by M C Rowley
Then the muzzle of his gun flashed as he opened fire.
The windscreen of the patrol car shattered, and the vehicle swerved away from the blast and left the carriageway and smashed into a ditch.
I kept my foot down.
The second cop car, a federal police car, sped up and the driver flashed his lights at me.
I debated what to do for two seconds. I had little choice.
I slowed down and pulled up on the hard shoulder. The fed car stopped behind me. The guy who got out looked the same as the men in the mountains—black military gear, machine gun hanging from his shoulder. He ran to my truck.
“Change cars,” he said. “Get in mine.”
I got out.
“Faster!” he shouted at me.
I ran to the back. We opened the Transporter’s doors together and pulled the body out. The dead weight was incredibly heavy. We struggled with it over to the Fed car and put it down on the hard shoulder as the guy opened the trunk.
“Is he dead?” I asked.
He stooped down to grab the head end of the body. “Drugged, so be careful.”
We lifted the body into the trunk, and I went to sit in the passenger seat. Behind, on the back seat, was another guy. He nodded at me blankly.
The first guy ran to the Transporter and threw something small into the back—something dangerous, judging by the way he sprinted back to our car and threw himself in. Sure enough, as we sped off down the road, the Transporter exploded behind us. I looked back and saw a plume of black smoke silhouetted against the burning orange of the dawn.
I sat back in the leather seat. My body hurt. I looked at the landscape zooming by. It was good not to be driving.
“Who’s in the trunk?” I asked after five minutes. The two guys just stared ahead. I asked again, “Who is it? At least tell me that.”
But they kept quiet, so I gave up and looked forward.
We were nearing the end of the toll road. Up ahead was a police roadblock: five squad cars, with at least fifteen cops holding guns aloft, scanning all the approaching vehicles. My knee was bouncing like a jack hammer and I felt sweat beading up on my forehead.
We slowed and rolled up to the block. The driver wound down his window. A cop walked over to us, holding a semi-automatic, and spoke to the driver, who held up a piece of paper and a badge and spoke rapidly. I caught a bit of it—“special unit,” “full permission”…
The cop waved us through.
We drove at forty kilometers per hour the rest of way, until we arrived at the industrial park. It was dead. Not a single company had opened yet. We entered the park and drove through the streets until we got to Polysol, where we pulled up next to my office.
I got out and opened the door, praying Jason was hiding, while the two guys opened the trunk. They picked up the body and moved it quickly into the office. Then, without a word, they returned to their car and tore away, leaving two towers of dust in their wake.
I walked into the office and shut the door behind me. The body lay on the sofa. It was wrapped in trash bags, but over the face multiple holes had been torn. As I watched, I saw the plastic moving with exhaled breaths—unconscious, then, not dead.
I stalled for five minutes. I had seen at least police officers gunned down, I had seen three vehicles destroyed, and now I had a hostage in my office, with no plan or direction.
I walked over slowly and pinched one of the holes in the black plastic.
I already knew what I would find, or rather who I would find but still an anxiety persisted.
I tore it in one clean pull. The plastic split to reveal a face.
The face of Governor Pep Augusta.
Chapter Eleven
Governor Pep´s face should have belonged to a corpse. His cheeks were gray and marked with deep creases, a gleaning layer of cold dank sweat covering them. But his chest, despite being covered in bin liner, heaved up and down, an engine still running.
My ankle hit the side table as I backed away, out of instinct more than anything, distancing myself from this crime. The Governor´s limp body lay in a fetal position with only his head free where I had ripped it open. The sterile lights of the office porte-cabin shined from the black plastic and made it appear wet. For a moment, I imagined it wet with blood. Blood on my hands.
There were no sounds. My heart thumped in the silence, and when the door banged hard three times, I thought it might have exploded. I turned and opened up.
Salvatierra stood in the creeping light, his face scowling. He was wearing a dark blue Federal Police uniform. He looked taller, and meaner and more intimidating than I had seen him before. He said nothing as he pushed up passed me into the office and slammed the door shut.
“Well, don´t leave him like this you idiot.”
“Where is my wife?” I asked. “ Let her free now at least.”
He turned slowly. His features were grimaced. “You haven´t done shit yet.”
“Leave her be,” I said, my voice sounding calmer than the internal screaming inside my head.
Salvatierra looked at me. “Shut up,” he said, and turned to the Governor´s limp body and in one pull ripped the remaining plastic from him.
Pep was dressed in elegant black silk pyjamas with tiny red patterns cross-stitched in. His thinning hair was wild with static and his wrists and legs were tied with plastic ties. His face slumped downward in a battle between muscle strength and gravity, the latter winning by far. Gone was the glamour. He looked ugly as hell now.
Salvatierra moved him back to recovery position, stood up and looked back at me.
“Food will arrive soon, for both of you. If you leave the park, you are framed for his abduction. Got it? The perimeters are crawling with the authorities. Right now, no-one knows you did this.”
I stood up to him, “I did this?” I said, “What the hell do you mean?”
“Shut up,” said Salvatierra again. “Like I said, there’s no way out of this park. The companies have been informed to shut down production for a few days. Lujano State´s emergency alert has been activated. Do not do anything stupid.”
There was no talking with him. He was psychotic and psychotic people don´t converse. They can´t reason. It´s not the violence in which they reside with ease that makes them that way, it is the lack of reason. Putting a bullet into another person´s skull fails to move them. Maybe they suffered abuse and violence as a child, or maybe they were in love with their cousin. But something made them that way.
“I have to go,” said Salvatierra. “I will be back but I don´t know when. We´re watching you. Keep him here, and fed and watered. Do not let him leave this trailer. Things will get hot over the next few days. The whole place is on lockdown. Give me your belongings. Cash, phone, whatever you have.”
I gave him what he asked for. There was little point in resisting. I knew what he could do.
“But what about me? He knows me. He´ll recognize me," I said.
Salvatierra´s face turned sardonic, “Well, you shouldn´t have gone to meet him. I told you. But it doesn´t matter really.”
“It does matter,” I said. “This won´t be over for me afterward. My cover´s blown.”
Salvatierra smiled again and walked to the door, but said nothing.
“But what about the park´s security? What if people come asking questions?” I asked.
“No one will come, Dyce. Just stay here, and keep an eye on him.”
And he left the trailer and stepped down into the dust. I looked out across Polysol´s lot. The sun was protruding over the distant hills and yellow light carpeted the building sides, and sandy floor. The wind swirled around Salvatierra and his uniform flapped up to his waist. He had a camouflaged HumVee waiting for him. He climbed up to it, started the massive engine and drove off without looking at me.
I sat on the steps and felt my guts wrench, they had been clenched all morning. The feeling swelled inside my abdomen and pushed my heart forward into my chest. I thought about our son. I
could have fought more to find him. Now I didn´t know where he was, or where Eleanor was, and so it had all ended up worse than I could have ever imagined. And so the lies and hiding had come back to us, like they always do.
Truth be known, Eleanor stood very little chance of survival. Nor did I. We were witnesses to something enormous, and treacherous. The kidnapping of an active governor was a big deal, even in Mexico. They hadn´t just killed him. We would be hunted.
I had done nothing to protect Eleanor.
The cloudy blanket of a sky had settled low, and the wind picked up. I needed Jason, and quick. But he was nowhere. I began scanning the surrounding area, and felt my strength come back a little. And then I heard from behind me a groan.
Governor Pep was awake.
Chapter Twelve
The Governor was squirming around, confused.
“Que pasa, chingada. ¿Qué pasa?” he said, over and over.
Then he turned upward and faced me, disoriented from the drugging, his eyes widened.
“Just you?”
His face changed. I could see him reeling back through his inbuilt rolodex, looking for my name. I helped him.
“Mark Kersteen,” I said.
He looked up at me, astonished. “Why am I tied like this?”
“You don´t remember?”
He squinted at me. The drugs were wearing off. “I was…in the Sierra. The festival. Two men. In black. But you weren´t there. They said…”
I shook my head. “No,” I said. “I´m just the sitter”.
He scrunched his face up in confusion.
“Baby-sitter,” I said.
He kept quiet for a few seconds. “Untie me, please.”
“Can´t do that,” I said.
“Why?”
“Sorry.” I stooped and helped him to sit up straight. He looked like a shy little boy with his hands and legs tied together, in his pyjamas.
“You don’t have to have me like this.”
I sat down on the visitor´s chair in front of my desk. “I can´t tell you, Mr. Governor.”
“Call me Pep.”
Tied up, under intense duress and confused, and still playing the political game.
“Ok,” I said. “I don´t know. But you´re here and there’s nothing I can do about getting you out. Food is coming, apparently. But until then, it´s just you and me.”
He slumped his head down so it peered between his bound legs, through the knees. He stayed that way for a minute until he popped up hard, his eyes wide with fear, “Jaqueline? Jessica?” he said. “Where are they?”
I stared straight. I guessed he meant his wife, or kids, or both. “It´s just you, Pep,” I said.
He breathed out. I couldn´t believe that was enough for him. I felt jealous of him for it.
“It wasn´t you who grabbed me,” he said again. “Are you captured too?”
I thought a little while before answering. Decided it was best not to give anything away.
“I don´t know.”
He sighed and returned his head to face his feet. He looked sad and pathetic. The first light from outside, in spite of the clouds, was streaming through my cabin office´s windows. I got up and closed the blinds. I opened the door and told Pep I would be back soon.
“Don´t take too long,” he said. “I need the bathroom.”
I walked out and stepped down to the gravel and dust. The main building hangar was silent. Jason was nowhere to be seen. All around us was silence. The hum of production from the other factories was gone. I walked across the lot to the other office cabins and tried the doors. Each one was locked. I walked on to the hangar and inside, the space was massive. In the middle, a small collection of machinery looked like a miniature model in this scale. Around the edge of the space were more portable offices. I walked to each one and looked in. They were all open, and all empty.
I walked from one end to the other and found a door. This was locked and I couldn´t see anything through the window. I headed out and back across the lot to let Pep relieve himself. Before I went in, I scanned the area for Jason. Nothing. No sign of him.
When I got back in Pep had moved to be leaning back. He looked relaxed. He looked as if he might be watching one of his political “friends” giving a speech. He was lost in thought and startled when I walked in. He slumped again to his former position.
“Bathroom break,” I said. And I helped him up to his tied feet. Together we shuffled to the small ensuite WC and before I could even offer to take down his pants, he waved me away.
I shut the door and waited for him outside.
The Governor still had his pride intact. I suddenly felt exhausted. I´d been up all night again for the second time in a week and I was not at the age where that didn´t come back to bite you. I sat at my desk and rested my head on the back of the seat. I closed my eyes, and started to drift when Pep´s WC door slammed open and I collected myself. I´d almost forgotten my captive. I got up and helped him back to the sofa.
“You look like shit,” he said.
I said nothing.
“You were waiting for me in the mountains, weren´t you?”
I nodded.
“I need to rest,” and I walked to the door and moved the small slide lock. I went back to my seat and leaned back and rested my head.
I awoke to a knocking and jumped up. Pep was sitting on the sofa looking at me. I had no idea how long I´d been out.
“I thought you weren´t gonna wake up,” said Pep. “ You didn´t hear me?”
I shook my head and stood. I walked to the door, expecting Salvatierra, and instead found the friendly face of a lady about 60 years of age. She was small, and rotund, and had thick black hair pulled back into pigtails. Small pink ribbons tied them up and sat right under her ears, looking like a child´s earrings. She wore a pink apron which covered a blue tracksuit.
Behind her lay a tray piled 30 centimeters high with blue pots and pans, the steel kind you can buy in any Mexican market. Each one had aluminum foil as a lid.
“Comida, Señor,” she said.
I was still staring at her, “Si, señora, pásele”.
She nodded and turned and in one swoop bent down and scooped the tray in one hand and steadied it with the other. She rose and span around to face me once more. “¿Permiso?” she said.
“Pásele,” I repeated.
When she saw the Governor, she paused a second and I could tell she had looked him right in the eye. I guessed she knew his face well, but didn´t admit it. “Buenas tardes,” she said at him.
He did not look at her straight, just nodded.
She walked into the office and I followed her. She put the tray down on my desk and began unwrapping the foil covers while explaining what the dishes were.
Our food was home cooked. Prepared with love, which I found strange. Why did Salvatierra or indeed Esteban, or indeed their personal hostage cook give a damn about our living standards. I certainly didn´t. But I was hungry, that was for sure.
The señora turned to me and finished, “tenedores, cucharas. Deje todo afuera cuando terminen.” Forks, spoons, leave it outside when you´re done.
I thanked her and asked her name. She again shot a glance at the Governor before answering, “me llaman Concha, señor.”
“Gracias Concha,” I said and she left.
“You have to untie my hands,” said Pep.
I walked to him and grabbed one of the knives Concha had left, and cut through the zip tie at his wrists. I half-braced myself for his attack too, but he didn´t make a move. He just stretched his arms out wide with relief.
“Can we eat?” he said.
“Sure.” And I served up the dishes.
The food was exquisite. Eggs in salsa roja, enchiladas, molletes. Both Pep and I ravaged the plates, one by one. Pep said it was his favorite dish, which cheered him up. Mexico, where food is so important.
It took us under twenty minutes to devour the lot, and I brewed a pot of coffee and offered one to Pep,
who smiled and took it gratefully.
“You´re captured too, aren´t you?” he said, once we had finished and I had shifted the dirty pans and plates outside the office.
“In a sense, yes,” I said, as we took our seats in the cramped space. “I have little choice about what I´m doing, put it that way.”
“Huh?” he said. His English was fluent enough, but he didn´t understand everything.
“I mean,” I said. “I don´t have options.”
He nodded.
We sipped our coffees in silence for the next ten minutes.
“I guess people will be looking for you like crazy,” I said.
He looked up from his cup. His face was dead straight. Not a single emotion. A poker face from heaven. I could not get a read at all.
“Yes. The military will be informed. Then they will work out the protocol. They´ll find me. And you, too.”
Salvatierra´s uniform flashed into my mind.
“That´s why it´s better to tell me you are captured. If that´s the truth,” he said. “They´ll kill you if not. Shoot on sight.”
I nodded.
“Why did you agree to this?” I asked.
“Don´t you know that? Who captured you?”
I stared at him. “I can´t tell you anything.”
He shrugged. “Well, why are you asking me?”
I shrugged back at him. “I know nothing.”
And we stayed silent for a long while. Pep took a nap, but I just sat and drank all the coffee from the pot. I craved a hard drink but it had to do.
And we waited. Hours passed. My computer and the TV had been removed.
No sign of Jason. No sign of anyone.
Chapter Thirteen
Outside the light was getting lower. I was starting to get cabin fever and I wanted to find Eleanor. I left the office and walked up and down outside. I thought hard about my options. I knew I was still useful to the cartel. They would have wasted me if not. And that meant Eleanor was safe. I didn´t want to think of the alternative.
