Border Crossings: A Catherine James Thriller (29 page)

Matt worked quickly with his knife, prying and then cutting the window’s lock away.  He held his breath as he slid it open and he gave Catherine a slight smile when no alarms were heard.  They looked towards the guard’s station to see if anyone was coming out, possibly being notified by a central monitor, but nobody exited.

“It could be a silent alarm,” he warned her.  “But I think we’re okay.”

Once inside, they made their way out of a bedroom most likely used by one of the guards, given its messy condition, and entered a long hall, checking each door as they passed to see if anyone was about.  When they were sure nobody was upstairs, they descended down the long stairway.  Oil paintings lined their descent, a
hacienda
in an old world village, another artist’s rendition of The Man with the Golden Helmet, and another of horses drinking from a river.

As they neared the bottom of the stairwell, they heard a television emitting a play-by-play of the game.  Ortiz was watching the game in his study.  As they approached they heard him on the phone, “I don’t need these problems, Lydia!  I have problems of my own.  This is one of the reasons why I’m sick of messing with this business with the girls.”  The voice paused as if listening.  “Well, your livelihood has put mine at risk.  And I don’t appreciate that, Lydia, not one little bit.  Your girls are a drop in the bucket.  And you had better remember that I have people to answer to as well.  What am I to tell them?  That I can’t send them their product because you lost one of your little prostitutes?”  Matt gestured toward a doorway off to the right of the stairwell.  It led into the study where the voice was coming from.  “I’m well aware of that, Lydia, and yes, you have always been reliable.  That’s the only reason I agreed to help you with your business in the first place.  I found quite a few girls for you over the years, have I not?  And all I asked in return is that you get our goods delivered to the right people on time.  Is that too much to ask!?”  His voice suddenly became angry.  “Yes, and that was your stupid son’s fault!  He panicked!  What am I to do with you?  You can’t control your son, you can’t control your girls . . . you’re putting me in a very difficult position, Lydia!”

Matt and Catherine entered through the door of the study.  There at the desk sat Ortiz, leaning back in his chair watching the game on a 47” hi-def LCD mounted to the wall.  He looked up in surprise and said, “What is this?  Who are you?”  Matt put his finger to his lips and gestured for Ortiz to hang up.  Suddenly, it dawned on Ortiz that he was in serious trouble.  His eyes seemed to fall in surrender.  “You’re on your own, Lydia.  I have bigger problems at the moment.”  He hung up the phone.

“That’s a bit of an understatement,” Matt suggested.

“You are Fernando Ortiz?” asked Catherine.

“I am,” he said, slowly turning his chair a bit.  “And who, may I ask, are you?”  He spoke cordially as if at a business meeting, but slowly his hand began drifting towards the edge of the desk.

“Keep your hand on that desk or I’ll blow your fucking head off right now,” said Matt.  He quickly maneuvered around the desk and pulled Ortiz’s chair away from it.  On the underside of the desk was a panic button for the alarm system.

“I have no weapons,” said Ortiz.  “I’m completely unarmed.”

“Be glad you are,” said Matt, “or you wouldn’t be breathing.”

“May I ask what this is about?”

“It’s about Taylor Woodall,” said Catherine.

Ortiz’s heart seemed to stop in his chest, his eyes wide.  Then he took a long sigh.  He looked, for a moment, as if though he was going to try to claim ignorance as Miguel had, but then something changed.  “I received a phone call that my nephew was missing.  Police found the guard from his place tied up in a closet.  Do you know something of this?”

“We do,” said Matt.

“Is he dead?” Ortiz asked, flatly.

“He is,” said Catherine.

He dropped his head.  “I see.  And I suppose I’m next?”

“That remains to be seen,” said Catherine.

“Who are you, if I may ask?  Who are you working for?”

“Taylor Woodall,” said Catherine.  “You know, it’s funny.  Your nephew asked that same question.”

“I see.  So the girl’s family hired you?”

“Something like that,” said Matt.  “But let’s just say we have a personal interest in the matter.  You’re safe to assume you shouldn’t have killed that girl.”

“I understand your anger,” he began.

“You understand nothing,” interrupted Catherine.  “Don’t think for a moment you can apologize for what you’ve done.  Nothing you can say will undo what happened to that girl.  Nothing will bring her back or end the grief her parents are going through right now.  We’re not here to listen to any more excuses.”

“You’re right, of course,” he said.  “I truly regret what happened to Miss Woodall.  I can assure you I had no idea of what was to befall her.”

“We’ve already heard this story,” she told him.

He nodded.  “Yes, Miguel.  I’m sure he would have told you the truth.  You may not believe this, but I am not the man at the top of the food chain.  The man who killed that girl enjoys that pleasure and we had no clue he was going to do what he did.  We would not have indulged him if we knew.”

“You stood by while he raped and murdered Taylor Woodall,” said Catherine.  “You might as well have done it yourself.”

“So Miguel has told you what happened that night?  We didn’t know, as I’ve said.  We were outside with our drinks and conversation.  We figured he’d have his way with her and we’d drop the girl off somewhere.  She’d have a sad story, yes, but alive, safe and sound.  We couldn’t have known.”

“Safe and sound?  Are you kidding, you sick bastard?”

“Did Miguel tell you why he took the girl?  It wasn’t at my direction.”

“I had to shoot his kneecaps off, but yeah, he talked,” said Matt.  “And if I recall, he said it was at your direction.  Arismendez told you, and you told Miguel.”

Ortiz cringed.  “Please.  He was my dear sister’s son.  I understand that what’s done is done, but please, I do not wish to hear of his suffering.  I’m sure you understand,” he added, looking at Catherine.

“You don’t have my sympathy,” Catherine responded.

“Nor do I ask any.  I merely ask that you refrain from celebrating his murder while we talk,” his said loftily with an air of self-importance.

“Shut the hell up, you pompous ass,” said Catherine.  “Who are you to talk about murder?”  She cut to the chase.  “You’re going to pay for what you did, but first you’re going to tell us what you know about Arismendez.”

“Ah, Arismendez,” he said with a look of disdain.  “Okay, I’ll tell you what I know.  I’ll give you all the information you want about him.  But first, I’d like to propose a deal.  I have a floor safe hidden in that bookshelf,” he said, pointing to the wall unit behind him.  “In it, I have my files and half a million dollars in cash, American, of course.”

“We don’t want your money,” said Catherine.

“You’re not buying your way out with us,” added Matt.

He raised his hand, “Please, hear me out.  I understand that you have a personal interest in this matter beyond money.  What I am proposing is to trade my life for information.”

“What sort of information?” asked Catherine.

“If you allow me to live,” said Ortiz, “I’ll give you everything you want to know about Arismendez . . . where he lives, the layout of his place, his security, even where he likes to go and what restaurants and bars he likes to frequent, everything you’ll need to get close enough to kill him.  And you will need my information to get close enough, I assure you.  He’s a very cautious man and his bodyguards are much more numerous and attentive than the idiots I’ve apparently hired.  Additionally, I’ll also give you several other lives.”

“Lives?  What lives?” asked Matt skeptically.

“I have intimate knowledge of close to two dozen young women working as sex slaves in the United States.  I know who they are and I know where they are.  Allow me to live, and I’ll give you their information.”  Catherine and Matt exchanged glances.  “Think of it,” said Ortiz.  “These girls are the same age as Taylor Woodall, some as young as sixteen.  Right now they are locked away in hidden places all across the U.S., forced to live under terrible circumstances, raped night after night, sold for a few measly dollars to anyone who’ll pay.  It’s too late for any of us to save Miss Woodall, but you can save others.”

“Who are they?” asked Catherine, angered by this new turn of events and the prospect Ortiz might actually have a viable bargaining chip.

“They’re just girls,” he told him.  “Girls who, for one reason or another, gave everything up here to try and find a life in America.  But once they get there, they were forced into slavery.”

“Forced by you!” she said, angrily.

Ortiz was unfazed.  “I do not deny I have had a small role in this.  I merely connect them with the people who run such places.  These are desperate girls who’ll do anything to get across the border.  I’m a business man.  I merely supply when there is a demand, no more, no less.”

“And how much do you sell them for?” asked Catherine, indignant.

“A pittance, I assure you.  Many of the brothels are located in places we use as transit stations for the drug traffic.  That is my true business, ma’am, as I’m sure you’ve guessed by now.  It is by mere coincidence it has brought me in connection with flesh peddlers.”  He spoke as if though he were equally disgusted by them, a farce that only angered Catherine further.  “I was speaking to one such operator when you entered.  As we speak, a young woman who ran away from one such place is now running for her life.  If I’m killed these people will track down this girl and kill her, I promise you this.  She will suffer the same fate as Taylor Woodall did, worse even.  The only thing that can save her is the information I can give to you.  It’s your choice.  You can do for her what you couldn’t do for the American girl.  Save her.  You can save all of them.  All you have to do is let me live.  Hand me over to the authorities.  My life spared to save others.  Surely you can see the logic in it.”

“Authorities . . . a lot of good that will do,” she said.

“I can write out a full confession right now.  I won’t be able to buy my way out if they have a confession, not with the world watching.  I’ll do my time.  But I’d rather live in a prison than die here, now.  Spare me and I will help you.  That’s a small price in the grander picture, isn’t it?  And besides, it’s not me you want, anyway.  It’s Arismendez.  I am clearly the lesser of two evils.”  Ortiz rose from his chair.  Matt tensed and held the gun on him, but Ortiz didn’t advance.  “Think of these young women,” his eyes locked on Catherine.  “Think of how you would feel if you knew Taylor Woodall was still alive somewhere, being forced upon night after night.  Isn’t it worth letting me live to save those girls?  One life for a dozen.  I’ll give you everything . . . the money, the information in my safe - which includes a list of every individual we have in our pocket, from the police, to judges, mayors, you name it.  It’s all in there.  And I’ll tell you how to find the girls.  There is no other way without what I can tell you.  And I’ll help you get Arismendez.  I’ll give him to you on a silver platter.  He’s no friend of mine and I certainly don’t want to die for his actions.  It’s he who deserves your retribution.  My people would never have done that to that girl.  I’d be happy to see him pay for his crime.  If I’m lying, you can always kill me later.  You’re obviously quite capable.”

Catherine weighed the man’s words.  He spoke of trading the girls’ lives as though trading in a car.  Still, he was smooth.  And he was right in that the information he had did have significant value.

“He’s probably lying,” said Matt.

“I’m not,” said Ortiz, still looking directly at Catherine.  “I think you know that already.”  If there was a soft spot to be found, Ortiz had quickly surmised it would be with her.  “If you’ll give me your word that you’ll allow me to live, I’ll give you some of the information this very moment.”

Catherine considered the deal.  “Okay,” she said at last.  “If your information is accurate, we’ll let you live.”

“I have your word?”

“You do.”  Matt looked at her in frustration, but he could tell by her tone she’d already made up her mind.

“Okay,” he said.  “As that is all I am able to ask for at the moment, I will trust you to keep it.  And I will uphold my end,” he said pointing to where the floor safe hid.  He looked to Matt who motioned him and then he went to the wall unit and opened a door at the bottom.  Matt kept his gun on him the entire time.

Ortiz removed a false bottom from the cabinet and there below it was a large floor safe mounted into the very foundation of the house.  He turned the dial around, left, right, and then left again, and opened it.

“Move,” said Matt, pushing Ortiz against the wall.  He leaned over and inspected the contents, making sure there were no hidden weapons.  “Looks clear,” he told Catherine.

Catherine moved forward and while Matt kept Ortiz covered, she began emptying out the contents of the safe.  First came a large leather binder, full of papers.  “Those are my records,” said Ortiz.  “You can find the name and information for each girl in there, but I’m afraid their location is not included.  You’ll need me for that.”  Next came stacks of cash, tightly-wrapped American hundred-dollar bills.  Catherine began to realize how deep the safe was as her arm kept reaching lower and lower to remove the piles of money.  “Four hundred and seventy thousand, I believe,” said Ortiz.  “Last time I counted, anyway.”