“Why would you want him gone?”
“I would think that's obvious to you,” Emilio moaned. “He's a problem for me. The kid is too smart and too loyal to my brother. I needed to get rid of anyone who might stand in my way.”
“Don't you think your brother might stand in your way?” Julio asked. “Why kill the priest?”
“That's one of the reasons I had the priest done away with.” Emilio choked out the words. He couldn't believe he was telling Julio all of this but he had no other way. Maybe this man would let him go free, if he told him everything he wanted. “The priest, he's been making problems for us. You know about that. He's had an effect on anyone in this business transporting from Latin America.”
Julio nodded. “Exactly.” He smiled.
“I needed to get rid of him for that reason. I also knew to cause a rift between the two Patróns so that things would start to break down. My brother would feel the pressure, especially without his keeper.”
“Javier?”
“Yes.”
“How did you kill the priest and frame the kid?”
“You said you knew the answer to that. You talked to the bodyguard.”
“I need to hear it from you.”
Emilio shook his head. He couldn't take anymore. The henchman inched the machete further into his pecker. “I paid him a lot of money.”
“Did you pay extra for the Colombian necktie?”
Emilio could no longer look at Julio. He simply nodded.
“Thank you for being so honest, Emilio. We have one more thing to discuss.”
Emilio closed his eyes again, dizzy and disillusioned.
Julio took a photograph from his jacket pocket and held it in front of Emilio's tear-stained eyes. “Do you recognize this woman? You ought to. She's your brother's wife, the one you got pregnant and then rid yourself of when she interfered with your plans. Remember?” Emilio's muffled cries were his only answer. “The man with his arm around her shoulder in the picture is me, of course. You thought she died when that whorehouse your boys put her into went up in smoke, didn't you? Well, sorry to say for you, hombre, that Lydia is very much alive. She's back in Calí, at our place, waiting for me. She's glad to be with a man who treats her right for a change — someone who won't force an abortion on her, like you did. Someone who won't sell her as a prostitute, like you did. Someone who won't rape her small daughter over and over again, like you did.”
Emilio's opened his eyes wide.
“Yes, we know all about that, too.” Julio snapped his fingers once. Another man came forward and pinned Emilio to the ground, not that he could go anywhere, Julio liked seeing this maggot squirm and the fear in his eyes. “Oh, and I lied. You won't live, and my friends will not be nice about the way you die. Instead of a Colombian necktie like you had inflicted upon my dear friend Father Diaz, my friends are going to sever what you have considered your manhood, and instead of choking on your tongue as my friend suffered, you will have to choke on what has seemed to mean the most to you throughout the years.”
“You bastard!” Emilio screamed.
“That's right, I am a bastard,” Julio answered him calmly and stood.
“Fuck you!”
“Finish him off,” Julio ordered and headed for the door of the shack. “Enjoy hell, Emilio.” As Julio opened the door he heard Emilio's screams that only a moment later were muffled as Julio got on the plane and headed back to Calí to tell Lydia she was free to go home.
CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE
ANTONIO NEEDED REST BEFORE ALEJANDRO ARRIVED. He'd received word that the boy had been released from the prison in Mexico City in the middle of the night and had been transported to a private landing strip. There, Antonio's jet waited to take him back to Colombia. Antonio fretted all night that something could go wrong with the transport, but now, knowing that his son was out of prison and in the air, he felt better.
He wasn't sure how long, moments or hours, before he was awakened by a noise coming from the cracked open French doors in his room. He rubbed his eyes and tried to focus on what looked to be the silhouette of a woman outside his door. He reached for his glasses on the nightstand. Putting them on, he could see that there was a woman standing at the door, with the light of dusk streaming around her form, making her appear ghostly, her dress billowing in the breeze.
“Who's there?” he asked, hearing his own voice tremble. There was no answer. Something about the apparition, the woman, whatever it was, was frightening and yet there was also something very familiar about her. When she didn't respond, he got up to see for himself. He walked toward the door, trepidation in his step. His hand stretched out, still shaking. What was it about this figure? Was he dreaming? It didn't feel like a dream. He was walking and feeling and his mind was spinning. He asked again, “Who are you? What do you want? I demand to know.”
Reaching the door and putting his hand out to turn the handle and further open the door, the figure simultaneously placed her hand on the doorknob opposite him. Antonio pulled his hand back as if it had been scalded. He took a step back and as the figure eased the door open, he took yet another step back his eyes widening with recognition. He shook his head and blinked several times. “I, I, Lyd, Lyd, Lydia?” he stammered in a whisper, not sure himself if her name escaped his lips. “Oh my God.”
She reached out and touched him on the chest, her hand warm, tears in her eyes. He had to still be sleeping. This was a dream. Had to be a dream.
Lydia took her hand from his chest and stroked his cheek.
“No. How? I don't understand. Is it you? Who are you? What is this? A joke?”
“No, Antonio.” She finally spoke.
Antonio felt his mouth drop wide open. It was her voice, and her touch and her eyes and her body. My God, this was his wife, the woman he thought dead for over a dozen years. He brought his hand to her hair and touched the end strands — like silk, still. He stepped back again and brought both his hands over his eyes and shook his head. “How? Why? Where?”
“There is so much to say. I assure you, it is me, and I am alive. Please sit down.”
He did as she instructed and nearly fell back into the chair in what had once been their suite. She sat opposite him and took his hands in hers. His still shook. Hers were so warm and so alive.
“It is you! Isn't it?” he cried.
“Yes.” She nodded. Together they sat for several minutes before either one could say another word, both of them in tears and so wrapped in emotion and confusion that no words could be found.
Antonio's heart raced when Lydia spoke again. “I need to tell you everything. Please listen and wait until I'm finished to say anything. I know that you have and will have many questions, but I believe when you hear what I have to say, many of them will be answered.” She wiped away the tears running down his face, kissed him on the forehead. Her lips were tender and soft. She again took both his hands in hers and relayed to him the horror and the pain and even the peace she'd found during the past decade. She told him of the betrayal with Emilio and the knowledge that she had in regard to Marta and his son — and how that pain had caused her to seek solace in his brother's arms, and because of that betrayal she'd wound up nearly dead, addicted for a time to heroin and prostituted out. She told of the nuns, their kindness and how the meeting and mentoring of Father Miguel led her out of despair and rekindled the need in her to seek out her old life and make peace with her past and wreak vengeance on those who'd dealt her the cruel blows. Lydia explained to him that for years she'd believed Antonio to be the mastermind behind her “death,” and the events that precipitated from it, and how, because of her beliefs, she'd feared ever coming home and being a part of her daughters' lives. She'd feared him. But, in the arms of Julio, and through his resources she'd discovered the truth: that Emilio had done this to her and her family.
Antonio sat, stunned, and let her speak for nearly an hour. There were still some pieces missing when she was through. Antonio's emotions ranged from fear, to hatred, s
adness, anger, pity and finally to love. He couldn't believe she had endured all that she had, thinking that he had done this to her. He didn't respond, only listened and surprising himself, he actually understood his wife better at that moment than he ever had. It wasn't rage he felt toward her. Too many years had passed and he could recognize his own wrongdoings, and his part in what had happened to her.
“My God, Lydia, if I had only known.” He withdrew his hands from inside hers and took her hands in his. “I never meant to hurt you so. If I'd only known,” he sobbed. “If I thought you were alive, I would have looked, I would have found you.”
“I know. I know that now.”
“Can you, will you forgive me?”
“I already have, Antonio.”
He leaned in and kissed her cheek. Pulling away, the anger came rushing back as the implications of his brother's deceit hit him. “I will kill Emilio for this. I will cut his goddamn heart out.”
“No. There is no need.”
“What? What do you mean? Of course there is. He betrayed, me, you, this family, his nieces.”
“Yes. However, I have taken care of Emilio.”
Antonio didn't respond. He had no idea what she meant. He watched as she took a tape recorder out of the bag she carried. “You need to hear this.” First she played Rosa's confession to the therapist. Together, they listened in silence. Then they both wept.
“Oh, God, no, no, no,” Antonio bellowed. “How could I never even suspect he was this monster? How could I not protect my child or you? Oh, dear God.” Antonio's body trembled and with wracking sobs he fell back in the chair. After a moment he looked at Lydia again. “I don't know why you ask me to spare him, but I will break that evil bastard in two. I will destroy him.” He stood and paced the floor.
“No, I told you that you won't need to.” He stopped and stared at her, crazed by what he'd already heard. He watched as Lydia put another tape in. It was one that Julio had given to her after Emilio and Hector's execution. Julio's words and those on the tape had been difficult to hear, but she knew they were necessary.
“I knew you'd need some proof,” Julio had told Lydia. He'd reached out, touching her shoulder. “I'm the wrong man for you. We both know that. You go home. You go back to your family.”
“What about your investigation?” Lydia had asked him, afraid of what would happen to Antonio.
“I have to tell you something, Lydia. I've been a DEA agent for the government in the States up until now. But since the work has become so dangerous lately, I've also been working for the Italian Mafia. They paid me all the money I made from stealing Emilio's last drug shipment, in order to make sure I had Emilio killed. They were afraid his rogue operation would interfere with their own drug trade. It worked well for me. I was able to seek revenge for Father Miguel, who I know we both loved, and I killed the man who stole your life from you. My work is complete here in Colombia and in Mexico. Now I've made enough to retire on. But I must change my name and my identity, because the DEA will be very angry that I had Emilio killed, instead of bringing him in as a witness against Antonio and Javier, and the Italian mafia will look for me, too. I know too much about too many governments and too many criminals. They're all the same though, aren't they?” He'd laughed and then turned somber again. “I'll have to live my life on the run from now on, even have plastic surgery to alter my features enough to escape from all of them and even then I will have to always be looking behind me. As much as I love you, and God, you know that I do,” he said, stroking her face, “I know that kind of life wouldn't be any good for you. You've lived it long enough. Go home. Don't worry about me or the DEA. Your husband is a mastermind. It wouldn't matter how many years they pursued him, he'll always find some way out.”
“Emilio is dead, isn't he?” Antonio asked her after the tape played out. “They didn't spare him.”
“He's dead.”
Antonio felt nothing for his brother. Nothing at all. He embraced Lydia. “I am so sorry you suffered so.”
“I want to see my daughters.”
“Of course. I do think they'll need to be prepared.”
“I understand. When?”
“Tomorrow. Come here at noon.”
“All right. I'll be staying at Las Brillas.”
“May I keep the tape?”
“Yes.”
Antonio saw Lydia out the door, and had a car brought around for her. No one noticed her leaving. He was still in shock over the story she'd told and the tapes he'd heard. His emotions were a mixed brew. But one thing he knew for sure as he fingered the tape, his son would soon be free of any questions that others had regarding his innocence.
*****
ALEX LOOKED AT ANTONIO, SEATED ACROSS FROM HIM IN the office. Everything in the room was dark, from mahogany desks and wall panels, to the plush burgundy sofa next to the bookshelves. Alex watched his mentor, who looked drawn and older than he had only a few days before when he'd come to see him in prison.
“Are you feeling all right?” Alex asked him.
“Yes, of course. I've received some surprising news, that's all,” Antonio replied.
“What kind of news?”
“We'll talk about it later. Right now we have guests.”
Antonio stood up as Javier, Bella, and Pedro were ushered into the room. Pedro glanced anxiously at all of them, his hands in his slack's pockets. Bella looked at Alex, but he couldn't get a sense of what she was feeling. Her face showed nothing and when his eyes caught hers and tried to hold them in a gaze she looked away. Alex wondered if she doubted his innocence.
“Sit down, please,” Antonio said.
“I don't understand why we're here,” Javier replied. “I definitely don't understand why you got him out of prison.” He pointed at Alex. “He murdered my stepson and he's made us a family divided. I can't see how we can go on as partners or think of each other as family any longer after this fiasco. I'm not willing to throw my political career away because of his insane criminal act.”
“Please, sit down,” Antonio ordered, his voice stern.
Bella in her chair looked away from the other four seated around the desk.
“This young man you are so ready to condemn was indeed set up.”
“I can't believe that. The proof against him is too strong,” Javier said. “My daughter saw him standing over Miguel with her own eyes, his bloodied knife in his hands.”
“I think you'll change your mind after you hear this.” Antonio pulled a tape recorder out of a desk drawer and placed it on top of the desk. He turned it on.
“Who killed Father Miguel?” a man's voice asked. “Who set up Alejandro Peña?”
A gasp and moan rang out over the recorder and then they heard Emilio's voice answering. “It was me, and Pedro Torres.”
“Who is Pedro Torres?”
“He's a man who works for us. For Antonio and Javier.”
Antonio turned the tape off.
“That's a lie,” Pedro screamed. “He's lying. Where is that bastard? Where is Emilio?” He stood and paced the floor, perspiration beading around his hairline.
“Where Emilio is, is none of your concern. Sit down,” Antonio ordered.
Antonio turned the tape back on and played out the section in regard to why Pedro wanted Alejandro out of the way and what Emilio's motives were.
“Is that true, Pedro?” Bella asked.
“Of course not,” Pedro replied.
It was Javier who spoke next, his voice gravely and low. “I accepted you as my son. I loved you, trusted you. Now I'm asking you to leave.”
“He was ruining you anyway,” Pedro shouted. “Miguel Diaz was defaming you. Emilio and I did you a favor.” Pedro placed his hands in his face and when he looked back up he had turned red. “Listen to me, this boy…” He pointed at Alex. “He is going to ruin this family. I was doing it for the family and for you, Bella.” He knelt down next to her.
She slapped him hard across the face. “For me?”
> Pedro brought his hand up to his face. “For you. He is a lowly street thug. He is not worthy of your presence, and he will never fit into this family.”
Bella shook her head. Alex watched her face twist into something he had never seen her express.
“Go, Pedro. Leave this family and stay away,” Javier replied. Pedro got up from the chair and silently started to leave the room.
“You're going to let him go?” Bella screamed. “After what he did?”
“Calm down. He'll rot in his own hell, trust me.”
“Trust you? He murdered Miguel, and Alex was blamed for it.”
“Isabella, I know Pedro. He will suffer more without this family than he would in a prison cell.”
Pedro looked back pleadingly at Javier who gave him nothing back. He turned again and headed toward the door. “I'll go,” he muttered.
“You will go nowhere, you bastard,” Bella said.
Pedro turned back around as Bella pointed a small pistol, etched with mother of pearl on the handle, squarely at his chest.
“Bella, no!” Alex yelled. As he reached out to grab the gun from her, she pulled the trigger, the echo of the bullet bounced off the wall, and the men in the room watched in awe as Pedro Torres, his face twisted into a mixture of disbelief and horror, collapsed to the floor.
****
BELLA'S SHOT DIDN'T MISS. SHE'D HIT PEDRO DIRECTLY IN the heart and he died within minutes. Her skills as a crack shot had come from her days of archery in school, and she had fully intended to kill Pedro after what he'd done to her brother and the man she loved.
Alex rushed to her side as Antonio made a phone call. Javier and Antonio ushered Alex and Bella out of the office and into the living room. It didn't take long before Bella understood that the phone call her godfather made was to a couple of men who arrived quickly and with stealth, removed Pedro's body from the house.
She'd had her suspicions about Pedro and his possible involvement since Mexico City a few days before, and she'd thought about it for the past three days. When Antonio had shown up at the hotel to take her for a walk after Pedro pleaded for her hand in marriage, she confided in her godfather.
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