To The Lions - 02 (24 page)

“They
just told me to watch my step.”

His
chin tilting upward, Salvador closed his eyes, crossing himself praying
aloud.
 
He prayed for Gage’s salvation.

Chapter Fifteen

In
Berga, down a locked hallway from the main bay, next to the laundry, was a
storage room.
 
Teeming with linens,
blankets, and towels at the front, the rear of the room was constructed of
unpainted cinderblock.
 
The back of the
storage room doubled as an office.
 
On a
table was a small television, numerous packs of playing cards and several
bottles of liquor.
 
Situated in the
middle of the rear space was a card table with four folding chairs.
 
And sitting at the table was the most
powerful prisoner in all of Berga, a man named Sancho Molina.
 
Though his name was Sancho, no one dared call
him that.
 
He went by his nickname of
El Toro
, a moniker given to him for his
powerful build as well as his bullish nature.
 
To match his name, El Toro wore a gold ring, pierced between his
nostrils.
 
It was one of his many
trademarks in Berga.

In
front of El Toro was a bottle of Portuguese ginja and a shot glass.
 
Standing before him was Cesar Navarro and one
of the Berga guards.
 
Cesar stood there
looking every bit the part of a man on trial, waiting while El Toro took shots.
 
The guard, despite being on the payroll of Los
Leones, was a proud man and, though he didn’t come out and say it, refused to
stand before El Toro.
 
He’d moved off to
the side and was twirling his baton, smoking a cigarette.

El
Toro poured a third shot of the reddish-gold berry liqueur, gunning it and baring
his teeth afterward.
 
He’d listened to
what Cesar had said and ingested his shots while he considered it.

“How
many days ago was this?”

“About
a week.”

“You’re
sure this is the man your father hired?” El Toro asked.
 
He’d been personally told by Xavier Zambrano
that there was an American coming to aid Cesar, but had no way of being
absolutely sure Gregory Harris was the man.
 
There had been Americans in Berga before, and a mix-up was certainly
possible.

“Yes,
El Toro,” Cesar breathed with reverence.
 
“This is him.
 
He essentially came
out and admitted it.”

Turning
his eyes to the guard, El Toro said, “And you?”

“His
cell is clean.
 
I checked his shit when
he arrived.”

“Did
he plug one on the way in?” El Toro asked, tugging on his nose ring.

“He
was X-rayed and the doc did a cavity search,” the guard said with a trace of
irritation, dropping the cigarette to the floor and grinding it under his boot.
 
“I told you, he
doesn’t
have a phone.”

“Have
you tossed his cell since?”

“No,”
the guard snapped.

“You
giving me an attitude?”

“No.”

El
Toro eyed the guard from the corners of his eyes.
 
“Your name is Pendulo…you got hired about a
year ago.”

“Yeah,”
the guard answered, maintaining his superior air.

“You
live in Avià, don’t you?”

The
question visibly shook Pendulo.
 
“Why do
you ask…and how did you know where I live?”

El
Toro straightened.
 
“Do not
ever
question me.”

“Yes,
jefe
.
 
I am sorry.”

“Now,
answer my question.”

The
guard licked his lips.
 
“Yes, I live in Avià.”

“And
you have a wife and a young child, if my memory serves me?
 
A boy?”

“Yes,
he’s two.”

“I’ve
seen a picture of your wife.”
 
El Toro
divined her by staring at the ceiling.
 
“A tiny lady, if I remember correctly.
 
A peasant
paleta
for sure, but
young and firm and attractive.”

The
only sound for fifteen seconds was the washers and dryers tumbling in the
adjacent room.

El
Toro poured another shot, guzzling it in a flash.
 
“Either you get on board with me, Pendulo, or
I will have your little wife brought to me, kicking and screaming, while some
of my friends look after your son.”
 
He
cocked his eyebrow.
 
“Get it?”

There
was an obvious battle of emotions on the guard’s face.

El
Toro hitched his head in a dismissive gesture.
 
“Now, get the hell out of here.”

When
the guard was gone, El Toro turned to Cesar.
 
“So you told the American about the others?
 
Was he surprised?”

“Shellshocked.”

“He
needs that phone,” El Toro whispered to himself.

“Yes,
he does.
 
He didn’t know about the others
before me, and he didn’t know my position with Los Leones.”

“We
will need to watch him closely, but we don’t want to intervene.
 
He
must
get that phone.”
 
El Toro nodded at
Cesar.
 
“You’ve done well.”

“Thank
you, jefe,” Cesar breathed with reverence.
 
“What do I do now?”

“If
you see the American, tell him you won’t protect him much longer.
 
Tell him you are a Lion, and protected by
Lions.
 
Tell him that by being here, he
is inviting death.
 
That will get him
moving.”

“I
will do as you say.”

El
Toro politely dismissed Cesar.
 
As soon
as Cesar walked down the hall to the main bay, El Toro removed his mobile phone
from his pants and called his local lieutenant.
 
The lieutenant, also in Los Leones, was situated in the town of Berga to
handle items outside the prison walls, mainly the importation of drugs.
 
But occasionally he handled other items.

Such
as this.

“Do
you know anything about a satellite phone coming in to an American?” El Toro
asked.

“Yeah.
 
That’s in this week’s shipment, from Xavier
himself,” the lieutenant said.
 
“I would
have rushed it but Xavier said it was important that it come in as normal, so
that no one would be suspicious.”

“When?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Perfecto.”

“You
need anything else?”

El
Toro was about to hang up, but was struck by an inspiration.
 
“Yeah.
 
There’s a young guard here named Pendulo.
 
He’s a hick and not very smart, but he’s too
proud.
 
Go to his wife and quietly offer
her money to come and visit me in the wood shop.
 
Tell her I’m the top Lion here and we will
see that her husband is occupied during the visit.”
 
El Toro smiled.
 
“Tell her I’m in love with her and I want to
start a sultry, passionate affair with her and give her all my seed.”

“Okay,
jefe
,” the lieutenant chuckled.
 
“When would you like her?”

“As
soon as possible.”
 
El Toro thumbed the
phone off, pouring another shot and leaning back with it.
 
His first thoughts were with the American,
and his association with Ernesto Navarro.
 
Xavier had been most pointed, dangerous even, when he’d told El Toro
that the American had to call Navarro by the satellite phone.

Then,
setting those thoughts aside, El Toro thought of the guard’s young wife.
 
Though he always reviewed the backgrounds of
everyone who was on the take, he’d quickly dismissed the wife until today, when
Pendulo tried to be a man.
 
Well, now he
would pay for that.

El
Toro grasped himself, warm with the thought of a new affair, despite the fact
that the wife was nothing more than a rural peasant.
 
“She’ll come,” he whispered before taking a
sip of the liqueur.
 

“She’ll
come again and again.”

Life
was good.

* * *

Over
the balance of the previous week, Gage had grown accustomed to the Berga
routine.
 
As with nearly every major
injury he’d ever sustained, the stab wounds had reached their worst point on
the third day after the incident.
 
Now,
though they still burned and appeared semi-wet when he viewed them in the
mirror, some healing seemed to have taken place as the redness around the
wounds had turned a healthier pink.
 
Relieving Gage the most was the fact that there had been no more fever.

All
in all, he felt much better.

An
elderly prisoner shuffled by, dropping two letters on the ground at the
entrance to the cell.
 
Salvador retrieved
them, handing one to Gage.
 
Gage eyed the
return address, a made-up post office box in Barcelona.
 
The letter was postmarked Sabadell, which
Gage knew to be just north of Barcelona.

Good
girl.

He
tore into the envelope.

Dear Gregory,

Every tick of the clock brings me a
second closer to you.
 
I will never
forget our last night, our glistening bodies joined together as one, hearing
your breath in my ears.
 
It was heaven,
and we will experience it again.
 

We will.

Be strong.
 
Worry about your situation there and don’t
trouble your mind worrying about me.
 
I
am fine and have made a wonderful new friend in our landlady.
 
I remind her of her daughter and find her
amazing to be around.
 
Maybe I can learn
from her and, when you return, I can become a real estate queen like she is.
Ha!

This may sound improper, Gregory,
but it’s the truth.
 
Every night when I
lie down in bed, I will think of you in the most intimate way.
 
It’s my connection with you and, I want you
to know, I would wait for you until the end of my life if need be.

You saved me.
 
And that was the first building block of my
love for you.

I do love you.

In sweet love,

Justina

P.S.
 
My English has improved but I did use the
online thesaurus for this note. Ha again!

While
Salvador lounged on his bunk with his letter, occasionally laughing to himself,
Gage reread the letter before tucking it away in his personal things.
 
Feeling a large measure of stubble on his
face, Gage decided to shave.
 
He removed
his shaving tackle from his container, immediately noticing how heavy the
shaving cream felt.
 
Deftly, Gage
unscrewed the bottom just a fraction, pleased that his satellite phone had
arrived.
 
He could now make plans to call
Navarro.

Gage
briefly thought about the acusador, Cortez Redon.
 
Valentin said he was the one who would
arrange for the phone to be delivered.
 
Gage had no use for Redon, and Colonel Hunter’s intel had said he was
not to be trusted.

So who did Redon use to deliver the
phone?
 
Whoever it
was, in Gage’s mind, now knew more than they should.
 
Gage hated leaks.
 
Leaks get people killed.
  

Pushing
the concern aside, Gage soaked his face and prepared to shave without shaving
cream.
 
Before he did, he noticed two men
in the paper-thin aluminum mirror—both were adorned with the distinctively
large Semental neck tattoo.
 

Gage
turned.
 
It was the two aggressors from
his first day.
 
The tall, thin boxer and
the muscled Semental with the nasty tongue bite.
 
They were waiting outside the cell’s threshold,
saying nothing.
 
As Gage eyed them,
feeling the thud of his own pulse, the muscled one, supporting himself on
crutches, nodded to Gage.
 
The tall one
nodded as well.
 
Gage didn’t respond in
kind but bumped his leg against Salvador’s bunk.
 
Salvador glanced at him and Gage lifted his
chin.
 
Seeing his hombres, Salvador thanked
Gage as he stood and slid his sandals on.

“You
want to meet with them in here?” Gage asked.
 
Salvador stared back in amazement.
 
“Go ahead,” Gage said, wiping his face one more time before hanging up
his blood-marked washcloth and making his way out of the cell.
 
The two Sementals moved out of his way, both
dipping their heads until he passed.