by M C Rowley
And out of the silence, a distant thud.
And then a door opening.
Esteban was here.
Chapter Thirty-Two
The door shattered the silence like thunder when it opened from behind me. I distinguished only one set of footsteps entering the room. And the door shut. I stared forward at the windows.
And then, from my 6 o´clock, in perfect English with a thick Mexican accent. “Have you heard of the Sons of No One?”
The steps came up to my back and then around into my view. Esteban was still dressed in the gray suit, and his 70 years betrayed him up close. His face was rotund, and a large double chin framed his jaw. His moustache was bulbous and walrus like. His eyes were tiny, black and devoid of shine. Devoid of empathy.
He stepped in front of me, placed his hands in his pockets and stood still.
“Of course the name is just a gang thing. They are sons of someone,” he said.
I stayed staring at him. Inside, I was trying to consolidate my questions. He was putting me off with his presence. He walked around in a circle and came to a stop in the same pose. A strange quirk. Restless, full of energy.
His face was unequivocal, unmoving, unemotional. Like a stern mentor turned tyrant. Out of touch with his early teachings and impatient.
“You left a seed in Guatemala,” said Esteban. “Not a baby, but a seed of hate. And Guatemala is fertile ground for hateful lost souls.”
“We didn´t leave him,” I said. “We didn´t bloody LEAVE him.”
“However you look at it is irrelevant, Mr Dyce,” said Esteban.
And he walked back away from me and took a seat on one of the sofas.
“The Sons of No One cartel take them when they are barely breathing the air of this world. The parents have no idea that someone is watching, waiting for the chance. Then, a cheap bribe to the maternity ward and pow! A Son is born.”
I stayed still.
“The cartel have madres - decent women who dedicate their lives to bringing up these infants, with one sole purpose.”
He paused, waiting for my question. I denied it to him.
“The babies grow up to serve the cartel. With all their heart and all their loyalty,” said Esteban. “They grow up to be vicious and dedicated and totally unquestioning servants. Gone are the days of recruiting teenagers by giving them trucks and drugs to sell. Now, the cartel have a constant flow of soldiers.”
I kept it inside. But the rage boiled in my chest. The 22 years of pain we had suffered since Guatemala, the wondering what had happened to him after that dreadful day. And to hear this, it was a violation all over again. The pain returned, the panic in my chest returned. But I remained quiet and just looked at Esteban on the sofa.
“They become attached to their guardians, the madres. They are very much their madres in a very real sense, bathing them, keeping them warm, fed. The cartel hides them in villages where no-one would question the origin of the newborn. They integrate into that society, until the day comes.”
“What day?”
“Their pledge,” he said. “To kill their biological parents. Your boy was different. They couldn´t find you or your wife because you´d left Guatemala, and so the cartel forced him to kill his madre.”
My back ached from the ties, but the pain was nothing to me. “Jesus,” I said.
Esteban nodded. “Yes. It left him just a little angry. Angry at you. And at his real mother. For abandoning him, for making him kill his madre.”
“Tell me his name,” I said.
“Don´t get ahead of yourself,” said Esteban. “I haven´t finished. I was alerted to his existence a few months after he murdered the Doña Morales, his madre. One of the cartel who knew about my connection with them called my people and told us he had foreign parents, and that you still lived and worked here in Mexico. It was quite the serendipity.”
He smiled and his face stretched with genuine feeling of happiness, of contentment at his own cleverness. “And it turned out rather useful.”
“Except you don´t have the Governor anymore. And I know where he is,” I said.
Esteban held his gaze and the smile evaporated. “Tell me where Governor Augusta is.”
I nodded in the most measured way I could muster, ignoring the electricity crackling under my skin. “I´ll take you to him. He is with a group that work for Mr Reynolds. I suppose you´ve heard of him.”
Esteban puckered his lips and kind of hissed. “He got to you first, that´s all. They have no business here.” And he stood and began walking in circles once more.
“I love my country, Mr Dyce,” said Esteban. “We have had enough reliance on foreign overlords. We are ready and fit enough to look after ourselves. With the right leader, we can do amazing things.”
“A leader like Pep?” I asked.
Esteban stopped walking. “He would make an excellent president, yes. Tell me where he is.”
“I need things.”
“Mr Dyce, you are not in the position to make requests. I push you out of this building and you´ll be arrested before you can utter a peep. No-one will believe you. No-one will buy your story. It´s over.”
“Where is my wife?”
“Your wife?” Esteban frowned, and then a smile crept across his face.
“I´m afraid you´ve made a large mistake.”
There are four or something stages of shock. I couldn´t remember them all but I was pretty sure it included denial, acceptance, and grief. I didn´t bother feigning any of them though, there wasn´t any point. It was the answer I had expected, actually hoped for in a sense, not that it made Eleanor any safer but it confirmed my hunch.
Jason had Eleanor.
And Esteban and Jason and Mr Reynolds needed me.
Pep, Esteban, Reynolds, Jason and me. Somehow, some way, I had to choose between them. I had to choose the greater good. Whatever it took to save Eleanor, and warn her of the danger of our son.
“I´ll take you to Pep,” I said.
“There´s one more thing,” said Esteban, who took his cell phone from his pocket and swiped and typed a message and then looked back at me.
“I think it´s time you met.”
It happened too quickly to allow my body to react. The door to Esteban´s left, a different one to the main door, opened and through came one of Esteban´s men from the conference in his chinos and flak jacket. He came into the room first, slowly. He was pulling something.
On a chain.
The thick links slumped down to the floor and dragged into the room. They rose up to something, whatever it was pulling. Then a booted foot followed. I struggled in my ties but it was no use. Esteban´s man pulled one last time, and into the room stepped a young man, tied at the wrists, gagged and looped around his neck a large metal, medieval looking necklace which attached to the chain. He looked like a fighting dog. He was tall, his caucasian skin burned from years of sun to a dark clay color. His face was dirty and his beard and cropped hair matted with grime. He wore a filthy white t-shirt and jeans. His blue eyes locked onto mine.
I was looking at my son.
Chapter Thirty-Three
“Your son´s name is Jairo Morales, Deputy Chief of the Southern Border Plaza for the Sons of No One Cartel.”
Esteban stood aside from my son who didn´t move a budge.
I went to stand, forgetting the ties, and as I did so my shoulders ripped backwards against the strain.
“Let me.”
My son stood still, chained like an animal and observed me with a scorn in his blue eyes. The muscles in my face quivered as I held back my tears. I had never seen something so pitiful and tragic. The human life I had failed to save 22 years ago now here to remind me of it. The years I had not been with him, taught him about life, held his hand in the dark, read him stories, played football. All of it wasted, and the suffering we had all received. Eleanor would be destroyed seeing this. I wanted him to kill me. I wanted him to plug a dagger deep into my chest so I could hold his
head to my face and tell him I loved him. That I was sorry.
There was a knock at the door, and another large man in chinos and a blue vest white shirt - one of the private security guys at the conference center - entered. He nodded at Esteban.
“Listo, señor,” he said.
Esteban nodded back. “Perfecto.”
I snapped out of my trance. Eleanor was still in danger. I couldn´t give up now.
“Carlitos here will take you in the chopper Mr Dyce. We will stop the chopper a kilometer away from Reynolds´ people, and give you an hour. If you don´t return with Pep at your side after that, we use force. Understood?”
“Yes,” I said. “You´re coming?”
“You better believe it,” said Esteban and he walked to me and undid the ties at my wrists and my legs. I could move again and blood washed into the tendons in my arms.
I stood up. We were almost the same height, and I looked at him in the eyes. Esteban had betrayed me. A man he didn´t even know. He had used one man´s terrible misfortune against him, for his own selfish gains. And what about all of us? The cartel must have taken hundreds of children like Jairo. I had to make sure that whatever greater good I chose in the end, Esteban would fall on the wrong side of it.
His man, Carlitos said, “come with me to the roof.”
Up on the roof, a huge green Bell helicopter awaited us, rotors already spinning. The noise was immense, and the wind hit us like a wall. I saw we were still in Lujano. Some sort of hotel tower, but I didn´t recognize the immediate vicinity. There were other security personnel standing around, waiting for us. They were armed to the teeth. Each had a semi-automatic rifle in their hand and at least two bloc pistols around their waists. They all wore cyclist-style shades with reflective skins, and looked grim and serious as we approached.
Carlitos waved his hand in a sort of coded circular spin, and the guys jumped up into the helicopter, and I saw the pilot nod to him.
We approached and climbed up into the cabin. Jairo was pulled by force, banging his knees on the rim on the way while Esteban was aided like an old señora.
The luxury of the interior surprised me. The seats were beige and leather and wide. They looked comfortable and of a high quality, like a German car. Carlitos got in and sat down next to one of his men. I sat on the opposite bench. They all put headphones and mics on, and I got just noise reducing headphones. I put them on and looked at Jairo. His face was turned the other way. I thought of Eleanor.
Carlitos handed my a small color printed map, and a red marker pen.
I looked at it and found the highway that led from Lujano out of town. I followed it with my finger until I got the industrial park where Polysol was located. Then, I traced our escape route where Kyle and Jason´s team had picked us up.
I eventually found the route we had taken to the first hiding place, close to where Salvatierra had been killed.
From there, I traced Kyle´s and my journey through the small town to the North and there nestled in the hills, Pozos. I circled it like a target and handed the map back to Carlitos.
He took it and passed it to the pilot, who looked at it alongside a tablet computer, nodded, began flicking switches and pressing buttons, and the chopper lurched forward and rose. Everyone grabbed their arm rest as we hovered for a minute, and then, gradual and slow, we rose up high above the building, and moved forward.
Esteban´s men would give me an hour. I had not considered this as a gamble. I had been obsessed by the four I had already taken, and won. But this was a gamble too.
That Jason and his team were still at Pozos.
That Pep was with them.
And that they would let me speak to Eleanor.
As for my decisions, I had to choose who would fall. Esteban for sure. Jason too. Pep? Maybe. Reynolds? Me?
That sacrifice was necessary now.
A lot of bad and little good.
The chopper´s rotors deafened and thumped at my ears, despite the ear protectors, but the ride was smooth. We had already circled around the city and now travelled north. The city was a kind of L shape of gray indiscriminate buildings, surrounded by green hills and mountains.
After about twenty minutes the chopper began to descend. Before long, we hovered over the middle green hills as he found a flat spot on which to let us disembark.
This time, he killed the rotors and suddenly everything was silent.
Everyone took off their headsets, and jumped down and I followed suit. Carlitos turned to me,
“Pozos is one kilometer that way,” and pointed toward one of the hills. “You got an hour, ok?”
I looked at my son. He stared downwards. I didn’t want to leave him again. But I needed Eleanor.
I nodded and set off. I didn´t need to waste any more time.
The going was rough at first, and I even had to climb a couple of small slopes.
I was approaching Pozos from the West this time, and after a while, I saw the small dilapidated buildings of the ghost town.
I slowed down. It was important to not make them jump, but I also wanted to make sure they didn´t run with Pep.
I got to the closest building and then moved in short bursts from wall to wall. At last, the tourist cabin came into my view. And my heart soared to see the two Tundra trucks parked outside.
I still went with care. Building to building, corner to corner until I got to the cabin.
I walked to the back part and found the side window, climbed up on an old medium sized barrel and looked through.
There were two people sitting on chairs, tied up and gagged. One was Pep, looking stressed again, in the same clothes we had left Polysol in.
The other person I hadn´t seen in what felt like a long time.
Eleanor.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Eleanor´s mouth was covered and her hands were tied together but sat on her lap. Her legs were tied to each leg of the chair. She was wearing weekend clothes, jeans and a t-shirt. Her hair was neat, but I could tell she´d been pushed around a bit. There were small dark bruises on her arms and neck. My heart leapt into my throat as the gravitas of what I had caused hit me. I stepped off the barrel, put my back to the wall of the cabin and sank down.
The sky, still a patchwork quilt of thick and dark cloud, finally broke. The rain drops hit the dry dirt ground like a violent chemical reaction, and the stench of sun baked vegetation rose up into the air. I got up, and the droplets slammed into my shirt making inch wide circumferences.
I walked around the cabin, opened the front door and walked in.
At first, Jason, Hernandez, Kyle and Bayer all drew their guns on me, and luckily for their training, didn´t pull the trigger.
It was hard to tell whose eyes were more shocked to see me between Eleanor and Pep.
Eleanor´s eyebrows were so stretched upward, the whites of her eyes made perfect rings around the blue centers.
“Get her out of here now!” said Jason, “And him too!”
Bayer and Hernandez grabbed Eleanor by her underarms and carried her with the seat still tied to her to the back part of the cabin. Pep fought a little but eventually let them do the same with him.
I looked at Jason, and he looked at me. His eyes said sorry but his expression grew tight as he gathered himself.
“You screwed up,” he said. “But you´re in time. And I don´t even want to know where you´ve been or what you´ve done, because it doesn´t matter shit.”
I counted the time back to where I had left Esteban´s men. I reckoned twenty minutes had passed already.
Forty to go.
“You´ve seen her now and I´m guessing from your lack of shock, you figured it out,” said Jason. “So let´s not waste time with the dancing. We need you to confess to Pep´s kidnapping, on a live stream to the New York Times.”
Jason´s face had an alien downturned look to it, tilted sideways at a tiny angle, mouth screwed up.
“What do I get in return?”
“Eleanor.”
I nodded.
“I´ll do it,” I said, “but I need to see my wife.”
Jason peered over to where Bayer was setting up a small standalone mic with the laptops. He turned back to me.
“Ok,” he said. “You get five minutes Then you´re on. It´ll be live, and you even think of changing the game plan, the connection gets cut and we shoot Eleanor in the head.”
It was good enough. He turned and started walking me to towards the back room where Eleanor had gone. I counted up the minutes in my head. I had thirty tops.
Jason opened the door, and Kyle got up. The room was dark and dank, and apart from the crappy one person bed, Eleanor sat alone tied to the chair.
“Untie her,” said Jason. And Kyle did.
Eleanor looked at me with astonishment in her face. Fear, and confusion flushed her features. It was the most heartbreaking thing I had ever seen. The damage done.
“Let´s go, you got five minutes,” said Jason, and Kyle followed him out of the room and shut the door.
I turned to my wife and ran to her and we embraced. My arms stretched so far around her I almost touched my own shoulders. She started to shudder in tears I felt myself teetering on the edge too, but then she pushed me hard and landed a ferocious slap to my face.
“Screw you, Scotty,” she said.
“We don´t have much time,” I said. “And I know what damage has been done cannot be repaired. I know that. But our son,” and I had to stop. The muscles in the jaw that are connected to the chemical energy that comes from your brain when you cry jolted into an uncontrollable pain, but I held it.
