Haunted (20 page)

He pauses another long moment. I wait for him to continue, wondering how I could have condemned him on Christmas Eve without hearing the whole story.

Sorry that I did.

How does Ramon figure into all this?
I ask finally.

Ramon was from my village. My only friend. Remember my sister? The one I said was murdered? It happened right before I decided to leave my village. It was a gang of local thugs. They picked her up on her way home from school. Took her to an abandoned building. Tortured her, raped her. We found her body a week later in a pile of garbage.

The words stop abruptly. Culebra goes still and silent. Then,
I vowed revenge. Ramon said he would help me. We set out to find the gang. It wasn’t hard. We simply hung around the schoolyard waiting for another innocent girl to be targeted. We didn’t have long to wait.

Less than a week after my sister was murdered, they went after another girl. Ramon and I followed them to an old barn on a piece of property long deserted. There were three of them.

It wasn’t hard to kill them. Ramon and I called them out of the barn, said we were
Federales
. They were kids, not more than sixteen. The idiot
cabrónes
came out with their hands up! Ramon and I shot them where they stood. We let the girl go. She had no problem promising to keep our secret. Ramon and I waited until she had run away, then we dragged the bodies inside the barn. I found my sister’s locket and trophies the boys had taken from other girls. There were six trophies. For six girls. I realized then the villagers had to have known what was going on. And yet they did nothing to protect their children. They kept the secret because of shame or guilt or pride.

It made me sick to live among such cowards. My parents had already made it clear I was a freak,
un bestia
. I now held them in contempt, too. I left soon after that.

His voice leaves an echo in my mind as the words stop.
So helping you avenge your sister is why you felt you owed Ramon a debt?

Yes. And because I brought him into Santiago’s operation when he, too, fled the village. I took him under my wing the way Julio did me.

Do you know why he’s turned on you now?

Another empty silence. I wait.

I believe he is trying to save his own skin,
Culebra says.
He made a mistake killing that minister’s son. Money is more important to Santiago than blood. There is a bounty on Ramon’s head now, and on the heads of his wife and daughter. It couldn’t have been a hard decision for him to make—trading my life for theirs. I would have done the same thing.

I don’t believe it. But I make no comment. Instead,
I’m not sure I understand. What could Ramon offer Santiago?

Knowledge that I’m alive. That I was involved in the gun operation. Ramon was the only other person who knew of my involvement with Julio and the ATF sting. One of the first things I did when I recovered from being shot was to give Max the locations of the hidden guns. They were able to recover some of them and round up a few of Santiago’s lieutenants.

But not Santiago or the big boss?

A sharp laugh.
They were too smart. They’ve always been too smart.

So you did a good thing, right? You saved a lot of innocent lives by getting those guns back.

A sound like a small sob makes the hair stir on my arms.

Not good enough. They didn’t find all the guns. I am haunted by the ghosts of those who have been raped, robbed and killed with the weapons they didn’t find.

You did what you could.

I didn’t do enough.

The link between us closes abruptly. Through my lacy curtain of leaves, I see why. Men are moving toward his shack, talking softly among themselves. I see two guards I recognize from before and in the lead, someone I don’t. A short, fat man I can only guess is Luis Santiago.

CHAPTER 35

L
UIS DISAPPEARS INTO THE SHACK, FOLLOWED BY his toadies. I want to rush in, kill the guards, make Luis talk. But I’ll wait for Culebra to try it his way. Maybe he’s right and the guards will let something slip. They don’t expect Culebra to live long enough to pass anything he hears on to anyone else. And they sure as hell don’t know he has telepathic abilities. They may speak freely among themselves.

In the meantime, this may be my chance to get to the girls.

I leave my hiding place and make my way to the shack where Ramon went to see Luis. There is no guard outside. It surprises me and makes me wary. I look toward the shacks surrounding Luis’. But no heads appear in the windows, no observers in the doorways, no rifles peeking over the tops of the thatched roofs. The shack appears to be completely unprotected.

There’s only one way to approach the shack and that’s from the front. It doesn’t make sense that they would leave the four girls by themselves. There must be a guard inside.

I pick up a rock and send it skittering through the doorway. Then a second. I’m still shielded by a wall of dense brush so I hunker down to see if the rocks will draw someone out.

Nothing happens.

No one comes to investigate. No shouts from within. Nothing.

Glancing around once more to be sure I’m not being observed, I sprint with vampire speed to the doorway and disappear inside. I flatten myself against the wall and wait to listen for the sounds that would signify life inside the shack.

It’s dark and close and smells of unwashed male and sex. The door opens to one room with another just off the back. I detect only the dull thudding of four heartbeats from that room. They left the girls alone.

Should make this easy.

I call out softly as I make my way into the room where the girls are. There’s no answer. Once I push back the blanket hung over the door, I see why.

The four girls are lying diagonally across the bed. Their hands and feet are tied, their mouths gagged. When I approach, I smell the harsh pungency of chloroform.

No wonder they weren’t worried about leaving the girls unguarded.

They’re unconscious.

CHAPTER 36

S
HIT.

I go to the first girl, slap her cheeks to see if I can bring her around. She moans, but doesn’t come to. Neither do any of the others. I could drag them out of the shack but in this condition, I don’t know what I’d do with them. And I don’t know when Luis will be back. I may be able to carry two at a time, but if they wake up while in my arms and start making noise, we’ll be discovered.

Shit.

A glance at my watch. Still two hours before Max is due to call. And then how long will it take him to get here after that? How long will Ramon keep following my false trail before he decides to give it up and return to the village?

Time is not on my side.

I step to the window and look out. Three shacks over is the little church. Is there a priest? Could I persuade him to hide the girls until reinforcements arrive?

Persuasion is one of my special abilities.

I jump out of the window and scoot around the back of the shacks to the back of the church. There is a narrow wooden door. I try it and the door opens to my touch. I close it quietly behind me and look around.

This is the tiniest church I’ve ever seen. And the strangest. There is no altar, no crucifix, no statues, no candles. No scent of the beeswax my mother’s altar society used to polish pews.

No surprise, that, since there are no pews to polish.

It’s just an open room with a long table down the center. Weights and plastic wrap and duct tape are on one end. The rest of the table is bare now. But its use is obvious. White powder residue dusts the surface.

The only thing worshiped in this building is
llello
.

So that bell I heard the first day I scouted this village of the damned was a call to work, not a call to worship.

Nice camouflage. A plane patrolling overhead would see a cute little church, not a cocaine production line.

I look around. There’s another door off to the side where the altar should be. I push through it. Inside is a closet and a small cabinet. This looks like the vestibule where a priest would hang his garments and store the communion wafers and wine. I guess in another lifetime, this actually was a church. The lock on the cabinet is broken and when I look inside, it’s empty. Dusty cobwebs drape the corners.

What now?

I realize I haven’t heard anything from Culebra. I send out a probe, not in words exactly, but an exploratory query to see if I can pick up on his thoughts. Nothing comes through. The conduit is open but cloaked.

At least I don’t pick up on any pain. Perhaps he’s busy listening to Luis and his buddies.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

My brain is a whirlwind of uncertainty. I leave the vestibule, closing the door behind me. Obviously, there hasn’t been a cocaine shipment delivered in the last day or this place would be jumping with activity. Could I stow the girls in here? Would Luis and his thugs think to look in the church? Or would they assume the girls ran off? How much time would it buy me?

Okay, I’ve got to ask Culebra some questions.

This time when I attempt to contact him, I make it deliberate and forceful.

He lets me in. His
What is it?
is not so much abrupt as concerned.

How long do you think Luis will stay in your shack?

Ten, fifteen minutes. They’re finishing breakfast.

Have you learned anything useful?

No, damn it. All the fat pig has on his mind is how long the girls will be under. He hasn’t dipped his wick yet and he’s getting impatient. Ramon’s failure to bring Max back upset his plans. He thought he’d have two trophies to offer his brother by now and an afternoon to reward himself with his new “playmates.” But no hint where Santiago is.

Okay. I’m in the church—which really isn’t. It’s where Luis packages his coke for export. But there’s no cocaine here now. Was there any mention of when the next shipment is due?

No. Sorry. No talk of business at all. Just fucking.

His tone is acid tinged and angry. His thoughts are mixed—he’s rethinking his not wanting me to come in and kill the whole bunch. The hell with finding Santiago.

Say the word,
I respond.

He pauses a heartbeat.
No. I need to do this my way. Stopping Santiago is more important. What are you going to do until Max calls?

I’m going to move the girls into the church.

It might work. I doubt they’ll think of looking so close.

My thoughts, too.

Better make it quick, though.
Another pause, as if he’s listening again to the conversation going on in the other room.
They’re finishing up. Talking about getting back.

I’ll let you know when it’s done.

The conduit closes and I waste no time beating it back to the shack.

The girls are still out. I lift the first, deadweight in my arms. I lower her to the ground through the window and repeat the operation until all four are outside. I heft two at a time over my shoulders and run to the back of the church, squeezing through the door. I lay them out on the floor of the vestibule. They just barely fit. I remove the ropes from their hands and feet and the gags from their mouths.

Then I close the door and perch myself on the table to wait for Luis to discover the girls are gone . . . for hell to break loose.

CHAPTER 37

C
ULEBRA HAD IT PEGGED JUST RIGHT. FIFTEEN MINUTES later, I hear the men outside Luis’ shack. I brace myself for the yells that should follow when they check that back room.

But nothing happens. I smell tobacco and pot and realize the men are gathered in front of the shack, enjoying a little after-breakfast smoke. Even Luis has joined his men, sharing a joke that has something to do with what his brother plans for Culebra when he gets his hands on him.

I sit up straighter. They’re saying Santiago will most likely kill Culebra—like Culebra did to the minister’s son.

Culebra is being blamed for killing the minister’s son? How could that be?

The laughter and crude talk continue for the time it takes a joint to burn down to a cinder. I start to think I must have misunderstood. Culebra was long gone when Ramon lost his son and took his revenge. It’s not possible anyone could have thought Culebra committed the murder.

Is it?

Jesus, is that part of Ramon’s trap?

The yell I’ve been expecting erupts, bringing me out of my thoughts with a start. I cross to the tiny window in front and peek out.

Luis is in the doorway, screaming at his men—upbraiding them for leaving the girls unattended—calling for the man who administered the drug that was supposed to knock them out.

A man slinks forward, mumbling that he doesn’t understand how they could have walked away.

Luis draws a revolver from his belt and shoots him—the wound a tiny rose blooming on the bridge of his nose that explodes in a spray of blood and brain matter out the back of his skull.

The men standing beside and behind him are spattered with gore. They recoil.

Luis keeps screaming, waving the revolver.
“Busquen las cabronas. Ya. O le mataré a todos.”

As one, they disperse, running in different directions like rats startled by a cobra.

No one approaches the church.

Yet.

There are six men that I can see—they run from shack to shack, hauling men and families out as they search their homes. They gather the villagers by the well and Luis stands guard over them while the search goes on.

One comes close to the door of the church. I hug the wall behind the door as he looks inside. If he makes a move for the vestibule, I’ll kill him. He doesn’t. He slams the door behind him and continues to the next shack.