𓂓
“He thinks he’s an arch-criminal. No fear of the law,” Michael said.
Jackie finished putting away the first aid supplies, then turned to look Michael straight in the eyes. Neither dropped their gaze. “How do we save my daughter?”
“Well, that’s the tough part. I need to tell you about this place he calls Little Guantanamo. That’s where they’re most likely heading.”
“That place is real?” Sean asked.
“More real than you know. If ABCs gets there with Elena, he can easily disappear with her into the tunnel system that connects to it.”
Jackie’s face hardened. “We’re not gonna let that happen.”
Michael gave her a level look. “You asked me before—why I’m doing this. It’s because I failed you,” he said, stumbling a bit on his words. “I failed Elena. He took her on my watch. I have to make that right.”
“We... will make it... right,” Clay said before coughing up more blood and mucus. Jackie pulled a surgical towel from the duffel and passed it back to Martha, who gave it to Clay. Jackie occupied herself by sorting through the bag. She found water and passed a bottle back so Martha could help Clay get cleaned up. They rode in silence for a few minutes. The cracked view from inside the SUV mimicking life at the moment. Difficult to bring into focus.
“I’m sorry, Jackie,” Clay finally said. “I’m sorry I didn’t do more. I tried to protect Elena. I failed too.”
Jackie turned to hand Martha a package with Acetaminophen migraine tablets and looked Clay dead in the eyes. “Listen to me, both of you. No one failed anybody. I mean, look at you guys. You fought past your limits to protect me and my daughter. This ABCs caught us off guard.”
“Maybe I should have known it would be more serious because of the drugs we confiscated,” Michael interrupted her.
“Maybe. Maybe not.” Jackie turned her palms up, raising one, lowering the other like she was trying to balance the scales of justice. “We can’t sit here wasting time, analyzing our decisions leading up to this point. My daughter’s life is at stake. Think of her right now, in that truck, scared to death.”
Jackie paused, willing herself not to break down. Elena needed her. Elena needed these people. She would have to reach deep for the strength required to lead them in this moment.
“We have to focus on what we can do right now. Michael said that if ABCs gets her to this place, then she’s lost...” Jackie looked away, unable to go on, a tear streamed down her cheek.
“Then we have to get there before he has a chance to move her again,” Michael said.
Everyone nodded in agreement. Wiping her face with her shirt sleeve, Jackie looked back to him. “What are we up against?”
“ABCs is well-known around the precinct. He has a warehouse just outside of town and a compound in the foothills about an hour’s drive from there. He calls this compound Little Guantanamo. A lot of bad happens there. The compound is thought to be impenetrable. Guards armed with automatic weapons can see for miles in all directions, and then there’s that tunnel system I mentioned earlier. He uses that to smuggle drugs and humans in and out. If Elena is taken into the tunnels then—”
Jackie let out an unintelligible yell, “Arrrgggghaargh!” and punched the seat in front of her. “Fucking parking lots, I hate fucking parking lots!” Sean leaned forward, alarmed, looking back at her.
Jackie clenched her fists and buried her face in the seat back, reeling with regret. Muffled cries of agony filled the cabin of the SUV. She had chosen to make a stand against John after he hit Clay. If they had just let it go, this may not have happened. Stop. Do you hear yourself? Jackie knew in this moment only one question remained. What would you do for her? Anything. Everything. Several times, she breathed in deep then exhaled through pursed lips to calm herself. With a renewed resolve, Jackie focused her thoughts and turned her attention back to Michael.
He had wisely given her a minute before he continued. “We have one advantage, that’s the element of surprise. There’s no way he suspects we’ll follow him.”
𓂓
ABCs and his men made it out of the hospital parking lot and into traffic just before the other cops arrived and began patrolling the perimeter. Sarge must have done his job. ABCs merged onto the highway, taking the most direct route to his compound outside of town. Driving the speed limit, making no erratic moves so as not to draw attention. The cracked glass looked bad enough. “Make sure you keep checking they didn’t follow us,” ABCs said, his voice still hoarse from the punch he took in the throat from Jackie. He kept looking in the rearview mirrors, expecting any moment for the other SUV to run up on their tail.
Elena sat in the backseat between the two guards, sobbing quietly. “Is the girl hurt?” ABCs asked.
The man who had dragged her into the car answered, “Nothing more than a few scrapes and bruises.”
“Good. Keep it that way. She is not to be touched. Give her some water.”
Unconcerned with the carnage he had just left behind, the failure to capture Jackie pissed him off. She would have fetched an impressive price. But at least he had the girl. Perhaps I’ll add her to my collection. An unspoiled American girl alone was worth the trouble, but she had cost him at least one, maybe two of his men. He shook his head in disgust as he looked back at the unconscious man in the seat behind him. He didn’t care to ask. ABCs shrugged imperceptibly. I can always get more guards. He had left the third guard lying in the parking lot. He must be dead after the hit he took from the landscaper who had appeared to be possessed by a beast.
And what was that guy? Where did he come from? Why now? ABCs asked himself. He recalled the savagely inhuman yell and the glowing white eyes as an otherwise normal-looking guy fearlessly charged them. “Mi mala suerte,” he muttered, cursing his bad luck. He had recognized something there—an underlying power to rival his.
Under the guidance of his Shaman, ABCs immersed himself in the occult to strengthen the depravity of his reputation, giving him an edge in the paranoia and mysticism revolving around the cartel world. But this... glowing white eyes and a roar that sounded like it came from a large grizzly bear, was something else entirely. Whatever fueled him seemed to also disrupt ABCs’ connection to the demon. He had not felt the strength he normally would. Something had been... off. He would need to reach out to the Shaman for advice when they arrived at his compound.
A whimper from Elena broke his concentration. “Be quiet, girl.” His thoughts shifted to her and what she might look like in a few years. If she matured to resemble her mother, this girl alone could make him plenty, but not soon. He would have to wait for her to mature. Otherwise, her prime earning years would be spoiled. Her mother, on the other hand, could be put to work right away. Again, he cursed his bad luck.
I’ll go back for her.
It would not be the first time he had gone to great lengths for a beautiful woman.
𓂓
Armando left the cantina in a funk. Although he didn’t’ want to admit it, seeing his mother in the hands of his rivals had affected him. Feeling nothing for her didn’t bother him, it only fueled his hatred for the Knife Cartel and what they’d done to his family. They had driven them apart and set him on a lifelong path of vengeance. But seeing her did more than remind him of why he must hunt them down. Seeing her had opened a door.
He sat in his soft top car, obsidian paint gleaming in the midday sun like volcanic glass. Not long ago, a rival cartel killed the man who had given him meat when he was a child. When he received word of the man’s death, Armando arranged ownership of the shiny-white-car-with-the-soft-roof. But after driving it for the first time, he felt the need for a change in order to make it his own. So, right after obtaining the car he had it painted black... black like tar. He drove slowly and proudly along the dusty road, sorting his plans for the evening.
Market is today, I can stop and walk among the people. With that, Armando steered west toward the nearest tianguis in the hill country along the Durango/Sinaloa state border hoping to find some rare animal from the south he could have his cook prepare for dinner.
Strolling through the busy mercado, Armando walked, hands in pockets among all the ordinary people of the surrounding villages. He enjoyed the smells of the Chili Uchu and chicharrones cooking, the shouts of vendors negotiating with tourists, and the cacophony of background sounds that coalesced to take him away from thoughts of his heinous responsibilities. Since taking down the Knife Cartel, he had risen to top enforcer within the Scorpion Cartel. He had no real title. But he only took orders from the leader. His work had been bloody and frequent and he was in no hurry to get back to it.
Pausing at a spice cart for a package of seasoned salt he had a taste for, Armando fished in his pocket for coin. Looking down to select the right amount, he did not see the women approaching. He handed the coin to the vendor, took his salt without a word, and turned to head toward the wet market. Folding the package of salt into his pocket, he stepped into traffic without looking and nearly bumped into them. A flash of color filled his vision and he snapped his head up, a cross expression on his face ready to admonish anyone who would dare get in his way. But their smiles filled his vision with a joy he had never witnessed.
Three women of stunning beauty in traditional Aztec dress. Armando recognized the colorful clothing from pictures in the magazines he’d been reading. The Inti Raymi was upon them, and he had wanted to learn all he could this year so he could attend and attempt to enjoy the festivities. Stunned by the shimmer of their long straight dark hair, Armando felt as though he stood before Incan Royalty. They all whispered apologies and made their way past as he stepped back for them, bowing his head slightly, extending a hand to bid them by. It was a gesture so foreign to him that, after they passed, he wondered what inspired him to act like that. He stood for a moment, caught up in the feeling, and turned to watch them go. As they walked through the market, Armando noticed others in the crowd pause and bow their heads to them. A little girl saw them go by and jumped up and down, screaming excitedly, “Mama, Mama, look!” The women paused and one reached out a hand to touch that of the little girl, who nearly leaped out of her shoes with joy.
Armando stepped back to the spice vendor and asked, “Who were those three women?”
