Текст книги "Jack Taggart Mysteries 7 - Book Bundle"

Автор книги: Don Easton

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Текущая страница: 115 (всего у книги 141 страниц)

chapter thirty-four

Despite the light rain in Vancouver, Jarvis was proud of the colours he had recently earned, making him a full member of Satans Wrath. He wanted everyone to see he was now sporting the full club logo on his back. As he pulled out of the compound of the west-side chapter clubhouse, his bare muscular arms, black with tattoos, gunned the engine of his Harley Davidson as he roared out on to the street.

Minutes later, a car with two men pulled alongside him and the passenger rolled down his window and gestured for him to pull over.

Jarvis pulled to the curb, but kept his bike running as the car double-parked beside him.

“Who the fuck are you two guys? Cops?” asked Jarvis.

“No,” said the passenger. “I’m Miguel and this is Ramiro. We need to talk to Señor Damien.”

“What are ya? Fuckin’ reporters? Talk to our media guy.”

“We’re not reporters. We have a very valuable gift for Señor Damien. It’s business. We need to meet him, but were warned the police could be watching your clubhouse.”

“If you’re in business with Damien, why don’t you call him yourself?” asked Jarvis as he looked around, wondering if the club was trying to test his response.

“We’ve never met him. We don’t have his number. We want you to call him.”

Jarvis hesitated about what to do. Although he had earned his full patch, he was not senior enough to ever be allowed to talk to the National President directly. “Tell ya what,” he replied. “I’ll take you to an alley where it is safe to talk. You wait there and I’ll go talk to someone.”

Lance Morgan, president of the west-side chapter of Satan’s Wrath, went to the clubhouse and listened to what Jarvis had to say. When Jarvis was finished talking, Lance called Damien and spoke briefly.

“Damien doesn’t know either of these guys,” said Lance when he hung up. “Maybe they’re trying to set him up for a hit. Take the boys over and check them out.”

Twenty minutes later, Miguel and Ramiro had guns shoved in their faces by six members of Satans Wrath. They were both jerked out of their car and slammed up against a garbage dumpster and roughly searched. Lance was watching from a distance and waited until Jarvis gave him a wave before walking up to them.

“No weapons,” said Jarvis. “They do have a new Rolex watch in their car though. It’s still in the box.”

“Are you Señor Damien?” asked Miguel meekly. “It is for you. A gift from Big Al. There is also a picture in a brown envelope.”

Jarvis retrieved the items from the car and handed the watch to Lance.

Lance nodded appreciatively as he examined the jewel-encrusted watch. Jarvis then handed him the picture.

“That is Big Al,” said Miguel helpfully, pointing to the picture. “Many beautiful ladies, yes? I think your man is having a good time.”

Lance’s jaw gaped open as he looked at the picture. “My man?” he spluttered.

“You do not know him?” asked Miguel, looking shocked.

“Fuckin’ rights I know him,” replied Lance hotly, before turning to Jarvis and saying, “Hold these two until I get back with Damien.”

In Juarez, Jack and Adams walked down the alley to return to their car.

“What are you going to do now?” asked Jack, with a final glance at Rubalcava, who was walking away in the opposite direction.

“After I drop you off at the hotel, I’ll go to the office and feed the bosses the scenario you told me,” replied Adams.

“I’m so groggy from lack of sleep, do you mind running it past me? What did I suggest?” asked Jack.

“Fuck, I always heard you Canadians were polite. What you’re really wanting to know is if I have it right … right?”

Jack grinned in response.

“Okay,” continued Adams. “I’ll tell the bosses you met some of the bad guys last night and give them the news about what you learned, except for the part of you being taken to Casa Blanca. I’ll tell them I’m contacting my CIs to ask about a possible location for Casa Blanca and also line up a potential arrest scenario for everyone to be in place at The Old Warehouse.”

“Which, by the sounds of it, we’ll have to postpone.”

“Yeah, but hopefully by then we’ll know where Casa Blanca is. How long we postpone it may depend on what you find out. If she’s already dead …”

“I know.” Jack sighed. “That would change everything. Will your people expect to cover me at the Armadillo? They might expect me to go there to see if Slater is around.”

“I’ll tell them it’s not needed. I’ll say if he is there, that you’re only swinging by to invite him to The Old Warehouse, as well.”

“Sounds like we have our ducks in a row.”

“Then I’ll split from the office and be waiting for you with my friend on the highway.”

“They pick me up at twelve and I should be back to the Armadillo by three. I figure we should be going by you around one.”

“Yeah,” said Adams glumly. “If we are on the right highway and if you are in the right vehicle so we can spot you.”

“Don’t worry if you don’t. If it isn’t near the radio tower, I’ll figure out some way to find the place again, even if I have to crawl up on the roof and mark it with a big X.”

“It was finding you I was thinking of … before you’re X’d. C-X’d that is.”

Jack normally would have smiled. C-X was a term used in target-practising to indicate the kill zone of the heart or lung vicinity. At the moment, Adams’s comment didn’t seem all that funny. He glanced at Adams and sombrely replied, “Like you said before, there is nothing you can do, regardless.”

They drove back across the Bridge of the Americas to Jack’s hotel in El Paso in utter silence. Both men were quietly wondering what the next few hours would bring. When Adams pulled up to the front of the hotel, he leaned over and shook Jack’s hand.

“Good luck,” Adams said.

“Thanks. See you for a beer later,” replied Jack as he got out.

Adams remained parked for a moment as he watched Jack walk away.

I wonder if I will ever see him alive again …

chapter thirty-five

It was eleven o’clock when Jack arrived back at the Armadillo Motel and saw Slater’s pickup truck parked in front of a unit. Seconds later, Slater let him into his room.

“When did you get in?” asked Jack, flopping down into a chair.

“About ten minutes ago. I’ve been on the road since four o’clock this morning.”

“You poor guy,” said Jack, somewhat sarcastically.

“Yeah, I’m pooped. I was about to call my contact and let him know I’m here. Have you met any of the guys yet?”

“Last night. They took me out on the town. I met the uncle.”

“Everything okay?” Slater asked.

“Couldn’t be better. You may as well hold off on contacting them. They’re picking me up within the hour to show me some of their operation.”

“Will I be coming with you?”

“Definitely not,” Jack intoned.

“Good, then depending on what they want me to do with the money, I might be able to get some sleep.”

Promptly at twelve o’clock, Berto and Eduardo arrived in El Pero’s white SUV. After a brief conversation, it was decided Jack would travel with Berto in the SUV and Eduardo would ride with Slater in his pickup truck to show him where to deliver the money.

“The place where we are taking Señor Slater is also where we are meeting Big Al and El Pero, explained Berto. “Señor Slater will stay there while the rest of us continue on. Once you have seen Casa Blanca, El Pero, Eduardo and me will take you back to El Paso. We can maybe have a few drinks, go out for dinner and then go to The Old Warehouse tonight.”

“Sounds great. Too bad Big Al couldn’t join us.”

“Yes, that is unfortunate. Now, I am sorry but I must —”

Jack turned away and leaned spread-eagled against the wall. Neither Berto or Eduardo had their shirts tucked in and by the telltale bulges, Jack knew they were both armed. Too bad they wouldn’t accommodate me, too …

Fifty minutes later, the four men pulled up to an auto body shop in Juarez. Berto parked out front while Slater was told to park inside the shop. Jack was then directed to Big Al’s silver SUV, which was parked farther down the street.

As Jack walked over, Big Al and El Pero got out to greet him. He and Big Al then sat in the back while El Pero got in the front. Sanchez stared at Jack from where he was sitting behind the wheel and Jack smiled at him. The smile was not returned.

Jack had not seen any telltale signs to indicate if Big Al or El Pero were armed, but there was no doubt in his mind Sanchez was.

Eduardo left Slater at the body shop and rejoined Berto, who then pulled up behind them in the white SUV. Jack felt slightly relieved. Not only were the vehicles known to Adams, but two SUVs travelling down a highway would be easy to spot. The windows were too tinted for anyone to see for sure which one he was in, but it didn’t matter as long as both SUVs stayed together.

“Now I must do this,” smiled Big Al apologetically as he held up a black cloth bag with a drawstring.

“It’s okay. I need some sleep, anyway. Nudge me if I snore.”

Big Al smiled as he placed the bag over Jack’s head and tied it shut.

Jack purposely avoided conversation as they drove. He tried to keep track of turns, stops, and any noises, but with the air conditioner running, along with the radio on and idle conversation, he quickly lost track. He also had the distinct feeling they had driven in circles a couple of times to make sure they weren’t being followed.

Adams and Rubalcava were sitting parked in Adams’s car at a gas station on the outskirts of Juarez when they saw the silver SUV drive past, followed by the white.

“Bingo.” Adams smiled and pulled out to follow them. It was a paved road, but traffic was light, with only about one or two vehicles every minute. Adams stayed far back and tried to keep two cars between him and the SUVs.

After driving for about ten minutes, Rubalcava said, “We are getting close.”

“How do you know?” asked Adams, concentrating on the vehicles in front of him.

“We passed an old farmhouse on the right. There were two tan coloured SUVs parked under a shed. A poor farmer could never afford vehicles that nice.”

Adams glanced in his rear-view mirror and nodded.

Half a mile further, the two SUVs slowed and turned right on to a dirt road.

“The road we are on basically faces west in the direction we are going,” said Rubalcava. “Where they turned, if they keep going north, they are only about four miles from the border.”

As they drove past, they saw that both SUVs had stopped to check in with someone parked in a crew-cab truck behind an empty fruit stand. Adams continued driving and watched in the rear-view mirror as the dust billowed up when the two cars continued north. Moments later, they disappeared from sight.

“Now what?” asked Adams, checking his watch. “From the times we were given, Jack should be on his way back out within thirty minutes.”

“Look, you can see the top of the tower from here,” said Rubalcava, pointing to the left. “It might be the closest vantage point we can find, unless these guys are also using it. The turnoff to it must be just up ahead.”

Adams glanced at the tower. “In this heat, a guy wouldn’t last long up there. My guess is anybody out here on security will be sticking close to the air conditioners. If someone is there, I’ll get out and make it look like I pulled off the highway to take a piss and then leave.”

A few minutes later, Adams parked beside the radio tower and was relieved to see no other vehicles present. At the base, scrub brush and a small cement building blocked their view of the main road from the sandy trail they had come in on. The facility itself was surrounded with a chain-link fence, topped with two strands of rusty barbed wire.

Adams parked the car beside the fence and went to the trunk and retrieved an old set of gloves, which he intended more for climbing the tower than getting over the fence. Touching metal exposed to the hot sun would be like putting your hand on a stove element.

Adams then hung a set of binoculars around his neck and used the hood of the car to help him climb over the fence. There was a ladder on the tower, but it faced the road and he was afraid to use it in case he was spotted. Instead, he climbed up the back of the tower where natural rungs in the girders accommodated his hands and feet. The mass of girders also gave him some cover. A couple of minutes later he climbed high enough to get a view.

“See anything?” asked Rubalcava from the where he stood beside the car.

Adams adjusted his binoculars and said, “I got an eyeball on the fruit stand that the truck is parked behind. Also the farmhouse we passed with the two tan coloured SUVs. The dust trail made by the two SUVs we were following disappears over a couple of hills in the distance. I should see them coming when they return to the main road.”

“I think we are in the best spot to watch then.”

“Jack is going to owe me a cold beer for this,” muttered Adams. Although he was fairly well-concealed, he was still cognizant of the truck behind the fruit stand. He knew the power of a sniper’s scope and tried to remain motionless as he clung to the tower, sweat trickling into his eyes, down his armpits, and soaking into his shirt.

He remained on his perch for fifteen minutes when he heard the sound of gunfire coming from the direction of where he was looking. His muscles automatically tensed, ready to spring into action and his mouth gaped open as he strained to listen. Two shots …

“You hear something?” asked Rubalcava.

“Gunshots!” replied Adams. The sound of two more shots was heard, then a flicker of movement caught his eye and he adjusted his binoculars. “There’s another tan-coloured SUV hidden amongst some bushes on top of a sand dune about a half-mile northwest of the fruit stand,” he said quickly. “I hadn’t spotted it until now. Two guys are getting out of it … one guy with binoculars … and the other guy just laid a sniper rifle laid over the hood,” he yelled excitedly.

“I don’t understand! Is it the sniper that is shooting?”

“Not yet! I think the sniper is sighting in on where the gunshots came from,” yelled Adams.

A fifth shot was heard in the distance, followed almost immediately by a louder explosive clap from the sniper’s rifle. Adams watched in horror as the man with the rifle received a high-five slap of congratulations from the second man.

chapter thirty-six

“We have arrived,” said Big Al, as Sanchez came to a stop. Big Al took the bag off Jack’s head and he rubbed his eyes.

“Welcome to Casa Blanca,” added El Pero.

All four men stepped out of the SUV and Jack glanced around. He was standing under an open shed where the SUV had parked. Berto and Eduardo were parked beside them. Jack saw a modest ranch-style home in front of him partially shaded by a large tree in the front yard.

Lily Rae … are you in there?

As they walked toward the house, Jack discreetly took in as many visual details as he could. The home was built in a hollow, making it difficult to see far, but there were no other buildings within sight. He tried to memorize the layout of the land while trying to imagine what it would look like if he flew over it in a plane.

Near to the house, a plot of land was being used in a crude attempt to grow corn, but the stalks were few and the ones that had managed to grow were parched and only knee-high.

Big Al saw what he was looking at and laughed. “That used to be a gully,” he explained. “We used it to get rid of the dirt from the tunnel. From the air it will look like a garden. Good idea, yes?”

“Yes, replied Jack, wondering what else had been disposed of in the ravine.

They entered the house and were greeted by two men standing in the kitchen. Both had close-cropped hair, M-16A2 automatic rifles slung over their shoulders and each wore drab green military singlet T-shirts, sand-coloured camouflage pants, and army boots. Their skin was a darker brown than the others, leaving Jack to speculate they spent considerable time outside the house, as well.

They each gave a respectful hello in Spanish to Big Al, who nodded curtly in reply. The two men then smiled and gave a friendly nod to Berto and Eduardo. There was no doubt they had all been soldiers, or perhaps the two with the M-16A2s still were, thought Jack, as he recalled Adams comments that sometimes soldiers were used to protect large drug shipments.

Big Al interrupted his thoughts. “You are standing beside the entrance to the tunnel,” he said, smiling.

“Can you find it, Jack?” challenged El Pero.

“The entrance is in the kitchen?” replied Jack, looking around. The floor was made from yellow ceramic square pieces of tile. The grouting was a light brown and Jack looked to see if there was an area where the grouting was missing. It all looked in order.

The kitchen table, cluttered with empty beer bottles and a deck of cards was light-weight and easy to see underneath. The countertops were also cluttered with empty beer bottles, a few dishes, and men’s magazines. Nothing seemed particularly out of place.

Jack glanced at the fridge and stove, then looked at Big Al and raised his eyebrows.

“It is not under the fridge or the stove,” replied Big Al smugly.

“Is it okay if I search the rest of the house?” asked Jack, desperately wondering if Lily Rae was nearby.

“No, the entrance is in this room,” said Big Al.

“Then I give up.”

Big Al smiled and went over to a counter. On the wall behind it was an eye-hook from which a key-rack hung. He turned the hook sideways and Jack heard a small click. As this happened, Big Al grabbed the end of the counter and swung it away from the wall. One section of the counter was on hinges, attached to another section of the counter. Big Al then let go of the spring-loaded switch and the hook returned to its upright position.

Jack stepped forward and looked at the shaft that led into the ground from where the counter had hidden it. A ladder on the side of the shaft descended out of sight.

Big Al leaned in the hole and flicked a light switch. “Go ahead, climb down. Berto will show you.”

Jack climbed down the ladder after Berto. The ladder descended about one storey underground. When he reached the bottom, he came to a tunnel about twice the width of his shoulders. Periodic overhead lighting stretched for as far as he could see, given the darkened conditions.

“Wow! This is really something,” said Jack.

“And much cooler down here away from the sun,” replied Berto.

“Speaking of cooler,” said Jack, fishing to see if he would learn any further security details, “the two men upstairs with the automatic rifles are fairly dark. They must spend a lot of time outside in the sun, as well.”

“No, no,” replied Berto. “They are darker because they are not Mexican. They are mercenaries who have come here from South America. There are other teams who supply perimeter security. The house is never left empty.”

“I see. You and Eduardo seemed like friends when you greeted them, so I thought perhaps you were in the military together.”

“We have had similar training, which is what makes us friends,” replied Berto.

“It looks amazing,” said Jack, gesturing with his hand down the tunnel. “I have seen enough to know you are capable of moving a lot of dope.”

“You can walk along it if you like.”

“That’s okay,” replied Jack. “I should be getting back.”

“We have a special cart we use for moving big loads,” said Berto, as they were climbing back up the ladder. “But I think we need two carts. With one, it always seems to be at the wrong side.”

“Then you would have two at the wrong side,” replied Jack.

“You’re probably right,” chuckled Berto.

“So what do you think?” Big Al smiled when Jack reappeared into the kitchen.

“It’s fantastic. What about the other end? Is it well-protected?”

“Yes, much like here,” replied Big Al.

“Absolutely incredible. Your organization is exactly who we want to do business with.”

“That is great, amigo. I will have my men drive you back to your motel now. Señor Damien will be pleased, yes?”

“Yes, but first, is there a bathroom I can use?”

“Around the corner and down at the end of the hall,” gestured Big Al with his thumb.

Jack headed down the hallway. The first room held a laundry tub, under which was a thick lead pipe fastened close to the wall and used as a drain. A pail and bottles of cleaning fluid were in the corner, along with a dirty mop that had bloodstains on it.

Jack grimaced and continued on. The next room was a bedroom and the door was open. He glanced in and saw two mattresses on the floor and a cheap dresser.

The next room down the hall was padlocked shut.

Bingo … Jack nervously looked back to make sure nobody was watching and then held his breath and put his ear to the door and listened. He did not hear anything. Come on Lily … please be alive … We’ll get you out of here …

The sound of movement in the kitchen caught his attention so he quickly continued down to the washroom. He waited a moment, flushed the toilet and returned to the kitchen.

“I see you’ve got a bedroom door padlocked shut,” said Jack. “What’s in there?”

“Oh … that’s the men’s entertainment room,” said Big Al.

“Entertainment?” asked Jack.

“They get bored, so they keep women in there.”

“With the padlock, I take it they are not putas,” said Jack, smiling.

“No, we would not risk such a person knowing about Casa Blanca,” replied Big Al. “The women in there don’t come back. Whores make money. To kill them would not be good for business and would make some of our colleagues angry.”

“A bedroom does not seem very secure,” noted Jack. “Have you ever had anyone escape?”

“No. A woman cannot get out of there,” said El Pero. “At least not alive.”

“Would you mind if I see for myself?” asked Jack.

Big Al shrugged and said, “Why not.”

“I’ll show you,” offered El Pero, removing a key from the rack over the counter.

Jack, Big Al, and Eduardo followed El Pero down the hall. Jack watched in anticipation as El Pero fumbled with the padlock and opened the door.

Jack took a deep breath and stepped inside the room. He looked at the naked young woman who was curled up with her back to them on a bare mattress on the floor. Her long red hair told him he had found Lily Rae.

The mattress was so stained and dirty that the original colour was unknown. Jack didn’t know if he wanted to cry out in anguish at her suffering or feel elation because he had found her. He tried to look disinterested in Lily as he looked around the room.

The room was empty of any other furniture and stunk of urine and feces. A plate of beans and rice was beside the mattress, but the beans had gone mouldy. Beside the plate was a plastic bottle full of water.

The only window in the room was covered with a thick sheet of plywood fastened to the wall with a multitude of screws.

Big Al spoke in Spanish to El Pero as Jack walked over to the closet. It was evident Big Al had not realized Lily was there and was still alive.

Jack slid one of two bi-fold closet doors open to reveal a plastic pail that explained the odour. The pail was the toilet. He pushed the door shut and tried not to let his rage show.

Lily had not moved and remained with her back to everyone. He stared at her to see if he could tell if she was breathing. Bruises covered her back and legs, but they were turning yellow and were obviously not fresh. Whatever fight she once had in her was gone.

“I am sorry, Jack,” said Big Al. “This is the girlfriend of the hombre who robbed us. I did not know she was still alive. I will have my men deal with her at once so you can assure Señor Damien that there are no … what you say … loose ends.”

“There’s no need to kill her,” replied Jack. “I can see there is no escape.”

At the sound of Jack’s voice, Lily turned her head to face the men. Her eyes fixed on Jack and he could see the new hope flash across her face at the sight of seeing a gringo. She half-rose from the bed and extended her hand toward him. “Please,” her mouth tried to say, but her throat was dry and only her lips mouthed the word. She swallowed several times and finally croaked out an audible plea. “Help me. You are English. Please …”

Jack’s face hardened at the role he knew he must play. He grabbed her face with his hand and shoved her backwards onto the mattress. “Fuck off, bitch!”

Jack then turned to Big Al and said, “I have to admit, she is very pretty. It would be a shame to rob your men of their entertainment … and I know Damien would feel bad about doing so simply to appease him. The important thing is I know she will never leave here alive.”

Jack glanced down at Lily. She lay on her back with her eyes staring blankly at the ceiling like she was in a trance. Her final bit of hope was gone. Her body relaxed and a calm settled over her emotions as her brain accepted she was going to die and there was nothing she could do to save herself. Perhaps, thought Jack, at this point she even welcomes death.

“She most certainly won’t leave here alive. Still, I am sure you would feel better if you knew she was dead,” he added, with a nod toward Berto, who reached for his pistol.

“Please, not now,” said Jack. “There really is no rush and Damien would be upset if he knew I was implicated in a murder. As a favour, I would appreciate it if you made sure I was away from here for at least a day or two. That way it could never be said I was somehow involved or responsible.”

“You never would be held accountable,” Big Al assured him.

“I know, but as I said, Damien has not met you and may not understand. He would be angry with me. He expects this first meeting to go without incident.”

“As you wish,” replied Big Al. He spoke in Spanish to Berto and told him to take care of her later. Berto replied that one of the men had told him she had not eaten or drank any water for several days. He expected her to die soon regardless.

Big Al shrugged in response.

Berto’s comment caused Jack to worry. Going without food isn’t a problem. Going without water in this heat will kill you in a matter of days. What if the operational plan to save her gets delayed for a day or two? Reconnaissance could take that long … will she still be alive then?

Jack knew to say something to give her the will to live could have disastrous consequence. It could be like trying to save a drowning person who panics and takes you with them.

As the men were walking out of the room, Jack decided to follow what his heart told him to do.

“Just a sec,” he said, giving an evil grin. “I’ve never tasted a redhead and there’s something I’ve always wondered.” With that comment, he returned to Lily and in full view of the men, slowly licked his lips, bent over, and made a show of nibbling on her ear and pretending to stick his tongue in as he shifted his body to block their view.

“Do not speak,” he whispered in her ear. “Things are not what they seem. I promised your friend that I would bring her little froggy home. Hang in there. Help is on the way.”

Lily did not move as Jack stood up. She stared at him silently as her brain, fuzzy from dehydration, tried to digest if what she heard was real or if she had dreamed it.

Jack smiled as he walked toward the men watching him from the doorway and said, “It is true. Redheads do taste spicier.”

The men laughed and El Pero slapped Jack on the back and said, “If you think redheads are spicy, amigo, you should taste a señorita,” a giggle shook his chubby belly and he wiped a tear from his eyes with the back of his hand before continuing, “with a habanera chile inside her. But be careful your own chile grande does not touch it!”

Jack forced a laugh to join the others and then smiled at El Pero and patted him on the shoulder. He hoped his smile hid his true thoughts.

I am going to kill you … I don’t know how … but I will …

Jack did not risk glancing back at Lily as El Pero closed the door. He was too afraid she might say something.

Lily stared at the door and heard the padlock click shut. A promise to bring little froggy home? Only Marcie calls me froggy …

Then it hit her and her body trembled as fear and hope washed over her at the same time.

That was the Uncle Jack that Marcie told me about!

She crawled over to the door and sat, wrapping her arms around her knees and trying to stifle her sobs as she listened, hoping to hear more of Jack’s voice. When it sounded like he had left, she crawled back to the bottle of water and drank.