constant in all humans. It wasn’t a question of if, it was a matter of how much.
The man just smiled again, shaking his head as if dealing with a child.
“Did you hear me? I can get you anything. Millions of dollars. In cash. What’s your number? What do you want? A million? Two million? Fine. I can get you two million dollars with a phone call.”
The young man considered the idea, and then nodded.
“I think I’d like to be a millionaire. That sounds like it would be fun. So you get me two million dollars, and then once I have the money and I’m safe, I’ll release you. I’ll unlock your chains, and you’ll be free to go. You don’t know me, so I’m not worried about being found by your thugs. How do we do this?” the young man asked.
“Now you’re thinking. In my pocket. I have a phone. Get it for me, and I’ll give you a number to call. Let me talk, and we’ll set up getting you your money.”
“But how? How will I get the money and know I’m safe, and that your men aren’t watching me or following me?” he asked.
“We can do it like I’ve done some of my deals. We pick a remote location you’re familiar with. At a predetermined time, a man will come and put a bag with the money wherever you like, and then leave. You wait as long as you want, and then retrieve the money. It’s a standard drop. We do it all the time,” Altamar explained.
“Ah. Good thinking. I think I can improve on that. I have an idea that will work.”
And then he explained what he wanted.
Altamar’s eyes widened. “Very smart. I’ve never heard of anything like that before. I see what you’re trying to do. It will be impossible to follow you that way. Okay, make the call. We have a deal. You get your money, you unchain me and let me go, right? I’m a man of my word. How will I know you’ll do as you say?”
“I went to a lot of trouble to get you out alive. If I’d wanted to kill you, you’d have been dead an hour ago. I want something else. So make the call, and let’s get this over with,” the young man replied.
“You know what? Fuck you. I think you’re lying, and you’re going to kill me anyway,” Altamar hissed.
“Fair enough. I guess I’ll kill you now. And you’ll never find out if you were wrong.”
The young man shrugged, apparently uninterested in which way the transaction went. From the back of his pants, he pulled a semi-automatic pistol and approached Altamar.
“No. Here’s my proposal. You get the two million, but you hand me over in exchange for the money when you get it.”
The young man smiled again with genuine amusement.
“I must not be very convincing, or you must be very stupid. This isn’t a negotiation. You either give me two million dollars on my terms, and I release you, or you fuck around and I blow your brains out. Or maybe I gut shoot you and watch you lay in your own shit and blood for a few hours while you beg me to end the agony.” He considered that mental image. “You really think I’m going to let your men pick me off with a sniper rifle the second you’re safe? I’m disappointed. I was sure you were smarter than that. Maybe I’ll blow your kneecaps off, and you’ll be walking around on prosthetic limbs for the rest of your miserable life, just so you know I’m serious. Do you need me to do that? Show you I’m serious?”
Altamar hesitated, calculating, and then his shoulders slumped.
“No. I believe you. Fine. We’ll do it your way. Make the call, and let’s get this over with.”
The young man dialed the number Altamar gave him, and then held the phone up to the ear of the cartel boss. When the other end of the line answered, Altamar explained he’d been kidnapped, but that it was okay, and to gather two million in cash and have it ready to go at four a.m. – in two more hours. He then gave the instructions on how it was to be delivered. Altamar had many millions in cash stashed in multiple places in town, so getting two million was the least of his problems.
Altamar listened to the response and then barked angrily into the phone.
“Don’t argue with me. Just do it. My life is at stake here. Do it precisely as I explained, and don’t fuck around or try anything clever. I don’t want to die because you got smart,” Altamar warned, before the young man terminated the call and pocketed the phone. “All right. I did my part. So now you go get your money, and then you let me go. You better move a long way away from here, because it’s not going to be very healthy for you after this, you know?” Altamar couldn’t resist the threat. He had a good sense for people, and he believed that the young man would release him.
“I don’t intend to stay very long. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some things to attend to,” the young man apologized.
Altamar was startled by a sound of scurrying from out of his field of vision, above his head.
“What the fuck? What’s that?” he hissed.
“That? Oh, that’s probably the rats, I expect. I remember the place was infested with them last time I was here,” the young man said conversationally.
“Rats? Then you can’t leave me here on the ground. Get me up,” Altamar demanded.
The young man appeared to consider it.
“No, you’ll stay where you are. Besides, you’ll soon have bigger things to think about than a few pesky rats,” he reasoned, and moved to grab the bottle he’d placed on the ground near the door.
“What’s that?” Altamar asked, his voice catching.
“No. Afraid not. You’ll know soon enough. I wanted to leave you something to reflect upon while I’m off picking up my money. You may not remember, but you hurt someone I care deeply about and I’m here to return the favor. That was why I wanted you alive, although once you made the offer of the money, I felt it would be poor manners to turn it down,” the young man explained, carefully unscrewing the top of the glass bottle.
Altamar stared up at him, horrified, as the young man approached. He renewed his struggle against the chains. “No. You promised you’d let me go,” Altamar protested.
“I did. And I will. But I never promised you’d want to be let go,” he said, and then poured a small amount of the acid on the cartel boss’ face, careful to avoid splashing any on his own clothes or shoes. Altamar’s skin began to bubble and smoke, and his eyes immediately ulcerated as the fluid seared through the lids. Altamar’s agonized shrieks were bloodcurdling, but had no effect on the young man. They were in the middle of nowhere, the big house abandoned and Jasmine’s home a quarter mile away. There was no one to hear the screams, which gradually died as some acid entered his mouth and cauterized his tongue and throat. The young man resealed the bottle and placed it on the stall next to the lantern, and then turned, unbuckling his pants.
“I’d rape your sorry ass as well, but I’m afraid I’d catch something. So instead, I’ll leave you to the rats. They’ll come soon enough,” he disclosed as he urinated on Altamar’s face, rinsing off most of the acid so the man would remain alive. He wanted the agony to last as long as possible, and he didn’t want the scumbag to get off lightly by dying after a few minutes of unspeakable pain.
“I’ll be back after I get the money you so generously offered. I should have held out for five, but since it’s not about the money, two is more than enough – no point in being greedy, and it would be harder to carry. When I get back, if the rats have left anything of you, I’ll release you just as I promised. Without a face, but then again, you’ve done as bad or worse, so you can’t really complain,” he reasoned. Altamar gurgled, choking. It was now hard to tell given the condition of what had been his face, but the young man thought he might be choking, the acid having removed his nose along with most of his skin and tendons. He reached into his back pocket and withdrew a pocket knife, which he opened as he approached the drug kingpin. Kneeling down, he stabbed it into the man’s windpipe just above his clavicle, and then stepped back to study the wound. Blood frothed forth, and he turned and trotted out to the truck, returning a few seconds later with a pen. He used his teeth to pull out the ballpoint mechanism, leaving a slender tube, which he then jabbed through the bloody opening. He listened attentively, and was rewarded with the sound of air moving in and out through the pen, albeit labored breathing – but beggars couldn’t be choosers.
“There. You’ll live. Although you’ll wish you hadn’t. I’ll be taking the lantern. The rats seem to prefer the dark for their work. They seem emboldened by the night. Have a nice rest,” he said, and then walked out of the barn and shut the door. The big Ford Lobo engine started, and the last thing Altamar registered as the wheels crunched on the gravel outside was the sound of the exhaust disappearing in the distance.
Then the rats came.
