Duty Bound (1995) (36 page)

Eli finally managed to open his eyes. Having to squint because of his pounding headache, he saw a blurry figure directly across from him. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, then forced his eyes open wider. It wasn't a horrible dream after all; the nude form of Stacy on the carpeted floor across from him told him it was real. She was facing him, her arms behind her, her face partially covered by her dripping wet hair. Somebody splashed her with water like they did me, he thought. I can feel the drops rolling down my neck and shoulders. And I'm naked, as she is.

Eli tried to move, but a sharp pain slashed down his neck into his shoulders. That was when he figured out that his hands were tied behind him. Okay, what about the rest of you? he said to himself. Are you hurt? Wiggle your toes . . . okay. Now your fingers . . . okay. Nothing so far, nothing must be broken. Where . . . where are we?

Taking in another breath, he exhaled slowly and tried to scan the small room. A boat . . . we've got to be on board a boat of some kind . . . a big one because I don't feel any rocking. A cruiser maybe . . . a nice one, but old. Teak paneling, polished brass portholes . . . yeah, I feel the vibration of the engine now but I don't think we're moving . . . maybe it's the generator. Do they have generators? Okay, you're moving your head all right now Let's try your hands . . . no.

They're tied to something behind me . . . what? Doesn't matter, can't see it. Is Stacy all right?

To his left he heard a door open and a moment later a big man wearing black slacks and shirt leaned over and looked into his eyes. "Bueno, you wake."

Turning, the big man walked over to Stacy. He leaned over and swept the plastered hair back from her face.

"Senorita, wake, por favor! Senorita must wake! Ahh bueno! Habla esparzol? No? No problema, I speak good ingles. I see you on TV . . . you lookin' good. I think maybe you lookin' better now." He smiled as he gently cupped her right breast and squeezed. "No plastic aqui. Bueno . good, very good."

Stacy jerked back like a frightened animal.

"Lea-Leave her alone, asshole. You wanna practice your ingles, talk to me," Eli croaked, finding it difficult to speak; his throat and mouth felt like a desert.

The man faced Eli. "Tough hombre, huh? You call me asshola, huh?"

"I called you an ass-hole, not hola."

Still smiling, the man walked over and looked down at Eli. "Okay, ass-hole, how my ingles now, hombre?"

"Improving. So you goin' to tell us what we're doing here?"

"Don' know, ass-hole."

"Where's Miss Lopez, genius?"

"Andres shoot her."

"Really?"

"Si, bang bang."

"And the driver? Pablo?"

"I shoot him, bang bang."

"Okay . . . I can see you're really feelin' bad about it, too.

Can the lady and I have something to drink? And how about some clothes?"

"Pepsi?"

"Two, please . . . and some clothes, okay?" To Eli's shock, the big man nodded and walked out of the room.

"Don't look at me . . . please don't look at me," Stacy said weakly.

"Move your arms, Stacy. Are you tied to something?"

She leaned forward and slowly moved back. "Yes, whawhat happened to us?"

"The guys who took us drugged us. We're on a boat of some kind . . . must be anchored someplace away from people or they would have gagged us. Stacy, listen to me.

Do whatever they want . . . cooperate fully with them, you understand?"

"What do they want? Oh God, what are they going to do with us?"

"Hey now, calm down . . . if they were going to kill us, they would have done it by now. . . . They want something.

You have to stay calm to keep your wits about you. Don't fight or argue with them . . . do everything they ask of you.

We've got to buy some time."

"Rita . . . Rita helped them. He said he shot her. . . . Are they going to shoot us, too?"

"Cooperate, Stacy; you have to cooperate and be cool. All we need is time."

"Take his advice," said a twenty-something Hispanic guy who entered the room holding two Pepsis and two bowls.

Dressed all in black, like the big man, he set one bowl in front of Stacy, opened a Pepsi can, and poured the contents into the bowl. "I apologize for making you drink this way, Miss Starr, but we cannot unchain you. I'm afraid your request for clothes must be denied; we have orders. I'll see if there is a sheet or blanket in the other cabin that I can use to cover you."

The young man rose and set the second bowl in front of Eli. "Agent Tanner, do not provoke my friend again. In your position, it would be very unwise. You should follow your own advice and cooperate fully with us."

"Keep the big boy away from the lady--he played doctor and upset her," Eli said.

"I'll ensure he doesn't touch her again, Agent Tanner.

Drink; it will help you feel better."

"What's the deal here? Are we hostages?"

"I don't know, Agent Tanner. I merely follow orders. I'll see if I can find a covering for Miss Starr and yourself."

"Did you guys really shoot Rita and the driver?"

"Yes. As I said, Agent Tanner, we follow orders. I shall return shortly."

As soon as the young man disappeared, Stacy whimpered, "They're going to kill us, Eli . . . you know it .. . we've seen their faces; they'll have to kill us."

"They shot the others but not us, Stacy. There's a reason for it, and it's keeping us alive. Look up at the porthole above you. I can see the sun . . . it's going down. It means we were taken hours ago. Every cop and agent in town is looking for us. Every minute we stay alive gives them more time to find us. Hang tough; you gotta hang tough."

.

5:30 P. M., Jackson Memorial Hospital.

Seated in the waiting room, Ashley held a thick gold chain in her hand as she prayed. Faraday walked up holding two cups of coffee. "It's not bad stuff."

Opening her eye, Ashley accepted a cup and began to put the chain back into her purse.

"That's Tanner's gold chain, isn't it?" Faraday asked, sitting down beside her.

"Yes, I got it from the pile of clothes along with his weapon, billfold, and boo ID wallet," she said. "When we find him I know he'll want his necklace back . . . he told me it was his good-luck charm . . . hasn't taken it off since Vietnam."

Faraday set down his cup and took the chain from her hand. He looked at it a moment, then put it over her head.

"You wear it for him; he needs all the luck he can get."

Ashley lowered her head. "Is Lopez still out?"

"She's awake. No, don't get up. We won't be talking to her for a while."

"Why? What's going on, Ed?"

"The doc's removed the bullet in her shoulder . . . it was no big deal, used a local on her. She's fine, but she won't talk to Parker and us until her station manager and video man get here. She's got a Cuban lady in with her now fixin' her hair and doin' her makeup. It's goin' to be a regular dog and pony show, I guess."

Flushed, Ashley tried to get up, but Faraday put his hand on her shoulder. "Just take it easy. I've done enough pissin' and moanin' for the both of us. There's a lawyer standin' outside her door. A real know-it-all who's been spoutin' legalese to Agent Parker and me about Miss Lopez being a reporter.

She's under obligation to report first to the station, then us.

Parker threatened the bastard with obstruction, but the legal eagle has a damn signed judge's order in his hand."

"They can't do--"

"Seems they can. Miss Lopez is behind it all. Soon as she could talk, the first thing she asks for was the lawyer, then she conveniently feels too much pain to talk again until he got here. I'll tell ya, Ashley, if that bitch knows something and didn't tell us, I'm gonna ring her scrawny neck."

Ashley motioned to the hallway. "Looks like we'll know real soon. That must be the station manager and his news crew." She rose and set her shoulders. "If she withheld from us, Ed, I'm going to help you wring her neck. Come on.

Parker is motioning toward us."

". . . and he suddenly appeared from behind the equipment, pushed Stacy over in her seat, and stuck a pistol in the back of Agent Tanner's head. He then whispered in the agent's ear. Agent Tanner immediately took off his radio, unplugging the wires. Then the gunman spoke to Pablo, our driver. He said the turn was coming up. Seconds later Pablo made a hard left turn and. We sped up the street very fast and made another turn, then another into a parking garage. Suddenly a man opened the side door; he was wearing black slacks and shirt, and looked young, maybe mid-twenties, Hispanic. He held a pistol and told Stacy and me to get out.

Stacy screamed, and then I saw two more men. One was very big, over six feet and broad-shouldered and heavy like a football player. The other was tall but thinner and wore glasses. Like the young man, all of them wore black shoes, socks, slacks, and shirts. I got out, following Stacy, and--"

"Hold it, Miss Lopez," Agent Parker said. "Did the young man speak in Spanish or English?"

"He spoke English, very little accent. He sounded well educated."

"What about Agent Tanner; what happened to him once you stopped?"

"I don't know. With all the wild turns, I was thrown forward in my seat, then back . . . then the door opened and all my attention was on the young man's gun. He was pointing it directly at me."

"Can you describe the man who appeared from the back of the van and put his weapon on Agent Tanner?"

"He was behind us. When he pushed Stacy over, I ducked down, too. I never saw his face, but I do know this: All of them were Colombian. Let me explain. They stripped Stacy and me and made us get into a black minivan, a Toyota, a new model. It even smelled new. They forced us onto the floor behind the front seats and then they sped out of the garage. I heard the driver talking to the front passenger. He said, `Sergeant, Corporal Zapata is driving too slow.' The passenger then said, 'He is following orders, Corporal. This is not Medina; we must obey the traffic regulations.' Then Stacy screamed. She was yanked from the floor by her hair.

The front passenger spoke angrily and said, 'Corporal Bedoya, be gentle with her. Terres will cut your balls off if she is marked by you. Show the discipline of the Lancero you are.' "

"Lancero?" Parker repeated. "What's a Lancero?"

DEA agent Sam Ortiz was listening at the open door and stepped into the room. "Lanceros are the Colombian Army's equivalent to our Army Rangers. Miss Lopez, are you sure the man in the front seat said the name Terres?"

"Yes, I'm sure. I had heard that name only a half hour before from the editor, Senor Ramirez."

Parker rose up from his chair, facing Ortiz. "Sam, I'm conducting this interview. I'll ask the questions."

Ortiz shifted his unlit cigar to the other side of his mouth.

"Not anymore. We've got an open case on Terres, so from this point on this witness is mine."

Parker growled at the cameraman, "Turn that off!" Then his eyes narrowed. "Sam, don't pull this shit on me."

"You can stay if you want, Howard, but consider it pulled. Miss Lopez, I'm sorry for the interruption. Please continue."

For a long moment Parker looked at Ortiz as if he were going to cut his heart out, but he finally stepped away from the bed and backed up against the wall beside Ashley and Faraday.

Ashley leaned over and whispered, "Can he really do this?"

His facial muscles twitching, Parker nodded once in silence.

". . . then the man in the backseat pulled me up and I felt as if I had been stung by a bee on the neck. I felt suddenly woozy and I guess I passed out. I don't remember anything after . . ."

In the hospital corridor Sam Ortiz lowered his cellular phone and looked at Parker. "I've got my people en route to run a surveillance of Terres's estate and boat company."

"You bought her story?", "It fits. I did some checking after I heard the editor's interview tape you sent me. I've got an informer who corroborates that Terres had three guys whacked yesterday in the 'glades . . . a fourth got away. Terres's people have been looking everywhere for him."

"We checked the restaurant, Sam. The young guy wasn't there."

"I know. The reason he didn't make it is that he's dead."

Standing next to Parker, Ashley narrowed her eye. "How do you know that?"

"A young man with a Lancero tattoo on his forearm was found an hour ago in a Dumpster one block from the restaurant. His tongue had been cut out and nailed to his forehead.

It's the way they mark those who have talked, Agent Sutton."

Ortiz took the cigar from his mouth. "Look, Howard, six months ago a squad of Lanceros in Colombia were investigated for being turned by the druggies they were supposed to be hunting down. The entire squad disappeared. We had rumors they were in this country but had nothing firm until now."

Faraday stepped closer. "What puts these commandos with Terres?"

"The squad was supposed to be hunting for drug labs-- they were Terres's labs. His brother-in-law runs the farming, collection, and labs in Colombia. Terres has the distribution and sales side of the operation here in the States. Like I said, it fits. Do you want to help me on this or not, Howard?"