Truth or Dare

by Fern Michaels

  Another string of fast and furious Spanish ripped from Mezaluma’s mouth.

  Callahan opened the cell door and punched the fat little man square in the mouth. Teeth flew in all directions. The fat little man howled as blood filled his mouth. “I told you to speak English. I warned you what I would do. There is a lady present, so do not do it again. Do you understand what I just said? Nod yes if you do.”

  Mezaluma’s head bobbed up and down.

  Dennis moved off to return with a roll of paper towels. He handed them to Callahan, who in turn ripped off several sheets and handed them to their guest, who tried to staunch the flow of blood from his mouth with shaking hands. “Barbarians!” he spat.

  Jack stepped forward with a sheet of yellow paper torn from a legal tablet. He had used a black grease pencil and printed what he wanted Mezaluma’s responses to be once the call was made to the Karas brothers. “Here’s the drill, you fat pig. We dial the number, and you say only what is on this paper.”

  “Don’t trust him,” Allison snarled.

  Harry looked at the Triad. “What’s your thought on a four-way?”

  The Triad pondered the question. “Seems like a viable solution.” Ky grinned.

  “Everyone out of the cell but our guest,” Harry said as he stepped forward, followed by the Triad. Ky and Ling jerked both of Mezaluma’s arms as far back as they could. Harry and Momo each grabbed a thigh and jerked backward. Mezaluma’s dirty feet left the ground, leaving him suspended in midair. “Now, this is how it’s going to work. You say what is on the paper, nothing else. You even try to say something other than that and we will snap every joint in your body and leave you here to die. Nod if you are willing to do what my colleague asks of you.” Mezaluma’s head bobbed.

  Jack pressed the digits to the Karas brothers’ cell phone. It was picked up on the first ring. “Speak!”

  “This is Ryland, sir. We have been trying to reach you all day.”

  “Cell tower went down,” Mezaluma lisped.

  “You sound . . . different, sir.”

  “I was at the dentist. Why did you call me?”

  “We got a luncheon invitation for tomorrow from Countess de Silva. We wanted to know if we should attend or not. This is what will decide if we are put on the list that I told you about. When we couldn’t reach you, and the messenger was waiting for a response, I said yes. But we can cancel if you say so.”

  “Yes, attend and apprise me of what went on when you return.”

  “Yes, sir. Anything else?”

  Harry gave Mezaluma’s arm a good hard yank, and Ky did the same thing.

  “No.” Short and sweet. Jack disconnected the call.

  Harry and the Triad dropped Mezaluma, who was now openly crying and still spitting blood. Everyone tiptoed around the mess on the floor to return to the corridor outside the cell.

  Charles stepped forward, the ledgers in his hands. “We know these belong to you. Your wife gave them to us. I commend you on your meticulous record keeping. Everything you recorded will go a long way with the authorities to prove you are the head of the human-trafficking and drug ring that has so successfully worked for you for many years. The head count, the dollar amounts paid for the children, the number of pounds and crates of drugs. We knew about the funeral homes and the nail salons, and these ledgers confirm it all. It’s over now. Except for one thing. We need the names of the freighters, the boats, the ships, the cargo-transportation methods. We need their sailing records.”

  “I do not know what you are talking about. Those are not my ledgers. I sell and transport produce,” Mezaluma snarled.

  “Bullshit!” Callahan said.

  “Maybe this will help you to remember,” Charles said as he withdrew eight-by-ten glossy colored pictures of Mezaluma’s daughter, Alicia, wearing a curly blond wig. He showed him six different provocative pictures. “Tell us what we want to know, or she goes on the auction block. None of the bidders will know her hair isn’t blond until they take possession of her. You know what will happen then, don’t you? They will send her out on the circuit. She’ll be dead in a year, two at the most. And then the people you do business with won’t want to trade with you anymore because you are a dishonest man. What’s it going to be, Senor Mezaluma?”

  The fat little toad sitting on the bed started to blubber.

  “Oh, dear, I forgot something. We stole all your money. Abner, show Senor Mezaluma his various accounts. We did get them all, didn’t we? As a reminder, we now own your Black Hawk, and the Learjet has almost certainly been sold by your wife to provide for her and your daughter,” Charles said.

  “Yes, indeedy, we got them all. He’s a pauper. He couldn’t buy an all-day sucker if he wanted to,” Abner said proudly.

  Abner stepped into the cell and held up his laptop. “Read it and weep, you filthy, perverted, disgusting son of a bitch!”

  The gang watched as disbelief at what Mezaluma was seeing registered, followed at first by anger, then outrage. He started to curse and shake at the same time.

  “Imagine making all that money selling produce!” Abner chortled. “We’re all in the wrong business.”

  Charles waved the pictures of Mezaluma’s daughter in front of him, waiting for a response.

  “If I tell you what you want to know, will you let me go, so I can return to my wife and daughter?”

  “Of course we will. We are not the barbarians you think we are,” Jack said.

  “How do I know I can trust you? Look what you did to me. You threatened to take my daughter.”

  “Well, when you put it like that, I guess I see your point. But, you have no other options,” Jack said.

  “I might as well be dead,” Mezaluma whined.

  “Well, that is an option, of course. The choice, of course, is yours. Do not cooperate with us, and we can have you killed or worse. Cooperate with us, and we can release you to return to your wife and daughter. Enough already, you want to play ball or not?”

  “I don’t believe this,” Allison said. “That bastard is actually thinking about it!”

  “I don’t trust you. Take me back to Tijuana; then I will tell you everything you want to know.”

  “It doesn’t work that way, senor. Last chance, or those four guys who had you suspended in the air for the phone call get you all to themselves,” Jack said as he held out the yellow legal tablet and pen. “We’re going to leave you here for an hour. When we return, if that tablet doesn’t have the information we need, Alicia is on her way to the auction block, and it will be courtesy of the Karas brothers, who are being picked up as we speak.”

  “That will never happen. They have a forty-eight-man security team in place.”

  “And we have the FBI, Homeland Security, the CIA, and every other agency in our nation’s capital at the ready. What are the odds of forty-eight trigger-happy goons surviving an onslaught like that?” Jack demanded.

  Mezaluma folded into himself and curled up in a fetal position.

  “One hour, you son of a bitch. If that tablet isn’t filled up when we come back here, you are a dead man or worse.”

  After Jack locked the cell door, the team turned and returned to the kitchen. No one said a word. All they did was stare off into space, wondering what would happen an hour from now.

  “Tea and coffee coming up,” Charles said cheerfully.

  “This next hour is going to be as long as eternity,” Allison mumbled to no one in particular.

  “C’mon, Cyrus, let’s go for a walk,” Jack said, opening the kitchen door. Cyrus scampered outside, followed by Lady and her pups. While the dogs romped, Jack sat down on Charles’s favorite stone bench under the three-hundred-year-old oak tree that provided shade from the hot sun. It was quiet and peaceful, so he relaxed and let his mind race. So many children who would never be returned to their parents. While the ledgers recorded the sale of the girls, there was no mention of anyone who bought them or where they were taken after being purchased. Each child was given a numb
er. There were no names. The buyers were designated with letters. Numbers and letters. How in the name of God could they track them down? He seriously doubted even Mezaluma knew the buyers’ names. In the end, all they would be able to do was alert the proper authorities to put the various sailing vessels on their watch list. Possibly the captains of the ships might be of help, with life sentences in prison staring them in the face.

  Jack knew he was being naive to think his team or any agency could stop the human trafficking. Maybe stop it for a little while until a new hydra took over. If there was any good to come out of this, it was that Abner had confiscated all of Mezaluma’s money, which they could use to fight the bastards, so they never got a strong foothold again.

  And if they put their best people on it, perhaps they could identify the parents of the lost children and anonymously send them some money. Not that money would compensate or even come close to taking away their pain at their loss. He had to give that some serious thought. Somehow it didn’t sound right, money for the loss of a child. Maybe a bucket of blood from one of the bad guys handed over to a grieving parent.

  Jack didn’t like where his thoughts were taking him. Decisions that would be made would have to be made by professionals.

  Cyrus ambled over to the stone bench and looked up at Jack as much as to say, We’ll get it done, and in the end, it will be what it will be. All we can do is our best. Jack stroked the big dog’s head with gentle hands. He looked toward the barn, where Allison’s kids were happily doing school-type work and learning about farm animals. He smiled, knowing they were safe and sound and would now have their mother in their lives much more than before.

  Jack looked down at his watch. Fifteen minutes to go. “You know what, Cyrus? Until those three kids came to us, I never thought I would or could kill anyone. If someone asked for a volunteer list to pop that Mezaluma guy, I’d be first in line. I mean that.” Cyrus just stared up at his master. He tugged at his trouser leg. Time to go in.

  Jack whistled sharply, and Lady and her pups raced up to them, panting.

  “Time to go in, Cyrus.”

  Things were no different in the kitchen than before he had left. Jack looked pointedly at the clock, then at the gang. “I think it’s time to go down to the war room. It’s showtime!”

  No one was more surprised than Jack when he saw Mezaluma scribbling furiously on the pad. He looked up and stopped writing. He waited for Charles to approach the cell he was in. Charles didn’t open the door, just stood and waited for the man to hobble over to him and hand the legal tablet to him through the bars. He said nothing as he made his way back to the bed against the wall.

  The gang retreated to the war room, where they all sat down at the table. “It’s all here, the names of the ships, the names of the captains, their points of origin. Where the ships sailed to. The number of passengers disembarking at particular ports. It’s not as detailed as I would like, but I doubt anyone could remember all those details. What is here will be more than enough for the proper authorities to do what they have to do. Now, the question is, where do we send it and to whom? After I make a dozen or so copies for safety reasons.”

  “Is there a way to fax it or send it through an e-mail from here that won’t show up anywhere?” Allison asked. “If you can do that, then I can tell you whom to send it to.”

  “I can do that,” Abner said.

  Charles looked at Allison. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, I’m sure.”

  “All right then, I’ll make copies, and Abner, you do what you have to do.”

  “Since the CIA can only deal with matters that have a foreign dimension, I assume you want this information sent from a foreign country so that it can be used by the CIA, and they’re given the credit, as opposed to the FBI. Am I right on that, Allison?” She nodded to indicate Abner was right. “Okay, then. Whom do I send it to?”

  “Luka Casselli. He trained me and was my section chief and my handler. When you send it, it has to look like it came from me. I have to use a code.” She scribbled some numbers and letters on the yellow legal pad. “That’s it.”

  “Do you . . . ah . . . want to send a personal message with this information?”

  Allison grimaced. “You mean like, thanks for all the memories? No. Just send the information and tell him the . . . wait a minute. How are we going to get the ledgers to him?”

  “How else but messenger?” Dennis said. “Plain brown paper tied with string. The messenger can leave them at the guardhouse. I guess that’s the personal message.”

  Instead of wrapping the ledgers, Jack pulled on a pair of plastic gloves and wiped down the outside of all the ledgers before he slipped them into an oversize manila envelope. It was a snug fit, but he managed to get them all in. Then he taped the envelope shut.

  Allison reached for the black permanent marker and started to write on the envelope. She addressed it to Luka Casselli and in the corner wrote Allison Bannon along with her identity code. “Done! It won’t matter if my fingerprints are on the envelope or not.”

  “Who wants to take this into the village messenger shop?”

  Espinosa volunteered. Charles handed him three one hundred–dollar bills. “That’s for rush delivery, which means now. Wear gloves. Say you have psoriasis or something on your hands. Keep your head down, your ball cap low on your face. Those places have security cameras, and don’t forget the sunglasses. Take the farm truck.”

  Charles looked over at Abner. “Let’s say that in an hour from now, you can go ahead and e-mail Casselli, which will be as close to when the ledgers are delivered as we can get.”

  “Absolutely,” Abner said, a wicked grin on his face.

  Duke Callahan stood up. “Well, people, it was nice meeting you all, but I have a business to run, so I’m going to be heading on out. Nice working with you, Snowden. Like I said, for a Brit, you’re okay in my book. Call me if you need me. I can find my way out. Take care, everyone.”

  Hands were shaken, a few back slaps were exchanged, but it was Allison who hugged the big man. “You take care and fly with the angels.”

  Even though the war room was full, it seemed empty once Duke Callahan left.

  “What are we going to do with the hydra?” Allison asked, hatred ringing in her voice.

  Abner raised his hands like a schoolboy. “As we all know, there is the dark side to the Internet, the underbelly. The sick and depraved live there in the darkness. Believe it or not, there is a circuit there for people like Mezaluma. That’s how they get their kicks. I’d show you, but then it would be in your heads forever. It’s better you don’t see. I can get in touch and tell them where to pick him up. Of course, you have to dump him somewhere.”

  “Then what happens?” Allison asked, a bite in her words.

  “The same thing that happens to all those children he stole from their parents. It’s anyone’s guess how long he’ll last. The man has no conscience. He’ll get whatever he deserves, and our hands are clean. In a manner of speaking. At least, we do not kill him, torture him, etcetera. Before you do that, take a vote. If the ayes have it, then we go for it.”

  Every voice in the room said, “Aye.”

  “Okay, I’ll make contact. Avery, you’re up. You and your people will have to transport him to whatever location they give me.”

  Harry looked over at the Triad to see how they were reacting to what they’d just heard.

  “What? You think that doesn’t happen in China? More so than here. It’s so common, no one pays attention anymore. Couldn’t happen to a nicer guy,” Momo said flippantly.

  “Is there anything else to be done today? If not, we’re on for ten tomorrow to prepare for a luncheon that won’t take place, tomorrow or any other day, right?” Jack asked.

  Everyone agreed.

  “I’m going to take these guys back to the dojo so we can do some practice trials. We’ll be here by ten in the morning. I forget, whose car am I driving?”

  “Go ahead, take mine.
I’ll walk home,” Jack said. “Cyrus loves the run through the fields.”

  The others followed Jack out the door, Allison, who was headed for the barn, the last. Jack couldn’t help but notice her stiff shoulders, the set of her jaw. She wanted Senor Beteo Mezaluma dead, and she wanted to be the one to kill him.

  “Allison, killing someone is quick and easy, then it’s over. You don’t do that anymore, remember? What’s going to happen to that human piece of trash is far worse than killing him. He will die, but it will be slow. I can almost guarantee that very soon after it begins he will be praying for death.”

  “I know. I know. Jack, how do I get rid of the pictures I have inside my head of the thousands of children I couldn’t save? Children he put out there. Tell me how,” she whispered.

  “I don’t have the answer, Allison. You’re going to get on with your life with your kids. Time will help. A new life. You can start a club or an organization that will help kids. Stay involved. The rest of us will keep up the fight.”

  “Thanks, Jack. I’m glad I got to meet all of you. See ya in the morning.”

  “Yeah, see you in the morning,” Jack said softly.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The day! At least that’s how Charles and the gang thought of it.

  The gang was seated around the dining-room table with breakfast on the sideboard. Something for everyone. Eggs, bacon, sausage, pancakes and waffles with soft butter and warm syrup, sweet melon. Unlimited coffee, tea, and juice. A feast.

  The time was eight-thirty in the morning. The sun was out, and it looked like the day was going to be a beautiful one.

  “Eat hearty, children,” Charles joked. “It’s going to be a very long day.” They obeyed, even the Triad, who, to Harry’s dismay, professed a love of all American food.

  “I am going to violate my rule of not talking business at the table. We need to go through our plan one more time before you all leave for Annie’s place. Fergus and I will follow after we square things away here.” He looked at Allison and said, “Margie took the children to a location in the District that Avery provided earlier. One cannot be too careful.” Allison merely nodded.