Authors: Chuck Driskell
“What?”
“Not
my real daughter, but my daughter just the same.”
Xavier
processed this.
“What else have I
missed?”
“Missed?”
“What
facts should I know?”
“My
head is too muddled.”
“How
much money is in the box?” the nurse suddenly asked.
Xavier, irritated, glared at her.
The
older woman twisted her head to the Polish woman.
“Gage spent some…wasn’t it about a million
euro less what he’d spent?”
The
Polish woman nodded.
Xavier
rolled his eyes.
He knew how much money
he was after.
But just as he prepared a
query along a much different line of questioning, the old woman said something
that nearly caused his heart to seize.
“Don’t
forget…the million is just what’s in
cash
.”
Xavier
lifted his hand, preventing the nurse from responding.
He was aware of his own pulse in three
different zones of his body.
After a few
steadying breaths, he spoke.
“What other
monies are in that box?”
“I
wanted to help Justina’s beau.
So I went
into my safe and I removed my entire sheaf of bearer bonds.”
“Bearer
bonds?”
“Yes.
I’ve been saving them for years.”
Xavier
wasted no time.
“What are they worth?”
“As
you know, they’re negotiable,” the older woman slurred, her tone
matter-of-fact.
“Their full face value
is nearly seventeen million…U.S.”
Time
stopped.
The world ceased its
rotation.
All the years of Xavier’s life
flashed before his knowing eyes.
His
time as a grubby child, fighting his own siblings for an extra helping of rice
in their filthy hovel.
His early onset
of puberty.
The first girl he’d had, an
eighteen year-old tramp who’d taken him all the way at Xavier’s ripe old age of
twelve.
He recalled his first gang
initiation, when a street hood named Lupo had held Xavier’s head in a filthy
toilet.
Lupo had died for that only a
week later.
And after that, since that
time, Xavier had climbed the Pyrenees of the underworld.
All leading to this, the summit.
Then, just as a flurry of white doves
flittered out the open door, time started again.
And,
blaringly, joyously loud, the Vienna Philharmonic suddenly played
Exultate Jubilate
.
Oh,
what a moment!
It
took him a moment to regain his composure.
“And
these bearer bonds are with the cash her boyfriend was paid?” he asked.
“Yes.
A plain cardboard box.
It has money, bonds, a gun and a note.”
Xavier
closed his eyes.
“Tell me about the
note.”
The
older woman blinked several times, tilting her head as the memory came to
her.
“We told him to use the money and
bonds if need be, but to try to wait through today because we were going to
Barcelona to trap Cortez Redon.”
He
turned to his nurse friend.
“How much
more of that parlador do you have?” he sang.
“A
large vial.”
“If
I give them another shot, will it be harmful?”
She
shrugged.
“At that dose I don’t think it
will harm them, per se.
But it might
make them lose consciousness.”
“What
if I administer that amount every hour?”
She
shook her head.
“You’ll have to be
careful stacking it like that.
If it
doesn’t wear all the way off and you continue to add more, they might stop
breathing.”
Xavier
chewed on the inside of his cheek as he walked to the older woman, stroking her
hair.
“You’re sure about the bearer
bonds?”
“Quite.”
“And
how much money are you worth?” Xavier said, the notion suddenly occurring to him.
“I
don’t ever add it up.”
“Then
guess.”
“Liquid?”
“Altogether.”
She
made a humming sound, finally shrugging.
“My mind is awash.
With tied-up
real estate, perhaps a hundred million.
Liquid…about double the bearer bonds.
Thirty million or so.”
“Euro?”
“Sí, querida.”
“Does
that include the bonds?” he asked.
She
nodded.
“Given
her condition, who knows if she’s accurate or not?
But if she is, she’s got access to more than
double the amount of those bearer bonds,” Xavier said, turning to the nurse and
winking.
“Worth keeping her alive over,
for sure.
And the girl is the ticket to
the American.”
Theo Garcia, you little worm, I may
have just hit the mother lode
.
Xavier
jabbed a finger past the kitchen.
“The
interior storeroom is where I want to keep them.
We’ll handcuff them and bind their legs and
feet.”
“They’ll
need to lie down.
Parlador makes a
person unsteady and tired.”
“Go
get some things from one of the bedrooms.
And bring the parlador and syringes.”
Ten
minutes later, after situating each wobbly woman on the pallet created by the
nurse, Xavier checked their cuffs before tethering their arms together by a
third set of cuffs.
He instructed the
nurse to give them another injection, agreeing that it be only three-quarters
the amount from earlier.
“Gennady,”
Justina whispered as the nurse prepared her shot.
Xavier
was on the phone.
The
nurse leaned close.
“What about Gennady?”
“You’re
his girlfriend.”
The
nurse glanced at Xavier before looking back.
“So?”
“I
remember you.”
“From
Eastern Bloc?”
“Yeah,”
Justina breathed.
“Help me.”
The
nurse checked Xavier again.
“The best
thing you can do is just do what he says.
He’s not a bad person.”
“He
is,” Justina countered.
“He’s going to
kill us, and you too.”
“What
the hell are you talking about?” Xavier thundered.
“Give her the damned shot.”
The
nurse plunged the needle into Justina’s arm.
Unbeknownst to Xavier, she only gave her half of the parlador.
“Now
the old woman,” he said.
Moments
later, Xavier watched as the drug slowly went to work on both women.
The older woman lay on her side, cradling the
good side of her face on her arm, as if she were settling in for a pleasant
slumber.
Once both of his prisoners
seemed fully sedated, he lifted a third needle from the plastic bag, handing it
to the nurse.
“Prepare
one for yourself.”
She
laughed.
“Yeah, right.”
Xavier
stared at her.
The
nurse straightened, her expression changing to worry.
“You’re serious.”
“Indeed,
lover girl.
I’ve a number of things to do
here, and they’re not for your eyes to see.
When my associates arrive—very powerful men from the government—if you
were to see them, they would want me to eliminate you.”
He touched her face.
“I don’t want that.
I’m not that type of guy.”
Rubbing
his arm, she pressed her crotch over his thigh and said, “But you already know
I don’t care about the things you do.
The same goes for anyone you work with.
I want to be trusted.”
“I’m
not going to hurt you,” Xavier said soothingly.
“But you need to comply immediately.”
“Why
can’t I just leave?”
“I
may need you later.”
“For
what?”
He
smiled reassuringly.
“Your skills are
invaluable and, before this night is over, additional injuries are
possible.
And the injuries may occur to
people who I don’t want to die.
So,
please, fill a clean syringe so you can take a nice nap.
You love drugs anyway, so I don’t see why
you’re so concerned.”
Worry
still blanketing her face, the nurse pressed a new needle into the vial,
extracting the same dosage she’d just drawn for the other two.
“More,” he said coldly.
“That was their second dose.”
She
complied and slid the robe aside, rubbing an alcohol wipe on her buttocks.
“I’m too skinny for a shoulder injection,”
she said, handing him the syringe and lying prone on the cushions next to the
two drugged women.
When he prepared to
make the injection, she stopped him.
“You saw me give them their shots…it was purposefully injected into the
muscle.
To heroin addicts it’s known as
muscling,
and it’s very important.
When you stick the needle in, pull the
plunger back to make sure no blood comes through.
This much parlador given in a vein or artery
would kill me if given all at once.”
“But
in the muscle it dissipates more slowly?”
“Yes.”
Xavier
viewed her shapely rear-end, marked by a lower back tattoo of roses twirling
around her delicious Venus dimples.
Setting the syringe aside, he massaged her buttocks, briefly flirting
with the idea of a quick denouement to their earlier copulation.
“Mmmmm,”
she moaned as he kneaded.
He
halted himself as the urgency of the situation came to the forefront.
Seventeen
million dollars in bearer bonds, plus a million euro in loose cash!
Wanting to get this entire situation over
with and get his money, Xavier straddled the nurse, watching as she toyed with
his toes while he eyed the spot she’d wiped the alcohol on.
Just to the inside of that area was a deep
purple line—a thick vein.
“Are
you ready?”
“If
I have a headache later, I expect you to pamper me.”
“Have
no fear, my dear.”
He
held the needle above the dark vein line, pressing it in only a few
millimeters.
“Ow,”
she said, turning her head but not enough to see.
“I hope you’re doing that where I cleaned.”
“Just
relax.”
He dropped the needle a fraction,
changing the angle and pulling back on the plunger to see the rush of bright
red blood, signifying the needle’s presence in the vein.
“It
doesn’t feel like you went deep enough.”
“It’s
all the way in,” he said.
“Then
just push the plunger in really slow, okay?
If you go too fast it’ll leave a mouse that’ll hurt like hell.”
Xavier
had already depressed the plunger to the hilt.
He slid the needle from the vein, pressing his thumb on the tiny dome of
blood that emerged from the hole.
“How’s
that feel?” he asked, rolling her over.
“It
didn’t hurt a bit,” she answered, opening her legs around him, pulling him
forward with her feet.
She took his
hands, placing them on her breasts.
“It’ll take a few minutes.
Want
to finish as I start floating?”
Massaging
her small breasts, he leaned over and brushed one kiss on her lips.
As he pulled back, her expression changed.
“Xavier,”
she said in a breathy voice, blinking her eyes rapidly.
“It’s hitting too fast.”
She licked her lips and took several ragged
breaths.
“Oh shit.
Oh shit.
I’m scared, baby.”
“Don’t
be, precious,” he said, taking her hand.
“Oh-oh-oh-oh.”
Her voice came in hitches, softer each time.
The
nurse’s pupils began to bounce up and down.
He allowed her limp hand to drop.
Her chest rose and fell a dozen more times until it finally
stopped.
A rattling sound emanated from
her mouth as her final breath modulated her vocal cords.