Conquistador, page 5
Julia Cruz was beginning to lose her patience. At first, she had been terrified for her life; now she was bored and confused. None of what had happened to her since her abduction made any sense. She had been treated well. Food and water were plentiful. Yet, each day, she was asked the same questions over and over. Her captors wanted to know about her time spent in the Amazon with the Yorani Indian tribe when she was a post-grad student, and what she knew about some order called the Knights of Saint Peter. Julia could go on for hours about her time learning all she could about the people of the Yorani tribe. It had been a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for her to study people who, until only a few years ago, were an uncontacted tribe living as they had for centuries in the Amazon rainforest. As for the Knights of Saint Peter, Julia drew a blank. She’d never even heard the name of the chivalric order until they asked her about it.
Julia sat on the edge of her cot and stared at the locked door in front of her. As it was nearing six in the evening, the nightly routine was about to begin. She heard a key being inserted into the lock. The door creaked as it was pushed open. A young man walked in holding a tray. On it was her usual supper of fresh fruit, fish, rice, and a cup of black tea. The guard never spoke to her. He left the food on a small, wooden table and left.
This evening, however, the routine changed when her kidnapper walked in and took a seat at her table. He was wearing camouflage military-style fatigues. In his right hand was a cup of coffee; in the other were several pictures. The man placed the photos down on the table and smiled at Julia. If she weren’t his prisoner, Julia might have found him handsome. He had a square jaw and was in superb shape.
“Please, come join me at the table,” said the man. “I’ve already eaten. A cup of coffee is my dessert.”
Julia took a seat and picked up a slice of cantaloupe to eat.
“Ms. Cruz, by now you must be going out of your mind with questions. Believe me, I’d love to answer them all but my employer made it clear to me to keep our social interaction to a minimum, so I must regrettably keep you in the dark a little while longer.”
Julia latched onto the last words spoken by her captor. Her heart raced in her chest. “Am I going to be ransomed off sometime soon?”
“Perhaps?”
“Look, all I want to do is go back home and see my brother. Surely you, or your people, are in contact with him?”
“That I do not know. I’m not privy to any ongoing discussions. Please enjoy your meal. I’ll be back in an hour, and we can once again discuss your time in the Amazon rainforest.”
Julia fought the urge to tell the man to stuff his suggestion where the sun didn’t shine. Instead, she smiled disingenuously at her captor before picking up a red grape to eat. Julia watched him leave the room. When she was alone, she stood and walked back to her bed. Julia collapsed onto her cot, pulled her legs up to her chest and held them tight. Tears began to trickle from the corners of her eyes. She was becoming scared for her life. Julia wasn’t sure how much more of this she could take before breaking down.
Vladimir Salazar walked outside of the cement bunker to get some fresh air. He stood under the camouflage netting and looked up. Millions of stars twinkled in the clear night sky. Salazar was wasting his time, and he knew it. Either the woman was lying to him, which he doubted, or she truly didn’t have the answers his employer was looking for. He took a satphone from one of his men and speed-dialed the only number on the phone.
“Yes,” said a voice. His accent was German.
“Sir, I’ve tried everything short of physical torture to try and obtain the information you’re looking for. I don’t think Ms. Cruz has what you’re looking for.”
“She has to. Everything I have points to her family.”
“Yes, sir, it may, but I don’t think she’s the one with the answers.”
“She has to have them. It was her, not her brother, who spent time among the Indians of the Amazon. I want you to try something more persuasive. Use drugs on her if you have to. Get me what I need, and I’ll double your payment.”
Salazar liked the sound of that. “And what if she still doesn’t know?”
“Then kill her, and dump her body in the sea for the sharks to eat.”
“Sir, one last thing. Two Americans showed up earlier today at her resort, asking a lot of questions about her disappearance.”
“Damn it. Her brother must have hired them.”
“My thoughts as well. I told Ramos to deal with them.”
“And?”
“I haven’t heard back from him yet. I suspect he is busy and will call me in the morning.”
“If he fails to deal with these people, I want you to kill them and drop their bodies in the sea as well.”
“It will be done.” Salazar ended the call and handed back the phone. He dug out his cigarettes and lit one. Right away he felt the nicotine calm his nerves. Salazar had once been a major in the Colombian Army but had found his career was stagnating. An old friend had enticed him into leaving. The money he made working privately dwarfed his military salary. He hired his services out to the highest bidder. Salazar didn’t care if what he did as illegal, as long as he got paid. He tossed his half-finished cigarette on the ground and crushed it out with his heel. Salazar hadn’t anticipated having to drug Julia. He would have to make a call and have some truth serum delivered to the island as soon as possible.
9
Mitchell and Jackson sat at the only table in the cramped apartment. They were dressed in an assortment of ill-fitting clothes, while their wet ones dried out on a line hung up in the bathroom. On the screen of a newly bought laptop were Jen and General O’Reilly.
“I’m not sure about your choice of clothing, but I’m glad to see that you’re both okay,” said O’Reilly. “Have you been able to learn anything new about Ms. Cruz’s abduction?”
“We were about to,” said Mitchell, “when someone crashed the party and almost killed the lot of us. We were lucky to escape with only a few minor scrapes and bruises.”
“Our contact here has gone to meet face-to-face with the local crime boss to explain that we had nothing to do with the attempt on his life,” explained Jackson.
“Do you know who was behind the attack?” asked Jen.
“The only person we recognized was the head of security at the resort,” replied Jackson. “From what we’ve seen, we have no doubt that the bastard helped orchestrate Ms. Cruz’s abduction. He must have bugged our room and listened to our conversations. He was waiting with a hit team when we met with Mister Estrada.”
“The IT folks took a look at the feed from the security camera at the hotel, and regrettably weren’t able to get a clearer picture of the waiter or the other men on the beach,” said O’Reilly.
“Well, at least we tried,” said Mitchell, briefly wishing he was at home with Jen.
“So, what’s your next step?”
“Sir, I take it there still hasn’t been a ransom demand sent to Mister Cruz?”
“Correct.”
“So the mission hasn’t changed. We’ll keep looking for Julia Cruz. If Mister Estrada is forgiving and hasn’t gone into hiding, I’m hoping he can steer us toward the people behind her kidnapping.”
“Okay, give us another call tomorrow, and let us know how you’re doing,” said O’Reilly, walking away from his console back in the States.
“Oh, I take it that’s my cue to go check on our laundry,” quipped Jackson, getting to his feet.
Mitchell stared into Jen’s warm brown eyes. “I miss you. How are things going back home?”
“I miss you, too,” said Jen, smiling. “Things are going along as they should. Your mother called. She’s going to come down next week. Should I tell her to wait until you get back?”
“No. She likes seeing you more than she does me. Have you heard from Sam and Gordon?”
“Yeah, they’ve finished their holiday and are on the way back home. I think Sam’s itching to get back to work. I’ve scheduled her to meet with Doctor Fineman.”
“He’s the mental-health specialist I saw. He’s a good sort. Sam should be cleared for duty by the time I get back home.”
“Mike and Fahimah were in earlier today.”
“That’s good news. How are they doing?”
“Fine. Both of them will be back to work full time when the new headquarters is opened.”
Mitchell let out a sigh. Slowly, everything was beginning to be as it once was, with one exception. Tammy was gone, and there was nothing he could do to change that.
“Are you okay, Ryan?” asked Jen. “You look at bit down.”
“Nah, I’m fine. Just a little tired, that’s all.”
“Ryan Mitchell, I know you better that that. I know you’re thinking of Tammy. Everyone here misses her, too. Have a guess what the general is naming the new headquarters?”
Mitchell shrugged. “Beats me.”
“The Tammy Spencer Building.”
Right away, Mitchell’s sour mood evaporated. He smiled. “That’s a classy move on the general’s part. Did he speak with Tammy’s husband and her family?”
“Yes. Everyone is on board with the decision. I knew you’d like to hear that.”
“The only thing I’d like more is to be home with you.” Mitchell winked lecherously at the screen.
“Save that thought until you get home, mister. You’ve got work to do, and I want your mind and body focused on coming back to me in one piece.”
Mitchell saluted Jen. “Will do, ma’am.”
Jen glanced down at her watch. “Sorry, but I’ve got to run. I have a meeting in five minutes with a couple of potential new intelligence analysts.”
Mitchell blew a kiss at Jen. “Talk to you tomorrow.”
She pretended to catch it out of the air before turning off the feed from her end.
“At times, you two can be worse than a pair of love-struck teenagers,” said Jackson, walking back to the table.
“Did you hear that they’re going to name the new HQ after Tammy?”
“I did, and like you, I think it’s the right thing to do.”
The door to the apartment opened and Garcia stepped inside, carrying Mitchell and Jackson’s suitcases.
“How on Earth did you manage to get your hands on our luggage?” asked Mitchell.
“I didn’t,” responded Garcia. “I paid a man I know to break into your room and take everything he could find. So your clothes and private possessions may be a bit mixed up.”
“What about the money in the wall safe?” said Jackson.
Garcia dug out an envelope and handed it over. “It’s all there, minus five hundred dollars, which I used to pay my business associate for his troubles.”
“Thanks,” said Mitchell. “Any luck speaking with Mister Estrada?”
“I didn’t get to see him in person, but I was assured that his wrath is not aimed at us,” explained Garcia. “He wants us to meet with him again first thing tomorrow morning.”
“Did he say where?”
“No. He’s sending a car to pick us up.”
“I don’t want to be the resident skeptic, but are you sure we can trust him?” said Jackson.
Garcia nodded. “Yes. We’ll be okay. I wouldn’t want to be in Wally Ramos’ shoes right now, however. Estrada has men looking all over the island for him.”
“Let’s hope they don’t kill him before we get a chance to find out who he is working for,” said Mitchell.
“Estrada has been known to torture men for days before killing them,” said Garcia. “I think by tomorrow morning, we’ll know who’s behind all of this.”
Mitchell despised Ramos but the thought of being tortured for days made a shiver run down his back. No man should die that way.
The next day, a black, up-armored Hummer picked up the three men. They drove in silence for a while, until the Hummer pulled off the road and drove down a narrow jungle path. Before too long, they came out into a clearing. At the far end was a dilapidated, two-story house. There were several more vehicles parked outside of the old building.
“Looks like Mister Estrada is taking his personal safety a bit more serious now,” said Mitchell, nodding toward the swarm of armed guards patrolling the grounds.
“I wouldn’t doubt that he has, at the very least, a Stinger ground-to-air missile team hidden in the tree line,” said Jackson.
“We’re here,” said the driver as he parked the Hummer. “Please get out.”
Mitchell, Jackson, and Garcia opened their doors and got out of the vehicle. It had stopped raining only an hour ago. The air was hot and sticky.
“This way,” said the driver.
They walked up the front steps of the house and into the foyer, where three of Estrada’s men frisked the new arrivals. A side door opened. One of the guards pointed at the opening.
“I guess that means go that way,” said Jackson under his breath.
Mitchell walked into the next room and stopped in his tracks. Garcia was right, he was happy not to be in Wally Ramos’ shoes. The man had been stripped naked, and was tied to a chair in the middle of the room. His face was a mess of cuts and bruises. His left eye was swollen shut, and blood dripped from a cut on his lower lip. Estrada and a couple of sweating thugs stood off to one side.
“I see in your eyes that you don’t approve of my methods, Mister Mitchell,” said Estrada.
“I’ve never been a fan of torture,” replied Mitchell. “After a while, your prisoner will tell you anything you want to hear, whether it is true or not, just to get you to stop the beatings.”
“Late last night we found Mister Ramos hiding at his sister’s home. My men and I have been questioning him for the past five hours.”
“Have you learned anything?” asked Jackson.
“Lots,” said Estrada, lighting a cigar. “Mister Ramos is in the pay of a man called Vladimir Salazar. Have you ever heard of him?”
“No,” responded Mitchell and Jackson together.
“My business associates in South America tell me he is a former Colombian Special Forces officer who is now a gun for hire.”
“Does he know where Ms. Cruz is being held?” asked Mitchell.
“He’s not one hundred percent sure, but he believes she is being held on Jacinto Island.”
“Where’s this island?”
“It’s about five kilometers offshore,” replied Garcia. “During the war, the Japanese built a gun emplacement on the island. It’s not a popular tourist attraction, so hardly anyone ever goes there these days.”
“Does anyone live there?” asked Jackson.
Garcia shook his head. “It’s deserted.”
“Why does Ramos think Julia is being held there and not someplace else?” said Mitchell.
“He said Salazar was only interested in Jacinto Island,” explained Estrada. “He even asked him for maps and aerial photographs of the island.”
“Sounds like we need to check out this island,” said Jackson.
“I can supply you with a boat…for a modest fee,” said Estrada.
“We’re going to need a lot more than a boat,” said Jackson. “How quick could you get your hands on a drone?”
Estrada smiled. “Mister Jackson, for the right price, I could get you a jet fighter.”
“I’d like to get to the island at last light tonight,” said Mitchell. “Before we leave here, Nate and I will give you our shopping list.”
“How will you be able to pay for everything?”
“I take it you have a Swiss bank account?”
“Naturally.”
“Once we agree on a price, I’ll have the funds transferred electronically to your account.”
Jackson pointed at Ramos. “What are you going to do with him? He’s probably given you all the information he knows.”
“What happens to him is none of your business,” declared Estrada. His voice turned cold. “Even if he was only trying to kill you at my warehouse, I was almost killed in the crossfire. For that foolish act, he has forfeited his life. I won’t interfere in your affairs, Mister Jackson, please do the same for me.”
Mitchell squeezed Jackson’s arm. “Come on, Nate, we’ve got to put together our wish list.”
All three men walked out of the room and kept going until they were outside.
“I wish we weren’t tied at the hip to Estrada,” said Jackson. “He makes my skin crawl.”
“If I thought we had more time than we do, I’d happily have us go our separate ways,” said Mitchell. “But it would take hours for Yuri to arrange anything for us, and there’s no guarantee that his contacts could get us everything that we’re going to need. Unfortunately, we need Estrada’s help on this assignment.”
“I know Mister Cruz said money was no object. But this time, I want you to haggle over every nickel and dime. I don’t want to pay that S.O.B. a penny more than we have to.”
“I can do that,” said Mitchell, patting his friend on the shoulder. “Let’s put our heads together and decide what we need for our foray to Jacinto Island.”
10
The setting rays of the sun turned the sky a mix of purples and pinks.
Salazar sat in the back of the MD 500 helicopter as it flew toward Palawan Island. He looked out the window at the sea racing past beneath his chopper. A lone fishing boat sailed in the calm waters.
“Sir, we’ve patched through your call,” said the pilot to Salazar.
He waved his thanks to the pilot, placed a headset on and pressed the Talk button. “Sir, Ms. Cruz was a dead end. I administered the Sodium Pentothal myself. She knows nothing.”
“Damn,” muttered the man on the line.
“Perhaps your initial information on the Cruz family was wrong.”
“I was certain that she would know something. Have you disposed of the body?”
“I’ve given instructions for her disposal. A boat is coming to the island later tonight to upload the rest of my men and Ms. Cruz. When they are halfway to Palawan, they’ll toss her drugged body overboard. She’ll either drown, or be eaten by the sharks. Either way, she’ll be dead.”
Julia sat on the edge of her cot and stared at the locked door in front of her. As it was nearing six in the evening, the nightly routine was about to begin. She heard a key being inserted into the lock. The door creaked as it was pushed open. A young man walked in holding a tray. On it was her usual supper of fresh fruit, fish, rice, and a cup of black tea. The guard never spoke to her. He left the food on a small, wooden table and left.
This evening, however, the routine changed when her kidnapper walked in and took a seat at her table. He was wearing camouflage military-style fatigues. In his right hand was a cup of coffee; in the other were several pictures. The man placed the photos down on the table and smiled at Julia. If she weren’t his prisoner, Julia might have found him handsome. He had a square jaw and was in superb shape.
“Please, come join me at the table,” said the man. “I’ve already eaten. A cup of coffee is my dessert.”
Julia took a seat and picked up a slice of cantaloupe to eat.
“Ms. Cruz, by now you must be going out of your mind with questions. Believe me, I’d love to answer them all but my employer made it clear to me to keep our social interaction to a minimum, so I must regrettably keep you in the dark a little while longer.”
Julia latched onto the last words spoken by her captor. Her heart raced in her chest. “Am I going to be ransomed off sometime soon?”
“Perhaps?”
“Look, all I want to do is go back home and see my brother. Surely you, or your people, are in contact with him?”
“That I do not know. I’m not privy to any ongoing discussions. Please enjoy your meal. I’ll be back in an hour, and we can once again discuss your time in the Amazon rainforest.”
Julia fought the urge to tell the man to stuff his suggestion where the sun didn’t shine. Instead, she smiled disingenuously at her captor before picking up a red grape to eat. Julia watched him leave the room. When she was alone, she stood and walked back to her bed. Julia collapsed onto her cot, pulled her legs up to her chest and held them tight. Tears began to trickle from the corners of her eyes. She was becoming scared for her life. Julia wasn’t sure how much more of this she could take before breaking down.
Vladimir Salazar walked outside of the cement bunker to get some fresh air. He stood under the camouflage netting and looked up. Millions of stars twinkled in the clear night sky. Salazar was wasting his time, and he knew it. Either the woman was lying to him, which he doubted, or she truly didn’t have the answers his employer was looking for. He took a satphone from one of his men and speed-dialed the only number on the phone.
“Yes,” said a voice. His accent was German.
“Sir, I’ve tried everything short of physical torture to try and obtain the information you’re looking for. I don’t think Ms. Cruz has what you’re looking for.”
“She has to. Everything I have points to her family.”
“Yes, sir, it may, but I don’t think she’s the one with the answers.”
“She has to have them. It was her, not her brother, who spent time among the Indians of the Amazon. I want you to try something more persuasive. Use drugs on her if you have to. Get me what I need, and I’ll double your payment.”
Salazar liked the sound of that. “And what if she still doesn’t know?”
“Then kill her, and dump her body in the sea for the sharks to eat.”
“Sir, one last thing. Two Americans showed up earlier today at her resort, asking a lot of questions about her disappearance.”
“Damn it. Her brother must have hired them.”
“My thoughts as well. I told Ramos to deal with them.”
“And?”
“I haven’t heard back from him yet. I suspect he is busy and will call me in the morning.”
“If he fails to deal with these people, I want you to kill them and drop their bodies in the sea as well.”
“It will be done.” Salazar ended the call and handed back the phone. He dug out his cigarettes and lit one. Right away he felt the nicotine calm his nerves. Salazar had once been a major in the Colombian Army but had found his career was stagnating. An old friend had enticed him into leaving. The money he made working privately dwarfed his military salary. He hired his services out to the highest bidder. Salazar didn’t care if what he did as illegal, as long as he got paid. He tossed his half-finished cigarette on the ground and crushed it out with his heel. Salazar hadn’t anticipated having to drug Julia. He would have to make a call and have some truth serum delivered to the island as soon as possible.
9
Mitchell and Jackson sat at the only table in the cramped apartment. They were dressed in an assortment of ill-fitting clothes, while their wet ones dried out on a line hung up in the bathroom. On the screen of a newly bought laptop were Jen and General O’Reilly.
“I’m not sure about your choice of clothing, but I’m glad to see that you’re both okay,” said O’Reilly. “Have you been able to learn anything new about Ms. Cruz’s abduction?”
“We were about to,” said Mitchell, “when someone crashed the party and almost killed the lot of us. We were lucky to escape with only a few minor scrapes and bruises.”
“Our contact here has gone to meet face-to-face with the local crime boss to explain that we had nothing to do with the attempt on his life,” explained Jackson.
“Do you know who was behind the attack?” asked Jen.
“The only person we recognized was the head of security at the resort,” replied Jackson. “From what we’ve seen, we have no doubt that the bastard helped orchestrate Ms. Cruz’s abduction. He must have bugged our room and listened to our conversations. He was waiting with a hit team when we met with Mister Estrada.”
“The IT folks took a look at the feed from the security camera at the hotel, and regrettably weren’t able to get a clearer picture of the waiter or the other men on the beach,” said O’Reilly.
“Well, at least we tried,” said Mitchell, briefly wishing he was at home with Jen.
“So, what’s your next step?”
“Sir, I take it there still hasn’t been a ransom demand sent to Mister Cruz?”
“Correct.”
“So the mission hasn’t changed. We’ll keep looking for Julia Cruz. If Mister Estrada is forgiving and hasn’t gone into hiding, I’m hoping he can steer us toward the people behind her kidnapping.”
“Okay, give us another call tomorrow, and let us know how you’re doing,” said O’Reilly, walking away from his console back in the States.
“Oh, I take it that’s my cue to go check on our laundry,” quipped Jackson, getting to his feet.
Mitchell stared into Jen’s warm brown eyes. “I miss you. How are things going back home?”
“I miss you, too,” said Jen, smiling. “Things are going along as they should. Your mother called. She’s going to come down next week. Should I tell her to wait until you get back?”
“No. She likes seeing you more than she does me. Have you heard from Sam and Gordon?”
“Yeah, they’ve finished their holiday and are on the way back home. I think Sam’s itching to get back to work. I’ve scheduled her to meet with Doctor Fineman.”
“He’s the mental-health specialist I saw. He’s a good sort. Sam should be cleared for duty by the time I get back home.”
“Mike and Fahimah were in earlier today.”
“That’s good news. How are they doing?”
“Fine. Both of them will be back to work full time when the new headquarters is opened.”
Mitchell let out a sigh. Slowly, everything was beginning to be as it once was, with one exception. Tammy was gone, and there was nothing he could do to change that.
“Are you okay, Ryan?” asked Jen. “You look at bit down.”
“Nah, I’m fine. Just a little tired, that’s all.”
“Ryan Mitchell, I know you better that that. I know you’re thinking of Tammy. Everyone here misses her, too. Have a guess what the general is naming the new headquarters?”
Mitchell shrugged. “Beats me.”
“The Tammy Spencer Building.”
Right away, Mitchell’s sour mood evaporated. He smiled. “That’s a classy move on the general’s part. Did he speak with Tammy’s husband and her family?”
“Yes. Everyone is on board with the decision. I knew you’d like to hear that.”
“The only thing I’d like more is to be home with you.” Mitchell winked lecherously at the screen.
“Save that thought until you get home, mister. You’ve got work to do, and I want your mind and body focused on coming back to me in one piece.”
Mitchell saluted Jen. “Will do, ma’am.”
Jen glanced down at her watch. “Sorry, but I’ve got to run. I have a meeting in five minutes with a couple of potential new intelligence analysts.”
Mitchell blew a kiss at Jen. “Talk to you tomorrow.”
She pretended to catch it out of the air before turning off the feed from her end.
“At times, you two can be worse than a pair of love-struck teenagers,” said Jackson, walking back to the table.
“Did you hear that they’re going to name the new HQ after Tammy?”
“I did, and like you, I think it’s the right thing to do.”
The door to the apartment opened and Garcia stepped inside, carrying Mitchell and Jackson’s suitcases.
“How on Earth did you manage to get your hands on our luggage?” asked Mitchell.
“I didn’t,” responded Garcia. “I paid a man I know to break into your room and take everything he could find. So your clothes and private possessions may be a bit mixed up.”
“What about the money in the wall safe?” said Jackson.
Garcia dug out an envelope and handed it over. “It’s all there, minus five hundred dollars, which I used to pay my business associate for his troubles.”
“Thanks,” said Mitchell. “Any luck speaking with Mister Estrada?”
“I didn’t get to see him in person, but I was assured that his wrath is not aimed at us,” explained Garcia. “He wants us to meet with him again first thing tomorrow morning.”
“Did he say where?”
“No. He’s sending a car to pick us up.”
“I don’t want to be the resident skeptic, but are you sure we can trust him?” said Jackson.
Garcia nodded. “Yes. We’ll be okay. I wouldn’t want to be in Wally Ramos’ shoes right now, however. Estrada has men looking all over the island for him.”
“Let’s hope they don’t kill him before we get a chance to find out who he is working for,” said Mitchell.
“Estrada has been known to torture men for days before killing them,” said Garcia. “I think by tomorrow morning, we’ll know who’s behind all of this.”
Mitchell despised Ramos but the thought of being tortured for days made a shiver run down his back. No man should die that way.
The next day, a black, up-armored Hummer picked up the three men. They drove in silence for a while, until the Hummer pulled off the road and drove down a narrow jungle path. Before too long, they came out into a clearing. At the far end was a dilapidated, two-story house. There were several more vehicles parked outside of the old building.
“Looks like Mister Estrada is taking his personal safety a bit more serious now,” said Mitchell, nodding toward the swarm of armed guards patrolling the grounds.
“I wouldn’t doubt that he has, at the very least, a Stinger ground-to-air missile team hidden in the tree line,” said Jackson.
“We’re here,” said the driver as he parked the Hummer. “Please get out.”
Mitchell, Jackson, and Garcia opened their doors and got out of the vehicle. It had stopped raining only an hour ago. The air was hot and sticky.
“This way,” said the driver.
They walked up the front steps of the house and into the foyer, where three of Estrada’s men frisked the new arrivals. A side door opened. One of the guards pointed at the opening.
“I guess that means go that way,” said Jackson under his breath.
Mitchell walked into the next room and stopped in his tracks. Garcia was right, he was happy not to be in Wally Ramos’ shoes. The man had been stripped naked, and was tied to a chair in the middle of the room. His face was a mess of cuts and bruises. His left eye was swollen shut, and blood dripped from a cut on his lower lip. Estrada and a couple of sweating thugs stood off to one side.
“I see in your eyes that you don’t approve of my methods, Mister Mitchell,” said Estrada.
“I’ve never been a fan of torture,” replied Mitchell. “After a while, your prisoner will tell you anything you want to hear, whether it is true or not, just to get you to stop the beatings.”
“Late last night we found Mister Ramos hiding at his sister’s home. My men and I have been questioning him for the past five hours.”
“Have you learned anything?” asked Jackson.
“Lots,” said Estrada, lighting a cigar. “Mister Ramos is in the pay of a man called Vladimir Salazar. Have you ever heard of him?”
“No,” responded Mitchell and Jackson together.
“My business associates in South America tell me he is a former Colombian Special Forces officer who is now a gun for hire.”
“Does he know where Ms. Cruz is being held?” asked Mitchell.
“He’s not one hundred percent sure, but he believes she is being held on Jacinto Island.”
“Where’s this island?”
“It’s about five kilometers offshore,” replied Garcia. “During the war, the Japanese built a gun emplacement on the island. It’s not a popular tourist attraction, so hardly anyone ever goes there these days.”
“Does anyone live there?” asked Jackson.
Garcia shook his head. “It’s deserted.”
“Why does Ramos think Julia is being held there and not someplace else?” said Mitchell.
“He said Salazar was only interested in Jacinto Island,” explained Estrada. “He even asked him for maps and aerial photographs of the island.”
“Sounds like we need to check out this island,” said Jackson.
“I can supply you with a boat…for a modest fee,” said Estrada.
“We’re going to need a lot more than a boat,” said Jackson. “How quick could you get your hands on a drone?”
Estrada smiled. “Mister Jackson, for the right price, I could get you a jet fighter.”
“I’d like to get to the island at last light tonight,” said Mitchell. “Before we leave here, Nate and I will give you our shopping list.”
“How will you be able to pay for everything?”
“I take it you have a Swiss bank account?”
“Naturally.”
“Once we agree on a price, I’ll have the funds transferred electronically to your account.”
Jackson pointed at Ramos. “What are you going to do with him? He’s probably given you all the information he knows.”
“What happens to him is none of your business,” declared Estrada. His voice turned cold. “Even if he was only trying to kill you at my warehouse, I was almost killed in the crossfire. For that foolish act, he has forfeited his life. I won’t interfere in your affairs, Mister Jackson, please do the same for me.”
Mitchell squeezed Jackson’s arm. “Come on, Nate, we’ve got to put together our wish list.”
All three men walked out of the room and kept going until they were outside.
“I wish we weren’t tied at the hip to Estrada,” said Jackson. “He makes my skin crawl.”
“If I thought we had more time than we do, I’d happily have us go our separate ways,” said Mitchell. “But it would take hours for Yuri to arrange anything for us, and there’s no guarantee that his contacts could get us everything that we’re going to need. Unfortunately, we need Estrada’s help on this assignment.”
“I know Mister Cruz said money was no object. But this time, I want you to haggle over every nickel and dime. I don’t want to pay that S.O.B. a penny more than we have to.”
“I can do that,” said Mitchell, patting his friend on the shoulder. “Let’s put our heads together and decide what we need for our foray to Jacinto Island.”
10
The setting rays of the sun turned the sky a mix of purples and pinks.
Salazar sat in the back of the MD 500 helicopter as it flew toward Palawan Island. He looked out the window at the sea racing past beneath his chopper. A lone fishing boat sailed in the calm waters.
“Sir, we’ve patched through your call,” said the pilot to Salazar.
He waved his thanks to the pilot, placed a headset on and pressed the Talk button. “Sir, Ms. Cruz was a dead end. I administered the Sodium Pentothal myself. She knows nothing.”
“Damn,” muttered the man on the line.
“Perhaps your initial information on the Cruz family was wrong.”
“I was certain that she would know something. Have you disposed of the body?”
“I’ve given instructions for her disposal. A boat is coming to the island later tonight to upload the rest of my men and Ms. Cruz. When they are halfway to Palawan, they’ll toss her drugged body overboard. She’ll either drown, or be eaten by the sharks. Either way, she’ll be dead.”
