State of Emergency

CHAPTER 38


Zamora lay naked, facedown on the padded massage table in his motor home with a cell phone pressed to his ear. The soles of his feet were on fire, but luckily there appeared to be nothing broken, no long-term damage.

The shorter of the gap-toothed twins worked on the small of his back and the taller kneaded the knots out of his calves. The familiar buzzing of Lourdes Garcia’s angry voice helped to chase away memories of his beating at the hands of the Chechens. He found that he missed her more than he’d imagined and could almost smell the familiar burned-sugar odor she got when she was mad.

“I want to punch this boohooing woman in the face,” Lourdes said. “She is so weak . . . and the awful little baby . . . I cannot stand to look at it.”

“And you say I get into moods, my darling,” Zamora said. His voice shook as the twins began to beat on his back. “Let Jorge and Pete watch them and you relax.”

“I cannot relax with the worm squealing his face off every five minutes,” Lourdes snapped. “Have you forgotten me completely? The men you assigned here are pathetic. Pete does little but sit in his chair and tell her nasty jokes when he is not playing video games. He is like a stupid teenager—and do not get me started on the whining Jorge. He is useless. I can no longer trust him. He even gave the bawling worm some of my chocolate milk. Can you imagine?”

Zamora smiled to himself. Beautiful, crazy Lourdes, she was passionate about so many things. He would have to give her some little something to appease her or risk a mutiny.

“I believe it is time for you to make a statement, my darling.”

“What do you mean?” She paused her rant to listen.

“Send Jorge and Pete to buy ten bags of cat litter. When they return, have them dig a grave some distance from the house—large and deep enough to hide the bodies of a mother and child.”

“Then I will be alone with the woman and her worm while they work,” Lourdes said, sounding almost giddy. “That will probably scare her to death.”

“Now, now,” Zamora said. “We need them alive for the moment, remember?”

“I know,” she said. “I hate it, but I understand.”

“I promise you, my love,” Zamora said. “When you see what I have in mind, you will find it so very entertaining.”

He ended the call and summoned Monagas with a snap of his fingers.

His face pressed against the cool leather bed, he watched through sleepy eyes as his faithful companion ushered in Fabian, one of the mechanics.

“How long have you been with me, my friend?” Zamora’s voice was muffled against the table.

“Four years, patrón.” The man’s knees shook.

“Four years . . .”

The gap-toothed twin used her fists to beat the muscles of Zamora’s back like a drum.

He groaned as the days of tension began to bleed from him. “You would think that would be long enough to know me. . . .”

The mechanic stood quietly, twisting a ball cap in his hands.

“Have I not treated you well?”

“Very well, patrón.”

“I think so as well,” Zamora said, languidly twisting his neck as the short twin continued with her work down his spine. “That is why I am so distraught at your actions.”

“I beg your pardon, patrón?” Fabian’s teeth chattered as he spoke.

“It had to be you, my friend,” Zamora said. “No one else had access to the motorcycle and my road book.”

“What?”

Zamora cocked his head. “Monagas, I believe Fabian is having some trouble hearing me.”

The mechanic shrieked as Monagas stepped up behind him and sliced off his ear. The gap-toothed twin, numb to such things, continued to knead Zamora’s buttocks without so much as a flinch.

Zamora held out his hand, taking the bloody ear and holding it up to his mouth.

“Can you hear me now, my friend?”

“They have my family, patrón,” the man sobbed. “What was I to do?”

“Well,” Zamora said, “certainly not what you did. What else does Rustam Daudov have planned?”

“He says you have a bomb, and he wants it for himself.”

“I know what he wants,” Zamora hissed into the ear. “I asked you what he has planned.”

“I do not know, patron,” Fabian sobbed. “I swear it. He did not tell me.”

Zamora gave a tired sigh, sitting up on the table. The twin felt him moving and scrambled out of the way. “You won’t be needing this then.” He sniffed the severed ear, then dropped it on the floor, nodding at Monagas.