code name, in case someone was listening in.”

  “Don’t call me that. Nobody’s listening in.”

  I had answered the phone because I was so happy to see a number that wasn’t Nick’s. He had called six times since we left the auto yard and I had let it go to voicemail every time. I would deal with it later. Really, I would.

  “Okay, whatever. There was an incident outside of Denver a few nights ago, a human trafficking ring was broken up, eighteen girls were freed.”

  “That’s excellent, was it our handsome friend Agent Carter?”

  “No, it wasn’t. And that’s the thing, nobody knows who it was, but...”

  “But what?”

  “They found the bodies of six Latino men.”

  I looked over at Selena, who stared straight ahead down the highway.

  “Dead?”

  “No. But they were naked, with their hands and feet bound, and...”

  “And...”

  “And zip ties around their scrotums. Really tight.”

  I laughed. “Is it scrotums or scrotum? What’s the plural?”

  “No, Kay, really tight, like they will be permanently damaged.”

  “And...”

  “And I think Selena might be losing her grip. I’m sure it was her. I think you need to be careful around her. What if she does something really crazy? Really out of control?”

  I tried not
to laugh, but it escaped in a snort.

  “It’s not funny,” Park insisted. “What’s so funny?”

  I didn’t say anything.

  “Oh fudge, I’m on speaker phone, aren’t I?”

  “Hola, chica,” said Selena in a singsong voice.

  “Riley,” Park whined.

  I wanted to reassure her, but I couldn’t stop laughing.

  “Well then, I guess you don’t want to know about the pipeworks?”

  “Don’t be churlish, El.” I loved that work, churlish. “What have you got?”

  “Ruby put Marty to work on the place, but he couldn’t find out that much. These people are careful, but like the bank in Mexico City, the people Negron deals with aren’t always as careful. Like the accountant who does their QuickBooks. Payroll records show about twenty people on payroll, all men, working shifts that look suspiciously like security details, based on the rotations. Also, the alarm company is out of Houston. Looks like wired fences and maybe some motion sensors.”

  “Damn, I didn’t bring the electromagnetic doohickey. I didn’t think I’d be able to get it on the plane.”

  “Probably not, but that’s okay. Marty says he can do it remotely, if you give him a head start. He said to call him fifteen minutes before you are ready to go through the fence. He’ll be able to give you a one minute window before they catch on.”

  “Excellent, that’s a huge help, El. We’re only about fifteen minutes away, so you can just tell Marty to start now.”

  “You want me to call him?”

  “No, I want you to tell him. He’s right there, right?”

  “Ah, maybe.”

  “Aha! Now who’s the detective?”

  “Be safe, and Kay?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Will you make Selena promise not to kill me?”

  “Buenos Noches, senorita!” called Selena.

  “Oh my God,” squeaked Park, and I ended the call.

  I looked over at Selena’s profile, shadowy in the last light of dusk. “Scrotums?”

  She kept looking straight ahead.

  “I am a bit like you, Red. I’d prefer not to kill anyone. But no one is stopping these terrible men. Even if I killed them, I’m not sure they would get the message, and they would just be replaced by new men.”