Alexander Death (The Paranormals, Book 3) (29 page)

“
I do not know if this will satisfy my friends.” Francisco finally said. “They suspect kidnapping. They want assurance that she is willing to be where she currently is, and that she is not a prisoner.”

“
I can offer no such assurance,” Alexander said. “And there will be no ransom.”

“
You might make them angry with you. Should I deny the girl is with you? I don't want this to lead to trouble for Papa Calderon.”

“
Do not deny it,” Alexander said. “Tell them you found me. Tell them I have the girl, and I do not desire a ransom, and I will not provide proof of her well-being.”

Francisco scratched his head and sat back in his chair. “I will tell them what you say. Anything else you want passed along?”

Alexander shook his head.

“
Then our business is concluded.” Francisco whistled to the dancer he'd admired earlier, who was now over at the bar. “Carmen! Come and see us.”

Alexander stood up and left pesos on the table for the waitress.

“
You don't want to miss this.” Francisco gave another gold-toothed grin while the girl approached the table.

“
I'll pass,” Alexander said. “Busy schedule.” He stepped away from the table.

“
Watch your ass,
Brujo
,” Francisco said as he left. “You don't want this to become trouble. Not for Papa Calderon, and not for me.”

“
No trouble,” Alexander said. He put on his sunglasses and stepped into the hot, dusty afternoon outside the cantina.

Seth found himself back in Atlanta only a couple of days later, after receiving an urgent call from Jerome
Breisgau at Hale Security Group. He'd spent most of the intervening time sleeping, eating and recovering from all the healing he'd done at the cancer ward. He'd missed two days of classes, but he didn't really care.

The receptionist took Seth to Breisgau's office as soon as he gave his name.

“Have a seat, Mr. Barrett,” Breisgau said as he shook his hand. Seth took the chair, feeling a little weird about a man decades older than himself calling him
Mister
. “Coffee?”

“She already offered, thanks.”

Breisgau sat across from him and seemed to study him for a moment. “Your girlfriend seems to be running with a rough crowd.”

“You found her?” His heart began to race.

“Possibly. Since you mentioned a Mexican girl was involved, we went ahead and reached out to a few associates south of the border. Someone told us a rumor about a certain person who can supposedly raise the dead. Exactly the rumor you told us to watch out for.”

“Then let's check it out,” Seth said. He was leaning forward in his chair now, impatient.

“We have. The man is called
El Brujo.
In Spanish, that means a sorcerer, a male witch. Unfortunately—and this where things get complicated—he's a part of the Calderon cartel.” Breisgau watched Seth for a reaction.

“What's that?”

“One of the two biggest drug trafficking organizations in Mexico today.” Breisgau set a tablet PC on his desk. It displayed a map of Mexico, with areas highlighted near the United States border. “The largest is the Juarez cartel, smuggling into Texas, run by a man named Pablo Toscano. The second largest is the Tijuana cartel, smuggling into California, run by a man named Ricardo Angel Calderon, or 'Papa' Calderon. The two cartels are mortal enemies.”

“Okay,” Seth said. “And the zombie master guy works for the...Calderon...people in Tijuana.”

“Right. Now, we had an associate in a Mexican intelligence agency reach out to him. This associate is familiar with players in the underworld down there. And our associate actually had a sit-down with this man called
El Brujo
.”

“And what happened?” Seth wished the guy would hurry up. “Did you find Jenny?”

“He admits that Jenny is with him,” Breisgau said. “But he will neither accept a ransom nor provide anything to show that she's with him of her own free will. It looks to us like she's been kidnapped, but the man has no intention of ever returning her home.”

He probably wants to use her power,
Seth thought. Out loud, he said, “What do we do?”

“Frankly, there aren't a lot of options, Mr. Barrett. He won't let Jenny communicate with the outside world.”

“I understand that. She's his prisoner.”

“That would seem to be the case.”

“So now what? You guys are supposed to be the experts on kidnapping.”

“And normally that ends with a ransom solution,” Breisgau said. “In only a few cases do we need to consider the next step.”

“Which is?”

“Forcible extraction.”

“That sounds dangerous,” Seth said.

“It is. And highly expensive. But it looks like the only option we have left.” Breisgau touched something behind his desk, and large plasma screen mounted on the wall came to life. He stood up and began to pace. “Here's what we can do. We can put together a team of six to eight men, all highly trained—former Green Berets, Navy SEALs. We raid the house where he's keeping Jenny, and we helicopter her out of there.” On the screen behind him, some kind of Hale corporate marketing video played, the sound turned off. It showed men in black armor stamped with the Hale logo leaping from a helicopter, in a desert somewhere. They surrounded some men in turbans, who quickly held up their hands and surrendered. They escorted a white woman in a business suit back to the helicopter.

“You know where he's keeping her?”

“We have a pretty good idea that it's a property belonging to Calderon, via a dummy corporation, here in Chiapas.” On the digital tablet, Breisgau pointed to the extreme south of Mexico, near the Guatemalan border. “He must be watching the pipeline for Calderon. Cocaine flows up from Peru, Colombia, Bolivia, through Guatemala, into Mexico. From there, it goes to Tijuana, and then California.”

“So we just raid his house? That can't be legal.”

Breisgau grinned. “That's where you're in luck, Mr. Barrett. Chiapas does not exactly have a stable system of governance. The Zapatistas—local rebels, Communists—asserted themselves in the early nineties and took over several chunks of Chiapas. The Mexican national government has failed to regain control of these areas. As you can see, the government of the state of Chiapas is a very loose affair. A few well-placed bribes will be sufficient to turn any necessary heads away from our actions.”

“So that's the plan?” Seth asked. “We just go in and take her.”

“That appears to be the only way to bring her back,” Breisgau said. “We could, of course, try to get the local police down there to help us, but they are likely to be in the pay of the drug cartels, too. What I'm offering will be efficient and effective. You could have her back very soon...if you're willing to pay for it.”

Seth thought it over. He was sure his college trust account did not have the kind of money Breisgau was talking about. On the other hand, he did know where to find the index card in his father's desk drawer in the Fallen Oak house, the one where his father jotted down passwords. Seth could access his father's accounts and steal however much money Hale Security wanted for the rescue operation. Obviously, his father would kill him for it, but that hardly mattered.

“Okay,” Seth said. “But I want to come along when they go in.”

“Not a good idea,” Breisgau said. “We'd have to add an extra security detail to keep you safe. Any number of things could go wrong.”

“I know that. But I want to be there.” Seth was eager to see Jenny, but beyond that, he doubted whether Hale would be ready to deal with the supernatural aspects of this mission. If the man who'd kidnapped Jenny wanted her for her powers, it was possible that he'd tracked down others of their kind, too. Seth didn't know what they might be facing.

“It's going to cost extra for you to go along,” Breisgau said. “Significantly more. And you'll have to do exactly what our professionals tell you, when they tell you, for your own protection. And sign a full liability waiver.”

“I understand.”

Breisgau returned to his chair and grinned at Seth. “All right, then. We'll just pull together the paperwork and discuss the fee.”

“Let's get to work,” Seth said.

Jenny was slumbering in Alexander's bed when she heard the approaching
whump-whump-whump
from the back of the house. She felt Alexander slip out of bed.

“What's happening?” she whispered. It was still dark outside. Jenny reached for the lamp.

“Leave the light off,” Alexander said. He was getting dressed.

“What time is it?”

“Almost dawn.”

The
whump-whump-whump
sound drew closer, and the glass in the windows rattled.

“What's that sound?” Jenny asked.

“I'm going to check it out.”

“Wait,” she said, but Alexander had already left the room through the terrace door. “Fuck.” Jenny got out of bed and hurriedly threw on a dress. She was groggy and tired. They'd only gone to sleep a couple of hours earlier, after about three hours of very intense lovemaking. The complementary nature of their powers seemed to feed both their desires and their endurance. Jenny wanted Alexander more every day.

She followed him to the terrace outside his room, and found herself watching a black helicopter descend into Alexander's back yard, inside his walls. The hot wind from the whirling blades blew their hair back.

Alexander took Jenny by the arm and pulled her down beside him as he squatted behind the low stucco wall of his terrace.

“Friends of yours?” Jenny shouted over the thumping din.

“Afraid not,” Alexander said. He raised a walkie-talkie to his mouth. “Manuel! Get everyone moving. We are under attack this morning.”

“Is it Toscano's people?” Jenny asked.

“Could be. You better get inside.”

“I'm sticking with you,” Jenny said. “Want me to kill them?”

“No, thanks. Sweet of you to offer, though. Manuel!” he shouted into the walkie-talkie.

“Yes, yes, we're moving!” Manuel's voice crackled back.

“I want everybody with a pulse to stay inside the house and lay low. Don't shoot unless they reach the doors or windows.” Alexander said. “But get ready to move together. And somebody bring me the Thumper.”

Jenny watched the helicopter descend. It would be on the ground in less than a minute.

Alexander had ramped up his security after a recent trip to Mexico City, saying there was a growing threat from Toscano's Juarez-based cartel. He now kept eight or ten gunmen around the house at all times, under Manuel's direction.

One of the young new gunmen raced out onto the balcony, keeping his head low. He slid Alexander something that looked like a green guitar case, then watched Alexander expectantly.

“Go on back with Manuel,” Alexander ordered him. The young man frowned, cast a longing look at the green case, then returned inside.

When the helicopter was a few feet from the ground, men began jumping out of it, one after the other. They wore black armor, helmets, and goggles, and carried assault rifles. They broke out into four teams of two that fanned across the yard toward the house, moving like wildfire.

“Holy shit,” Alexander said. “Israeli Tavor rifles. That's
not
Toscano.”

He grabbed Jenny's hand, then pointed with his other hand at the dilapidated building where he kept his two reanimated jaguars. A row of zombies rushed out and opened fire with their AK-47s.

The men in armor dropped instantly to the ground, flat on their bellies, returning fire. Jenny saw a bullet shatter a zombie's skull, but the zombie kept advancing and shooting.

“Over there!” Jenny pointed to a pair of black-armored men that were on the move, running with their heads low. They were dangerously close to the house—a few more yards and they would be underneath the second-story terrace, out of sight.