KILLING SARAI(22)

“I’m awaiting word,” he says.

“Word from who?”

He sighs, annoyed with my questions. “From Javier.”

“Why?”

I don’t know what to say, or what to believe, all I do know is that my mind is spinning with everything going on and I can’t keep up.

Victor walks to the door and looks back at me.

“Come on,” he says, nodding with the backward tilt of his head for me to follow.

“What, you’re not going to tie my hands together, or drag me down the hallway by my wrist? What if I run away?”

“You won’t.”

“You don’t think so?” I counter.

He shakes his head once. “No, you won’t because I’m the only one of us who knows the way back to Javier.”

I just stand here.

Victor places his hand on the silver lever and opens the door. “Are you coming, or are you staying here?”

I stare across the room at him blankly.

Maybe he’s going to help me after all. Maybe after seeing what Izel and Javier are doing to Lydia, Victor has remembered how it feels to be remorseful, if he’s ever known what that feels like at all.

“Where are we going?” I ask, knowing that it can’t be far if he’s leaving his bags here.

“To breakfast.”





CHAPTER TEN





Victor





More than two hours have passed and there has been no word. Nothing from Niklas or Vonnegut. Nothing from Javier or Guzmán. The girl is beyond the point of restless. I bought her breakfast in the hotel, but she hardly ate a bite, just picked at her omelet with her fork. It may be a result of her concern for her friend, but I find her sudden inability to ask continuous questions or try to converse with me, refreshing.

I do wonder why she has yet to try contacting family members. I find it difficult to believe that, despite the grave situation with her dear friend, she would not also show interest in calling a sister, grandmother or an aunt. That she did not use the one opportunity she had last night while I was sleeping.

This leaves me with two theories: she cares more about the life of her friend, or she has no family left. Perhaps it’s both. I’m fairly certain that it is.

I feel my cell phone vibrating against my leg and I stand up from the table in the lobby and reach inside to retrieve it.

The girl is instantly attentive to me.

My brother’s code name reads on the screen.

“Who is it?” the girl asks, standing up with me.

I run my finger over the answer bar, but hold the phone, face-down against my chest. Gesturing for the girl to sit back down, I say, “I want you to stay here. I’m going right outside to take this call. I trust that you’ll be here when I get back.” I know she’s not going anywhere.

Clearly wanting nothing more than to follow me out and hang on my every word, she takes a deep, heavy breath, crosses her arms and takes her seat again.

“OK.” She grits her teeth behind her softly pressed lips.

I walk out the front doors and put the phone to my ear.

“I am going to put Javier on this call,” Niklas says. “Are you prepared?”

“Yes,” I answer and wait while Niklas makes the transfer.

Javier’s voice seethes with barely controlled anger when he is patched through:

“You’ll die for what you’ve done,” he says in English. “Sarai should’ve been brought back to me the second you found her!”

“What’s done is done,” I say. “Get to the reason for your contact.”

I hear him breathe heavily on the three-way call. Niklas sits listening quietly.

Finally, Javier contains himself.

“I still want the hit on Guzmán carried out for the price we agreed on, but I will give you another one million American to also kill Sarai.”

Kill her? I did not expect my communication with Javier would cause me surprise. This is very interesting, indeed.

“Why would you want her dead?” I ask.

“That doesn’t matter,” he says. “The reasons never matter in this business. You should know that.”

I do know that, and this is the first time I’ve ever asked why a client wanted a mark killed.

“I have a better offer for you,” I announce. “You bring the girl’s friend, Lydia and one other girl at your compound—a photo will be sent to you immediately following this call—to Green Valley, Arizona in twenty-four hours. I trade you this girl for those two and then afterwards I will kill Guzmán and then give you the girls back once I have been paid in full.”

I don’t have to hear Niklas comment to know that he is in complete disagreement with this, but he remains quiet.

“You mean Guzmán’s daughter,” Javier probes, knowing. “Am I right?”

“Yes,” I say. “If it isn’t already obvious, Guzmán paid to have her returned to him.”

Javier laughs. “And all this time I thought he was trying to have me killed!” He pulls himself from his humorous revelation. “You are good,” he says. “I give you that. Knock out two contracts at once. Show Guzmán his daughter, take the money for bringing her to him then turn around and kill him and take the money I paid to have him killed.” He laughs again.