It was, for all intents and purposes, a dungeon.
~
Ramon and Mina took the freeway south as the sun set over the sea to their right.
“So, how long have you been an agent?” Ramon asked her.
“I was first assigned less than a year ago.”
“What’s it like working for the FBI??”
“It’s alright. I was hoping for a more exciting assignment than Ukiah.”
“Everyone has to start somewhere.”
She sighed, “I suppose. Amy River’s case was my first kidnapping, but you solved it before I got the chance.”
“It was all Layla,” he said, sadness coloring his voice.
“It was good police work,” she replied, unwilling to completely believe that there was something supernatural going on. “You could be an FBI agent.”
“I always wanted to attend the training academy,” he admitted. “I was going to apply.”
“Why didn’t you?” she asked.
“A family emergency came up. My sister and her kids needed me. I didn’t feel like I could leave them at the time.”
“I can relate.” She grimaced, nodding with sympathy. “Is your family business settled?”
“Yes.”
“So apply now.”
“I was planning to … but … but … I–Now I want to stay with Layla.”
She was quiet for a moment, thinking. Finally she blurted out, “Do you really believe all this stuff about her having psychic powers?”
“I know it sounds crazy,” he admitted, “But if you ever saw her in action… I guess you have to actually see it to believe it.”
“I saw it,” she acknowledged, remembering the recorded jailhouse confession. “Are you sure it’s not simply some kind of hypnosis?”
He shrugged, “Whatever you want to call it–whatever it is–it’s amazing. She’s amazing.” He looked out the window, his throat tightening.
“Don’t worry. We’ll find her,” Mina declared with confidence, adding, “We’ll find them all.”
They drove along in silence for a while. Ramon finally asked, “Do you still have family in Los Angeles?”
“I do.”
She reached over to turn the radio up, her way of saying that she was done talking.
~
Caledonia led Michael over to the sink in the corner of the dank room. She began to unwrap his wound, alarmed when he started swaying on his feet. He was pale and sweating, and she felt his forehead, searching his eyes. There was a rusty tin cup in the sink, and she rinsed it out and encouraged him to drink some water.
“I want you to look away now–Okay?” she said, sending him a blast of peaceful turquoise that she hoped might mitigate the pain. “I’m just going to wash the blood off and see how it’s doing.”
She tried not to cringe when she uncovered his raw stump, her heart aching with pain at the sight. The bleeding started up again, and she tore more strips of fabric from her shirt, rewrapping it as best she could. She led Michael to the mattress, sitting him down and stroking his back, trying to soothe him.
“I’m going to die in here,” he said, his voice dull with resignation.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Cali tried to sound confident. “We’ll get out. As soon as I do whatever it is they want me to do. ”
“Don’t do it Cali! Don’t let them make you do anything.”
“We’ll see,” she said.
“You have to try and get away. They won’t ever let us go.”
“They might,” she reasoned, “It depends on what they’re after.”
He shook his head, “Why would they?”
She couldn’t really argue with him because the more she thought about it, the more she knew he was right. “Don’t worry … I’ll figure something out.”
Heavy footsteps trudged down the stairs, and two men ducked to enter the room, gesturing to her. “Get up. You’re coming with us.”
“We need a first aid kit,” she said.
“You’ll have to ask the boss about that,” one of them answered her. “Let’s go.”
“C’mon Michael,” she said, taking his arm.
“Not him Blondie, only you. Move it.”
“I’m not leaving him,” she declared.
The second man started to advance on her. “Are you walking out your own two feet or do we have to carry you?”
She could see they meant business, so she stood up resolutely. “I’ll be back as soon as I can,” she told Michael.
She followed one of the men up the narrow staircase as the other one trailed behind them and secured the locks. She was led down the hallway towards the grand lodge, a little disoriented to find that it was now completely dark outside. She wondered how Calvin was with an ache of fresh pain.
There was a fire blazing in the massive stone fireplace, and she rounded the corner to find Frankie and Professor Reed relaxing on the leather couches. They both wore dark sunglasses and sat swirling their brandy snifters like it was a perfectly normal evening. She wondered if Teddy knew that he was sitting directly above a slaughterhouse.
“Good evening,” Frankie greeted her, ignoring her tattered shirt and blood-spattered pants. “We need to discuss a little job I have for you.”
Professor Reed was shocked by her appearance, turning to Frankie in horror, “What have you done to her?”
“She’s fine. The blood is the boy’s,” Frankie answered callously.
Caledonia was surprised to see the professor blanch and go pea-green with dread. In his own twisted way, she realized, he actually cared what happened to Michael.
“Do you know what they did to him?” she asked with indignation. She could see he was alarmed, and as much as she hated it, she tried to appeal to him. “He needs sutures, antibiotics, and clean bandages. I think he’s going into shock. He hasn’t eaten anything today, and–”
“If you want to help him, you’d better listen to me,” Frankie interrupted. “He’ll get everything he needs, but you have to do a little job for me first.”
“I need a first aid kit before I’ll do anything,” she demanded, crossing her arms across her chest defiantly.
“Maybe we should let her attend to him first,” The professor suggested.
“Did I ask for your advice Doc?” Frankie snapped.
Professor Reed cringed. “I suggest you listen to him,” he told Caledonia. She could see that he feared the little man he sat next to, and she realized that he was just as much of a captive as she and Michael were.
Frankie motioned to the two men that stood behind her. “Take her upstairs to get cleaned up. She’s going to be doing our drop tonight.”
“Yes sir,” the men replied in unison.
Frankie watched her get yanked up the stairs by her arm, tipping his head back to take a sip of his cognac. “She’d better be able to do what you say,” he told the professor, his voice threatening.
“She can,” the professor replied.
But he couldn’t help wondering if she would.
~
Caledonia was led into a bedroom with an adjoining bathroom. A short cocktail dress covered in silver sequins was spread out across a four-poster bed, along with a matching pair of high-heeled pumps. She peeked into the bathroom to see the counter was scattered with brushes and combs, as well as a variety of perfume bottles reflected in a mirrored tray.
One of the men stood inside the doorframe, and the other walked in behind her.
“Bring a lot of female guests here?” she asked sarcastically.
They looked at each other and smiled. “We’ve had a few pretty good parties.”
She sneered at them, spewing sour green contempt. “Did they end up in your little torture chamber too?”
“Get yourself cleaned up and dressed,” the man ordered.
She shook her head, pointing at the door. “As soon as you leave.”
“Sorry.” He shook his head no. “Boss says not to leave you alone.”
�
�Seriously?” She was indignant.
The man shrugged in reply, his concealed eyes making it impossible for her to generate any sympathy from him.
“Frankie says you’re gonna get dressed up whether you want to or not. Want us to do it?”
The second man entered into the room with a grin, and Caledonia backed up. They had been given orders from the man that everyone obviously feared, and it was clear to her that they intended to follow them.
She held up her hands. “Okay, okay.” She went into the bathroom, looking back to address them again, “At least turn around while I wash up.”
They exchanged a glance and shook their heads no.
Arms crossed, they stood without moving, so she made a show of washing her face and arms in the sink, all the while looking for something she could wield as a weapon. She brushed out her tangled hair, pulling open a drawer to find a bunch of makeup rolling around. She rummaged through it, brushing on some blush and applying lip-gloss, all the while deftly removing the blade from a safety razor and hiding it in the palm of her hand.
She came out to survey the skimpy dress laid out on the bed. “At least be gentlemen and look away.”
One of them flushed pale celery green with shame, but the other one just smiled boldly, shaking his head. “No can do.”
She cast their glasses a disgusted look and turned her back on them, slipping on the skimpy dress as quickly as she could. She sat down at the edge of the bed to wrestle on the shoes, managing to conceal the blade inside one of them.
The shoes were too tight, but she didn’t complain, planning her attack instead. She imagined that the pointy heel might make a fine weapon also, and visualized herself driving it deep into Frankie’s eye socket. She had to escape and get back to Calvin, and she was prepared to kill someone if she was given the opportunity.
She studied the two men that stood guard over her, deciding that they were simply too big for her to fight. If she were ever left alone with one guard she stood a good chance of disabling him, but to pick a fight with two would be foolish. She gritted her teeth with frustration, realizing that there was no telling what they might do to Michael if she acted up. She vowed to bide her time and strike only when she was assured of victory.
The men led her downstairs where Frankie looked her up and down appraisingly. She looked a little too young and innocent to be one of his regular couriers, but then again, that might just work to his advantage. “Can’t you do something about your hair?” he asked her, thinking her wild mess of curls looked like a lion’s unkempt mane.
“No,” she stated. “I can’t.”
He scrutinized her as he followed her out of the room. “Wait a sec.”
She paused.
“Take off your shoes,” he ordered.
She turned to meet him with wide, innocent eyes. “What?”
“Don’t play dumb with me,” he laughed. Frankie may have been a criminal, but he wasn’t a stupid one. She slipped her feet out of her shoes, and the razor blade fell out, glinting up at them from the floor.
Even without the heels she was still taller than Frankie, and she scowled down at him with pure hatred. Professor Reed shot her a fearful glance.
Frankie laughed again, coming up close to take her by the face with one hand and squeeze her cheeks. “I’m not like the idiots you’re used to dealing with,” he hissed through gritted teeth. “And don’t you ever forget it.”
~
Chapter Six
NIGHTCLUB
~
Caledonia stepped outside into the fresh night air of the country, breathing in the piney scent through her nose. She had a vivid recollection of a lazy morning cuddling with Calvin in their tiny pup tent, and she exhaled with a barely audible whimper. Her heart ached with a physical pain that was oppressive, like a heavy weight pressing down onto her chest.
A large black Cadillac was idling in front of the isolated cabin, with two more men Caledonia had never seen before sitting in the front. She steeled herself, climbing in to take a place next to Frankie, twisting in her seat to see the two of the big men from the house that wedged into the seats behind them.
None of them would look her in the eye.
As they pulled away from the cabin and descended from the hills she caught a glimpse of the twinkling lights of city, bringing Calvin to mind again, along with another fresh wave of agony. She closed her eyes and said a fervent prayer, swearing to get back to him whatever it took, promising to live a worthwhile life if only she was given a second chance.
Frankie spoke as they drove, filling her in on the details of her task, “I make a regular cash drop to my good friend Don Miguel. He has a lot of very important business partners south of the border, if you get my meaning. The thing is, everyone brings him their cash to launder, and he has to move it eventually. I’ve been watching him for months now.” He clouded over with a greedy excited violet at the thought. “He’s moving it tonight.”
“You’re planning to rob a Mexican cartel?” Caledonia asked incredulously. She knew how dangerous those particular criminals could be from her own experience. “Really? I thought you said you were smart.”
His jaw clenched and unclenched, and she could tell that he wanted to hit her. He wasn’t a man used to restraining himself, but he struggled for control and continued, “He’s been taking deliveries at his club all week long, so he should have over a million bucks built up by now. We know he moves it into Mexico by boat, and we’ve been watching the marina. They’ve got that sucker fueled up and fully crewed.”
“And?”
“We can’t hit them at the club or the harbor. Our only chance is to catch him while he’s moving it.”
“And you want me to find out when he’s going to move it.”
He smiled at her acidly. “Maybe you’re not so stupid after all.”
“Exactly how am I supposed to find that out?”
“I always send one of my girls into his club to make the cash drop, so he won’t be suspicious of you. Chat him up while he does the count. Use this … thing you’ve got to loosen him up and make him talk. I want every detail.”
“And if I do this for you you’ll let us go?”
“Sure thing,” he smiled, all teeth and no sincerity.
“You’re lying,” she pointed out the obvious.
He laughed, realizing that she really could read people. “Okay, maybe I have one more job I need done before I’m finished with you. We’ll talk after you prove yourself.”
“Michael needs medical attention–clean bandages and antibiotics at the very least.”
“Then you’d better do an extra good job tonight,” his voice dripped with sarcasm. “Oh, and I’d be very careful about how you go about getting the information. If Don Miguel smells a rat, it’s game over. Cross him, and he’ll kill you and every last person you know.”
“What if he won’t tell me anything?” she asked.
“Then your boy back at the cabin will pay the price.”
She could see that he wasn’t lying this time. She turned her head to look out the window for the rest of the drive, taking note of every landmark and road sign she could. They finally pulled into the parking lot of a long, low building on a stretch of highway populated with cheap motels and liquor stores. A neon sign out front flashed on and off, “El Dorado Cantina”.
The tension inside the car rose to a fiery scarlet red as they slowly cruised around the parking lot, making Caledonia wonder exactly what sort of man she was about to confront. The Cadillac stopped to idle directly in front of the door, and Frankie took a look at the enormous diamond-encrusted watch on his wrist.
“Alright … It’s go time. Tell the doorman that you’re here to apply for the cocktail waitress job. He’ll take you straight to the boss man.”
He snapped his fingers and one of the men sitting behind them produced a shiny black tote bag, handing it over to Caledonia. It was surprisingly heavy, and she stepped out of the car to sling it over her shoulder
, staggering a little on her unfamiliar shoes.
The door shut behind her and the window scrolled down slowly, revealing Frankie’s tense face. “Don’t even think of asking Don Miguel for protection. If you breathe one word about any of this I’ll cut off the boy’s balls and shove them down his throat. Do you understand?”
She nodded, realizing with a sickening certainty that he’d probably done the same thing to someone else before. “Yes.”
She approached the neon lit entrance with trepidation, trying to look like she knew what she was doing. Two big bouncers stood just inside the door, bristling with suspicion.
“I’m here to apply for the cocktail waitress job,” she said.
The men exchanged a glance, and one of them pointed to a table set off to the side. “Set your bag down and raise your arms.”
She complied, confused, watching him produce a wand that he ran over her bag and up and down her body. Only then did she recognize a metal detector.
Satisfied that she wasn’t armed, he nodded to her. “Follow me.”
Caledonia was led through another set of doors into a dimly lit club with loud music pumping. Colored lights illuminated bodies twisting and gyrating on the dance floor, mostly women dancing together as men watched. Bright flashes of emotion swirled and blended, making her dizzy. It reminded her of the frenetic energy of Las Vegas, only instead of greed there was a dark red mist of lust hanging heavy in the air.
She was relieved to leave the noise and bustle of the club, following the man through a pair of swinging doors and past a dishwasher who leered a toothless grin at her. At the end of a hallway there was a windowless door, and her escort knocked twice, standing back to wait.
It opened, revealing a handsome young man whose face broke into a wolfish grin at the sight of Caledonia. “Well, well. Who do we have here?” he asked.
“She’s here to see Don Miguel,” the bouncer replied. “He’s expecting her.”
The Redcastle Redemption (The Athena Effect) Page 5
