Deadly Journey Page 8

  Turning off the shower, I dried myself.

  I started to shave and I worked out that they were unlikely to film my death. If Perez thought I had information he wanted, as long as I could endure his questioning, I could hold onto a tenuous hope of escaping.

  The sound of a light aircraft engine buzzing caught my attention. This was three days in a row, if it was the crop duster coming in to land.

  Two women were talking in the bedroom, one of them Leandra. I put the towel around my waist and entered. There were now three guards at one end of the room, one of them with a Taser in his hand. Leandra stood at the door with a gray-haired, portly woman, maybe in her fifties. The woman was holding a wooden box and Leandra held orange overalls in her arms, with shackles on top.

  ‘I’ve brought Maria to see you,’ Leandra said. ‘She is going to apply makeup to hide those bruises before they start filming. But first she’s going to apply a face mask.’

  A guard placed a chair in front of the bed. Maria sat with the box placed on her knees. She lifted the lid and took out a spatula and two straws.

  ‘This isn’t going to hurt, only maybe your pride,’ said Leandra. ‘Close your eyes and she’ll place the straws in you nostrils for you to breathe while the facemask dries. It won’t take long.’

  The inserts hurt more than my pride, with my nostrils still inflamed from my broken nose. At least I could still breathe. Gradually, she covered my entire face with what felt like a warm rubber solution. It seemed to take forever and felt akin to being buried alive. There was silence in the room. Every once in a while, I would feel what I imagined was a finger poking at the mask. Finally, she removed the straws. Fingers teased at the mask until it came free. I opened my eyes and could see it had been removed in one piece.

  I took in a long, slow gulp of air.

  She used a ball of cotton with an alcohol solution to wipe away the residue. My lips stung as she swept the cotton ball across them.

  ‘Ouch, careful.’

  ‘Sorry,’ Leandra said. ‘She’s nearly finished.’

  Maria passed the mask to one of the guards, who took it out of the room. She then took a face duster from her box as if she were going to check for fingerprints. I simply closed my eyes and let her complete her task. She started to chat to me in Spanish and laughed.

  I opened my eyes at the prod of her finger in my midriff and she winked.

  ‘What’s she saying?’

  ‘She says you have a nice firm body and she’d like to take you home and mother you,’ said Leandra.

  ‘You sure you’ve translated the “mother” part correctly?’

  Leandra giggled. ‘Okay, you’re done. Put on the overalls and we can go down to make the film.’

  Maria closed her box, sat back and folded her arms as if she wasn’t moving.

  ‘Do I have to get changed with you two here in the room?’

  Leandra spoke to Maria, who huffed, stood, and left the room. Leandra threw me a half-hearted smile as she followed Maria. The smile and her expression told me she knew I had lost her trust.

  A guard threw the orange overalls down beside me. Standing, I dropped the towel and quickly slipped them on over my legs, while edging toward the window. The facemask troubled me. Mary used them often, but I’d never seen her peel one away in one solid piece. She had always washed them away. But then what did I know? Maybe it was a Mexican treatment.

  I could see the crop duster taxi on the field maybe two hundred yards away as I slipped my arms into the overalls and started to fasten the buttons.

  There was plenty of cover between the villa and the runway. To the right of the pathway leading to the villa, there was a neatly cut maze of bushes. In the centre of the maze was a structure that looked like a wishing well. When I turned to face the bed, one of the guards fastened the leg and wrist shackles. Expressionless and with my arms held out submissively, I stared at the bed sheets. Two tied together, I reckoned, would get me to the ground floor.

  Chapter 15

  Lights - Camera - Action

  Standing erect, I drew in a breath. My chest slowly rose and then fell along with my shoulders. A final glance at the photograph of my wife and kids on the nightstand and a push in my back from one of my guards sent me on my way. The shackles afforded a welcome shuffle out of the bedroom and a slow descent down the stairway. All deliberations as to the demeanour I should strike during my captors’ filming took second place to the spectre of them beheading me on camera.

  One of the guard escorts hurried ahead and opened a door in the hallway.

  All of my focus turned to the door, trying to second-guess what lay inside. The doorframe loomed large. My body felt as though a heavy shroud had engulfed my entire essence and I found it impossible to discard the feeling of gloom. At least a prisoner on death row taking their final walk knew what to expect and had made their peace with it. The uncertainty of what would happen at the end of my walk was like living each moment with a toss of an imaginary coin. Heads I live... tails I die.

  A hand grasped my shoulder and turned me to face the doorframe. Inside, I could see a video camera set up on a tripod, fronting a bank of lighting. Set on a low table in front of the camera was a television with a cable connected to a laptop to one side. Shaking my head and shrugging my shoulders did little to dispel negative thoughts. An itch in my nose developed. I bowed to reach my outstretched finger, but my restraints prevented me from connecting to administer relief. Arms grabbed me from behind and forced me to stumble to the inside of the room.

  To the left, a black sheet hung on the wall as a backdrop. On the cloth, words in large-white lettering spelled out “Cobra Freedom Front”. I took a short step backward to consider the inference. On either side of the wording, they had sign-written a sword with a tattoo-style cobra snaked around each sword. It was the perfect setting for classic misinformation. Perez was winning the fight with his competition, the deadly Cobra gang, who had for many years dominated the Northeast territory of Mexico. It looked as though he meant to create some heat for them with this trickery.

  ‘Sit.’

  A guard manoeuvred me behind a table in front of the banner. He pulled out a chair. With a rap of his clenched fist on my chest, I collapsed onto the seat.

  It was a clever ploy to use insignia of the competing drug cartel. Besides sending investigators to concentrate on the opposite side of Mexico, it was also worrying. Once they had what they wanted, the ruse would leave the true culprits with clean hands at my death.

  At last, I could scratch my itch. The chain connecting my leg irons to the wrist shackles made it impossible to raise my hands much above the waist. With my hands resting on the table, I leaned forward, this time connecting a finger to relieve the irritation. Lifting my head from the table, I glanced around the room. No one had possession of a machete, but then each guard carried a combat knife, strapped and sheathed. It would paint a gruesome picture, should they draw a blade across my throat at the conclusion of the film.

  The guards didn’t look or sound too concerned. They gathered around the camera, poking at the controls, laughing and jostling each other. The normal tension they brought to the ambience with their expressionless stares was missing. Acting light-hearted, they appeared human for a change. I took it that as a sign that they were either nervous about what lay ahead, or it was a welcome distraction from their mundane surveillance of my every move.

  Leandra breezed into the room, her radiating smile relieving the anxiousness tightening my stomach. It was as if my body breathed a sigh of relief. The makeup lady followed her into the room. She winked directly at me and chewed suggestively on her bottom lip. Leandra gave her a playful tap and mouthed in Spanish.

  ‘Behave.’ Leandra turned to face me. ‘Bet you can’t wait to get this over with.’

  ‘Are you staying for the recording?’

  She laughed, stood akimbo and rolled her eyes.

  ‘By the look of you, it’s a good thing I am staying. You look like yo
u’re waiting for an execution. Don’t look so worried.’

  Her words gave me hope. She waved a computer disc at me with one hand, while holding a buff-coloured file in the other.

  ‘Your script,’ she said and placed the file on the table. ‘You can read the typed version to practice, but you’ll be reading the words on the television screen.’

  ‘What, like karaoke?’

  She laughed and swayed her head. Her eyes danced to look at the ceiling.

  ‘Well, yes, I suppose, if you want to be an amateur about it, but I thought you called it an auto prompt?’

  ‘Yeah, I guess.’

  The heat in my cheeks rose a few degrees and I imagined the pallor had returned to my ashen features.

  ‘That’s better, you smiled. Now start practicing and let them do it in one take so we can get to the pool. Just pass on the first part. A guard will read that.’

  At ease with her warmth, I flicked open the file and began to read.

  The guard’s monologue brought on a raised eyebrow.

  ‘We have your agent, Kurt Rawlings, as our prisoner. We demand you concede to our requirement for the payment of twenty-five million dollars for his safe return. Failure to accede to any of our demands and instructions will result in your officer’s death. Further contact will be made with directions for the payment to be paid and the manner of his release.

  ‘In addition, the amnesty promised by the current administration for all illegal Mexican immigrants must be acted upon, with a ten thousand dollar ex gratia payment to each individual for the duress inflicted upon them because of your inhumane immigration policies.

  ‘Until you comply in full with our demands, Agent Rawlings will be treated in accordance with the same respect enjoyed by your detainees at Guantanamo Bay.’

  Those last few words had me glancing at the sleeve of my orange overalls. What the guys back at headquarters would make of the speech puzzled me, no doubt as much as it would them. The Cobra cartel had no inclination to involve themselves in politics, other than to garner corrupt officials. I was guessing that like me, the analysts at headquarters would hear the political content as the work of the Perez cartel. I doubted they would be fooled by the cartel’s attempt at deception. In a way, it was a relief that I wouldn’t have to contort my features and use gestures to give clues to those who might watch the film. This was going to be a stupid error for Perez if the film was televised, as it would give the Cobra cartel the moral high ground for the political sentiment amongst Mexican citizens.

  I speed-read my part. Nothing in there surprised me. I decided simply to read it aloud without showing signs of stress, just in case they decided to screen it for Mary.

  Stony Face entered the room and barked orders at the guards. One guard stayed behind the camera, the other two unfurling ski masks over their heads as they made their way to stand to either side of me and to my rear. Stony manhandled the guard operating the camera out of the way. His eye fixed firmly to the viewing lens. A sway of his hand and I heard the shuffle of boots behind as he guided the guards into camera shot on either side of the banner.

  ‘More makeup on his nose,’ he ordered.

  The makeup lady approached. Leandra placed the computer disk in the drive to make ready.

  Dust from the makeup brush further irritated my sinuses and I breathed in heavily through my mouth to avoid sneezing. The woman backed away to inspect her handiwork, followed by a thumbs-up sign. Leandra knelt at the side of the laptop and called out.

  ‘After your lines, you’re to stand and walk to the door. Then we’ll cut filming and you can relax when we remove your chains.’

  The significance of the final paces, shuffling in shackles, was not lost on me. Headquarters wouldn’t need a prison manual to understand how I was going to be treated, especially after my captor’s monologue. One of their own taken prisoner was bad enough, and I guessed once that they got the ransom message a few backsides would tighten along with their personal security.

  I just hoped the sight of me trussed up like a terrorist would be motivation enough for them to think There but for the grace of God and pay the damned ransom. In reality, I knew that that would never happen. Just as I knew that not having a blindfold meant I would never be released, payment made or not. Only escape through my own efforts would bring me freedom. That thought was never far away in an all-consuming and ever-changing cauldron of recipes.

  On either side of me, the guards stood rigid and staring ahead. Each one clutched an automatic rifle. The scene looked all too familiar from CNN reports made during Middle East conflicts.

  Stony Face took hold of his two-way radio.

  ‘Ready, Sénor Perez.’

  Thoughts of Perez watching the proceedings somehow instilled the onset of pinpricks washing in Mexican waves throughout my limbs. After a few minutes, the door opened and in he walked. Thankfully, he stood underneath the lighting, obscuring my vision of him and enabling me to forget his scrutiny.

  Leandra smiled directly at me. I looked away and cleared my mind of emotion. Stony Face stepped forward, donned his ski mask, and stood in front of me facing the camera. He nodded and then commenced with the monologue in a strong Mexican accent. It was a relief to be looking at his back, as if I were looking directly into a void. He finished and stepped to one side. The words began to roll on the screen. With tunnel vision, I recited the words from their script.

  ‘I’m begging you to meet the demands of my kidnappers to the letter of their commands. I can assure you that they will carry out their threat to kill me if the ransom is not paid. Any attempt to try to rescue me would result in my death. I have explosives attached to my body that they can trigger by any one of multi-remote detonators held by my captors. Please...’ The words stuck in my throat and I felt my eyes moisten. My Adam’s apple danced to clear my throat. I struggled to continue. My voice faltered, the cue on the screen was long gone, but the words were etched in my memory for the truth of the sentiment. ‘For... for the sake of my wife and children... please... please do as they command and tell my family I love them.’

  Grabbed under my armpits from behind, I stood. With head bowed, I shuffled to the door. The whirring of the camera zoom drew me to glance in its direction. Leandra silently tapped her fingers in a mock clap. The makeup woman pouted her lips in an imaginary kiss toward me. Without warning it came from nowhere, an unwelcome Elvis smile transforming my lips into a sly grin.

  ‘Cut,’ said the cameraman.

  Chatter filled the room as everyone converged on the camera to see the playback. Perez stepped forward and out of the glare of the lighting. He scowled, his eyes scrunched, making the abnormal ridge across his brow protrude more than it normally did. He was annoyed about something and paced around the room. All eyes turned to him and the frivolous talk silenced. He stopped pacing and began to speak.

  ‘Edit out the second paragraph about the immigration demands. The Cobra cartel would never have said that. Besides, with over twelve million undocumented Mexican immigrants, it would cost too much.’

  My body sagged at his words. I could only hope that using the non-existent “Freedom Front”, together with the mention of Guantanamo, would be enough for HQ to decipher the film as having the hallmark of the Perez cartel as a ruse. Thinking that, I was pleased they would miss out the demand for the ex gratia payment. He was right, the cost would be ridiculous.

  Perez walked up to me.

  ‘Now the games can begin. You’ll soon find out if they value your commitment to their cause.’

  I couldn’t let the moment pass. I had to say something.

  ‘You know they won’t pay when the time comes, without further proof I am still alive?’

  ‘Yes, I am aware. The next moves will be interesting. I’m looking forward to pitting my wits against your finest.’ A supercilious grin spread on lopsided lips and he peered at me over his half-rimmed spectacles.

  His acknowledgment to my question was at best simply that. There was l
ittle comfort from his answer. There was a realization that as a politician, he would know that the government wouldn’t pay the ransom if they were to hold out as being a terrorist wing of the Cobra cartel. So just what game he wanted to play with the authorities, I couldn’t guess. Neither could I fathom at what stage he would tire of the proceedings.

  He turned to the others in the room and pulled one of the guards to one side.

  ‘When you’ve finished the edit, I’ll add it to the envelope. Make sure it gets through our usual distribution channels to Austin. Pay someone not connected to us to mail it from there. Then have them disappear... for good.’

  Rage burned inside me. My captivity had already caused the deaths of Leila and her family. Now some other innocent was about to have his or her life terminated. I began to question my own mortality and the thought passed by me that maybe it would be better for them and for me to have me executed before anyone else lost their life on my behalf.

  Perez strode out of the room, I closed my eyes, and my head dropped. One by one, the images of the death masks of Leila and her family paraded in my mind’s eye. The warmth of nimble fingers wrapping my hand in theirs removed the nightmare of the dead, replaced by my own family pleading for me to come home.

  Leandra’s voice broke through the haze.

  ‘Are you okay? Come with me and sit down. You’re shaking.’

  I closed my eyes and lowered my head in the hope she wouldn’t see my emotion surfacing. Leandra guided me with her hand to the chair. With my hands clasped in silent prayer, a tear dripped onto my wrists. I hoped for answers as to what I should do next. No one answered. The only thing I knew was that while Perez played his games, the decision as to what path I should take was mine alone to make.

  I would have to dig deep within for me to remain strong. There was a desperate need to keep my sanity before my mind closed at the onset of a nervous breakdown, knowing that whatever I decided, it had to be soon.