Warriors in Paradise

by Luis E. Gutiérrez-Poucel

  I was getting good at it.

  I had to give him credit; he had a high threshold for tolerating pain. Bending back a finger brings excruciating pain, and he just blinked a few times and emitted a low whimper. He kept on staring at me with that obscene, hateful smile.

  ***

  This was going to be difficult.

  So far, we had been lucky. The people whom we had interrogated were cowards, either afraid of pain or willing to talk freely. We now needed to know where the girls were and what information we had that justified their need to track us down and kill us. However, Toro seemed unafraid. I decided to pause the interrogation and asked Caleb to watch him while Charlie and I went down to the kitchen.

  “Charlie,” I said, “I am out of my comfort zone here. Until now, we have been able to find out what we needed using a combination of fear and torture. We have used—well, at least I have—the techniques and tricks learned in the schoolyard, while growing up, in books, in movies, and on TV. What feels right! However, when I come across someone like Toro, who is prepared to endure torture and is not afraid of dying, I am out of my element. I am concerned that we won’t be able to find out what we need to know. He is the key link in the chain. We need to know what he knows.”

  Charlie said, “I haven’t told you much about my background. I guess this is the time to tell you, but first let us check on the people in the kitchen and get the duct tape. The three of us need a powwow before continuing.”

  ***

  The maids, the pilot, and the driver looked OK.

  I went to the pilot and asked him how he was doing, if he wanted water or anything. He shook his head. I then went to the chauffeur and asked him the same questions. He nodded. I took the tape off of his mouth and asked him, “What would you like?”

  “A glass of water would be fine,” he said to me.

  I fetched him the water, which he drank avidly. Before I put back the tape on his mouth, I told him, “Look, we will be back for you in a couple of minutes. Nothing is going to happen to you. Please stay calm, and everything will be OK. OK?”

  The driver just nodded and said, “Thank you.”

  I placed the tape back over his mouth.

  Charlie was doing the same thing with the maids, talking to them and turning on all of his considerable charm to make them feel at ease. We took the duct tape and went upstairs again. We taped Toro to a chair, slapped tape over his mouth, and walked out to the hall.

  ***

  Charlie began. “My father was a major in the US Army. He died in Afghanistan in 1999, when I was eight years old. My mother’s brother, my Uncle Jonathan, and my father were friends and worked for military intelligence. My mother met my father through her brother. After my father passed, my uncle became the father figure in my life. He has always been there for me and has always treated me as an equal.

  “After nine eleven, our school and family values and perceptions changed. Children were told how to protect themselves in case of a bombing or a terrorist attack. In our minds, it was as if suddenly we were living inside an action-packed movie.

  “One Sunday while we were barbecuing in his backyard, I asked my uncle, ‘How do you know if a jihad fundamentalist is telling you the truth?’ Jihad fundamentalist sounded ominous to a ten-year-old.

  “He answered, ‘You think like them. You get into their shoes. There is something they love above all else. And there is also something they hate above everything else. You find one or the other, or both, and you can use that to get the truth out of them.’”

  “OK, I get it,” I said. “With Toro, we cannot use only sticks and no carrots. Let us go back to the kitchen and talk to the maids and the chauffeur. You guys take the maids, and I’ll take the driver. Let’s us find the ‘Loves and Hates of Nicanor Toro.’ Let us find his carrot.”

  As we were going down to the kitchen, I said to Charlie, “So you are also a mama’s boy?”

  Charlie said, smiling, “That I am.”

  “What about you, Caleb?” I asked.

  “Wouldn’t you like to know?” he said.

  ***

  We arrived in the kitchen, and Charlie freed one of the maids while Caleb did the same with the other one. They stood them up and walked them out into the house, talking to them.

  I freed the driver as I held his upper elbow in a friendly gesture and walked with him to the living room. “What is your name?” I asked him.

  He responded, “Ramon Lopez.”

  “Ramon,” I said, “I need your help. If you don’t want to help me, don’t worry because nothing is going to happen to you. I respect you because you didn’t get into the scuffle against us during the yacht party, nor did you abuse my girlfriend. For that I am thankful.”

  “Joven,” he responded, “what they did to you and your friends was not right. And what they did to your girlfriend was beyond bad. It was an outrage. I am happy that you didn’t drown.”

  “Ramon, I need to know where the Canadian and the Russian girls are. Can you tell me?”

  “All I know is that the gringo took them, but I don’t know where,” Ramon responded.

  “Then the only person who can tell me that is Toro, but for him to tell me, I need to know what are the most important things in his life or the things that he hates or dislikes the most. Can you tell me that, Ramon?”

  Ramon looked at me as if I were deranged and said, “He loves money and power. He loves hurting and killing people. He doesn’t care about anybody. Not his wife, lovers, or sons. He hates it when people challenge him or steal from him.”

  “Ramon,” I said, “there has to be something that he avoids, something that he dislikes. Can you recall something like that?”

  “I don’t know if this is going to help you, but he dislikes swimming in public.”

  “Thank you, Ramon. That is helpful.”

  Ramon looked at me and said, “I came to work for Mr. Toro ten years ago with my brother Juan. We worked as servants, handymen, and gardeners in his homes. My brother wanted a better job, so he asked Mr. Toro if he could become one of his bodyguards. Mr. Toro liked us, so he sent my brother for guard training and me to learn how to drive. My brother trained hard and learned how to fight, shoot, serve, and protect. I learned how to drive and fix a car.

  “During one of the parties that Mr. Toro likes to give for his friends and associates, a bag full of cocaine disappeared. Mr. Toro likes his guests to have only the best, so he places little saucers of cocaine in the bathrooms so they can have as much as they want. One of the bathrooms ran out of cocaine, and a maid was sent to fetch the bag, except the bag was nowhere to be found. One of the bodyguards in the kitchen was jealous of my brother, so he accused him of stealing the bag. Mr. Toro had to set an example. He could not allow anybody in his immediate employment to steal from him. Therefore, he killed my brother slowly in front of me and his household employees in Mexico City.

  “Lesson learned, but the problem was that my brother did not steal that bag, and Mr. Toro probably knew that. But since he didn’t know who the thief was, he taught us a lesson never to be forgotten with the life of an innocent man. I have never been able to forgive him, nor will I ever forgive him.

  “I will help you any way I can, but I know that after you leave, I am going to be a dead man,” said Ramon.

  “Not necessarily,” I said to Ramon. “We are in this together; whatever happens to you happens to us. And we don’t expect to die anytime soon.”

  ***

  “Ramon, let us go back to the kitchen, where you will point out to me the bodyguard who falsely accused you brother,” I said.

  We went back to the kitchen; the bodyguards were all tied up neatly on chairs. Ramon pointed to a ginger-haired man in his thirties. I went up to him, straightened his chair, and removed the tape. I grasped his arm, took hold of the back of his pants, and walked him out of the kitchen into the game room we had walked through after coming into the house. I sat the ginger-haired man on a chair, took out the Glock, em
ptied the magazine, and gave the gun, the magazine, and one bullet to Ramon. I walked out of the room. A moment or two later, I heard a loud gunshot. Charlie and Caleb ran into the kitchen, guns in hand. I told them to put their firearms away. Shortly, Ramon stepped into the kitchen and handled me back the Glock without a word.

  ***

  It was 5:00 p.m.

  The heavy rain gradually turned into a light drizzle, and the sky cleared for the first time in the day. If we were going to fly to Mexico City, the time was now.

  Charlie and Caleb brought the maids in and asked them to sit down. They did not tape them. I freed the pilot and asked him if he wanted anything. He asked for a beer. I opened the fridge and got him a Corona. As he was drinking it, I asked him, “Do you think you can fly us to Mexico City now?”

  He looked through the window to the sky and said, “Yes, I can, but we will have to leave right now. The bad weather is on the coast, and it can change at a moment’s notice. So we have a window of opportunity of about ten to twenty minutes.”

  “Ramon,” I said, “can I trust you to be in charge here?”

  “Of course, joven,” he said to me.

  Charlie, Caleb, and I walked out of the kitchen, and Charlie asked me, “Can you trust him?”

  “I think we can. He just shot the bodyguard who put his brother into an early grave. He is now bound to us. Furthermore, we will need his help in Mexico City.”

  “What did you find out about Toro?” asked Charlie.

  “His greatest loves are power, money, and hurting people. His greatest dislike is to be seen naked,” I said. “What about you? What did you find out?”

  “Both maids said the same thing about him not liking to swim with the others or to wear a swimming suit or walk about without a shirt. He also doesn’t like it when people challenge him or question him,” answered Charlie.

  “Well, we know now what to do,” I said.

  “What is that?” asked Caleb.

  I answered, “He suffers from gymnophobia, fear of being naked in public. If his condition is extreme, then by undressing him and ridiculing him, we can cause him to experience anxiety, cloud his judgment, and weaken his resolve. By working on his phobia, we can make him become more vulnerable and more likely to answer our questions.”

  “Well, what are we waiting for?” said Caleb. “Let us go and work on his gymno-fucking-phobia!”

  Helicoptering to Mexico City

  We went back upstairs and seized Toro. We undressed him until he was completely naked and barefoot. He fought us every inch of the way. His only cover was the duct tape over his mouth. I looped a belt around his neck and held the front end ahead of him. Charlie and Caleb grabbed him each above the elbow. We walked him to the kitchen. He tried to resist, but there was nothing he could do. We went into the kitchen, to the astonishment of everybody. Ramon looked at Toro’s nakedness and, unable to help himself, started laughing. The maids also started giggling. Only the pilot kept his composure.

  “Captain,” I said to the pilot, “we are ready when you are.”

  “Well, let’s go,” he said.

  I looked at Ramon and said, “We would like you to come with us to help us in Mexico City. But if you want to stay here, you’re welcome to do so.”

  He answered, “I think we have to play this one all the way through. But before I go, there is some unfinished business that the maids and I need to take care of. Could I please borrow the gun?”

  I looked at him and after a brief pause, I said, “Fine,” giving him my gun to the disapproving eyes of Charlie and adding firmly, “We will wait for you in the helicopter.”

  As we were leaving the house and walking toward heliport, we heard three distinct gunshots.

  Soon after, Ramon came to the helicopter and jumped in. He quietly gave me back my gun. Nobody said anything.

  ***

  The pilot took the chopper up and started toward Mexico City. He turned around and told us that we should be arriving in about two hours if the weather window remained open.

  I looked at Ramon and told him closely to his ear, “I need Toro alive until he tells us what we need to know. Is that all right with you?”

  Ramon look at me and said, “Joven, our destinies have been bound together. Yes, I will do what you ask of me.”

  “Can you tell me what happened back there?” I asked him.

  He responded, “Mr. Toro’s bodyguards have been raping and beating those maids for several years. They would get drunk, go to their rooms, and abuse them. They tried to leave on several occasions only to be brought back and severely beaten. Mr. Toro’s household employees only leave his employment one way: feet first.”

  “What about the bodies?” I asked him.

  “Those maids are from the Costa Chica. They have seen dead bodies all of their lives. They know how to dispose of them, especially when they are so close to the sea. Nobody will ever find them.”

  “What is going to happen to the house?” I asked.

  “Nothing will happen to the house; everything will continue as normal. The other two maids and the gardener will return after the passing of the storm. They will continue as if nothing has happened. His family does not know about this house. There is enough money in the house to keep it going for several months. If they run out of money, they can always rent rooms. They will be fine, and nobody will miss Mr. Toro or his bodyguards.

  “Actually, after we finish what we have to do in Mexico City, and if I am still alive, I am planning to come back and marry one of the house cleaners. We are having a child together.”

  “Ramon, please don’t doubt that you will be coming back,” I said to him.

  The noise inside the helicopter was loud. Nobody could hear our conversation, least of all Toro.

  I saw him sitting quiet and demure, with his knees closed together and his hands crossed upon his lap. I looked at Caleb and Charlie, and they nodded imperceptibly. We understood what needed to be done.

  The Mexican Bull

  The three of us got close to Toro. Caleb said, “Hey, brown sugar, are you a woman or a man? Where is your pecker?”

  Charlie and I started to laugh loudly, and Caleb pinched one of his tits, saying, “Do you like that, honey?”

  All fight and defiance had left Toro. He shut his eyes. White spit formed at the corners of his mouth. He was shivering.

  Caleb and Charlie grabbed an arm each and started pulling them away from his body. He opened his eyes and shouted, “No, please, no!”

  I told Caleb and Charlie, “Hey, he just said the magic word: please.” I turned to Toro and said, “Fine, we’ll stop. But remember that you are now our little bitch to do as we please with. If you answer all of our questions, we will let you dress again. If you do not, we will spread-eagle you wide open and do to you as we please.”

  He was looking at me with dread and panic. His flinty little eyes had lost their defiance. I said to him, “Look at me! Nicanor,” I said while smacking him across the face. “Look at me and tell me that you understand!”

  He nodded and said while looking at me, “I understand.”

  I said, “Here is your first question, and please answer truthfully. Where are the Canadian and the Russian girls?”

  He said, “With Mr. Carson in Washington, DC.”

  “Good. That’s good. Keep it up like that, and you will be dressed in no time,” I said. “Nicanor, tell us the whole story. Why did you abduct them? What is going to happen to them? How can we get them back?”

  He told us what we already knew. He didn’t know what the girls were needed for. He had always assumed some powerful people in the States would use them as sex objects in some extreme sex games.

  He said, “Mr. Carson has never told me, and I have never asked. Whatever he does to them, it is not my business. He asked me to get him five young, pretty tourists, non-American and non-Mexican. And I have done that every year for the past seven years as a favor.

  “I get most of my income from the sal
e of drugs to the US East Coast through Mr. Carson. This includes marijuana and cocaine, plus around two hundred new designer drugs. Mr. Carson even supplies me with the formulas for the new-age drugs. I am the exclusive supplier of drugs to the East Coast. Nina Scott and Aaron Carson provide me protection from both the American and the Mexican authorities. This allows me to be a bigger supplier than all of the other Mexican drug lords that you see being paraded in front of the press or named on the most-wanted lists. I launder my drug income by extending my business interests into several legitimate companies—real estate, restaurants, nightclubs, and whorehouses in Mexico and elsewhere in Latin America. I am one of the richest men in Latin America, and nobody knows about me. Therefore, if Carson asks me to kidnap five beautiful young tourists every year, I do it happily. No questions asked.”

  ***

  “Why did you want us dead?” I asked.

  He responded, “Because you had seen the two Americans, Scott and Carson. It is essential that they remain anonymous. They cannot be linked to me or to the kidnapped tourists. Their good names and reputation are of paramount importance to the ongoing success of our operations.

  “You were a calculated risk. Because of the storm, we couldn’t fulfill our annual quota of five tourists. We only had the three Russians. They were thus willing to run the risk and invite you to the party, where you three hombres would be made to disappear and be disposed of in a manner that would make the media believe that you had been partying and drinking a little too hard and unfortunately had accidentally drowned. Nobody would have questioned that you were victims of the storm Manuel.”

  “Who are really the two Americans? What are their real names? And how can we find them?” I asked.

  He responded, “Nina Scott is the trade attaché of the American embassy in Mexico City. Her real name is Nancy Smith. She is a spook and works for the CIA. Aaron Carson works in the US government in Washington, DC. I don’t know his real name.”