by M C Rowley
“Here,” said Kyle.
We got to the closest bed and placed Pep down on the thin mattress. He seemed to stir a little but we turned away and caught our breath.
Then suddenly, out of nowhere he awoke.
Pep shot up like a comedy vampire, and shouted in Spanish. At first it was impossible to decipher. He was wild, his eyes huge and white, his pupils vile little black dots, his skin glowing crimson as blood flooded his skin.
Kyle span around and ran out to the truck. I turned to Pep and put my hand on his arm and told him "tranquilo, tranquilo.”
He pushed me away without looking at me, entranced on some distant ghoul it seemed, and said, “No me mates. No me mates. Por favor.”
Don´t kill me.
I stared at him and didn't notice Kyle arrive back to my side. She jammed a huge vaccine into the governor´s arm and he slumped backward, a dead weight, and fell back asleep.
She stepped back and breathed out.
I looked at her.
"Time for some honesty,” I said.
Kyle just packed the vaccine away into her med bag and said nothing.
“What is going on?”
I hated the lack of control, the being lost. I was pinned into a corner, but I´d be damned if I didn´t at least try to scratch my way out of it.
“Kyle!” I said. “Talk to me!”
But Kyle left the room and went back outside. I followed her and grabbed her shoulder, but she was too quick, and caught my hand and spun underneath it to gain control over my entire arm. With a neat twist I was on my knees below her looking away.
I looked out and saw the dust of a second truck arriving in the distance. Kyle leant down and whispered in my ear,
“You ain´t got a card to play. Okay? Nothing. Do as we say and you might get your wife back. But I´ll just as quickly throw your carcass down a hole as I would the dead scumbag who´s coming now.”
The truck came into view. The other Tundra, and in the front seat sat Hernandez, Aronson, and Bayer. Jason must have been at the back.
They pulled up harshly. I guessed Jason had recovered judging by the manner in which he got down from the back cabin of the truck.
The doors swung open and the three guys in front jumped down, nodding silently at Kyle. Jason was dressed in the same clothes as the night before but they looked liked he´d washed them. His face was normal color again and he walked fine. His shirt was open at the shoulder and heavy bandaging showed through. He walked to us and gestured to Kyle with his finger.
“You called in twice?” he said.
Kyle nodded. “ Had to.”
Jason shook his head, “The stakes are high, Ruth. You know that.”
“I know.”
Jason shook his head again. “The Governor?”
“Asleep in the cabin,” said Kyle.
Then Jason turned to me. “Wanna watch Salvatierra get thrown into a hole?”
I stared at him.
“Okay then,” he said and walked back to the truck. The other three came back and together we walked to and peered into the tailgate. Salvatierra´s corpse was wrapped in old dirty white bedsheets, a long white stick. There was no blood, and aside from two small indents, you´d hardly have called it a body.
The three guys lifted the corpse from the back of the truck and walked away.
Jason walked behind them like a pall bearer. “Come on,” he said.
I followed but Kyle stayed.
The five of us walked with the corpse through the ruins of the ghost town until we found a 4 meter by 4 meter hole on the ground, right between the ruins. It was engineered, but in old times. It was framed by pink cantera stone and totally black inside.
Aronson, Bayer and Hernandez brought the cadaver to the edge of the hole and placed it on the stone edge.
We stood on the edge of the “pozo” and the wind blew fierce and I felt dizzy next to the black abyss. A cold air rose from deep within.
Jason had one hand cupped to his ear, and the other held a protruded finger to his lips. And then he hissed. “Nothing like a deep hole to hide a body.”
And the three men each put their right foot on Salvatierra and together pushed him over the stone and into the dark.
I listened, and counted. 2 Mississippi,
3 Mississippi
4 Mississippi
5 Mississippi
6 Mississippi
7 Mississippi…
And THUMP, a distant muffled sound came from below.
“Damn,” I said.
Jason nodded and smiled. “Well, that´s one bad guy out. I think it´s about time we talk about the real target.”
We went back to the cabin and Hernandez and Bayer started pulling laptops and cables from their hold-alls and began setting up what looked like a satellite computer network on the tiny balsa wood desk in the corner. Jason pulled up a seat, Kyle was sat down already and Aronson joined us. I sat down.
“There´s something you´re missing here, Scott,” said Jason.
“That´s pretty clear,” I said.
Jason nodded. “You saw the news right? You´re front page, front and centre. National and international. You´re a wanted man, Scott.”
“Okay I got that part,” I said.
“Thing is, this is all for a purpose.”
“I figured that too.”
“And you´re probably wondering why we have the good Governor like this, am I right?”
I just nodded and stayed silent.
“My associates here are preparing the internet connection. I want you to read the news again, but this time, wait for the second lead story. It´s a biggy, but it ain´t got shit on yours. Which is what´s keeping it from hitting the front pages.”
I thought about it. “That´s what this is for? To cover up other news? A Chinese box?”
“Kind of. But it´s better than that, Esteban is killing not one but three birds with the same dirty stone.”
Bayer passed a laptop to me. It had a long aerial sticking out of the USB port.
I looked at it. The CNN home page was open.
“Check it out,” said Jason.
I scanned it. The red bar at the top carried the logo, and underneath, in place of the usual three windows with the top stories was single image. Me in the van. Above, the headline read,
THE HUNT GOES ON
It was the same as before.
I scrolled down.
There were more stories. One was a speculation piece about me.
MARK KERSTEEN, it said. THE HUNTED MAN
I started to read the opening lines of the story but Jason prompted me to scroll down.
The next one was a map of the area.
MILITARY PRESENCE INCREASES
I scrolled down, and more stories about the governor emerged. Profiles of him and his family. I scrolled more and found nothing.
“There´s nothing but news on the abduction,” I said.
“Almost,” said Jason. “Keep looking.”
I went back to the screen and scrolled down, and then I saw it.
US PRESIDENT SAYS MEXICAN PRESIDENT´S POSITION UNTENABLE
I opened it and read.
Some of it all clicked into place. The scandal involving the president´s involvement in sanctioning child trafficking had blown up. New evidence was leaking from Los Pinos and the president was in deep, deep trouble.
I looked up. “A cover up?”
Jason was smiling. “But I told you,” he said. “Three birds with one stone.”
I worked it over.
“The first is the story,” I said. “To get this buried enough. But that won´t stop the president getting impeached.”
“No, it won´t,” said Jason.
And then it clicked all into place. The Governor.
I hadn´t seen it at all. I felt the blood drain out of me at the same time.
“Esteban wants Pep to become president.”
Jason nodded.
Chapter Twenty-Five
�
�That´s the second bird,” said Jason. “An alibi for Pep. None better than getting kidnapped by some lunatic, corrupt mercenary foreigner working for the cartel that took his son.”
“So this is a coup. By Esteban, using the cartel he runs.”
“Yes.”
“And Pep´s the president’s replacement,” I said.
Jason nodded. “You got it. With Matias Esteban backing him all the way.”
“This is all to get Pep into the president´s chair?”
“And save Pep´s reputation too,” said Jason. “Voters love a hero.”
“Hero?”
“You´re dead meat, Scott. Governor Pep was all set to be saved by the feds, blasting his way out of captivity, killing a low down piece of shit - that´s you by the way - in the process. A hero! And just what the country needs after discovering the president´s highly illegal sanctioning of child trafficking to gain a cartel´s support. And no-one will ever know or suspect that Pep was also involved in that activity, to a high level, and will continue to be so, especially if he´s voted in as el presidente.”
“Jesus Christ.”
I could not see a way through this. But then again, nothing had changed. I had just been informed was all. Pep was still valuable, and Esteban still had my wife and son. That had not changed. But now I understood the full value of our having the governor.
“And you guys are the crusaders trying to bring down Esteban, right?” I asked.
Jason kept smiling at me. “We had to find a way to get him, thats all. And that was you. And we ended getting you, and him.” He was pointing at Pep´s unconscious body.
“So what´s your plan?” I asked.
Jason breathed out, and looked at Kyle.
She cleared her throat. “It would be easy if your wife wasn´t involved. We have enough to prove Esteban´s involvement in the kidnapping. That would be it. But your wife´s safety is important to us, believe it or not. She is an American citizen after all. And we have orders from very high up telling us she must be protected.”
I felt relief flood through me, it was all I needed to hear.
“Okay,” I said. “So what is the plan?”
“We need to get a message to Esteban. He is in Lujano right now for a series of conventions. Not a coincidence of course, he needed to be close to Pep. And he lives here. We contact his people, and go from there. Simple as that.”
“But what do you want out of this? Or what does Mr Reynolds want out of this?”
Jason shrugged, “Dunno. But it always comes down to power. Always. Matias Esteban is in Mr Reynold’s hit list. That’s all I know.”
Hernandez had left the cabin and came back with tins of beans. Not the Mexican re-fried type, but to my disbelief, baked beans. He threw the tins to each of us, and I checked the tin. Canadian.
He then walked around and opened our tin for us and handed a spoon.
I wasn´t a fussy eater, but I was generally accustomed to eating well. Fine restaurants with clients, openings of fancy bars in Mexico City. Canapés, steak tartare. But these beans tasted like the best cut of meat , slow-roasted with love for six hours compared to those meals. I was ravenous. I destroyed the beans in minutes, and felt relieved when I saw the second tin come out of Hernandez´s bag and I fought back the humble lump in my throat.
We all finished eating and threw the empty cans into a plastic bin in the cabin.
“We´ll burn all of this when we leave,” said Jason. “But we´re safe here for now. Radios are set up so we can hear when feds or local cops come near.”
He stood up. The others all shuffled. I could tell they weren´t regular or frequent companions. Not in the fullest proper sense. They hadn´t battled together much before. It was in the way they spoke to each other, but it was more in the way they shifted in and out of each other´s way. Kind of awkward, uncomfortable.
“Let´s get some rest. Could be a long few days,” said Jason.
It was about 11am and as everyone laid down on the sofas, and beds in the back rooms, I couldn´t sleep. Even Jason passed out and I found myself completely alone for the first time since I had picked up Pep in the mountains.
The cabin was quiet apart from the gentle hum of the laptops.
I rolled the ideas over in my mind. I had the bigger picture now - and it made sense for the most part - but there was a small space, or rather vacuum, in my mind. Something that had been denied to my knowledge. I couldn´t locate it exactly, but I felt it. A missing piece.
I laid still with my eyes shut for twenty minutes. I waited until I was sure everyone was out for the count.
I needed a plan to get Eleanor back. And maybe our son. And I was sick of relying on Jason or Kyle, or dumb luck.
I sat up on the bed levering myself with my elbow in the most gentle manner I could. I paused, and checked around the room.
All asleep.
The computers were on a table at the side of the cabin. I had to walk through Kyle, Bayer and Pep’s inert, sleeping bodies to get to them. I removed my shoes, and started the slow shuffle.
It was agonizing. Twice, Kyle rolled over, and I thought I was busted. But no, the previous night´s exertions had taken it out of them. I went on. Pep was drugged. Bayer snored, which helped.
I walked past them. And finally, made it to the laptop that I had looked at right before.
With one last glance around the cabin, I lifted the lid and the screen burst into life. I could not believe my luck.
The same CNN page was still open where I had left it. No password.
I opened a second tab in the browser and punched in Esteban´s name to the search bar and looked at the Google results. The first two were the standard Wikipedia entries, one in English, the other in Spanish. Also, above them, his chubby smiling face. Esteban was not a handsome man, but his small dark eyes were alert, like a fox. As if he saw more than a normal person. He was well over 60 years old. His face drooped with age, and tired wisdom.
The third Google result was a Forbes profile of him, the fourth, his personal webpage, his business group was called Mesta. The fifth result was his foundation, Mesta Foundation. I pulled my seat closer, checked everyone was asleep and looked at the next part.
I found the conference Jason had mentioned. The event was to be held at the Centro de Congresos, Lujano, which was on the exit road to Mexico City. I checked the times and details and made mental notes of them all. I then brought up our location and traced a route back to Lujano.
Closing the laptop lid, I noticed a leather satchel amongst the cables and plugs. I reached for it and lifted it across the table to my lap as if it were dynamite. I paused. No-one had awoken. Like I was disarming a bomb, I opened the satchel and found Jason´s passport, and a bunch of biro pens, and his Moleskine black notebook. I opened it and found pages upon pages of scrawled notes. His handwriting was borderline indecipherable and seemed to be just scribbles of interviews.
I closed it and went to put it back in the satchel when a something shined from the bottom of the bag.
I pushed my hand in and grabbed the source of the sparkle.
It was a ring.
I pulled it out and stared at it and had to suppress my shock to a sharp outward breath. I looked around the room.
All asleep.
I held Eleanor’s wedding ring.
I stood still looking at my wife’s ring for five whole minutes.
How had I blindly trusted Mr Reynolds? Or Jason? Or Pep?
I needed information.
And there was only one man who could give it to me.
It was time to find Matias Esteban.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Esteban´s conference was the next day and getting there meant taking another gamble. But if I was right, Eleanor had a chance.
But it was one big gamble.
Not one, but four big gambles.
First, my escape from Jason and his team. Second, I needed my timing to be right. Third, I had to get to my old apartment in the city, and fou
rth, and most importantly of all, I needed my hunch to be right.
I listened to the room. Everyone was out cold. I counted their breathing. Bayer, Kyle and Pep in this room. Jason, Aronson and Hernandez at the back.
Their exhaustion had fooled them into thinking I was so sold on their lies. So convinced that I would just stay put.
I ran through my plan. I needed very little to begin with, just some information. But I also needed some sort of disguise. But that would have to wait until I got to my apartment.
For now, I had the clothes I had on, and my battered shoes.
I got up and every sound creaked a hundred times louder than normal, amplified by the pressure in the room. I remembered a documentary I had seen that said people could feel it when someone entered a room because you were literally moving the air particles around, disturbing the atmosphere. Right now, I urged the air particles to stay the hell where they were.
I planned my route out through the snake nests of cables leading up to the computer laden tables and to the main, and only, door.
I started my hushed hustle toward the exit. I kept rigid and let my ankles shuffle forward, aching and slow. No-one stirred.
I got to the door, took the handle, and as I opened it, a voice came from behind me.
“Hey man, where you going?”
It was Bayer, still half passed out, his head strained up at me from a lying position bleary eyes.
“Taking a piss,” I said.
His face slumped back into the rolled up blanket he was using as a pillow. It meant I had to run now or forget it. He might come round and wonder what had taken me so long. Or he might stay asleep. Either way, it was time for action, not waiting. I opened the door and walked out.
Outside, the clouds were gathering again. Rain was not good for the type of journey I had ahead, but it didn´t matter. It could provide cover too.
I looked out across Los Pozos. I could see sheets of rain in the hills across the way. Visible sheets of rain. At least 5 kilometers lay between me and my destination.
I figured if any one of them woke, I would have 30 minutes tops to get to the valley floor, where the terrain offered no cover at all.
