“This is fucked-up shit.”
Pike did not move his eye from the sight picture. Cole, Ramos, Park. The Zeiss was fitted with a laser range finder displaying the range in tiny red numerals in the upper right quadrant of the sight picture. Elvis Cole was forty-two meters away. Overkill.
Stone said, “You know I’m right. He’s going to hang his ass over the edge with these two shitbirds? If I’m lying, I’m dying. I sure as hell wouldn’t.”
Ramos walked away.
“Two.”
“Got him.”
Pike stayed with Cole and Park, letting Stone pick up Ramos. They had designated Park as Target One and Ramos as Target Two. Jon was on Two. If the meet went bad, Jon would drop Ramos and Pike would drop Park. They would then lay down suppressing fire so Cole could escape. If Cole was killed or wounded, they would terminate everyone in the tow yard.
“What I’m saying is, I know time is of the essence an’ all that, but trusting these people to get him inside and keep their pieholes shut is what we in the trade call ‘dubious.’ Two and his boys mounting up. Hasta luego, shitbirds.”
“Rog.”
“Out the gate. Gone.”
“Rog.”
Park and Cole finished their conversation, and separated. Pike stayed with Park.
“One.”
“On it. Cole’s going to his car. One’s joining up with his men.”
Pike saw it as Stone said it. Park met two of his men, spoke briefly, then moved with them to his black Beemer. If Jon gave the word, Pike could and would drop all three in less than two seconds.
“What I’m saying is-are you listening? This Syrian asshole got his inside information about that truck from somewhere, which means someone inside Ramos’s crew or Park’s crew is selling them out. Shit, for all we know, people in both these turds’ crews are selling them out. That fuckin’ Syrian might be swimming in information. Have you thought of that?”
Park’s Beemer drove away. Pike swung his rifle, and picked up Cole getting into his yellow Corvette. It needed a wash.
Pike lowered his rifle, and stood.
“Yes. I don’t like this either.”
They packed their gear, and hustled down to follow.
Jack and Krista: six days after they were taken
25
Jack was slouched against the wall with his arm around Krista when the man’s muffled scream cut through the walls. Krista shut her eyes and covered her ears. Kwan jerked awake, blinking sleep from his eyes as he sat up. Two of the Korean women were crying and a teenage boy from El Salvador was praying, but they heard the man scream, too, high and sharp, until it abruptly chopped off.
Kwan stomped to the door. He was lumpy with purple bruises, but pounded the door in a livid rage. The guards didn’t answer.
Rojas and Medina had opened the door only a few minutes earlier. Rojas referred to something in his ledger, then pointed out a middle-aged Korean man huddled with the two women. He was paunchy, with an overbite and broken, wire-rimmed glasses. Medina took him away to make a call. Three minutes later, the man screamed, louder than any of them had screamed, and many had screamed in the recent days.
Jack held Krista into his shoulder as Kwan spent his fury, and felt for the knife beneath the edge of the carpet. Touching it made him feel safer. Jack had been afraid the guards would notice if he carried the knife in his jeans, so he pulled the ratty carpet loose from the baseboard in their spot beneath the window to create a hiding space. Jack had shown the knife to Krista, but not Kwan.
Jack was afraid of Kwan, though they had been friendly since Kwan dumped the bucket. The guards had beaten Kwan badly, but he took their beating as if it were a reward. And after, he did not act cowed or afraid. He met their eyes as if daring them to give him more. Jack decided Kwan was either fearless or crazy, but also insanely tough.
Shirtless, Kwan’s hard muscles danced as he pounded the door. Smudged bruises mottled his skin along with snake-bite burn marks left by the shock prods, but Jack wondered most at the man’s scars. Kwan’s belly and back showed three or four long puckered lines that might have been wounds, and a large knobby dimple Jack believed was left by a gunshot wound. And his broad upper back held an amazing tattoo of two fierce dragons facing each other as if to do battle.
Kwan punched the door a final time, and stalked back to his place against the wall. He locked eyes with Jack only once, then dropped to the floor.
They were scared because their treatment by the guards had changed. Medina had been using the pliers on more and more of them. If money wasn’t sent, the calm and reasonable Rojas turned harsh during subsequent calls. He threatened terrible things, and some of the men and women returned in tears, reporting that Rojas or Medina had twisted their fingers or used the shock prod while they were on the phone, so their families would hear them cry out.
Jack wondered what the guards had done to the paunchy man to make him scream so loudly. Everyone in the room was waiting to find out, but when the door finally opened, Rojas came in and made a short speech. One of the young Korean women translated for the Koreans.
“You will all be happy to know Mr. Chun is on his way home. His family was generous today. You should tell your families to be the same. They have transferred the money we needed, and now Mr. Chun is on his way to their loving arms. If your families cooperate as well, you will soon be home, too. If not, then not.”
Rojas remained until the girl finished translating, then left. The people in the room buzzed with this news, but Jack noticed Kwan was smirking.
Jack said, “That’s good news. One of us got out.”
Kwan snorted, and settled against his wall.
“No family. The people he call no pay.”
“Rojas lied?”
“No pay.”
Jack felt a chill as he realized what Kwan was saying, and felt for the knife again. He kissed Krista’s head, and whispered into her hair.
“We’re going to do this, Krissy, okay? We’ll just go, is all, just do it.”
She nodded, her face still in his shoulder.
They sought a chance to escape every day, but either the utility room door would be locked when the guards were away, or too many guards were around when the door was unlocked. There was always something wrong, but they would try again soon. Miguel was going to show up in a few minutes to bring Krista and the other cook to the kitchen. Every time Kris was in the kitchen, she was closer to the door. Jack believed it was only a matter of time before their chance to escape would come.
Jack kissed her soft hair again.
“I want you to promise something.”
“What?”
“We gotta get out of here, right? Someone has to get out, even if it’s just one of us.”
“We’re both going.”
“I know, yeah, we’re both going, but listen, okay? If you get a chance when I’m not around, go. Get out of here, and go. And if we get into the garage together, but the guards come before we get out, I want you to keep going, okay?”
