“When can we interview the witness?”
“He’s next on today’s agenda. As soon as we’re done here, we can talk to him.”
I scrubbed my body as quickly as I could, making sure every nook and crack had been cleaned. Even though Cabrera said he was joking about the caimans, I didn’t want to be in the river any longer than needed. A half hour later, I exited the river and covered myself with the blanket. I could hear a naked Cabrera following right behind me. Before turning around, I waited what I thought was ample time for him to get his pants back on. He stalled.
Luckily, he saved me the embarrassment and had put on his boxers, but that’s all he wore as he ran both hands through his hair, wringing the water from it. Hundreds of shiny beads glistened in the sun as they ran across his toned body.
Damn my detective skills.
Chapter 28
Rapau, Cabrera, and I gathered under a large wooden structure. It was one of their communal spaces but had been cleared for our use. Our witness had joined us, and so did the three elders. It had taken an adventure to get to this moment. We were all eager to get started.
The witness, Trumak, wasn’t a young man. He looked as if he could be one of the elders. He was shirtless but wore western shorts. He had the typical rice bowl haircut all the men shared, though the wooden spheres that ran through his earlobes were larger than most. He had a smile on his face that I liked instantly, particularly since none of the elders shared his enthusiasm. I didn’t bother with pleasantries and told Trumak to tell us everything he saw.
With Rapau translating, Trumak said outsiders inhabited the shack. They kept to themselves and were very secretive about what they did. The tribe didn’t bother with them because they were not on what they considered their land.
“Is the shack still here?” I asked.
Rapau shook his head as Trumak spoke. “He said the dead boy’s father tore most of it down.”
“Why?”
“He believed what Trumak said about seeing the muerto viviente attack his son.”
Here we go again with the zombies. “Let me see if got this straight. He saw a stumbling man craving brains?”
Rapau’s head shook side to side. Clearly the Hollywood version of a zombie wasn’t something he was familiar with. “The man who attacked the boy had evil in his eyes. He was also a member of the village and a cripple in one of his legs. Yet that day, he moved like a strong, healthy man. When Trumak called his name, he didn’t respond. He says the man’s eyes were dead.”
“The motor was running, but no one was in the driver’s seat,” Cabrera added.
Rapau looked at him. “Yes, that’s one way of putting it.”
“What happened to him?” I asked.
“He ran off. They found him dead a few hours later.”
“How did he die?”
“No one knows. His body had no visible wounds.”
“What do they do with their dead?”
“They burn them.”
I straightened up and let out a big breath. “Just my luck.” I shook my head as I looked at Cabrera before turning back to Rapau. “And the outsiders? What happened to them?”
“They disappeared.”
“Seems to me if we find them, we’ll find more answers,” I said.
“You’re still not buying the living dead story, are you?” Cabrera asked without a hint of laughter.
He can’t be serious, can he?
My left eyebrow made like a mountain peak as I shifted my gaze over to Cabrera. “Don’t tell me you believe in zombies.”
His shoulders scrunched up, and his head bobbed from side to side. “I grew up believing this sort of folklore. Yeah, with age I’ve become more reasonable, but if what they’re saying isn’t true, how could a man be a cripple one day and a warrior the next?”
Chapter 29
Later, after lunch with the villagers, Trumak took us to see the remains of the wooden shack. There wasn’t much left: splintered wood and broken glass—Pyrex labware to be precise—made up most of the debris. Scattered on the ground were a few Bunsen burners and a storage cooler with racks of test tubes spilling from it. All of them were empty. I wondered what damage the outsiders might have done to the lab to cover their tracks before the father of the dead boy came along. Even with the extensive damage, it was clear that experiments were being conducted. These outsiders had taken a villager and used him as a guinea pig.
By the time we returned to the village, we had made the decision to spend the night and head back to Mitú first thing the next morning. Not something I wanted, but necessary. The jungle was beautiful and amazing, but the accommodations… I had no idea how much I would sorely miss a proper bed and bath. I did brave another trip to the river before sundown. That day had been extra humid, and I had become extra sticky. Another woman and her two children were bathing at the river when I arrived—much better than a laughing Cabrera. When I returned to my hut, I discovered that all my things were missing.
“I’ve got a problem,” I said when I found Cabrera. “I can’t find my stuff.”
“That hut you were in earlier is special. It’s reserved for sick people or women giving birth. You’re bunking with me now.”
Great.
“Don’t roll your eyes like you’re disappointed. You know this sleepover is going to be fun.”
Laughter burst out of my mouth. “I think you’re looking forward to this more than I am. And this isn’t a sleepover, by the way.”
“I agree,” he said. Cabrera turned and took a few steps before looking back with a smile that pushed up higher on one side. “A sleepover requires sleeping.”
Believe it or not, because I sure found it confusing, sharing the same hut with Cabrera proved not to be as bad as I thought. It was fun hearing more about his life growing up in Bogotá. Once he had mastered the piano, his mother had set her sights on dance lessons.
“That’s when I put my foot down.”
“Why? What’s wrong with dance?”
“It was ballet.”
“Oh.”
He said he and his mother argued for an entire week. It wasn’t until he promised to continue with piano that she relinquished the thought.
“And did you?”
“Yes. I actually liked playing the piano. I even thought of moving to New York one day to attend Julliard. If it hadn’t been for James Bond, I probably would have. The spy flick changed all that.”
“I suspect your mother wasn’t thrilled.”
“She got over it. She’s proud of me now and the work I’m doing to fight the drug cartels.”
“Do you miss the States?”
“You know, I think I do at times. I have thought of moving back.”
“What’s stopping you? Or shall I ask, what’s keeping you here?”
Cabrera chuckled. “I dunno. I guess there wasn’t a pressing issue to force my hand. I loved living in San Francisco, though.”
My ears perked up. “If you came back, would you live there?”
“Now that I know you live there, most definitely.”
Cabrera winked at me, but I didn’t mind. This was the first pass at me he had made all night. I had actually started to wonder why he hadn’t done it sooner.
“Your turn to divulge. You’re a pretty young woman. I find it hard to believe you’re not taken.”
If he thinks I’m young, why argue? “You of all people should know what it’s like to do what we do and try to hold down a relationship.”
“Of course, but it’s about priorities. If it’s important, it doesn’t fall to the side.”
As I stared into the kerosene lamp that provided our light, I thought about what Cabrera said. He was right. Why didn’t I have a boyfriend? My last real relationship was with my late husband. I’d had a few dates since, and there was Wilky, my old partner.
“What are you thinking?” Cabrera asked, snapping me out of my thought process.
“I’m thinking about what you said. I don’t
know if there is an answer. I’ve gone through so much emotionally in the last four years that I felt I needed a recovery. And of course, I’ve got the kids to think of.”
I went on to tell him that my relationship with the kids when their father died was virtually nonexistent. “Being a mom to them was the one thing I committed to when I made the decision to move to the States. Family would be a priority. So, it is.”
“Nothing wrong with that. That’s where your time and energy goes. There’s nothing left right now to give to a relationship.”
I had never looked at it that way, but Cabrera made a lot of sense.
“You’re the rock of the family,” he continued, “the one everybody relies on.”
“I am. I’m all the kids and Po Po have.”
“You need someone, too, Abby. You can’t live your life only for others, no matter how important it is for you.” Cabrera reached out and pointed at my chest. His eyes were locked onto mine as he spoke softly. “You need to know that there’s someone watching out for you, that you can take a day off and all won’t go to hell.”
I stared back at Cabrera. Was what he said true? Was I sacrificing my own needs? Was it so apparent? I looked deeper into his eyes for any sort of giveaway, any sign that he was just telling me what I wanted to hear. All I saw was warmth and honest caring. Despite my complaining and my standoff approach to his ways, it was clear he actually listened to what I said. This was a side of Cabrera that he had yet to reveal until now. Here was a softer, gentler man.
Neither of us said anything, but it didn’t feel awkward. I followed the path of his hand as it gently touched the side of my face. His palm felt comforting. I suddenly felt safe. And even though there was a part of me questioning what was happening, I chose to ignore it.
He slowly leaned in until our lips were only a breath apart, his eyes never leaving mine. His hand moved beneath my chin and held it steady. Still he would not close the gap that I wished would disappear. I wanted his hands to hold my face. I wanted to feel his lips pressed upon mine.
He moved slowly forward. My heart lunged at him with every beat, and my hands tightened around my thighs as I restrained them from lurching out and grabbing on to him. My entire body wanted him in that moment.
And then he spoke.
The words, “I’ll watch over you,” left his lips right before he pressed them against mine.
I’m not sure how long I was lost in the moment, but I suddenly regained some sort of consciousness, only to realize he was holding the full weight of my head in both hands, and my mouth was open, but it wasn’t working. He pulled back.
“What’s wrong?”
“Sorry,” I said. “I slipped into La La Land for a moment.” I then grabbed each of his arms, and pushed him back onto the mat and straddled him. “Let me make it up to you.”
Chapter 30
The Ortega brothers had not slept all night, nor had they left their perch near the observation window except for the occasional bathroom break or visit to the kitchen. Empty cookie containers and candy wrappers lay scattered on the desk and floor around them. Julio swished his hand around in a large bowl, searching for popcorn, only to come up with hard kernels. He stopped and reached forward to the desk in front of him, his eyes never leaving the window as his hand groped the countertop until he felt the familiar shape of a soda bottle.
What the brothers had witnessed for the last fifteen hours was a scientific feat, a significant move forward in their research. They were two little boys watching their science project at the school fair come to life. Between bites, they documented everything they had witnessed. Juan operated the camera while Elan made notes on his laptop.
Inside the room, the metal table lay in a twisted heap. The two leather straps were torn from the screws that held them in place. What used to be a wooden desk was now a scattering of splintered pieces, and streaks of dried blood graced the safety glass.
Malcolm #70 was turning out to be everything the Ortegas had hoped for.
But by early morning, their test subject had relegated himself to sitting in the corner. He didn’t move. He didn’t make a noise. He only stared at the Ortegas. Nothing they did, not the food they delivered, not jumping around like idiots, not putting a chimp in the room, had any effect on him.
The brothers had begun to think they had failed once again. They thought he had taken a turn for the worse and fallen into a catatonic state. Any minute, they expected to see foam pour from his mouth, followed by his grabbing his chest and arching before dying of cardiac arrest. The thought of having to disappoint Faro Zapata once more was not something they wished for. They were quite sure they had already been given their last chance.
But a few hours later, the situation changed.
Malcolm showed renewed signs of life. He got up off the bed and moved to the center of the room, where he paced from one side to the other. What struck the brothers as strange, even though it was common behavior for animals, was that he never took his eyes off them. With every turn, his eyes remained locked on to them, focused and intimidating. The second eerie observation was the pacing: even and unwavering.
For two hours, the brothers watched, barely sitting in their seats, as they waited for a different reaction. None came.
“I don’t understand. There was so much to note in the first few hours,” Elan pointed out.
“Maybe he’s accepted his situation.”
“What do you mean?”
“He’s accepted what’s become of him.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“He’s no longer trying to break through the window to get to us.”
At one point, the brother’s worried that the custom-made safety glass would not contain Malcolm. To add to that, they were forging new ground, and there was no way to tell how he would continue to react.
“Should we try to communicate again?” Elan asked.
Before Julio could answer, their test subject stopped pacing. Both brothers stiffened.
“What do you think is going on in his head?”
Julio shook his slowly while watching. “I’m not sure. Maybe he’s trying to figure us out.”
Elan turned to his brother, letting his eyes trail, afraid that if he looked away, he would miss a moment.
A low chuckle bellowed up Julio’s throat.
“What so funny?”
He turned to his brother. “He understands.”
Julio then stared Malcolm down and pointed to the chimp they had put in the room earlier. It sat in the corner eating a banana.
“Wait. What are you doing? Why are you pointing at the chimp?”
“Watch and learn, little brother.” He darted his finger once more.
Malcolm looked at the chimp and then back at the brothers before taking long strides over to it, catching the primate by surprise. The chimp yelped and swung with both arms to escape Malcolm’s grasp. Within seconds, he had dislocated its neck. He continued to twist the head around and around until he ripped it right off.
Elan was speechless and immobile. He couldn’t believe he had witnessed such a horrific act. Seconds felt like minutes before he uttered a reaction. “Why did he do that?” He asked as he grabbed his brother by both arms and turned him his way.
Julio, on the other hand, had a large grin on his face. He shook his brother off of him and flipped on the speaker switch. “Did you enjoy that Malcolm? Did you find it exhilarating?”
Elan knocked Julio’s hand away from the switch. “Are you crazy?”
“No. I am in charge. Malcolm is following my orders. Don’t you understand? We have control over him.”
“He is not a toy. He is a human being.”
“He is what we want him to be. He may be stronger and much more intelligent than he was before, but don’t forget how addictive the drug is. If he wants more, he will listen.”
Both turned back toward the window. Malcolm walked around aimlessly, not in a controlled manner like he did before. He still held the
chimp’s head, dropping it only before taking a seat on the bed.
“What time is it?” Julio asked.
Elan checked his watch. “It’s a little past noon. Why?”
“He’s tiring. The drug appears to be wearing off.”
Elan looked at his notes. “We administered the dose at seven last night. That’s nearly eighteen hours.”
Julio gave his brother an encouraging pat on the back. “Let Malcolm rest until tomorrow. Give him food and water, but don’t disturb him otherwise.” Julio took one last look at their test subject. “Soon we’ll introduce him to Señor Zapata.”
Chapter 31
From the doorway, Elan watched Malcolm like a mother would her sleeping child. He lay quietly on the cot, deep in sleep. The subtle rise and fall of his chest was the only indication he was alive. He appeared content and comfortable. The effects of the drug had run their course, and his body, drained of energy, had returned to its original condition, that of a generally average twenty-two-year-old university student.
You see, Elan already knew how the drug affected an elderly man, one who was weak both physically and mentally. It had turned him into an uncontrollable beast—before it killed him. But what if the new and improved drug was given to a man who was young, healthy and intelligent? What would happen then?
He entered Malcolm’s room with trepidation, unsure of how the man would react now that the effects of the drug had worn off. To test his level of sleep, Elan carried a wooden chair over to the cot and dropped it onto the tile floor. The young man didn’t move, not even a slight flinch. He continued to sleep as if he hadn’t rested in days. He hadn’t.
Elan moved his fingertips around Malcolm’s wrist until he felt the light beating of a pulse and recorded his blood pressure. Then, he hooked Malcolm up to an electrocardiograph machine to measure the rate and regularity of his heartbeat. As it currently stood, he was unaware of any lingering effects of the drug on a subject’s heart.
Tenderloin (Abby Kane FBI Thriller) Page 10
