“Ahh.” He used his T-shirt to wipe his mouth. “Long story short, I don’t think Esteban is at the camp,” he said reaching for the second water.
“What? Why not?” I asked.
“I got to know one of the little generals a bit. He knows everything that’s going on around there, even things he shouldn’t know.”
“Little general?”
“Generalillos. That’s what they call the older kids who oversee the rest of the kids who are working in three different stations.”
“Stations of…?”
“Repackaging the cocaine mainly. First, the cocaine is delivered on a truck, already packaged up. Never found out where it comes from. Then, a group of kids empty the cocaine into the large pans. From there, the adults in white coats mix something in. I had no idea what it was, but they measured everything very carefully. Then the kids create different-sized packages, including some in little baggies. That’s how they offered to pay us, with a baggie of coke. Can you believe it?”
“Did you take it?”
“Hell no. I’m a cash man.” The waiter came by, and Bolt put in his order, handing over the menu.
“I see. You were telling us about this little general who gave you information about Esteban…”
“Not exactly. Esteban’s name never came up. I couldn’t just ask, ‘Where are they holding the son of the famous baseball player?’”
“Good. Glad you played it smart,” I said.
“Would you expect anything less?”
“From you, Bolt, no. You were saying?”
“This little general, Julio, who is a few years older than me, said he’s been moving up the ranks in the cartel. Said Amador once recognized him for ramming the butt of his rifle into a kid working the assembly line. The kid had just spilled some product on the floor. Amador gripped his shoulder and told Julio that he’d be rewarded if he continued fighting for the cause, putting the cartel first in his life.”
“Sounds like a religious fanatic.”
“There’s only one thing Amador bows down to: money. Well, that and a good-looking woman. If he has a blind spot, it’s of the female variety,” Sean said.
“Julio continued sharing his success story?” I asked Bolt, my mind still churning on Sean’s insight of the ruthless cartel leader.
“I knew how to work him, how to make him feel important.”
“You’ve got experience in that field.”
“I felt like his skunk.”
“You mean, shrink?”
“Sí, shrink. Julio told me everything about their operation. Even told me about their main rival.”
“Who’s that?”
“Someone named El Jefe.”
“I haven’t heard that name,” Sean interjected, his faux gray-colored eyebrows scrunching together.
“We can get back to that in a moment,” I said, my eyes on Bolt. “Let’s focus on Esteban. Julio convinced you that Esteban wasn’t located in the camp. How?”
“Julio’s brain is like a…..uh…” Bolt glanced at other tables, then pointed as a waiter cleaned off a table. “A wet rag.”
“I think you mean a sponge. But I get what you’re saying.”
“Right. Julio remembers the time of day when each task takes place. Part of that relates to his job, but he’s driven to move up in the cartel ranks.”
I gestured with my hand for Bolt to keep talking.
“We all worked in portable trailers. Guards with guns were posted both inside and outside the trailer. When we were leaving, Julio saw that I was looking beyond another row of trailers, through a cluster of trees. I heard gunshots; at least I thought I did.” Bolt took a swig of water. “Where is my food?”
“It’s on the way. Julio didn’t get upset with you?”
“Not at all. He started bragging about how he got to train in the boot camp next door, and how he learned all types of fighting and torture techniques. He had a big smile on his face.”
“The terrorist training camp,” Sean said.
“They train terrorists?” Bolt’s eyes appeared to be locked open.
I put a finger to my lips and hushed Bolt. “Yes.”
“I suppose I can’t help but tell you now, but Amador’s group has diversified their business,” Sean said. “Given their remote location in the middle of the jungle, being on an island, and basically being overlooked by anyone who tracks these types of things, Amador has a team of former terrorists who live and work at the camp. He makes a good chunk of change and knows he’s protected from almost any group who wants to take him out. Now I wasn’t aware of a rival gang moving in on his turf. You said it was run by a guy called El Jefe?”
“Terrorists,” Bolt said, staring off, ignoring Sean’s question. “Where do they come from?”
“Good question.” I said, then nodded at Sean. “Jorge, you wanna answer?”
“They’re called L-FARC.”
“Wait. I’ve heard of a group called FARC. Fuerzas Armadas Revolucionarias de Colombia,” Bolt said. “People throw their newspapers aside every day. Not as many newspapers these days since everyone has a fancy device, but I manage to catch up on the news.”
“Then you should know that FARC has been negotiating some type of peace and amnesty agreement with the Columbian government.” Sean shifted his eyes to me. “This is a splinter group, similar to what we saw when the IRA tried to become more of a political movement in Ireland years ago.”
I nodded, impressed by Sean’s knowledge. Then again, as he’d noted earlier, this is his day job, and if he wasn’t keenly aware of every bit of information about the target, then his ass would be in danger. “What does the L stand for?”
“Loyalist. Meaning, if you’re not part of our group, then you’re not loyal to the cause. That’s how they coerce more of the mainstream into the group.”
“Sounds typical of many terrorist organizations, I would think. Feeding fear, and even guilt, on many levels.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Bolt studying Sean, then glancing back to me.
“You two know each other well.” Bolt pointed a finger at both of us. “Friends for a long time?”
“Off and on,” I said, hoping it would end right there.
“We go way back, just lost touch for a while,” Sean said.
Bolt nodded, his eyes still examining us.
“I need to know more about this rival group to Amador, El Jefe. What did Julio tell you about El Jefe?”
“The name stands for The Boss or The Chief,” Bolt said.
“I know Spanish, at least when people aren’t speaking a hundred miles an hour,” Sean added. “What did Julio share with you about El Jefe? Is the El Jefe cartel a threat to Amador’s operation? Does he know what type of product they’re pushing? Are they possibly looking to take the terrorist training away from Amador?”
Bolt held up his hands. “Whoa. So many questions. Why are you so curious about another cartel? Esteban was kidnapped by Amador’s team, no?”
I held up a finger, saving Sean from his fixation on the Amador spider web. “We think so. That’s what Alejandro’s contact shared with us. If he was telling us the truth.”
“You are right. We don’t know, do we?” Bolt said.
“Given what Julio told you, or didn’t…”
“I forgot to tell you that Julio bragged about helping kidnap the daughter of one of Amador’s top lieutenants. Apparently, the lieutenant had tried to start his own operation on the side. Amador found out and ordered his daughter to be kidnapped.”
“What did they do with her?”
Blowing out an audible breath, Bolt stuck a finger in the corner of his eye. “He was like a sick hyena laughing when he told me that he tortured her and raped her. They used a dull machete to chop off each finger and toe and mailed them to her parents.”
“Jesus.”
“It gets worse.”
“How?”
“Julio brought her naked, bloody body out into the middle of the ca
mp and said the kid who had the guts to put a bullet through her head would instantly be promoted to a little general.”
“Someone volunteered?”
“According to Julio, five kids jumped at the chance. One was a girl. And he gave her the honors.”
Shaking my head, I let the brutality sink in. “I’m just glad you got out of there with your life, Bolt. I don’t know what I was thinking in letting you go.”
A smile cracked his face. “I’m lightning quick, remember?”
“Oh, I remember.”
“So what makes you think Julio wasn’t involved in Esteban’s abduction?” Sean asked.
“I guess I don’t know for certain. But the way he talked, he acted like nothing happened around that place without him knowing.”
“That kid has some problems,” I said.
“I’m assuming that Amador’s lieutenant was killed as well?”
“Julio said that Amador predicted he’d come to the camp begging for his life and his wife’s life. He did, and then Amador had the newest little general shoot him point blank, dropping his body on top of his naked daughter’s body.”
“Demented,” I said.
“Ruthless,” Sean added, as we locked eyes. “But it appears they’re more of an equal-opportunity cartel, given the consideration they gave the girl general.”
Bolt shook his head. “Not so much. The girl who killed them was proud of her work and started boasting. Amador said he had to teach her a lesson in humility, and he took her inside his home and…”
The sun had dropped behind the low-rise building across the street, but I still felt a ring of warm air radiating off my body. Esteban wasn’t the only soul who needed to be rescued, I thought. Countless other kids were caught in this pit from hell, likely too scared to break away, or perhaps addicted to the drug they helped package. But I was sure Amador and his lieutenants set up the operation that way—anything to create a reliance on the home cell.
The waiter brought Bolt’s plate as I replayed an earlier comment from Sean. I took out my wallet and threw down enough cash to cover our bill, plus a sizable tip.
“Can we get this food to go?”
Another strange look from the waiter.
“Comida, vamos?” I pretended to spoon food in my mouth.
“Go? I need to eat. I’ve been working my ass off,” Bolt said.
“Don’t say ass.”
“You know what I’m saying,” he said, scarfing down another bite of something that resembled roasted meat.
Sean tilted his head, as if trying to read my next move.
I pulled out my phone, scrolling through my contacts. “I have a date to make.”
12
By the time the waiter brought the bag of leftovers from Bolt’s food, the corner streetlights—at least those that were functioning—had turned on. We exited the gated café and walked down the sidewalk, moving west past a buzzing streetlight that acted as a bug magnet. I had to press my lips shut to ensure I didn’t swallow a wayward bug.
Bolt had found a deflated soccer ball at the edge of a street sewage drain and was dribbling it down the sidewalk, occasionally jumping into the street to retrieve the ball. He never bothered to lift his head to check for traffic, but he had this odd awareness of when to dip in and out of the street without getting hit.
“What’s your idea?” Sean asked, matching me stride for stride.
“Amador’s weakness. Women.”
“You plan on using one of my outfits, or do you want to create your own drag queen look?” Sean raised one of his fake eyebrows.
“Given what Bolt experienced, what he learned from that sick little general, we have no idea where Esteban is being held, if he’s not already in a makeshift grave.” I could feel my jaw tighten. “The time element is eating at me. It’s hard for me to imagine what has happened to Juan’s son. But I can’t give up hope until we know something.”
I hooked a quick left onto 4th Street, catching a waft of trash, something spicy mixed in. Sean caught up quickly, while Bolt continued kicking the ball around. The street was narrow, bordered by the walls of worn, brick buildings. A lone boy booted a can at the far end. Other than that, the road was barren of people and cars. I heard a dog bark bounce off the brick edifice, but with the echo I couldn’t determine where it had originated.
“You’re thinking a seductive woman might be able to pull information out of Amador without him knowing, am I right?” Sean asked.
“Bullseye. But what I don’t know is how a woman would get close to Amador.”
Bolt jumped over the sloped curb and hopped between us, juggling the ball on his knees.
“Not bad, Ronaldo.”
Bolt just laughed and kept juggling the ball on his knees.
“You think you can find a real woman who’s willing to take the risk?” Sean asked.
“If you can get us an opportunity, I’ll take care of the woman part.”
The corners of Sean’s mouth turned upward.
“What?” I asked.
“Nothing. Well, there is something.”
“I’m waiting.”
“Amador doesn’t leave the camp much, unless he’s traveling outside of the country to spend his money or going to a club here in the city. I’ve tracked him numerous times, and he’s only gone out on Saturday nights, and it’s one club in particular—a club owned by his cousin, Club de Python.”
“Snakes, really?” I shook my head. “My nemesis.”
“Clubs don’t bite.”
“Good,” I said, tapping a number in my recent call list. “Because this girl just might.”
Stopping in my tracks, I turned my back from Sean and the distraction known as Bolt.
Two minutes later, I ended the call. “We’re changing our route. Need to take a right up here. Then three blocks and another left. She’ll buzz us in once we get to her apartment.”
“Whose apartment?”
“Britney…the reason I flew into the Dominican.”
“That’s right, you never told me much about your original case.”
“She’s the one. My former girlfriend. She killed three people back in Dallas. The parents of her ex-fiancé paid me to find her.”
“You found her.”
“It didn’t take a lot of work. But she’s now engaged to Juan Ortiz. She convinced me that if I can bring Esteban back to his father, then she will not fight extradition and will go back to Dallas with me and face the charges against her.”
“Why would Juan get mixed up with her? Don’t tell me it’s because she’s drop-dead gorgeous.”
“He doesn’t know about her past. She’s created a new life, a new identity. She runs a private school; people love her here,” I said, turning my head his way. “She goes by the name Ana Sofia Campos. She looks completely different. Her skin is darker, hair is darker and chopped off. She’s even done one of your tricks. Had some facial surgery, and it wasn’t to tuck away any wrinkles.”
“Wish that could have been my excuse. Then again, I am looking a little older these days,” he joked, then released another wet cough.
Out of nowhere, something metal slammed into my rib cage, and I doubled over.
My knees hit pavement, as motes of pain flickered across my vision.
“¡Meta su culo en el callejón. Ahora!”
Spanish voices yelled above my head. Peering an eye open, I spotted three guys shuffling around in sandals, holding automatic rifles like they were batons. One poked Sean in the back of the neck, who raised his hands and walked past me.
“Get off ass,” a thug said in broken English. He followed the order with another thrust of his gun into my gut, emptying my lungs of all air.
“Stop it, Julio!”
Bolt, with desperation in his voice.
Setting my hands under my body, I pushed upward. Bolt’s legs flailed off to my right. I turned my head and found a guy dragging my little buddy by his shaggy hair like a wild cat. Bolt yelled, but it wasn’t loud.
I only caught a glimpse of his eyes, but they were wide with fear.
We must have been followed since we left the café.
Up on one knee, I lifted to my feet and immediately felt a jab in my back.
“Vaya, antes de que alguien nos vea.” The guy behind me poked my spine with the edge of his rifle. That much I could handle. I was more concerned about his spastic movements and what would happen to my spine if he accidentally pulled the trigger.
Stumbling over a crack on the sidewalk, my side felt like someone was digging a fence post between two of my ribs.
Halfway down the alley, the sky almost completely dark, the three of us huddled against a greasy stucco wall, a flickering light off to my left. I finally had a chance to size up our assailants. They looked young. Teenagers, maybe seventeen or eighteen years old. Lean. Muscles rippled off their bare arms and shoulders, their hands constantly re-gripping their guns. They spoke amongst themselves, the one in the middle laughing while glancing at Sean. All three had teeth so white they glowed in the dark.
I sneaked a peek down both ends of the alley. Not a living soul to be found, not even the lone barking dog.
“Sebasten, I thought you wanted to learn more about our business, how I made my mark so that you could follow my path. But that isn’t why you asked me so many questions, is it, Sebasten?” The guy I assumed was Julio flipped his gun over his shoulder and ambled toward Bolt, who stood in between Sean and me.
Standing almost my height, Julio drew closer, and I could smell booze in the air. Not a good sign. He dropped his gun on Bolt’s shoulder, and my little buddy winced just a bit.
“You are just a little boy, aren’t you? You’ve come back to tell your two daddies all about your trip to Disneyland.”
Julio turned and shared a chuckle with his cohorts, then swung his fist around and connected with Bolt’s jaw, bouncing his head off the stucco.
Both Sean and I took a step forward, the pain in my ribs a distant memory. In just seconds, we had rifles buried under our chins.
Julio turned to me as his buddy holding the gun against my face jumped up and down. “First, you’re going to tell us who you work for, and then you’re going to die. And I’ll tell you right now, it won’t be a quick death. It will be slow and painful, and you will beg me to save your life. And I will, for just a few more minutes.” He chuckled and slapped his bare leg.
BOOKER Box Set #2 (A Private Investigator Thriller Series of Crime and Suspense): Volumes 4-6 Page 37
