Haunted

CHAPTER 36

SHIT.

I go to the first girl, slap her cheeks to see if I can bring her around. She moans, but doesn’t come to. Neither do any of the others. I could drag them out of the shack but in this condition, I don’t know what I’d do with them. And I don’t know when Luis will be back. I may be able to carry two at a time, but if they wake up while in my arms and start making noise, we’ll be discovered.

Shit.

A glance at my watch. Still two hours before Max is due to call. And then how long will it take him to get here after that? How long will Ramon keep following my false trail before he decides to give it up and return to the village?

Time is not on my side.

I step to the window and look out. Three shacks over is the little church. Is there a priest? Could I persuade him to hide the girls until reinforcements arrive?

Persuasion is one of my special abilities.

I jump out of the window and scoot around the back of the shacks to the back of the church. There is a narrow wooden door. I try it and the door opens to my touch. I close it quietly behind me and look around.

This is the tiniest church I’ve ever seen. And the strangest. There is no altar, no crucifix, no statues, no candles. No scent of the beeswax my mother’s altar society used to polish pews.

No surprise, that, since there are no pews to polish.

It’s just an open room with a long table down the center. Weights and plastic wrap and duct tape are on one end. The rest of the table is bare now. But its use is obvious. White powder residue dusts the surface.

The only thing worshiped in this building is llello.

So that bell I heard the first day I scouted this village of the damned was a call to work, not a call to worship.

Nice camouflage. A plane patrolling overhead would see a cute little church, not a cocaine production line.

I look around. There’s another door off to the side where the altar should be. I push through it. Inside is a closet and a small cabinet. This looks like the vestibule where a priest would hang his garments and store the communion wafers and wine. I guess in another lifetime, this actually was a church. The lock on the cabinet is broken and when I look inside, it’s empty. Dusty cobwebs drape the corners.

What now?

I realize I haven’t heard anything from Culebra. I send out a probe, not in words exactly, but an exploratory query to see if I can pick up on his thoughts. Nothing comes through. The conduit is open but cloaked.

At least I don’t pick up on any pain. Perhaps he’s busy listening to Luis and his buddies.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

My brain is a whirlwind of uncertainty. I leave the vestibule, closing the door behind me. Obviously, there hasn’t been a cocaine shipment delivered in the last day or this place would be jumping with activity. Could I stow the girls in here? Would Luis and his thugs think to look in the church? Or would they assume the girls ran off? How much time would it buy me?

Okay, I’ve got to ask Culebra some questions.

This time when I attempt to contact him, I make it deliberate and forceful.

He lets me in. His What is it? is not so much abrupt as concerned.

How long do you think Luis will stay in your shack?

Ten, fifteen minutes. They’re finishing breakfast.

Have you learned anything useful?

No, damn it. All the fat pig has on his mind is how long the girls will be under. He hasn’t dipped his wick yet and he’s getting impatient. Ramon’s failure to bring Max back upset his plans. He thought he’d have two trophies to offer his brother by now and an afternoon to reward himself with his new “playmates.” But no hint where Santiago is.

Okay. I’m in the church—which really isn’t. It’s where Luis packages his coke for export. But there’s no cocaine here now. Was there any mention of when the next shipment is due?

No. Sorry. No talk of business at all. Just fucking.

His tone is acid tinged and angry. His thoughts are mixed—he’s rethinking his not wanting me to come in and kill the whole bunch. The hell with finding Santiago.

Say the word, I respond.

He pauses a heartbeat. No. I need to do this my way. Stopping Santiago is more important. What are you going to do until Max calls?

I’m going to move the girls into the church.

It might work. I doubt they’ll think of looking so close.

My thoughts, too.

Better make it quick, though. Another pause, as if he’s listening again to the conversation going on in the other room. They’re finishing up. Talking about getting back.

I’ll let you know when it’s done.

The conduit closes and I waste no time beating it back to the shack.

The girls are still out. I lift the first, deadweight in my arms. I lower her to the ground through the window and repeat the operation until all four are outside. I heft two at a time over my shoulders and run to the back of the church, squeezing through the door. I lay them out on the floor of the vestibule. They just barely fit. I remove the ropes from their hands and feet and the gags from their mouths.

Then I close the door and perch myself on the table to wait for Luis to discover the girls are gone . . . for hell to break loose.