The outskirts of the community were slow to come into view as Beth steered the vehicle along the winding road. The vegetation changed, wild jungle became cash crops, ramshackle buildings sprang up and were scattered on either side of the road.
She passed a small house with a cornfield on her left. An old lady, tricked out in a black skirt and top with a matching headscarf, sat in the doorway shucking corn into a wicker basket. She spared Beth the briefest glance as she drove by but didn’t deviate from her task.
Farther along, a boy of perhaps ten stepped onto the road herding six or seven llamas. His head jerked up, and a chocolate-eyed gaze collided with her green one, but she braked with ease not ten feet from him. The boy’s eyes widened, peering at her as if she was a demon sent to take his soul before he scurried across in front of the vehicle with his charges. When they had cleared the road, she took her foot off the brake, gave it some gas and moved on.
The closer she came to the village center the more activity there was. As she rounded another bend, a produce-laden cart pulled by a donkey hogged the middle of the road. With no room to pass, Beth reduced the jeep to a crawl. The slower speed gave her an opportunity to glance around.
To her left, an old couple strolled hand in hand along the compacted earthen path, a scrawny dog yapping at their heels. The old man waved as she passed, and she gave them a cheery salute. Up ahead a largish building loomed on her right. Two wizened men were seated at a table out front playing chess and drinking coffee while a third man sat and watched. She assumed it might be the drop point, so eased over and cut the engine.
Yep. The faded sign painted above the door on the building behind them read Donostia’s, and her suspicions were confirmed. She had arrived.
With shaky hands she opened the small backpack containing the ransom and slipped her wallet, passport, and phone inside. Her larger pack she left on the back seat. A quick glance at her wristwatch revealed it was nine-fifty. Ten minutes early. Loretta would have been impressed. But no more procrastinating, it was do or die time, so hooking the bag over her shoulder, and with a stomach full of anxious butterflies, she stepped from the vehicle and made her way toward the building with purpose.
As she crossed the space, three pairs of rheumy eyes stared out from aged faces. The sight of a lone tourist would be a novelty—a lone female tourist a rarity.
“Buenos días, señors.” Her greeting held warmth and confidence despite the full flush of terror that ran up her spine.
“Buenos días, señorita,” the old men replied in unison. Their curious eyes bored into her back, or perhaps it was just imagination, as she walked through the open door, chin up, shoulders squared, and no trace of fear discernible, or so she hoped.
The interior was subdued. Little light entered through the small windows, and the air inside was cooler. She took a seat with her back to the wall at one of the five tables arranged around the smallish room. Red and white checked plastic cloths provided a splash of color to the otherwise dismal area. A large mirror, spotted with age, hung on the far wall, giving the illusion of space. She tilted her chair in order to see the doorway in its reflection.
A shabby-clothed man working behind the bar nodded a greeting. Her response was a weak smile, and dropping the bag on the floor buried it under her feet and leaned forward, head down, to give the guys an update.
“I’m inside the cantina. The place is empty except for the waiter. Three old men were sitting outside but they looked harmless,” she whispered, rummaging through the bag for her wallet.
Heavy footsteps to her left signaled the waiter was approaching. She straightened and beamed him her friendliest smile.
“Buenos días, señorita.”
“Do you speak English?”
“No.”
Great. His English was on par with her Spanish—almost non-existent. But she managed to communicate her order, or at least she hoped she did.
He cocked his head to one side and boomed, “Theresa!”
A small dark-haired woman appeared from a doorway Beth assumed led to the kitchen. A torrent of rapid Spanish erupted, and from the volatile tones exchanged and the woman’s sour expression as she flounced back the way she came, Beth assumed he’d given Theresa more than just her order.
Beth stared as the big burly waiter once again planted himself behind the bar. His face was dark with whiskers, his onyx eyes shadowed and penetrating. Icy fingers ran up her spine, and she gulped as he narrowed his gaze and glared in her direction.
What was his problem? Had she sprouted horns? Men. Well, she was not going to be intimidated by any of them. Not her brothers, not Zach, and definitely not by some Neanderthal waiter. She rolled her shoulders, jutted her chin and gave him an insolent stare. He lit a cigarillo and pursed his lips, his beady black gaze never leaving her.
A cloudy haze wafted across the room as he exhaled. It was gross, but what could she do other than twiddle her thumbs and wait. Less than five minutes later, Theresa returned with coffee and a gooey-looking sweet pastry on a tray.
“You travel alone, señorita?”
“Yes, but I am supposed to meet someone here.”
“Well, I hope your friend does not keep you waiting long.”
“So do I.”
Theresa set the tray down, spun on her heel, and with a swish of her hips went back the way she had come.
A middle-aged couple entered the room as Beth bit into the sticky bun. They didn’t appear to be the kidnapping type, but one never knew. Zach wanted to be kept informed, so, concealing her mouth with the bun, she mumbled between chews. “A couple, mid-fifties, just walked in. Locals, I’d say, they’re not taking much notice of me.” The urge to laugh was quickly smothered. All this cloak and dagger business was surreal, like she was in some B-grade movie, or a bad dream that any moment would end. But then a wave of solemnity hit her as the gravity of her situation once again surfaced and her shoulders shook.
Waiting was hard.
She willed herself not to steal another peek at her watch, but lacked self-control. It was almost twelve-fifty. The minutes had dragged into hours. Where was he, or she?
She took another sip of her second cup of coffee and grimaced, it was strong and bitter. The sweet bun she’d had with the first coffee disguised the flavor, but there was no disguising this one. It was thick and nasty and resembled sump oil. She pushed it aside and stood, stretching and easing the kinks in her back as her fear mounted. The urge to panic was strong. If only the guys could give her some guidance.
Her stomach rumbled. It was lunchtime already, so picking up her bag, she walked to the counter and ordered a sandwich from the goon. As an afterthought, she selected a coke from the fridge to have with lunch and a couple of chocolate bars that she dropped into her bag for later.
After paying for her purchases, she unscrewed the cap and took a long swallow, ridding her taste buds of the foul coffee taste. On her way back to the table, another man entered the room.
Now, he’s more the type. Cold shivers ran up her spine at the thought. Breath held, body tense, waiting for his approach, but he marched to the counter and placed an order, not giving her so much as a fleeting nod. It was both disappointing and anticlimactic. She slouched in her seat and silently admitted the tension was starting to get to her.
Zach asked to be kept in the loop, and she didn’t want to stuff up, so she covered her mouth with her hand and spoke. “Male, late twenties, medium height, a trifle on the thin side with black hair, pock-marked face, and a nose to rival Pinocchio’s underlined with a thick moustache, but again, he’s not interested in me.”
Theresa appeared and placed the sandwich in front of her. “Your friend is not coming perhaps?
“Maybe, I guess, I’ll just have to wait a little longer.”
“Mm, good luck.” Theresa wished her well, but it sounded insincere. Her eyes were cold, and although her mouth lifted at the corners it was more a sneer than a smile. She seemed flustered, but why? Perhaps the big oaf was a mean boss. Theresa studied her a moment before spinning on her toes and scurrying away.
Two hours later, Beth was still playing the waiting game. Nature was calling, so after grabbing the bag from under her feet she slid off the chair and made for the ladies’ room to freshen up. She was out of her depth and torn with indecision. Stay or go. Go or stay. Her head was a jumble. Damn, at this rate, she’d be here all night, but something sure as heck was wrong.
Enough was enough. As she washed her hands the decision was made in a snap, no more waiting—time to drive back to the guys and make another plan. It was disappointing but unavoidable. Once out of the ladies’ room though, her blood chilled. The thin man who had arrived earlier was seated at her table.
Stomach churning, pulse jumping, and with tentative steps, she made her approach.
“Señorita, do you have the money?”
“Yes, I have the money. Where’s Loretta?” Her speech was clear and concise for the guys’ benefit.
“Ah, there has been a change of plan.”
“What change?” Her knees wobbled, and she gripped the chair for support as dread sank into her cold and deep and her mind filled with ugly thoughts.
“Do not worry, she is well and anxious to see you. Come, I will take you to her.”
Beth’s confusion matched her dread. Zach had said, “If the vibes were bad to get the hell out of Dodge.” But did a change of location warrant pulling out? Were the vibes that bad? It was scary, to be sure, but it may be the only chance Loretta had. The idea of never seeing her again was unimaginable.
“Take me where exactly?” While trying to come to grips with the new arrangements, she pushed for details.
“To your friend of course, she is being held in comfort some miles away.”
“Then why bring me all the way here?” Beth’s heart plunged as turbulent thoughts ran riot. What if Loretta was already dead? But she may also be alive, a voice in her head counter-cried.
He raised his shoulders and lowered them as if he didn’t have a care in the world. “You left the hotel before we could inform you the plan had changed, and it is not far from here, half a day at most.”
Beth gnawed her bottom lip.
“Señorita, if all the victims were killed, no one would pay ransom. Your friend, she is safe, as you will be.”
The guy had to be slimy to be involved in the abduction, so his attempt to quell her fears fell short. And it was true, she’d left no forwarding address, so they couldn’t contact her.
Bottom line, she was not prepared to gamble with her friend’s life. Besides, having three gladiators right behind her as she walked into the arena was a huge consolation.
“Okay, I’ll come. I’ll just go get my other backpack from the jeep and be right…”
“No. We go now.”
“But it will only take…”
“No, now or deal is off.”
Those words had him on his feet, and her brow furrowed as she puzzled over the additional dilemma. What the hell, it was only a change of clothes and some personal items, all of which were replaceable.
“Okay, wait, I’m coming,” she called as he headed through the exit. Chin high and stomach in knots, she followed him out the door, praying her listening device was working loud and clear.
* * * *
“Fucking hell.” Zach sprang up from his jungle hiding place, eyes ablaze as he glared at Havoc and Hawk. “I told her not to do anything stupid. I said if things get out of hand, back off. Did I not say that?” His glare oscillated between his friends, anger radiating from every pore, his rigid control tested to the max as he dared them to disagree.
“Hey, settle down, mate.”
“That’s always been her problem, she won’t do a damn thing she’s told.”
“Look, it’s a minor setback…”
“Minor setback! Are you barking mad?”
“She had no choice, mate. We’ll be moments behind them, nothing’s going to happen to her or Loretta. We’ll make sure of that.”
“Havoc’s right, man. They’re on foot, and it’s not like we can’t keep up, we’re better prepared and better equipped.”
“You know that’s true, besides, it’s out of our hands now.”
“Remind me to wring her neck later.” Zach growled as he and the guys set off through the jungle at a steady pace.
They soon came across the spot where Beth and the Columbian had entered, not far from the rendezvous point. Tracking the pair was easier than following a trail of breadcrumbs. The shredded foliage was like a neon sign flashing, this way to kidnapped victims. At this rate they’d have to slow to a crawl, or risk overtaking them.