The man pointed to a screwdriver, then looked back at Caine. Unsatisfied with Caine’s blank stare, he pointed to another tool. A pair of pliers.
“These then? No, perhaps not,” he said to himself in a sing song voice.
He pointed to a hammer.
Suddenly his eyes lit up. He had seen something in Caine’s expression… Something that had excited him.
“Yes, Caine, a hammer.” Spittle flew from his lips as he lifted the tool and weighed it in his hand. “An excellent choice. A hammer can wound you, bruise you. Or it can break every bone in your body. Let us start with the hammer.”
Without warning he swung the tool hard, smashing it into Caine’s left thigh. The sudden burst of pain felt like the impact of a bullet. Despite his best efforts, Caine cried out as a large purple bruise spread across his flesh. He gritted his teeth, and tried to get his breathing under control. He forced himself to block out the pain. The blow had hurt, but he realized nothing was broken. His torturer was going to take his time. He was going to break Caine apart slowly, piece by piece.
Somewhere in the distance, he heard another man scream.
Caine wasn’t certain, but he thought it was Tyler.
The skeletal man smiled again. “You hear that? My men are following my instructions.”
Caine glared back at the sadistic killer.
“Let me explain," the man said in his low, rasping whisper. "Each time you scream out, my men will hurt your friend." He flicked the hammer back and forth in his hands. “One of you will surrender to the pain, sooner or later. It is inevitable. One of you will tell me where to find Su Liao. The man who tells me first will have my mercy. I will kill him quickly. But the other will suffer… If it is you, then I will smash every bone in your body to pieces with this hammer. It will take a long time, I think. A long time to die."
He swung the hammer into Caine’s left forearm. The knife wound there had not yet healed, and the pain was excruciating. Caine tensed his muscles, breathing deep and fast to control the agony. But once again, he grunted in pain.
Within seconds Tyler screamed again.
The sicario stepped back, taking a break. “Caine,” he said through labored breaths, “you and I are alike.” He spoke as if they were friends enjoying a pleasant conversation. “You have skills, training. You were special forces, yes?” He watched Caine’s expression. “Let me guess? Green Beret?”
Caine looked away. His eyes searched the room again, looking for anything sharp.
“You think someone will come to rescue you?” The man made a clicking noise with his tongue. “You are wrong. No one is coming, Caine.”
Caine focused on every corner of the floor not covered in shadow.
Finally, his eyes spotted something… A broken tooth, about five feet away from him.
The man snapped his fingers in Caine’s face. “Are you paying attention, gringo? We can keep doing this the hard way, if you like. I don’t mind. It’s no skin off my back.”
Caine tensed up again, but the cords had no give.
The sicario moved around Caine and checked on the bindings. “As I was saying, we are both ex-special forces. I was AFEUR, Colombian Special Forces Group.”
The man paced again, walking circles in the dark room. “I know men like you and I are trained to ignore pain, to push through it. That’s why, when I torture you today, I will need to inflict far more pain than I would on anyone else. You will suffer more than any man who has been here before you.”
Caine watched the man, waiting until he stood in just the right spot. Then he spoke. “You want to find what you have lost?”
The skeletal man stopped. He appeared surprised. “You disappoint me, Mr. Caine. Giving in so soon?”
Caine nodded. “Never liked hammers.”
The man grinned. “Go on? Tell me where she is?”
“She? I was talking about your balls, asshole.” Caine barked a short, pained laugh. “I saw them at your puta of a mother's house. Right next to the dresser, where I left her some pesos.”
Caine was taunting the man now, hoping to force him to lose control. Judging by the fury in the sicario’s eyes, it was working.
“Didn't you know? She still keeps them pickled in a jar. Shows them to visitors. She told me she really wanted a girl, not a little marica like yourself.”
Caine’s words had the desired effect. In a fit of rage the man kicked Caine’s chair, sending him sprawling onto the muck-stained floor. The impact shocked his aching body, but it was nothing compared to the hammer blows. He groaned, playing up the pain as he writhed on the dirty floor. Behind his back, his fingers grasped at the broken tooth. He slipped it between his thumb and forefinger as the sicario yanked the chair upright.
The skeletal man's face was bright red, and his eyes simmered with rage. He lifted the hammer, aiming the tool at Caine’s jaw.
"If you don't want to talk," the man rasped, "then I will make sure you never speak again!"
Caine closed his eyes and prepared for the impact.
When nothing happened, he looked up.
An eerie, serene look filled the man's face. His skin went pale again, as the blood rage drained from his features. He chuckled. “You think you could fool me so easily, eh?”
“If the shoe fits,” Caine muttered.
“No. I will not let you end things so quickly. I will enjoy my time with you.” He swung the hammer again. The metal head slammed into Caine’s right calf.
Caine screamed. Water filled his eyes, and his breath became ragged. And yet, Caine knew this was nothing compared with what was still to come.
Again, Tyler screamed out from a distant room in the same building.
Caine clenched his jaw. He had to control himself if there was any chance of saving his partner.
His only consolation was that now he had the tooth. As he panted for breath, he used his fingers to saw it back and forth behind his back. The jagged edge of the shattered tooth cut at the cord that bound his wrists.
“You can’t reach Su Liao,” Caine growled through gritted teeth and the sweat pouring off his face. “You’ll never find her.”
“Don’t be so sure about that. We have people everywhere.”
“Sure you do.”
Suddenly, a door flung open. A beam of light from outside pierced the shadows.
A large man barreled into the room. He was hairy and fat. Caine's eyes opened wide with surprise. Whoever he was, he was dressed like a cowboy. He wore a gold-plated .357 Magnum revolver at his waist. The gun's holster was decorated with gleaming metal wolves. It matched a wolf's head belt buckle, also forged in gold. His sweating face was covered by a scraggly beard. His clothes looked expensive and freshly ironed.
“Supay,” the fat man said in a calm but commanding voice.
Supay lowered his hammer and stood up. “Yes Jefe?” he answered in respect of his boss. Caine sensed an edge of contempt in his voice.
“Forget this gringo, Supay. He is of no use.”
Supay shook his head. “I disagree Jefe. Caine, or his friend in the next room, can lead us to Su Liao. Unless she is eliminated, she could compromise our operation.”
The other man patted Supay on the back. “No. Supay. I just got word Su Liao was seen at Miami airport, two days ago. She was whisked away in a government convoy. She is beyond our reach now.”
“But the rendezvous, in Los Angeles. They will know about that—”
“That can all be changed. We will arrange a new drop off point when you meet with Zhao.”
Caine listened as he sawed at his bindings. He suspected that when this conversation ended, they would waste no more time. They’d execute him quickly. He had to be ready to act.
Supay’s black eyes narrowed. “I should have killed the whore in La Paz when I had the chance.”
“Yes, you should have. But it matters little now.”
“So we just kill this gringo and his friend? Be done with them?”
The fat man nodded. “Y
es, but leave them to me. You need to meet with Zhao and the submarine. Time is running out. I will deal with Caine in my… usual way.”
Caine frantically rubbed the jagged edge of the tooth across his bindings. As he worked, he kept his eyes on the two men.
“And the bitch?” Supay asked. “Kill her too?”
The Jefe shrugged. “She's going to bleed out soon. Until then, I might as well have some fun with her. Then I’ll hand her over to my men to finish her.” He patted Supay on the back again. “Smile, my friend. Everything we have planned will soon come to pass. You and I will be rich."
The fat man glanced over Supay's shoulder and stared at Caine. "And these fools will soon learn of the legend… They will die begging for mercy, as El Lobizon feasts on their blood."
Chapter Eighteen
Caine’s eyes followed Supay as he left the torture chamber. As the skeletal man's footsteps echoed in the distance, Caine sawed at his bonds with the shattered tooth. He had to work fast, not just to save himself, but Valencia and Tyler too. The woman had betrayed them, but he knew she was not his enemy. The cartel had forced her hand by threatening her family. If he could somehow get them all out of this mess, she could still be a valuable ally.
With Supay gone, the fat cartel boss turned to Caine and grinned. “Time to finish you.” Spit gathered on the edge of his bulbous lips.
Caine was nowhere near close to cutting his bonds. He had to keep the fat man talking. “I thought he was the boss?” Caine taunted.
The man’s eyes grew dark and narrow. “Do you know who I am?”
“Actually, I do.”
“Then say my name.”
Caine chuckled. “You’re Enrique Rojas.”
The words caused the fat man to tense. His brows bunched, revealing his annoyance. “That is not my name.”
“Sure it is,” Caine replied with a smile.
During his down time at Langley, Caine read every situation report that passed through his inbox. The heads of various Latin American drug cartels were a common subject. He had memorized most of their names. He knew Rojas was a mid-level player in the Colombian underworld. The drug lord controlled cocaine manufacturing and distribution around Tumaco. He paid a share of his profits as protection money to the larger cartels in Bogota, Cali and Medellin.
The fat man glared at him, then spat on the floor. “Stupid gringo. Have you not heard the legend? My name is—"
"Yeah, Yeah, I know. El Lobizon. Enough with the ghost stories. We both know your real name is Enrique Rojas.”
According to the files Rebecca had provided him in Peru, everyone operating in the intelligence or judicial system with an interest in Tumaco knew of Rojas’ obsession… The myth of El Lobizon. The Latin American fairytale was similar to European werewolf myths. Besides, it was not like the man kept his alter-ego identity secret. Quite the opposite, in fact.
Rojas’ face twisted into a mask of fury. He gnashed his teeth, and a vein popped out on his forehead. “It doesn’t matter, Caine. You’ll be dead in minutes.”
Caine forced himself to laugh. “What are you going to do? Transform into a wolf, and eat me?”
The hulking man's lip quivered. He clenched his fists, barely able to contain his rage.
Meanwhile, Caine continued cutting his bindings.
“This is South America," Rojas growled. "We may have adopted Catholicism, but that doesn’t mean we gave up the old ways of the Incans, the Moche or the Tiwanaku. The tribes of the Amazon share blood with us here. Their medicine men brew potions that alter the mind, Caine. The people believe in witches and demons, monsters and spirits—”
“Go on then,” Caine taunted. “Might as well see the show before I die. Show me the legend. Show me El Lobizon."
“You will see soon enough.”
Caine snorted. “You’re pathetic, Rojas. Not to mention a fake.”
Rojas punched Caine hard in the gut.
Caine was ready for it. He tightened his abdominal muscles as the blow struck. He held the tooth safely behind his back until the pain faded, then he resumed sawing at the ropes.
“It doesn’t matter what I believe,” said the flabby cartel leader. “Or what Gringos like you believe. It only matters that my enemies and the scared sheep in this town believe. If they fear I am a wolf, then I become a wolf in their minds. If they fear I am El Lobizon, then I am El Lobizon. Fear gives men like me power."
“You got that last bit right. Without fear, you're nothing, Rojas. Just another two-bit drug dealer south of the border. In a year or two, someone else will come along. Someone younger, hungrier. The people will have a new monster to worry about. They’ll forget your little legend soon enough."
Rojas punched Caine in the mouth. The blow rattled Caine’s jaw. He tasted blood, but his teeth remained intact.
When Caine recovered, he tested his bindings again. They had a little give now. He was almost through.
“I will set my dogs on you,” Rojas panted. His breath was heavy with anger and rage. “Everyone will hear them rip you and your friend to pieces. Then they will feed on your meat and lick up every last drop of your blood. And everyone will know who butchered you. El Lobizon. The monster that haunts the nightmares of children. They will know, and they will believe. Just as you will soon believe.”
Caine kept cutting. He was almost there. “Sorry Rojas. I don't believe in fairytales.”
“We will see, Caine. We will see.”
Rojas exited the room. Caine heard him with his dogs. They howled and snarled in the dark recesses of the warehouse. He assumed Rojas was beating them with a stick, enraging the poor beasts. The drug lord had likely starved them as well, so they would make quick work of their victims.
Caine worked faster. He felt the bindings around his wrists go loose. He flexed his arms, and the thin, frayed cord snapped. His hands were free.
The sore muscles in his legs burned in agony as he shot to his feet. He ignored the pain, slipping the cords that bound his ankles off the chair legs. A door in the shadows creaked opened.
A large Doberman pinscher paced into the room. It stood growling in the dim light. It advanced cautiously, one heavy paw after the other. It was stalking Caine, closing in for the kill.
Naked and vulnerable, Caine crouched and stepped backwards.
The animal sensed his fear. It bared its fangs and uttered a vicious snarl. Then it charged.
The savage dog was upon him in seconds, its jaws snapping and biting at his naked flesh. Caine's leg swung out. He heard the dog yelp as he kicked it hard in the ribs. The animal fell to the floor. Caine kicked it again, and heard the crack of breaking bones.
The dog picked itself up off the ground. It whimpered, and limped forward a few steps. Then it snarled, and leapt at Caine once more.
As much as Caine hated hurting animals, he had no choice. It was him or the beast. He locked his fingers together and pummeled the savage animal with a double fisted blow. He heard more ribs break as his fists thudded into the beast's flesh.
He swung an arm around the animal's neck, pinning it in a lock.
The dog struggled. Its paws clawed at the floor. It fought to live, as all animals did.
But Caine was stronger. His grip around the dog was crushing its windpipe. It took a while to die. Thirty seconds. Maybe a minute. Eventually the poor animal’s brain was exhausted of oxygen. Its paws slowed their frantic scratching. Its body hung limp in Caine's arms.
He dropped the canine to the floor. Then he marched out of the room and into the darkness beyond.
In the shadows, he saw a terrified Enrique Rojas backing away from him. He had just watched Caine butcher his alter-ego. He was desperately trying to load bullets from his belt into the gold-plated Magnum revolver. The gun shook in his hands. He dropped a few bullets, and they rolled across the floor.
As Caine moved closer, Rojas managed to load the gun. He snapped the cylinder closed, and raised the revolver in a one handed grip. He was too late.
Caine snatched the weapon from his hand. He flipped open the cylinder, and checked to be sure it was loaded. Then spun the chamber closed, and placed the weapon on the so-called werewolf’s head.
"Please, wait," the fat man gasped. "I can pay you, I can—"
"Let's find out if the legends are true," Caine snarled.
He inhaled, and held his breath. Then he squeezed the trigger.
Rojas’ head exploded in a shower of bone and brain matter. Half his face disintegrated into a pink cloud, as the fat corpse fell onto the filthy floor.
There were two more dogs in the cages. Both leapt at the bars, growling and snapping at Caine. He knew Rojas had trained them to be vicious. Tortured them, beat them…
Caine hated himself for what he was about to do, but he had no choice. He fired a bullet into the skull of each animal, putting them out of their misery.
As the second shot echoed through the room, another door burst open. A naked, muscular man rushed in, bellowing an unintelligible war cry. He pointed a glimmering knife at Caine as he charged across the floor.
Caine spun around, aiming the Magnum revolver at the new intruder.
It was Tyler! Jack’s body was bloody and beaten, and several burns marked his skin. But he was alive.
Tyler's eyes opened wide with surprise. He lowered the knife, and glanced at the corpse on the ground.
“Damn Caine! I thought I was about to save your ass,” Tyler said through a grin.
“I was about to do the same for you.”
Tyler nodded. “Right, well let’s save the high fives for later. We need to clear the building. And find some fucking clothes, before any more of these jokers show up.”
“That's not all,” Caine said, taking a second to catch his breath. “Your friend Valencia is still alive. We need to find her too.”
Chapter Nineteen
The two operatives covered each other as they swept through the rest of the dark warehouse. As they stalked past another room, Caine noticed three male corpses sprawled across the floor inside. Their throats were slit, and dark liquid pooled around their bodies. Tyler's handiwork, no doubt. He knew the former Delta Force operator was skilled with a knife.
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