Warriors in Paradise

by Luis E. Gutiérrez-Poucel

  They arrived in Acapulco four and a half hours after leaving Virginia. Charlie and Caleb took the Russian girls to their hotel in one taxi, and Santi took another to the clinic.

  The hotel staff was very understanding and helpful. They had kept the girls’ belongings in their rooms in spite of not having heard from them for several days. They even offered to halve their room rates.

  Charlie asked the Russian girls, “How are you doing for money?”

  One of them responded, “We don’t have much. Most of our cash was lost when we were abducted. Fortunately, we still have our credit cards in the hotel’s safe.”

  Charlie took out his wallet. He gave $1,000 to each, saying, “Please take this, and consider it a contribution from Nicanor Toro.”

  The Russian girls were very grateful, hugging and kissing Charlie and Caleb. “You saved our lives! Even though you did not know us, you came to free us. Spasibo—thank you very much! If you are ever in Russia, please don’t forget to get in touch with us.” And so on and so forth.

  Charlie and Caleb took a taxi to Santi’s house, appreciating the ride in silence.

  Acapulco looked better than it did when they had left for Mexico City, but there was still a lot of cleanup work and reconstruction to be done. The rains and floods had been devastating.

  ***

  Santi arrived at the Santa Lucia Clinic. Valentina was no longer there. She had been released to Sandra’s care.

  He went home. Sandra and the red dog were happy to see him. Valentina was sleeping in a hammock in the shade of a big mango tree in the garden. Her family could not travel to Acapulco. The highway was still not open to traffic.

  Santi went to the kitchen for a beer and sat down next to Valentina. The red dog would not let him out of his sight. He thought, “I have to name you, dog.”

  He said in a soft voice, “What is your name? Would you like me to give you a name? Do you like Güero? Wag your tail if you like it.”

  The red dog looked at him, and he thought he saw a sparkle of disgust in his eyes.

  “OK, point taken. You don’t like it. What about Rory?” The dog gave him another look of loathing. “OK, dog. I see this is going to be a long process.”

  “Is that you, Santi?” Valentina asked from the hammock.

  “Yes. Sorry if I woke you up.”

  “No problem. I have been sleeping all of the time. I am constantly tired. I don’t know what is wrong with me.”

  Santi had a long talk with Valentina. She kept on drifting in and out of sleep. One moment she would be talking, and next she would be breathing shallowly with her eyes closed. She seemed severely traumatized and depressed. She could not bring herself to talk about what had happened to her.

  “I can’t get out of my mind the memory of seeing you being taken down by several men dressed in white and being hit on the head with a bottle. I keep on hearing the loud whack of the bottle making contact,” she said. “I thought you were dead. And I thought I would be too…”

  She dozed off into a gentle slumber.

  Charlie and Caleb arrived at the house. They were waiting for him on the dining-room terrace. Sandra had prepared a banquet fit for a king. They did not feel very hungry, but as soon as they started eating, they couldn’t stop. It had been a week of missed meals and restaurant food, so the return to a home-cooked meal was very welcome.

  Charlie, Caleb, and Santi went down to the garden with a tray of food for Valentina. She was resting with her eyes closed.

  Charlie asked Santi, “Have you thought of a name for the dog?”

  “Yes, I have, but the dog doesn’t seem to like any of the names that I have suggested.”

  Caleb lowered his head while looking at Santi and said, “You told us that this house has a South African name, and the dog is a South African Ridgeback, so why don’t you give it a South African name? What about Zulu?”

  The dog looked at Caleb and wagged his tail.

  Santi said, “Hey, look at that! He likes the name Zulu!”

  The dog kept on wagging his tail.

  “OK, so Zulu it is,” said Santi, adding, “It takes an African American to name a South African dog.”

  “Being African American doesn’t have shit to do with finding a name for the dog. It is just that you don’t have any Mexican imagination,” Caleb retorted.

  ***

  Charlie and Caleb went upstairs to their rooms and took the tray of uneaten food with them. Santi remained in the garden to watch over Valentina.

  At 6:30 p.m., he woke her up and asked her, “Would you like something to eat?”

  “Not really. I feel tired and would like to sleep some more,” Valentina responded.

  “OK, but first, let’s walk up to the dining room and have something to eat so you can feel better. Also, you have to say hello to Charlie and Caleb.”

  “Ah, yeah. What happened to Juliette and Camille?” Valentina asked.

  While helping her out of the hammock’s cocoon, Santi said, “Come on, let’s go to the dining room, and then we will tell you everything you have missed, including what happened to the Russian girls.”

  “Ah, yeah. What happened to the Russian girls?”

  Santi helped Valentina to walk up the stairs to the dining room. Sandra had set the table and warmed up some of the leftovers. They looked enticing.

  Santi aided Valentina to sit down, and soon thereafter, Charlie and Caleb appeared cautiously, greeting her. She seemed afraid of being touched by anyone other than Sandra. She looked at them in a dazed state and queried, “How are you? I haven’t seen you in a long time. Where are Juliette and Camille? Are they here?”

  “No,” said Charlie. “Juliette and Camille flew back yesterday to Toronto.”

  Santi said, putting some food on her plate, “Please, have something to eat. We have a story to tell you.”

  Santi and Charlie talked for the next twenty minutes, telling her an edited version of the story up to that morning. Valentina listened to them while pecking at her food. She, however, had reached a point where her eyes were drooping.

  Santi assisted her to stand up and walked her up to her room. Sandra stayed with her, keeping her company. Given her ordeal, Santi thought she was probably off men, including him, for a long, long time.

  ***

  Charlie, Caleb, and Santi talked. They were sure that nobody in the Mexican drug cartel or the DC Corporation knew much about them. They had eliminated the only ones who could identify and track them. They were as safe as they could be.

  They would soon find out how wrong they were.

  They were unhappy to leave things as they were. The distribution of drugs throughout the United States would continue under the corrupt Corporation. Another Mexican drug lord would soon be selected to take over the Latin American cartel. The kidnapping and yearly auctions would continue under the direction of Rupert Pattinson. They knew they were powerless to change anything. The people in the Corporation were simply too mighty and beyond their reach.

  They had made copies of the recorded confessions of Nancy Smith and Alexander Coombs. The five of them, including Jonathan and Miranda, each had a copy. The original was in a safe deposit box in a bank known only to Charlie in Arlington, Virginia. A little insurance never hurt.

  It was 12:30 a.m.

  The experience had taken something away from all of them. Juliette and Camille had gone away. Valentina was in a world of her own.

  They went up to their separate rooms.

  Chapter 13: An Unfriendly Visit

  No sleep for the weary

  Santi had trouble sleeping. He couldn’t stop thinking that Valentina was just on the other side of the door. She was so near and yet so far.

  She was in no state to make love to or to cuddle.

  He heard Zulu growling softly, pushing his muzzle through the window blinds. Santi said, “Zulu, what are you growling at, boy?”

  Zulu heard his name and froze in place. The hair on his ridge stood on end, and his head po
inted out.

  Santi stood up and went to the window. As he parted the blinds, he saw a moving shadow. Zulu cocked his head. His growl was soft, yet it was a clear warning.

  Santi’s mind went into automatic. He went to the chest of drawers and got out his gun. He opened the connecting door to Valentina and Sandra’s room. As he was approaching Valentina, he saw the muzzle flashes before he heard the sounds of an AK-47 being fired. He rushed to Valentina’s bed, plummeting her to the floor as the spray of semiautomatic fire demolished the windows into a thousand glass crystals.

  Santi dragged Valentina along the floor to the bathroom just before a second hail of bullets flew through the shattered windows, gouging the bed and the wall opposite. He opened the bathroom door and pressed her into the shower, telling a frightened and trembling Valentina, “Don’t make a noise! Stay here! You are safe here! I will be back as soon as possible. I love you.”

  Santi crawled out of the bathroom, closing the door behind him. He heard staccato semiautomatic gunfire erupt on the floor above.

  Blood oozed out through multiple bullet wounds on Sandra’s body. Her unseeing, open eyes looked peaceful. She had taken the brunt of the AK-47 rounds. Her bed was closest to the window. Santi knew that she was gone. He felt sad, sick, and mad. His heart pounded in increasing fury.

  “Zulu!”

  Santi ran and jumped through the broken window, landing in a roll. Zulu followed. He saw a dark figure turning around. Santi shot him twice, one in the chest and again in the head.

  Zulu jumped over Santi and lunged at another man who was coming up behind him and raising his assault rifle. Zulu went for the gunman’s throat. The man fired wildly, missing his target. Santi heard a growl and a scream.

  Zulu was shaking his massive head. The raised hair along his ridge made him look huge and menacing. He had his man pinned down by the throat. Zulu’s head came up with a jerk, with something red in his enormous jaws. The man made a wheezing sound and stopped moving.

  Santi looked down at the man he had just shot. Threads of smoke rose from the bullet hole in his head as blood trickled out. He was one of the men who had just shot Sandra. His open eyes gazed at Santi, who relished the thought that the last thing the assassin had seen before dying was his face.

  Santi heard noises below. He was about to jump off the balcony to the level beneath when he heard somebody land softly close to him. He was turning abruptly with his firearm at the ready when he heard Caleb say, “Hey, it’s me.”

  “How is Charlie?” asked Santi.

  “Very fucking pissed. We just took out two guys who shot our bedroom to kingdom come.”

  Charlie came noiselessly down the stairs and whispered, “Everything clear upstairs! How about here?”

  “Valentina is OK; Sandra is dead,” said Santi. “There’s somebody below. I don’t know how many.”

  “I’ll take the stairs,” said Charlie. “You two jump off the balcony. We’ll take them in ten.” He silently moved toward the stairs.

  Santi counted ten seconds and then looked at Caleb. Both jumped down at the same time.

  It was a clear night with a full moon.

  There were two men armed with the weapon of choice for Mexican assassins, cuernos de chivo (goat horns, AK-47s). One was slim and tall and wore a loose blue shirt, and the other was a short, pot-bellied man in a white shirt.

  The slim, tall man heard Santi and Caleb land, and he turned and fired. The short, pot-bellied man rallied as well. The shots flew high. Santi and Caleb took cover behind the support pillars. The men fired again, and a fusillade of bullets slammed into the pillars.

  As they were firing, Charlie came down the stairs behind the shooters. He shot twice, a bullet in the head of each man. The men were dead before they hit the ground.

  Charlie was good.

  Santi said, coming out from behind the pillar, “There were six in total, two per level. They were not leaving anything to chance. The four I saw looked Mexican. They had to have come from the sea. I’m sure somebody is waiting for them in a boat by the jetty. Charlie and I will go down to deal with whoever is waiting for them, while you, Caleb, stay here and check on Valentina.”

  Caleb said, “That is a good idea, but I have a better one. You stay here and look after Valentina while Charlie and I go down.”

  Without waiting for a response, Charlie said, “Fine. Let’s do it.”

  Charlie and Caleb climbed rapidly down the stairs toward the jetty. Santi squatted and checked the pockets of the two men. He took out their wallets. They were both municipal police. Santi thought, Oh, shit! Nicanor Toro’s cartel has penetrated deep into local law enforcement.

  He went up to his floor and checked the wallets of the two dead men. They were also local police officers.

  Zulu was looking at him and wagging his tail. Santi said, “What’s wrong, boy?”

  Santi stood up and went to Valentina’s room. He went to the bathroom and walked her to his bedroom. He placed her down on his bed, and when he tried to caress her head, she flinched and shrank away from his touch. She had been crying.

  Santi said, “I am sorry that you had to go through this again. I promise you this is the last time.”

  Valentina was quietly staring at him.

  Santi said, “Go to sleep, my darling. You are safe now. Let me check on Charlie and Caleb, and I will be back shortly.”

  Santi covered Valentina with the sheet and walked to the next room. He went to Sandra and closed her eyelids. As Santi kissed her forehead, he said, “Thanks for everything you have done for my mother and me. Good-bye, my dear madrina. I hope you’re now with your beloved son.”

  He stood up and walked out of the room.

  Zulu had not moved. He saw Santi and started wagging his tail. Santi approached Zulu, saying, “What’s wrong with you, boy?” He squatted next to Zulu. The dog licked his face.

  “Yeah, boy. I love you too.”

  He started patting and touching Zulu. A bullet had passed through his left leg and buried itself in the abdominal area. The wild shot meant for Santi had hit Zulu. He had saved Santi’s life.

  A solid black wave of anger assaulted Santi’s brain. He had lost Sandra, and now he was losing Zulu. The dog that had adopted him. The dog that had brought him back from the darkness of the beach. The dog that had just taken a bullet for him.

  At that moment, Santi heard noise from below. He rapidly stood up with murder in his eyes. He was about to take the stairs down when he glimpsed Charlie and Caleb bringing up a bloodied man. Santi recognized him as the prosecutor who had taken their report at the police station eight days ago.

  Santi lost it. He couldn’t control himself and threw a killer straight right aimed square into the center of the prosecutor’s face. Charlie and Caleb managed to grab Santi’s arm, but not soon enough to prevent the fist from landing. The prosecutor’s face exploded in blood, spit, and mucus. The nose was completely flattened. If Charlie and Caleb had not slowed down Santi’s strike, the strike would have surely killed the man.

  Charlie and Caleb pushed Santi back, saying as they did so, “Stop it! We need to find out what he knows.”

  Santi looked at them and said, “OK, you do that. I have to get Zulu to a hospital. He was shot, but he is still alive.”

  Charlie said, “Fine, but put something on. You look like a madman in your underwear and your bleeding feet. Don’t forget to take money and your cell phone.”

  “Where is Valentina?”

  Santi responded, “Lying down on my bed.”

  Santi went to his room and ran water on his feet. He didn’t feel the pain, but he had stepped on the window glass shards. He put on shorts, a guayabera, and flip-flops. He put his gun in his shorts pocket and took his wallet and phone. He went out and tenderly carried Zulu up the stairs and into the CR-V.

  A doctor for my friend

  He drove fast but carefully to Caleta’s general hospital. He parked at the emergency entrance and carried Zulu in.

  H
e saw a nurse and asked her for a doctor. She said, “What do you need him for?”

  Santi responded, “I need him to take care of my best friend, who has just been shot. Please, don’t make me waste my time. Where is the doctor?”

  The nurse looked at him and said, “Is the dog the friend you are talking about?”

  Santi just looked at her, took his gun out, pointed it at her, and said, “Where is the doctor? I am not going to repeat myself.”

  The nurse turned pale as a white bedsheet and said, “Through that door,” pointing at the door at the end of the hall.

  Santi ran with Zulu in his arms to the end of the hall and opened the door.

  He saw a few empty beds and a young doctor in his late twenties or early thirties talking to a nurse. Santi walked up to him and said, “Doctor, I need you to take care of my dog. He just took a bullet aimed at me. I don’t have time to locate and wake up a veterinarian. Will you please help me?”

  The doctor looked at Santi. After a pause, he said, with caring eyes, “That looks like a nice dog. Bring him over here. Put him on this gurney. Maria,” he said to the nurse he had been talking to, “go to the reception desk and tell Lupe not to call anybody. We haven’t seen this man nor his dog. Do we understand each other?”

  The nurse said, “Yes, Doctor, I understand. I’ll be back shortly to assist.” She turned and ran out of the emergency room.

  Santi said, “You don’t know how much I appreciate this.”

  “Thank me later. First, let’s take care of your friend here. What is his name?”

  Santi said, “Zulu.”

  The nurse came back in and started to prepare the room. The doctor washed his hands in disinfectant gel from a dispenser affixed to a column, snapped on gloves, and injected Zulu with a general anesthetic. In no time, Zulu was out, looking drunk, with his long tongue hanging sideways out of his jaws. Then the doctor began the process of shaving, cleaning, and disinfecting the areas around the wounds.

  Santi watched the whole procedure. It took an hour. The doctor managed to extract the bullet and repair the internal damage.