chapter forty-one
Berto was the first to enter the kitchen as the truck drove away. He grunted as he set a box down on the floor, then turned and wiped his brow and looked at Sanchez and Eduardo who had entered behind him, each carrying a box. He saw Sanchez’s face pale as he stood clutching the box while staring at the floor.
Berto looked to see what the problem was … and then saw the bright red drops of blood leading across the yellow-tiled floor to the counter, which was partially open.
The two mercenaries outside heard the frantic yelling of the men inside. In unison, they dropped the boxes they were carrying and with weapons in hand, burst into the kitchen.
Eduardo pointed to a bloody hand mark on the wall beside the key rack as Sanchez ran down the hall.
Seconds later, Sanchez hollered to confirm that Jack had escaped. He emitted a much louder yell when he screamed that the girl was gone and El Pero was dead.
Eduardo and Berto left the mercenaries to guard the tunnel and ran to the bedroom and stood beside Sanchez as they stared at El Pero’s body. A feeling of dread engulfed them as the realization sunk in that Big Al’s favourite nephew had been murdered … on their watch.
Moments later, the men huddled over the entrance to the tunnel. Berto bent down and flicked on the light switch, but the tunnel remained in darkness. An indentation in the wood revealed where Jack had used the barrel of the revolver to pry a wire lose from the switch.
Berto immediately called the men on the American side of the tunnel. They had not seen or heard anything yet, but would wait with their weapons poised should Jack and the girl attempt to break out at their end. When Berto hung up, he stared at Sanchez.
Sanchez swallowed nervously.
“You do it,” ordered Berto.
Sanchez nodded and used his cellphone to call Big Al.
Adams and Rubalcava were entering the outskirts of Juarez when they saw Big Al’s SUV speeding past in the opposite direction.
“What the hell? Now what?” questioned Adams.
“He couldn’t have been that far ahead of us,” noted Rubalcava. “I don’t think he would have had time to drop Jack off yet.”
“Maybe they forgot something,” suggested Adams. He looked back at the SUV and added, “Christ, whoever is driving is going like a bat out of hell.”
“Jack said they wanted him out of Casa Blanca before a delivery came. Maybe that is why the big hurry.”
Adams didn’t respond as he spun the wheel hard to turn around and follow.
Big Al’s SUV continued to drive at high speed. Adams attempted to keep up for a few minutes, but knew at the speed they were going it would make it too obvious, so he dropped farther back in traffic. They were close enough, however, that when they passed the fruit stand they were able to see a cloud of dust billow over the small hill and know it was Big Al’s vehicle pulling away from the vicinity of where the crew-cab truck was blocking the road.
“Back to the tower?” suggested Rubalcava.
Minutes later, Adams hollered down from the tower. “Little change except the SUV with the two snipers has moved back to its original position on the far hill. The ambush past the fruit stand is still in place like before.”
“Maybe in a few minutes we’ll see Big Al’s SUV returning.”
“Yeah, maybe.”
Big Al pulled up to the doorstep and ran into the house. “Where is he?” he asked.
“They’re in the tunnel,” replied Berto.
“Not that piece of shit gringo! My nephew! Where —”
“He was shot in the bedroom,” said Sanchez. “I’ll show you.”
Big Al, Sanchez, Berto, and Eduardo went back down the hall while the two mercenaries stayed to cover the entrance to the tunnel.
Big Al walked into the room and saw his nephew lying on his back on the mattress with his legs over the side. He was naked from the waist down and blood and bodily fluids had oozed out from his buttocks. His lifeless eyes, already dry from evaporation, stared dully up at the ceiling. His fat face was even more grotesquely distorted, like a rubber mask.
“And nobody heard the shot?” yelled Big Al.
“He was shot here,” said Sanchez, holding his hand like a pistol and pointing toward his own buttocks. “It muffled the sound. We were outside and did not hear it.”
Big Al dropped to one knee beside the bed and held El Pero’s hand. He made a solemn promise the gringo would pay dearly for what he had done. Then he folded El Pero’s hands across his chest, interlocking the fingers to keep them in place before gently using his fingertips to close El Pero’s eyes. Next he slowly got to his feet and mumbled a prayer, which he followed by using his finger to make the sacred sign of a cross on his own body.
Sanchez, Berto, and Eduardo politely went to make the same sign on their own bodies, but were interrupted when Big Al yelled at them to find something to cover his body.
“We have no sheets,” replied Eduardo, meekly.
“There is a towel in the bathroom. I will get it,” Sanchez said and then scurried off.
Big Al strode back to the kitchen and stood over the tunnel entrance and screamed in rage.
“Jack Taggart! I make this vow!” he yelled in English. “You murdered my nephew … so now everyone in your family will die! Not just you! Everyone! Their skin will be burned from their bodies while they scream and plead for their lives!”
Big Al stood, panting heavily for a moment, then yelled at his men in Spanish. “What are you waiting for? Go get him! Bring him to me alive, if you can.”
Before his men could respond, Big Al received a call on his cellphone. It was his boss and he gestured for his men to be quiet as he stepped back from the tunnel. He was not surprised to be called, he had already informed his boss about Jack’s real identity.
“Why have you not picked up the doctor yet?”
“There, uh, has been a big problem,” replied Big Al. “The gringo managed to grab El Pero’s gun and shoot him with it. Then he ran into the tunnel.”
“Your nephew is dead?”
“Yes. I found out about it a few minutes ago and returned to Casa Blanca.”
“And the gringo?”
“My men will drag him back out of the tunnel in a few minutes.”
“If he escapes …”
“There is no chance of that. He is like a rat trapped in a hole. I can have him plucked out very easily. When I do, we will use the doctor for a very long time.”
Jack squatted in the dark as Lily sat in front of him with her back huddled up to the front of his chest. She was only wearing Jack’s T-shirt, which acted like a short dress on her. Jack was barefoot and only wearing his pants.
He held her with one arm wrapped high around her chest and shoulders, while his other hand caressed her hair. She was going through periodic episodes where her body would shake uncontrollably, but seemed to take some comfort in his touch. What she didn’t know was Jack had positioned himself to put her in a sleeper-hold if she uttered a sound.
Jack pondered on what his next move would be. He knew when the time came, he would have to leave her alone to use the element of surprise. Would she be quiet then?
A second problem crossed his mind. I have no bullets … if I aim the gun directly at someone, they might see the cylinder is empty. If I don’t point it at them, they will realize something is wrong …
Jack came up with what he thought was an alternative. If I get a chance, point it at the back of their head … otherwise point it at their balls and see if they want to risk losing those. Bluffing is our only chance until I get a gun with bullets …
Big Al tucked his phone back in his pocket and looked into the tunnel opening. Berto had retrieved a flashlight from a kitchen drawer and shone it down the hole. Big Al peered in while his two soldiers aimed their weapons down the opening.
“Why do you not turn on the lights?” asked Big Al.
“The gringo broke it with El Pero’s gun,” replied Sanchez, “but it will be easy to fix.”
For a moment, the two mercenaries, along with Berto and Eduardo, debated whether to fix the lights. They had the option of calling out to the SUVs on the outer perimeter to bring in the night-vision goggles that they were equipped with. In that way, they would be able to see while the gringo would be in total darkness.
“I do not care what you do, just do it!” snarled Big Al.
“I will assure you,” replied one of the mercenaries, “we will take his head off … just like the iguana that fell from the tree.” He nodded toward the window. “Then we will drag him out by his feet.”
“I want him alive, if possible. Shoot him in the legs if need be but —” Big Al stopped talking and looked out the window at the carcass of the dead iguana lying in the dirt. “Did any of you see El Pero reload?” he asked.
The men looked at each other and after a short conversation it was realized the spare box of ammunition for the revolver was in the glove box of El Pero’s SUV. After Jack had been hit in the head with the rifle butt, El Pero did not return to the truck to reload, but walked with them as they dragged Jack back inside the house.
“He kept the gun … so he either does not know it is empty or is hoping to bluff us,” said Big Al, giving a grim smile.
“I’ll fix the light switch,” said Berto. “Night vision will not be necessary. Even if he is at the far end of the tunnel, we will have him on his knees in less than fifteen minutes.”
“Remember, I do not want you to kill him unless absolutely necessary,” said Big Al.
“The four of us have had training in these matters,” said Berto, with a nod toward Eduardo and the two mercenaries. “Our training included going up against men armed with machine-guns in barricaded rooms. We can bring him out whichever way you wish.”
Big Al thought for a moment and said, “Shoot off his kneecaps and make him crawl out.”
“As soon as we see him, his kneecaps are gone,” noted Eduardo.
“After that we will ask him to surrender,” added Berto, with a sneer.