To The Lions - 02 (37 page)

As
they rapidly closed on a car, Señora Moreno flashed her lights, marveling at
how the car quickly moved right.
 
Again
she smiled, adjusting her fingers on the wheel.
 
“I feel so free.”

“Señora,
you said your lawyer didn’t think the consulate was the best place to go.”

“Yes,
dear.
 
He suggested we find another angle
that might provide us much greater leverage.”

“And
what’s that?”

“I
didn’t like his suggestions.
 
Too safe
and obvious.”

“But
you have an idea?”

“I
do, dear.
 
This Ernesto Navarro…there
have been countless news stories about him since he was killed.
 
He was worth many millions, dear, and the
news outlets seem to think his fortune is well-hidden.”

“How
does that help us?”

A
blue sign flashed by, displaying Barcelona as only 77 kilometers away.
 
“Before I tell you, in the interest of time,
climb into the back.
 
You’ll find my
makeup in the case.
 
And I put some of my
grand-niece’s summer clothes back there.
 
She’s tall and pretty like you…and dresses like a tramp.”

“What’s
wrong with what I’m wearing?” Justina asked.

Señora
Moreno risked a glance.
 
“Your platform
sandals will do, but those jeans and that shirt are too baggy.
 
Back there you’ll find some items that will
accentuate your gifts.
 
And once you’re
changed, tease your hair out and go heavy on the makeup.”

Justina
turned and rummaged through the clothes.
 

“We
want you to appear
lujuriosa
.”

“I
don’t think I know that word,” Justina said.

After
flashing her lights at another car, Señora Moreno briefly turned.
 
“I think the English word is ‘slutty.’”
 
She motioned with her head.
 
“Go on now.
 
I’ll slow down just a bit, but not too much.”
 
She flashed her lights again.
 
“I’m having too much fun to drive normally.”

Choosing
to follow along, Justina climbed through the seats into the back.
 
The clothes, while tight, did fit.

“No
brassiere, dear,” Señora Moreno said, looking at Justina in the rear view
mirror.

“Are
you sure?”

“Quite.”

After
resignedly removing her bra, Justina opened the case and went to work on her
face.
 
“Make myself
lujuriosa
,” she mumbled, eyeing herself in the mirror as she
applied Vichy foundation to her face.

As
Justina worked on her face, Señora Moreno explained her plan.

“You
think it will work?”

“I
do,” Señora Moreno answered with conviction.

Justina
grew silent.

“Dear?”

“Yes?”

“I
need to tell you something else.”

“Okay.”

“I
left something else for your boyfriend…left it with Sven.”

“You
did?”

“Yes.
 
Just in case.”

“What
was it?”

“Before
I tell you, I want you to promise that you’ll try to understand
why
I did it.”

Their
eyes converged in the rear-view mirror.
 
“I will try to understand.”

“These
past few weeks with you have been wonderful.”
 
She adjusted her hands on the wheel.
 
“I truly feel like my Isabel is here with me again.”

“As
I’ve said before, I cannot imagine a greater honor than to remind you of her.”

“And
it’s because of that…”

The
Volvo sped southward as Señora Moreno explained.

Chapter Twenty-Five

As
he’d done the day before, Gage waited in the outer office while the big guard
stared at him from behind the glass.
 
The
pain around Gage’s kidney had worsened, as if there was a pipe clamp around the
organ, cinching tighter by the minute.
 
After Capitana de la Mancha’s visit, Gage had relieved himself, doubling
over from the pain that seemed to have spread to his bladder.
 
When he’d recovered enough to straighten, he
peered into the toilet—his urine was now flecked with blood.

That
meant infection—or worse.

But
there was no time for him to worry about it now.
 
For the moment he was just a prisoner who was
expected to deliver nearly a million euro this morning, and he had to assume
that everyone in the prison’s employ knew this fact.

The
assistant, looking somewhat disheveled this morning—Gage had heard her
confiding in the guard that she had drunk way too much last night with a man
she’d had no business seeing, and she’d sounded gleeful about it—stepped back
into her little office, sloshing milk-laden coffee and reaching for the buzzing
phone.
 
She picked it up, listened for a
moment, then said something to the guard.
 
The guard looked at Gage.

“You
remember the drill?”

“Yes.”

“I’m
right outside this door and it would make my year to have to come in there and
deal with you, got it?”

Not
in any condition to tangle with a guard, Gage nodded with closed eyes.
 
The door buzzed.
 
He entered.

De
la Mancha had taken off her heels and was rushing all around the office.
 
On the leather sofa was a cardboard box
containing a thick plastic bottle, similar to a gallon bottle of bleach,
sticking from the top of the box.
 
Without speaking, Gage went straight over to the items.

The
large bottle was half-full of industrial drain cleaner.
 
Perfect.
 
Next to it was a pair of needle-nose pliers,
as well as a hammer.
 
Also in the box
were a number of empty soft drink bottles.
 
Gage turned to her.

“Where
am I meeting him?”

“In
here.
 
I’m summoning him now.”
 
She lifted the phone, having to repeat her
instructions twice.

When
she hung up, Gage asked, “Is he on his way?”

“Yes.”

“Good.
 
Now, I need both of your pistols.”

She
was rummaging through a file drawer, removing folders when she turned.
 
“How did you know I had two?”

“I
saw it when you opened your middle drawer.
 
Just like I stole your phone.
 
You’re
careless, and that needs to end now.”

“Go
ahead and get it,” she said, shrugging.
 
“The drawer isn’t locked.”

He
opened the top drawer.
 
There was no
pistol.
 
Wondering if he’d been mistaken
about which drawer, he opened all them, making quite a racket.

“What’s
wrong?” she asked, walking over.

“No
pistol.”

“You’re
kidding.”
 
De la Mancha pulled each of the
drawers out, rifling through their contents.

“What
kind of pistol was it?”

“An
AutoMag.”
 

“Where’s
that Smith you had?”

“Purse,”
she said, going back to the top drawer, removing each item as if she were
somehow overlooking a large handgun.

He
opened her purse.
 
Inside he found the
Smith, in a single movement pulling it out and popping the cylinder from the
chassis.

Empty.

“Where
are the bullets?” Gage barked, the pit of dread in his stomach outweighing the
pain of his bladder and kidneys.

“Oh
no,” she mouthed, with hardly a sound escaping.

“El
Toro?” Gage asked.
 

Capitana
de la Mancha’s large eyes darted around the room.
 
She began to cry.

“C’mon,
now,” Gage encouraged.
 
“No matter what,
you have to focus.”

She
looked at him, wiping tears as she nodded.

“Do
you have any spare bullets?”

“Not
here.”

“What
about the guards?”

“If
I go raiding their supply room, it’ll raise suspicion.”

Gage
willed himself to remain calm.
 
“Well,
I’m sure as hell not going to bring an unloaded gun to a gunfight.”
 
He searched the room, his eyes settling on
the cardboard box loaded with implements.
 

“What
is it?” she asked.

He
lifted several of the contents, eyeing each one before his eyes drifted out the
window.

“What
are you going to do?”

“I’m
still thinking about it.
 
Get a sheet of
paper and diagram the layout between here and your car.”
 

As
she drew, she pointed to the paper and said, “The hallway has two turns from
the back door of my office.
 
We leave and
walk straight to the end of the short hall.
 
We turn right from there and—”

“What’s
to the left?”

“That’s
the long hallway.
 
Infirmary and then the
main bay.”

“I
remember.
 
So, turn right and walk to the
end?”

“Sort
of.
 
Before we reach the end, which was
where you were brought in, we take the single door to the right and that’s
where my car will be.”

“Type
of car,” he demanded.

“It’s
an Opel Insignia.”

“Heard
of it but not familiar.
 
Describe.”

She
looked away for a moment, trying to contain her trembling chin.
 
“Will you please ease up?
 
One of my guns is gone, we’ve got no bullets,
and now you’re making me more nervous than I already am.”

He
grabbed her wrist, turning her wristwatch.
 
“We’ve got twenty minutes before you’re due to call El Toro in.
 
And he’s armed, which is mind-boggling enough
as it is.
 
When I got here, I was stabbed
by a shank made from a nail.
 
But I’ve
never heard of a prisoner armed with a frigging handgun.”

“Now
who’s wasting time?”

Toning
it down, he said, “The car, please.”

“Like
I said.
 
It’s an Opel Insignia, four-door,
not huge but larger than most cars in Spain.”

“Manual
or automatic?”

“Manual.”

“Front-wheel
drive?”

“All-wheel
drive.
 
It’s the nicest version of the
car available.”

“Horsepower.”

“No
clue.”

“Fast?”

She
shrugged.
 
“Fast, I guess.”

“Diesel
or gas?”

“It
takes high-octane gas.”

“I
was hoping it was diesel,” he breathed, looking outside the window.

“Why?”

“Torque.”

“What?”

He
made a dismissive motion with his hand.
 
“How does the car start?”

She
went to her purse, removing the chunky key fob.
 
“As long as this is in the car, you push a button to the left of the
radio.”

He
nodded, rubbing his stubble.
 
“Okay.
 
When we get to the car, I’ll drive and I want
you beside me.
 
We’re going to have to
smash through that garage door and, whether we make it or not, we’re probably
going to get a face full of airbag.”

“You
don’t want me in the backseat?”

“I
want to give them a reason to
not
shoot at us.”
 
He wiped incipient sweat
from his face.
 
“Next item.
 
Tell me about the procedure for an escape
alarm.”

She
motioned for him to follow, walking to the rear door of the office.
 
Mounted on the wall was a heavy-duty keypad
with three buttons.
 
“These are encased
in the hallways, the guard stands, and other strategic locations around the
prison.
 
A person needs a key to open the
case.
 
When pressed, this first button signals
an internal alarm not fed into the prisoner areas.”

“What’s
the alarm for?”

“All
available guards muster when it’s pressed.
 
It’s usually used for large fights and that type of thing.”

“I
didn’t realize you ever broke those up.”

Ignoring
him, she said, “The second button rings an alarm throughout the prison and the
third—”

“Notifies
the external police of a prison emergency,” Gage finished for her.

“That’s
correct, except for one thing.
 
When that
alarm is triggered, the ‘C’ alarm, it’s possible to cancel it if one has the
proper cancellation code.”

“And
you have it?”

“Of
course.
 
Once we’re clear of Berga, I’ll
call and tell them to ignore all signals for the next hour, that we’re having
problems with our system and testing it.”

“Will
they buy that?”

“They
will if it’s me calling.
 
They know me.”

“Will
anyone else here call the police?”

“Possibly,
but they’ll think the alarm did its job.
 
I would think most calls will go to Los Leones.”
 

“It
might give us the head start we need.”

She
gestured to the door.
 
“Can you still
handle El Toro?”

Just
as Gage was about to answer, the phone buzzed.
 
She spoke for a moment, telling her assistant to wait one minute and
send him in.

“Cuff
me,” Gage said.
 
“And when he comes in,
put him next to me and then excuse yourself to go to the bathroom.”

“Okay.”

“I
need some money, too.”

“How
much?”

“Just
twenty, thirty euro.”

She
gave him forty euro from her purse.
 
Gage
held a handful of the aluminum pieces he’d taken from the back of the refrigerator
along with the money.
 
She cuffed him and
he sat in front of her desk just before the prisoner was shown in.
 

Wearing
manacles, Salvador the Semental was escorted in before she dismissed the
guard.
 

“Please
sit,” she said to Salvador.
 
He stared at
Gage with saucer eyes, certainly having never been summoned to this office
before.

Just
as de la Mancha opened her mouth to speak, she stared at her mobile phone,
excusing herself and walking into her bathroom, feigning a conversation.

Speaking
conspiratorially, Gage said, “Do you still have that clotting agent?”

“What?”

“The
clotting agent you used on me.”

“Yeah.
 
It’s in Nico’s cell.”

“Can
you get it, and a few plastic bottles?”

“Why?”

“Sal—can
you get the clotting agent and some bottles?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.
 
I want you to make as many bombs as you can,
and I want you to set them off up on your terrace.”

“Bombs?
 
Th’hell are you talking about?”

Gage
handed over the aluminum chips.
 
“Get the
plastic bottles.
 
Mix that clotting agent
with water in the bottles, then drop these aluminum chips in.
 
Screw the tops down, shake them up and roll
them out on the terrace.”

“Why?”

“Because
I’m going to try to escape, that’s why.”

“What?”
Salvador said loudly.

“Shhh,”
Gage said, eyeing the main door.
 
“Wait
until the guards are mustered in the main bay in riot gear, then mix those
items and do as I said.
 
Watch the center
clock and drop the aluminum chips in at nine-oh-two on the button.”
 
With his cuffed hands, he handed over the
money.

Salvador
eyed the cash.
 
“How do you know the
guards will be in the bay?”