Redemption

by Dufour, Danny

  “We’ve been in the game a while.”

  “For big players?”

  “The Capignolli family, nearly ten years.”

  “I see. The mafia.”

  “Yes.”

  “But you’re not Italian?”

  “No.”

  “So you must be very good. What do you do exactly?”

  “We run product from Canada to the US.”

  “Risky, isn’t it?”

  “Very. We’ve only been caught once. Arthur and I did a prison stint in Canada.”

  “Those pigs.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Big loads?”

  “About five hundred kilos per load. Sometimes we move money… four million per trip, three times.”

  “That’s a lot of pressure! And your profits?”

  “Fifty thou for every successful trip.”

  “Not bad, not bad. Colombian?”

  “No, Venezuelan. The Capignolli’s had a contact down there and they got their kilos for dirt cheap.”

  “Impressive, but why, if you were as good as you say, are they after you? You know, Rick, in my mind, when a guy runs away from his old employers, it’s probably because he tried to fuck them. Ain’t that the truth?”

  “No.”

  “So Léa was lying when she said you were on the lam?”

  “Yeah, we ran, but not from the Italians. I killed a cop.”

  Silence clamped down on them. Ed didn’t say a word, but his eyes widened as though he wasn’t sure he’d heard right.

  “Are you kidding?”

  “No, a mole blew the lid off the network, and the DEA caught up with us while we were transporting from Montreal to Chicago. They tried to ambush us in Chicago while we unloaded the merchandise. With what we were carrying, we would have been sentenced to years in the slammer. So a shootout erupted, I fired and ran with Arthur. ”

  Ed was speechless for several seconds. Then his face suddenly softened. He burst out laughing, loudly, as though he’d just heard the funniest thing ever.

  “Shit! You took down a DEA… and now you have the feds on your ass?”

  “Exactly.”

  “Christ almighty, Rick, you are my idol. Not content with just any old cop, were you?”

  “Yes, and now we’re thinking we’re not going back for a while.”

  “Those fucking cops are ravenous, and especially the DEA. They tried to corner me a few years ago in El Paso, but they had nothing on me. They had to let me go. Idiots. Well, I drink to your exploits, Rick,” he said, and they raised their tequila glasses together.

  “You heard that, Bobby? These guys are incredible, eh?”

  “You bet. Around here, if they find out, you’re gonna be fuckin’ heroes,” he agreed, shaking their hands. “I’m Bobby, by the way. Sorry about before, but you know how it is.”

  “Eh, no problem, Bobby,” said Guerra.

  The other henchman in the cowboy hat, who had stayed silent from the beginning, smiled for the first time and shook their hands.

  “You think they’re ok, Bobby?” asked Ed.

  “Yeah… they look like two fucking bastards and they seem to have nerve. I like ‘em!”

  “I agree. I like them too! You seem to know the business and you have cojones. I was going to kill you at first, but I’ve changed my mind. I’m having a little party with my men tonight, would you care to join us?”

  “Of course,” said Namara with a smile.

  “In that case, welcome to San Matanza!”

  Ed rose from his chair to shake Namara’s hand. He finally saw the tattoos on Eduardo’s arms that had led them to him. Eduardo told them to meet at the bar at nightfall, after which they would all leave together.

  Danny and James found a dozen men waiting for them, all wearing cowboy hats. Ed waved them over when they walked through the door. The place was practically empty at this hour.

  “Welcome, my American compadres! This is the rest of us. And these are the two gringos I was telling you about, Rick and Arthur!”

  The group was made up entirely of Mexicans and Guatemalans, each of whom seemed more corrupted than the other. Some were marked with several tattoos and they seemed to have a particular taste for Ranchero aesthetics. They saluted Namara and Guerra with their hats. One of the men called out in a hoarse voice, “Which one of them killed the cop?”

  “That one,” said Ed with a smile, pointing to Namara.

  “Great work,” said the man with a snigger.

  “Thanks.”

  Ming Mei, already at the bar, walked across the floor to talk to Namara while the others watched in silence.

  “You coming?” asked Ming Mei to Namara.

  “No, go on without me, I’m going with Ed. I’ll be back late. Don’t wait up.”

  “What!? What do you mean you’re not coming? You promised you’d take me out tonight!”

  “Yeah, I know, but Ed’s having a party tonight. We’ll go another time.”

  “No, it’s not fair! You do this every time! What makes you think I’d want to go out with you again!?”

  “So we won’t, it’s simple. Do what you want,” said Namara, uninterested.

  “You never listen to a word I say! You don’t care at all!” she screamed.

  Then Namara punched her, right in the face. She fell backwards, knocking over a table, landing on the filthy ground. She wasn’t moving, stunned by the hit she’d taken. Namara paced toward her.

  “Don’t ever talk to me like that in front of anyone, you hear me, you fucking bitch?”

  Ming Mai sat silently on the ground, holding her bloody nose.

  “The next time you dare to talk back, I may not be so nice. Now fuck off. Get out of my sight.”

  Ming Mei’s face and shirt was covered in blood. Namara had planned the scene out with Ming Mei, and she’d agreed to take the hit. The intention was to convince Ed that he was as pitiless as any of them. He wanted to dispel any doubts as to his capacity for cruelness. He knew that the scene could be a determining factor in the coming events. He hadn’t broken her nose, but it seemed to be bleeding a lot. Apparently, the scene had worked, because Guerra was staring at Namara like he’d never seen him before. As for Ed, he was nearly doubled over with laughter as Ming Mei disappeared behind the bar. The other men laughed too, to see the fury in Namara’s face. Ed approached him and clapped him on the shoulder reassuringly.

  “You did well, to not let that bitch push you around. You’re one hell of a badass, you weren’t lying. I think she’s learned her lesson.”

  “Dumb skank. I don’t know why I keep her around.”

  “I feel you, but don’t worry about it. Tonight, we’re partying. Come on, let’s go!”

  CHAPTER 55

  The spirited group had piled into three trucks and set out for the desert, leaving the city behind. They drove in single-file, leaving a huge trail of dust behind them. Namara and Guerra were in the back of one of the trucks, clutching the side so they wouldn’t fall out. After several kilometres of being bounced around, they left the road and plunged into the desert itself.

  They parked in a semi-circle and cut the engines. Silence fell. They were in the middle of nowhere, the middle of the night. No matter where he looked, Namara saw nothing but darkness. Eduardo’s men let the headlights glow so they could see what they were doing as they built a huge wood fire together. The fire crackled merrily as the flames grew, an orange inferno against the dark sky. Ed switched on a truck radio and western Mexican music drifted out. It was apparently a popular song; the men exclaimed their approval.

  “What’s this?” asked Guerra.

  “Narcocorrido! ‘Narco-music’. Traffickers record music…”

  “I didn’t know the traffickers here were artists too?”

  “Great artists, some of them. They’re financed by cartels. They sing about our lifestyle. It’s good recruiting material, very popular among the young ones.”

  “Like they say, you can’t stop progress,” said G
uerra.

  “Exactly.”

  “The police allow it?”

  “What police? The police belong to the cartels. The only real power in Mexico is the drug!”

  “Pity the US doesn’t think the same way.”

  “Mexico’s a promised land for traffickers. Any man who wants to can make money. Anything’s allowed for intelligent types. Time to eat, here, try it!”

  Bobby held out a steaming plate of rice, roast meat, and black beans, topped with a tortilla. The tequila flowed freely with the music. The men ate. This could be kinda fun, under other circumstances. Namara dug into his plate. Suddenly, a rattling sound distracted them from their food. Bobby pulled out a machete and whispered, “Don’t move, there’s a viper somewhere!”

  Suddenly, he slashed the ground and separated the snake’s head from its body. He threw the dead reptile into the fire, where it burned gently on the crackling logs, and returned to his plate.

  “You know, Rick… this place is paradise for a man looking for riches. I believe I understand that you’re here to do just that, aren’t you?” asked Ed.

  “It’s true. Like you said, the drug is the only power here, and I’m a trafficker… so there!” said Namara, taking a shot of tequila.

  “Yes, the drug is the power. There’s a war raging between the different cartels for the control of it. For years, business has been becoming more difficult than ever, and riskier. I’m almost died a hundred times. The dealers and distributers like us are making less and less profit, so we must be greedier, which means taking more risks.”

  “Is that why you opened a bar?” asked Namara with false-ignorance.

  “Yeah, for the most part. Like I said, this place is full of opportunity!”

  “You mean pimping?”

  “Sort of. You know, all the young traffickers are looking to conquer the territory to make profit with drugs. They have a money mill right in front of their faces and they just don’t see it. Less risk too, than with drugs.”

  “Women,” retorted Namara.

  “Exactly! Women. They’re everywhere here, and they bring more money than you could hope for.”

  “Yes, for a bar owner like yourself, you have a great pool of girls to chose from, I take it.”

  The fire reflected in Ed’s black eyes and the other men’s ears pearked up to listen in on the conversation.

  “I saw what you got today with Léa. I admire your strength, to have corrected her without hesitation. I still have a few doubts as to your ability to do a certain work we all do. You know, you need a particular state of mind to exploit the market as we have. All the men here as well as I have one thing in common. Maybe you have it too…”

  “What exactly do you mean?”

  “What do you know about what’s happening with San Matanza and its women?”

  “Nothing in particular. Arthur and I aren’t exactly the newspaper-reading type. What should we know?”

  “Women and children have been disappearing here for years, and nobody has found any suspects. Some were found raped and murdered, so say the newspapers.”

  “I wasn’t aware. Are you in on it?”

  Ed grinned and stared into the fire for a few seconds. Then, his black eyes turned on them afresh.

  “Maybe... does it bother you?”

  “I’m a businessman. Is it profitable?”

  “Of course! You see, the people here have been on edge since we began our business. We need to watch who we talk to, and pay attention to people who would take us out. Up until now, nobody’s succeeded in spreading anything but confusion because we’ve been cautious. But you, you came far, you’re not from here, and you’re not up to date with the current situation, at least until now. Nobody would suspect you, and more than that, you’re guaranteed to be trustworthy – no risk of you being a family member trying to get revenge or expose us. We need help, because there aren’t many of us, and the demand only grows. The only problem is that we can’t trust anyone. We’re a little trapped. Shall I go on?”

  “Of course! If it makes us money, we’re on board,” said Guerra.

  “Ok, but I don’t want your conscience to put us at risk…”

  “Please. They’re only bitches,” retorted Namara.

  “That’s what I want to hear! They’re a source of revenue and amusement. Of course, some don’t share our view.”

  “I’m not one of them,” said Namara.

  “Good... good.”

  “How many women have you done in? What did you do with them?”

  “Hundreds, I would say, but you know… look around you… There’s as many as you would want. And the demand grows.”

  “Aren’t the police after you?”

  Ed laughed again.

  “We know who to talk to so that the police close their eyes, you know. Money is an excellent means of persuasion. It’s all in the way you see things. We have contacts and eyes everywhere.”

  “It’s interesting, but to what end?”

  “Why? You want to join us?”

  “Why? Is that an offer?”

  “Maybe!” said Ed with a smile.

  “If it is, maybe we would say ‘yes’.”

  Ed glanced at his men, and then looked down in reflection.

  “Very well. Here’s how it works. We go in groups of three. We track them in a car. There’s the driver, the one that does the grab, and another for backup. They’re all dirt poor. Nobody does anything to search for them, and their families don’t have the means to do their own research or investigation. The desert plains are the best place to hide and plenty of girls walk home from their jobs late at night. So, every girl takes about five to ten thousand dollars. She has to be young and pretty. The younger she is, the easier to grab. For the kids, twenty thousand each. And we pay ourselves well. We profit from our work ourselves. It happens that we save certain girls for our own amusement. We’d be crazy not to, if you see what I’m saying,” he said with a diabolical grin.

  “Of course!” said Namara, trying to mimic Ed’s grin.

  “We’re a united group with our own rules and beliefs. We do the work of the Devil himself. We disseminate his power and get rich off it. We’ve reigned over San Matanza for a decade. They all fear us. We are their worst fears and while they tremble, we have free will to live out our wildest fantasies!”

  “Wait, you’re Satanists?”

  “The best there are.”

  “When you say demand is growing, what do you mean?”

  “The business went far, Rick. The network stretches through all levels of society and we have clients everywhere! We’re the gods who procure the merchandise, but it goes much, much higher than us.”

  “How does the network function?”

  “For us, it’s easy. The girls we kidnap are well guarded in a building we built for this purpose. Most of our girls are sent to the other side of the American border and taken into the charge of Father Gregor. He pays us what he owes and he, on his own side, resells them to rich Americans that want to live out their most sadistic fantasies, I imagine. The kids are sent south of San Matanza. Our work stops there!”

  “Where do you keep them?”

  Ed smiled and winked. “It’s a secret. I have to keep some secrets from you. In time, my friend…”

  “I look forward to it. So when do we start?”

  “When the time is right. We’re ritualists. We take into account certain elements before hunting down prey. Maybe you’d find it silly, but we have our beliefs, and they’re very important.”

  “There’s no problem when there’s money.”

  “Don’t worry about money, brother! You’re going to have more than you’d ever dreamed of!”

  “We’re with you!” whopped Guerra.

  “Wonderful. A toast: welcome to our brotherhood!” said Ed.

  “Got the tequila right here,” said Guerra with the bottle in his hand.

  “Not tequila this time.”

  Eduardo pulled a bottle of absinthe an
d poured two glasses. The liquid shone turquoise. He held out a glass to each of them.

  “It’s beautiful,” said Guerra of the colour.

  “It’s the symbol of God’s creation. The full glass is our universe, our Earth.”

  “Cute,” said Namara, getting ready to drink.

  “No, wait! It’s missing one small detail.”

  Ed drew a dagger and signed to them both to extend their hands. With a slash, he made two surface wounds into their hand. He squeezed a few drops into their glasses. Purple overtook the turquoise. He squeezed until the colour satisfied him.

  “That’s better. Purple is our colour. With our contribution – our blood – we help to shape the world as we wish it to spread the forces of darkness. Now, drink!”

  Guerra and Namara took a hesitant gulp from the little glasses.

  “Welcome within the Devils of the Desert, my brothers!” said Ed grandly. The other men whistled and clapped.

  CHAPTER 56

  South Beach, Miami, USA.

  “Kamilia, this places is incredible,” breathed Ming Mei as she took in the extravagance behind the doors of their nightclub.

  “Thanks. I’m quite pleased with the result, but it’s still empty. Tonight, it’ll be packed, completely different ambiance. How was your flight?”

  “Perfectly fine. It feels good to be back in civilization. I’m done with Mexican sand,” grumbled Guerra, who had come in from a run along the beach. His shorts and shirt gave him a completely different air than usual.

  “Tonight’s going to do us good, clear our heads,” said Namara, who had returned from Mexico several hours ago, and who was sitting at a table on the ground floor next to the huge dance floor where hundreds of people would stand in a few hours.

  Shinsaku commented on the miniature trees along the walls and the floor-to-ceiling white drapes that undulated in the air currents, giving the whole space a surreal vibe.

  “I’m glad you like it, Shinsaku. The rounded doors with the drapes and trees are zen-inspired, but you’ll get the full effect tonight with the lighting,” she replied, pleased.