Chapter Twenty-five
I watched Appolonia go in to say her good-byes with her dying mother, Axa. Meanwhile, I waited in the living room for Esmeralda to arrive with my traveling bag and my passport.
Esmeralda arrived within fifteen minutes. She handed me my bag and passport. I frisked in my bag, looking for my iPhone; then I remembered I'd taken it to the Carnivale with me. It was missing when I woke up, tied to Escobar's bed. I couldn't worry about that now.
Tears rolled down Esmeralda's face. “Thank you from the bottom of my heart for getting my granddaughter here.” Appolonia came in, and the two women broke down crying and hugging at the same time.
Annoyed, I didn't answer.
Yes, I got your granddaughter here to say good-bye to her dying mother, but at what price?
I thought. Now I could never look at my man with the same purity I had before. I would never be able to tell Romero what really happened to me in Brazil, I decided.
As I was leaving the hospice with Idina, I heard the rat-tat-tat-tattat of gunshots. My heart started pounding and my senses all jumped to attention.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a group of Escobar's men leap out of a Jeep, two doors down from the house. They were all brandishing their guns.
“There she is! Kill her!” I heard Alfredo's voice rise in a stentorian bellow. The other three men began shooting at me. Obviously, I'd been IDed. Alfredo seemed to hold back and just give the orders.
I pushed Idina back in the house. “Run. Hide!”
In a leap off the porch, I darted and ducked behind a neighbor's car, then cocked my gun. My heart started catapulting in my chest. I took a deep breath, trying to center myself. I pulled on all my experience as a former police and all that I'd learned as a P.I. As a final resort, I remembered my Higher Power. I said a quick prayer, “Lord, help me!”
It was as if a voice spoke out loud to me:
If you want to survive in battle, you have to improvise. The best laid plans will kill you. Remember; the greatest weapon in any battle is surprise.
Gratefully, a spirit of calm settled over me. I stayed in position between the car and a house behind me. I methodically took my time whenever I would shoot. It seemed to have provided a good barricade. I didn't know how many bullets I had, but I didn't want to waste any of them. The first man who came forward toward me was blasting with all his might, and all I saw was a hail of bullets. The booming sounds of the gunshots let me know he had a high-powered nine millimeter. My ears tingled from the loud boom boom sounds of gunfire. I remained calm, though, crouched on my knees in the eye of the storm. Surprisingly lucid, I aimed and fired. I hit my first attacker between the eyes. He didn't exactly know where I was hiding, but now the others knew where I was. I moved farther down to another car.
The second man, seeing his friend fall, seemed unnerved and even more enraged and determined to kill me. He came charging toward me with an indestructible attitude. As a drug lord, I guess he believed in his own myth. That he was larger than life. He just kept coming at me, acting as if he was bulletproof. In his frontal attack, he was shooting aimlessly, though, still walking toward my hiding place. From where I stooped, I saw my advantage. I could see he was losing control he was so livid. I thought he was driven by the nerve of it all. He acted as if how dare I, as a woman, kill his crony?
I was amazed as he stalked straight toward me, as if to say since he was a crime lord, I was supposed to be intimidated. Well, my back was up against the wall, and I had to do what I had to do. I was in the most dangerous space in the world for a person to be. It was called do or die. Me or him. And truthfully, if anyone had a choice between choosing their life over an assailant's life, it would be their life every time.
When he got four feet away, I watched my assailant walk straight into my next bullet, which went straight into his heart. I could see the look of surprise on his face as he dropped to his knees, then crumpled over.
The third man seemed a little intimidated by my marksmanship. He ducked behind a car and shot from there. I studied him as he developed a rhythm. He would dip, then shoot, dip then shoot. I stepped inside his rhythm and waited for him to come up and shoot, and I aimed. Bam. I hit him on the second shot. He collapsed.
After exchanging fire, I realized I'd shot three of the four men who had come after me. I felt detached the whole time. I was in that place in the jungle called “survival of the fittest.” I didn't get triumphant feeling, because I knew it was not over.
My artillery was gone. Alfredo was still out there. I paused. How would he come at me? I had to get a grip on my emotions and be ready.
Finally I heard Alfredo calling out, “I'll kill you, bitch. I'm gonna cut you down 'til you'll be too short to shit.”
“Not if I kill you first.” I gritted my teeth. Blood surged to my fists. I pulled my trigger and it clicked. I was out of ammunition. I sucked my teeth in disgust, then threw my gun down and charged forward, filled with hatred. I was in the belly of the beast and I had to slay the dragon. We hit each other with such force, I heard him let out an “Oomph.” We got into hand-to-hand combat.
Alfredo's face was lobster red where I had thrown the hot tea on him, but the purple rage that colored his skin came from a different sourceâhe wanted revenge. His eyes blazed murderously; his veins stood out in livid ridges. He threw his gun down on the ground. For him to be an older dude, Alfredo was in good shape. He was amped because I had embarrassed him in front of his boys, and I was pumped because of my anger at him for taking advantage of me when I was drugged.
I fought with everything in me. Everything I learned in my tae kwon do class helped me in the fight. We circled each other, and for every thrust Alfredo made at me, I was able to kick and deflect his movement. He knew some form of martial arts too, but I was younger and faster. I was shocked at the calmness that stayed in the center of my mind, but I knew it would be a fight to the finish. Either I would die, or he would die.
Finally I was able to strike Alfredo's carotid artery with the side of my hand turned like a hatchet and watched blood spurt out his mouth. He slumped over on top of me. I pushed him off, trying to keep the blood off me, but I was covered in his blood.
I couldn't believe it! I'd killed a man with my bare hands. My adrenalin, which coursed through my arteries, was just beginning to slow down. I didn't really think about it. I scooped up Alfredo's gun, which still had bullets in it, from the street. I decided to keep it for safety until I reached the airport. I didn't know if they would kill Appolonia or what. She made her choice. I made mine. All the money in the world that Alfredo offered could not buy my soul. Everybody has to make their own choices. All I knew was now I had to get home.
Breathing in ragged snorts, I staggered back into the hospice. I was sore, covered in Alfredo's blood, but I didn't have any marks on me. The mark I had was a deeper scar on my soul.
“Are you okay?” Appolonia rushed to me.
Esmeralda looked shocked. “I've never seen a woman fight like you. You just took down four men. You did what the police here haven't been able to do. Keep that amulet with you.”
Dazed, I didn't answer. “Give me my suitcase and my passport. I'm out of here.”
My arms hung loosely at my side as the two women hugged me. I felt floppy as a dead fish, eyes wide open, shocked. I was so numb I couldn't even feel my own hands. I glanced down and saw the trigger burns on the inside of my palms.
“Here, put this jacket on,” Appolonia said. “You're covered in blood.” Samaria slipped a khaki jacket over my shoulders. “Please leave before Escobar gets here. Idina will get you to safety.”
Without saying good-bye, I followed Idina as she rushed into her small Tracker Jeep. I climbed in the car and rode in silence as she drove us to the Amazon River.
There was a boat leaving for Manaus when we arrived at the dock. The ride up the Amazon was terrifying and mind-boggling. I was in a single motor boat. The hunter green tree branches hung over the river and you could see strange birds I'd never seen before shoot out. I didn't know what to do. A fog arose from the water and the only light I could see was the one from the boat and the only sound I could hear was the one from the motor, putt, putt, putting.
Idina warned, “Keep your hands in the boat. Look out for snakes. They hang from the trees. We're going through the rainforest.”
I didn't answer. I just shivered and sat covered in a net, the insects were so treacherous. A mosquito had bitten my neck, and when I squashed it, I was surprised at the size of the insect. I felt a stream of blood on my neck, and I rubbed it absently with my finger.
I was frozen in time. Suddenly we were engulfed in blackness. I was in the heart of darkness. I saw a few tribes on the shore, waving at us.
“Headhunters. Cannibals,” the boat captain said. I was too numb to be afraid.
It turned so dark, you couldn't see stars; you couldn't see anything but black. We floated through different levels of black. Purplish black. Blue black. Indigo black. We were swallowed up by the wilderness.
My eyes darted about maniacally, trying to pick objects out of the gloom. Finally the clouds parted like the Red Sea and a glimmer of moon eased through the tree branches and the world turned grey. It was like watching a drop of dew on a rose petal. You could make out the outline of the thicket on each side of the river, and I felt a little more relieved.
All I wanted was to see America again. I couldn't wait to get back home to the land of the free, the home of the brave. I didn't know if I'd ever be the same again.
I was concerned for my brother's release but now, all I wanted to do was to get home safely.
Everything seemed surreal. I think I dozed off, but I remember waking up because, at one point we had to outrun an anaconda, which floated near our boat. I woke up in time to see what looked like a sea monster. I took out my gun and shot three bullets into the huge snake's body.
Afterward, I didn'tâno, couldn'tâgo back to sleep. I felt like I was in hell, and didn't know if I would ever get out safely. Why did I get involved? Why didn't I just agree to marry Romero and lead a safe life? Well, if I made it back safely to America, that's just what I was going to do.
I touched my amulet. What danger lurked in the rainforest? What if Escobar's men followed me up the Amazon? I didn't have my iPhone and the gun only had a couple of bullets left in the chamber.
To tell the truth, I wasn't a religious person, but that day I prayed and meditated like crazy.
In the wilderness, the laws of battle change. I will just sit still and pray. I need courage.
At the end of the day, I just wanted to make it home with as much of my integrity intact as possible.
Chapter Twenty-six
As soon as my plane landed at LAX, I let out a sigh of relief. I'd never been so happy to be statesideâAmerica. However, my return home was bittersweet. I didn't have my gun, or my iPhone, which I left behind in Brazil. But I had my life, which felt strange now. I wondered if I'd ever be the same person I used to be. Even so, I felt a sense of happiness.
But my happiness wasn't long lived. I was met with two surprise visitors, Agent Jerry Stamper and Agent Richard Braggs aka Glass Eye, at LAX Delta terminal when I was trying to get my suitcase.
“So you made it,” Agent Richard Braggs said rhetorically.
“What are you doing here?” I asked drily.
“We want that money,” Stamper barked.
Their eyes darted back and forth between each other. I glared at them, my eyes filled with venom.
Almost like a movie reel being rewound, my mind went over a collage of images of what had happened since the Academy Awards a week ago. The image of Mayhem's battered face, the meeting with Tank, the getting Mayhem's boys safely out of town with Venita, the sight of Tank's beheaded face, the Santera in Brazil, the being raped, the almost being killed, then outrunning the anaconda until I shot it: it all flashed before my eyes. I'd seen too much.
I had been through too much to be afraid of either one of them now. I'd faced the devil and lived. They would have to bark up another tree. Now, my attitude was like, “Yeah, show me what you got.” They were going to have to come with something stronger for me to be afraid this time around. I'd been to another world and back, and I'd really seen a cartel up close.
“I don't have it.” My voice was flat, dead.
“We'll arrest you,” Agent Braggs threatened.
“Then you won't get the money.” I jutted out my chin with determination. I watched both men visually back up. I could see a dark cloud of evil surrounding both of these men. I wondered if this came from the magical amulet that the Santera gave me. It was as though I was on some higher consciousness.
“So you do have the money,” Braggs said.
“Do you know where Mayhem is?” I ignored his question. My face was set in a stony expression.
“Do you have the money?”
“I'm not releasing anything until I get my brother.” They didn't realize with all I'd been through, I was no longer the pawn in their game of chess. I was the queen and it was about to be checkmate time.
“All right. We know where your brother is. We'll make the call.”
That's when I knew for certain that they were behind the kidnapping. I had to make a decision and I had to make it quickly.
“Where can we meet to make the exchange?” I asked.
“We're going to that Warehouse in San Pedro we took you to,” Agent Braggs said.
“No.” I was adamant. “Take me to the Venice Beach Pier. That's where I want my brother released. Out in the open. I know one thing. My brother better be alive.” This was war. They were playing for keeps. Now I had to get into the trenches to do my guerilla warfare.
As we walked to their car, which was illegally parked in the drop off/pick up section at the airport, Braggs and Stamper gave each other a conspiratorial glance. Stamper nodded. After I climbed in the backseat of the unmarked government car, Agent Braggs stayed outside the car and made a phone call. I assumed he was calling the kidnappers, telling the where the drop-off point would be.
I chose Venice Beach Pier to make the exchange because I knew there would be crowds of people around as witnesses, and if they tried to take me or Mayhem down, hopefully someone would see it.
As we rode along in silence, I became suspicious. If Braggs and Stamper knew about the money, how did they know about the kidnapping? Wasn't that too much coincidence? What if they paid the Eses to do their dirty work? This way they got the money, and they broke off the Eses a little piece from it. What if this was Mayhem's money? My gut started talking to me. Something wasn't right here. I remembered what Tank said about how Mayhem had gotten on the radar of bigger powers once he started making more money. Investing money on Wall Street.
I thought about how corruption wasn't just something that took place in the hood. Corruption spiraled all the way up the ladder to lieutenants, politicians, executives, judges, bureaucracies, the government. Corruption is everywhere. This was just high-level corruption in public service offices. Often jobs had to be green-lighted from above.
Then it hit me. Who was to say this was their marked money they gave to Mayhem? I'd already seen one of his miscellaneous accounts and he had a billion in it. Three or four million was not a lot of money to someone like Mayhem.
Moreover, who was to say if I gave them the money, they would release Mayhem unharmed? My bet was they would kill both of us, so I decided to change my tactic.
Agent Braggs climbed back in the car. Stamper was riding shotgun. This time when the men drove with me, they drove with care. They weren't trying to drive like they were bats out of hell now. No, they felt they were about to get paid. I was no longer their mouse in cat paws. I think they saw the look in my eye that said I was not the one anymore.
It was almost noon, and traffic was heavy on the 105 to the 405 North San Diego Freeway. We were inching our way up to the Venice exit, so we could make it down to Venice Beach.
I thought about how Venice Beach might be a safe drop-off place. It was filled with shops, vendors, people. Yes, plenty of people would be there to hide behind. People would be out walking on the boardwalk, on the pier. There was the tennis court, people lifting weights, people handing out cards for doctors who prescribed marijuana, people eating at outside cafes. It was a long shot, but I had to think of a way where Mayhem and I might have a chance.
We finally made it to the dead end street you reach before you can walk to Venice Beach. We had to park on the street and it was about a five-minute walk to the beach to meet near then pier.
“Give me your gun,” I ordered Stamper.
He turned around, looked at me, and hesitated.
“If you want this money, you better give me a piece. I know you have more than one on you.”
Stamper looked at Glass Eye. He had a suspicious look but he also knew I was the one holding the money. That's when I knew for sure they were acting on their own accord. This was no covert government action. Agents, just like police, had teenagers to put through college, second wives to support, large subprime mortgages, just like the rest of people. Everyone was desperate and living on the edge. Desperate people would take desperate actions.
As we trudged toward the boardwalk, I looked off into the distance at the ocean. Generally, I would be happy to see the Pacific Ocean, but today, the ocean seemed dark, ominous.
Off in the distance, I saw someone push my brother out of a darkened van with dark windows, parked near the pier on the beach. Slowly, Mayhem began walking up the boardwalk toward me. He still had that same proud regal walk. He held his head high. There were two men walking beside him, and from the looks of things, they were strapped.
I had just turned up the boardwalk, walking ahead of Braggs and Stamper, when, without warning, Romero appeared like a genie, pulled me to the side opening of one of the shops on the boardwalk. Once again, he had shown up from out of nowhere, just as he'd done when I first met him and he saved me from gang rape.
“What are you doing here?” I asked as he pulled me down.
As soon as Stamper and Glass Eye saw Romero's interference, they pulled their guns.
But Romero had the drop on them at the same time as he pulled his gun and held up his badge. “LAPD.”
Immediately, I pulled my piece and, for a moment, we each stood, guns pulled, the two of us against the two of them, at a Mexican stand-off.
“Hey, this is a covert government operation,” Glass Eye said, breaking the tension. “You're interfering with an operation we've worked on for months.”
“Okay,” Romero said. “I'm coming with Zipporah, though. Could you step aside for a minute? We'll be right out.”
“You can't come with us,” Agent Stamper protested.
“Okay, then. Let me just talk to this detective for a moment. This is a really dangerous move. You guys are putting her in harm's way.”
“She'll be okay,” Glass Eye snapped. A tic started under his good eye.
Romero whispered in my ear. “Z, be careful. They plan on shooting you and Mayhem once they get the money.”
“How did you know?” I whispered back.
“I have eyes on the street. Why didn't you tell me you were trying to help your brother?”
“I didn't know if it was your family.”
“It was, but they were just being paid to do the dirty work. These agents are dirty. They set up this whole kidnapping.”
“I thought so. What can we do?”
“We're going to try to get your brotherâ”
Suddenly, in the near distance, I saw Mayhem haul off, cold cock one of his abductors, then break out running toward me.
“Mayhem?” I called out, interrupting Romero.
“Z, is that you?” Mayhem called out, flailing his arms about.
“Hurry up. Come in here,” I said, running out toward him, blasting for all it was worth to try to cover my brother from the gunshots coming his way. Braggs and Stamper ducked behind another store.
Romero was close behind me on my heels. He was shooting his service revolver, trying to cover my back. A barrage of bullets flew out from all directions. I was just shooting back. At the same time, I was able to block Mayhem as he ducked down behind me. Ducking and covering Mayhem with my gun, I was able to get my brother into my hiding spot at the store.
The store owner, a Vietnamese lady, was shouting in a Vietnamese accent, “What's happening? What's going on? Don't shoot up my store!”
Meanwhile, people began stampeding up and down the beach, feet sounding like a herd of elephants. The young and old were hollering, screaming. Cries echoed all up and down the beach. “It's a sniper!”
“What's going on?”
“Run for your life! Duck!”
“Get Tae-Tae and 'em!”
Everything was happening so fast, I remember Romero running back into our little shelter. Mayhem had taken the gun out of my hand and was shooting back at his abductors.
Absently, I turned around to our hiding place. “Romero, where are you? I have Mayhem. What happened to those agents?”
I noticed that Romero was slumped over, leaned up against the wall. I don't know what I was thinking when I crawled over to where he was sitting. He seemed like he was all right, maybe just tired because he was bent over.
I took him in my arms. “Romero, are you all right?” I held his head back and noticed blood burbling from the corner of his lips. “What happened to you?” I screamed helplessly.
Suddenly I felt something wet.
I looked down and saw blood gushing from his chest. “Oh, no. Romero, you've been hit!” I began screaming and I almost blanked out, but I had to pull myself together. Everything seemed too crazy to fathom. How could this happen? Just when I decided I was ready to marry him. I held his head in my arms. “Hold on, baby. Hold on. I want to marry you.”
Romero looked at me and tried to smile. “I'll always love you, Z.” With that his head fell to the side. I touched his carotid artery. There was no pulse. Romero, the love of my life, was gone.
Mayhem had shot all his pursuers, or they had turned away. He turned to me, trying to calm me down, but you could hear my cries wailing up and down the beach, rivaling with the squawks of the pelicans circling over the ocean.
The two special agents, Richard Braggs, and Jerry Stamper, had disappeared like a mirage. I wondered if Romero had reported these two men to Internal Affairs. Did these two men want the American Dream so bad they would put their jobs on the line like that? I guess Mayhem was an easy target. He was dispensable for their plan. They figured they could get his money and it would be no problem. They didn't plan for Appolonia being held hostage with the money in Rio. They had probably planned to get the drugs and the money when she returned.
I thought of Mayhem. Appolonia. All of our fatal flaw was that we wanted the American Dream too. Later, I wondered, who were these two men? Were they just pretending to be DEA and FBI? Or were they were using the Eses to do their dirty work by paying them to do the kidnapping? They probably planned to keep the ransom money.
In this world, in Los Angeles, nothing is what it seems.
It was two weeks later, after Romero's funeral, that I realized I was pregnant.