It was as if the universe conspired against her.
Infuriating, because the concept was so perfect. Forcing Hanover to burn his own feet would show his determination and his resignation to his fate, it would prevent him from coming after Lucy when K was dead, and it would be funny as hell to watch. All wins.
But for lack of a cord…
Maybe there was a way to do it without the grill. Heat up a piece of iron? They still had those iron boots that hot lead could be poured into.
She frowned at the idea. That lacked the delectable irony of Hanover torturing himself for what he thought was the greater good. There was something almost poetic about the hot plate idea. Cell coverage was sometimes spotty at La Juntita, but along with several Katie Glente books, Lucy had been able to download that Alfred Hitchcock story with the electric grill, The Agreement. She’d read it with slowly boiling excitement, grinning as it got worse and worse, and laughing at the twist ending that had been sooo perfect. Maybe she would read it to Hanover, after he’d cooked himself. A cherry on top of the pain sundae.
Lucy already planned to hit him with a one-two punch after K died. The first; that Luther had no idea who his wife and son were, so this had all been for nothing. The second; that Lucy was going to kill his family anyway.
That would be even funnier than watching him keep his feet on a burner for ten seconds. She basked in the absurdity of it. What kind of idiot would do something like that for their family?
Family, Lucy knew, was nothing more than a group of incompetent strangers that you were forced to live with. Love was bullshit. Caring was a way to manipulate others so you could get your way.
When she’d been young, Lucy thought that love was Daddy visiting her room at night, giving her toys in exchange for touching her.
That hadn’t been love. That had been abuse. Daddy had taught her that the strong should take advantage of the weak, and it was a lesson that Lucy had taken to heart.
Did Hanover do that to his child? Creep into his room at night with a toy truck or a stuffed bear and a jar of Vaseline, exchanging gifts for sick secrets?
Probably. All people were abusers. The American nuclear family was nothing more than a breeding ground for victimizers and their victims.
Lucy knew the truth, and anyone who said otherwise was a liar. No good came from caring about someone else. People hurt you when you were with them. And they continued to hurt you when they were gone.
Lucy would teach Mr. Hanover that lesson. Even if it took days.
But first, she needed to find a damn extension cord. It would have been so much easier if Hanover was in the playroom, which had plenty of electrical outlets.
Oh, snap.
Why didn’t I think of that earlier?
Put him in the playroom. Duh.
Lucy allowed herself to feel stupid for a few seconds, and then her mood brightened as she went to fetch some guards.
It was time for Hanover to prove how much he thought he loved his family.
JACK
When we met with Chandler’s contact fifty miles outside the Vizcaíno desert, practically everyone was asleep. Katie, both Herbs, Tequila and Fleming, Val. I’d had an insomnia problem for decades, and sleep was my constant enemy. Chandler seemed equally antsy, tapping her foot in spurts, flexing and stretching various body parts in some kind of isometric exercise.
McGlade stopped the RV when Chandler told him to, and then she put on some night vision goggles and hopped outside.
I stared through the open side-panel door, but all I could see was the black Mexican desert and a million billion stars in an equally black sky.
I heard faint conversation. A man with a Mexican accent. Then a slap.
I took out my gun, stepped out into the night. Noises, coming from the rear. Clanking, a rattling of chains.
“Chandler?” I whispered.
Chandler materialized out of the darkness like a magic trick.
“It’s okay. Heath is almost done hooking up the equipment to the trailer hitch.”
“Did he bring gas?” McGlade, from the front seat. “I’m on my reserve tank.”
“I have gas,” someone said, walking up to Chandler’s side. A man in his thirties, Latino, handsome, wearing fatigues and a black leather eyepatch. “Where on this giant American global warming abomination is the gas cap?”
“I’ll do it,” Harry said. “I need to drain the lizard.”
“I see a pig in the vehicle,” said the man I assumed was Heath. “Is there also a lizard?”
“Yeah, and it’s huge.” Harry climbed out and walked past. “Keep a safe distance away.”
Chandler folded her arms across her chest. “Jack, this is Heathcliff. Heath, Jack Daniels.”
He bowed, clasping my hand and gently touching his lips to my knuckles. “I am honored, and enchanted, to be in the presence of someone so lovely, yet so obviously competent.”
“If you have muck boots,” Chandler said, “now is a good time to put them on.”
I gave Heath a quick once-over. He had a stance, a bearing, that was recognizable. “You’re an operative. Like Chandler.”
“There is no one like Chandler,” Heath said. “Mi bonita is like the rare Cosmos atrosanguineus flower. Only one exists, and can only be replicated by clones.”
Chandler scowled. “I’m a septuplet. Not a clone.”
“Perhaps. But none of your sisters can compare to your passion and beauty.”
“You’re begging to get slapped again.”
Heath winked at me. “Her foreplay, it is rough. But it makes the coupling so much sweeter.”
Their flirting reminded me of my husband, so I climbed back in the RV to get away from it.
“Who’s here?” Val asked, opening her eyes.
“Pepé Le Pew,” I told her.
Chandler came inside, followed by Heath. He smiled at Val. “Chandler, please do me the kindness of introducing this lovely creature.”
Neither Chandler, nor Val, said anything.
“I see,” Heath said. “So sad for anger to exist between two such beauties. Is it jealously?”
I needed to diffuse this before someone got slugged. “Heath, this is Val. Val, Heath.”
Heath kissed Val’s hand, and Chandler made a big deal out of not noticing.
“Val, I can see by your lovely ring, you are engaged. Is this what causes your friction with Chandler? You have shared the same man?”
“Chandler and I have a history.”
“The problem,” Chandler said, “is that I live in this century, and Val lives in a little house on the prairie.”
“Having morals and values isn’t restricted to any given time period, Chandler.”
Heath shook his head, sadly. “Please, lovelies, no more bickering. This is all so snarled and complicated and telenovela. The only solution I see is to make love to you, Val, so we’re all on even footing.”
“Do I have any say in this?” Val asked.
“You do not. But I shall take extra care to put your needs before mine.”
“How often does his Don Juan act work?” Val asked Chandler.
“He overrates his abilities,” Chandler said. “About everything.”
“Bonita, tell me you are not still sore about that tiny little incident in Abidjan.”
“We’re surrounded by gunman,” Chandler jerked her thumb at Heath, “and Lothario here takes off running.”
Heath appeared surprised. “That was my staunch, unrepentant feminist streak, mi amor. I knew a woman as capable as yourself would find your way out of that situation, and did not need a man to rescue you.”
“You were supposed to cover our six, and you fled like un conejo asustado.”
“Untrue. I did not flee like a frightened rabbit.” He puffed out his chest. “I fled like a proud, determined jaguar, who used his large brain to realize he was very outnumbered.” Heath shrugged. “I was simply following my training. Make sure you are safe before you attempt to save others
. You remember that lesson. Besides, you survived.”
“I was shot twice.”
“And who was there to share his compression bandages with you?”
“I took them from your pack after I broke your nose.”
“Not true!” Heath turned to Val. “My nose was bleeding, but was not broken. Much to the relief of muchachas everywhere.”
“I think I like your boyfriend,” Val said.
“Help yourself. Just don’t count on him when the shit goes down.”
“Isn’t that what we’re doing now?” I asked. “Counting on him if the shit goes down?”
“I am only being paid today to provide the explosives,” Heath said. “Not for my mercenary abilities.”
“What are the explosives for?” I asked, feeling very out of the loop.
“For the good of humanity,” Chandler said. “Even if we get your husband out of that place, they’ll keep bringing people back. La Juntita has to be closed, permanently.”
“And how much do these explosives cost?” I asked.
“Chandler has already arranged for payment,” Heath said.
“How much?”
“For the explosives and other equipment?” Heath held up one finger.
“One thousand?” I turned to Chandler. “Let me cover that.”
“One hundred thousand,” Chandler said.
“You guys are kidding.” I looked around, but no one was grinning. “Right?”
“Explosives cost money, and I brought a lot with me. Plus vests and assorted gear. But I am not making a dime off of this illegal munitions transaction. This only covers my expenses. There are dealers to pay. Officials to bribe. Transportation fees.”
“How much would it cost to have you help us?” I asked.
Heath laughed. “How much to go on this suicide mission? Are you an honest police officer, may I ask?”
“Yes.”
“Then you cannot afford me. But bonita…” he stared at Chandler and winked. “I would provide the equipment, and my services, for just two hours in the bedroom with you.”
“I’ll give you forty minutes in the shitter,” Chandler said.
“One hour.”
“Forty-five minutes.”
“This hardly seems fair, since you enjoy it just as much as I do.”
She glanced at his lap. “I’m not the one trying to hide his hard-on.”
“Fifty minutes. My refractory time is not what it once was.”
“No butt stuff.”
“Deal.”
A partially hunched-over Heath stood up and led Chandler into the bathroom.
“I’m beginning to feel really undersexed,” Val said.
“You can come up to the cockpit,” McGlade said, climbing in through the side door. “I’ll show you why it’s called a cockpit.”
“How about right here?” Val said. “Right in front of everyone?”
McGlade’s face lit up, then sunk when he realized she was teasing. “You’re mean. We’re going on some crazy Dirty Dozen suicide mission, and everyone is getting laid in my motorhome but me.” He pointed to the bathroom. “They’ve got the right idea. Validating life with sex, before going into battle. But rather than consider that I might actually be a human being with real needs, you belittle me, make fun of me, and remind me that I don’t have a significant other like both of you do. That I’m just a sad, lonely, unloved fool.”
Wow. Where’d that come from?
Val blinked. “Jeez, Harry. I’m sorry. That was insensitive. You’re actually a pretty decent guy, and in your own way you’re also, dare I say, a little charismatic.”
“Really?” he said.
Val nodded. Harry looked at me.
“I guess a woman could do worse,” I said truthfully.
“Lots of terrible men in the world,” Val said. “You’re probably in the top fifty percent.”
“Wow. If I knew I actually had a shot, I wouldn’t have jerked off when I was outside. But I guess I could pop some Viagra and throw you one if you give me about ten minutes. Would you mind wearing a red clown nose?”
Val politely refused his offer, and Harry went back to the driver’s seat.
Herb opened his eyes. “Did I miss anything?”
I ticked off my fingers. “The explosives are here, make love before war, and cherish your partner because some people don’t have one.”
He smiled. “Then you should be extra grateful, Jack. You’ve got three partners. Phin is your husband, you’re in business with McGlade, and you and I will always have one another’s back.”
“Count me as a fourth partner,” Val said. “Everyone in this motorhome is here for you, Jack.”
That didn’t make me feel good. It made me feel quite the opposite. Here was a group of people willing to lay down their lives for me.
And I was a self-interested Judas goat, leading them all to the slaughter.
PHIN
He wasn’t making any headway with the handcuffs other than rubbing more skin off his wrists, but it didn’t matter because Lucy and four guards marched him back into the playroom, and once again chained him to the rack, giving it enough of a crank to make Phin’s broken ribs wake up.
“What about that handcuff key and that stashed knife?” he asked.
“We have time,” Lucy told him. “The hot plate, first. Be right back.”
JACK
We’ve got an hour before dawn.” Chandler pointed at her tablet. “Everyone maintain radio silence unless it’s essential. We’re approaching from the north, through the minefield. Jack and Herb, use your metal detectors. Don’t step anywhere until you clear it first. Heath, Tequila, and I will be behind you with the wheelbarrows. Heath and I are going to set up explosives at key points around the two main structures. We’ll each have a radio detonator, but all of the blasting caps will be wired together, and we only have one receiver, which we’re going to place here, at the eastside base of the arena. Everyone is armed?”
I had my Colt, and an extra Glock. Val and Herb had my other Glocks, and Herb had the Mossberg shotgun. Harry, Katie, Chandler, Fleming, Heath, and Tequila had whatever they brought with. We all had Kevlar vests and helmets, compasses, and binoculars. It felt like we were going to war.
Which, I suppose, we were.
“Fleming, there’s a ridge here, a hundred and ten meters to the south. You’ll provide cover from there. Can you make it?”
Fleming patted her armrest. “Mecanum wheels and two horsepower. This chair can handle any terrain.”
“Val, that leaves you here in the RV. Your best vantage point is the roof. Will that be a problem?”
“I’ll manage.”
“Jack, Harry, Herb, you’re breaching the mission building. Doors here, here, and here. Most of the guards will be asleep, and we don’t want to wake them, or any servants. Tequila, as soon as we pass the minefield, you’re on your own. You have the printout?”
He nodded.
“What can I do?” Katie asked.
“Stick with Jack and follow her orders. To the letter. If you take one misstep… Fleming, what’s your longest confirmed kill?”
“One point eight kilometers,” Fleming shouldered the H&K rifle. “From the ridge to the arena is easier than shooting turds while sitting on the toilet.”
“I won’t take any missteps,” Katie said.
“We have four mission objectives. Find Phin. Free the prisoners. Find Kite. Blow the place.”
“You don’t blow it until I give the signal,” I told Chandler. “You said there are more than only guards inside. There are servants. They should have a chance to get away.”
Chandler nodded. “You make the call. But you will make the call. That hellhole is going bye-bye, and I’m the one who paid for this operation.”
Heath tapped his chest. “Bonita, you hurt me in mi corazón.”
“Okay, people, outside. Com and starlight checks.”
As they began to head for the exit, I said, “Wait.”
“I’m not one for speeches,” I said. Then I locked eyes with each of them in turn.
Fleming wasn’t exactly a friend, but she was a damn fine person to know. More compassionate than Chandler. More competent than I’d ever be, even in that wheelchair.
Heath, who I’d only just met, but was putting his ass on the line.
Chandler, who I’d traded so man professional favors with that maybe we actually were friends. I was so lucky to have her on my side.
The same with Tequila. The guy was impenetrable, but we’d gone through a lot together, and his loyalty was unwavering.
Val, the younger sister I’d never had. Coming to help even as she battled her own demons.
And my brothers, Herb and Harry. I didn’t know what I’d done to deserve them. In McGlade’s case, I’d probably done something bad. But they were as much a part of my family as Phin and Sam, and once again they were risking their lives for me.
What do you say to that?
“And I’m not one for sentiment,” I continued. “But thank you. All of you. I know the sacrifice you’re making. And I won’t ever forget it.”
No one said anything. Then Harry spoke up.
“Jack’s right. She sucks at speeches. But to anyone who gets out of this alive, drinks are on me.”
The joke hung there like a crooked painting.
McGlade took another swing at it. “Wow, cheer up, people. Chances are the majority of us will probably survive.”
Again, no one laughed.
“I was in a gay relationship once,” he said, “but I got hurt in the end.”
Silence.
“Damn,” Harry said. “Tough crowd.”
People filed out of the motorhome, McGlade last. He gave Herb Bacondict a pat on the head. “You’re sitting this one out, buddy. My pets never seem to make it through these things.”
Herb pissed all over the floor. McGlade closed the side door and said to me, “Don’t tell him, but as soon as we get back to Chicago, it’s straight to the butcher.”
Last Call - A Thriller (Jacqueline Jack Daniels Mysteries Book 10) Page 22
