The Body Market: A Leine Basso Thriller (17 page)

E
lise slipped around
the back of the barracks and picked her way down the slope to the lone tree growing in a gulley. Fanta was already there.

“You weren’t followed?” Fanta asked.

Elise checked behind her and shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

“Good.” Fanta nodded. “I wanted to talk to you before Garcia decides to put you to work other than as a maid.”

“I wondered why he hadn’t yet.”

“I think it has to do with when they get the tests back.”

“But they took my blood days ago. The doctor told Garcia he didn’t find any diseases. That I was clean.”

Fanta pointed at the bandage on her arm. “They just did that, right?”

Elise nodded. She glanced at Fanta’s arm. She wore a smaller bandage. “When did you get yours?”

“A few days ago.” Fanta paused. “Do you know what they do with the girls who are no longer useful?”

“Yes.”

“You’re American, right? What’s your name?”

“Elise. What’s yours?”

“Julia.”

“Why do you want to know if I’m American?”

“I want to escape to America.” Julia inhaled deeply. “You will help me. We will help each other.”

“Then you’re going to take me with you,” Elise said.

“Of course.”

“But how? Do you know where we are? I mean, we’re still in Mexico, right?”

“I believe we are no more than one hundred kilometers from the United States. Once we are far enough away from here we can hitchhike to the border where you will vouch for me. Tell your government I am fleeing a dangerous situation. They will believe you because you are a wealthy American girl.”

“Why do you think I’m wealthy?” Instantly on alert, Elise studied her newfound ally.

Julia shrugged. “Because when you first arrived you wore expensive-looking underclothes—much finer than any of the other girls. And because of the way you act. You are used to telling others what to do. Only rich girls from America have been raised this way.”

Elise unclenched her fingers, relaxing a bit. “Has anyone else tried to escape?”

Julia nodded. “Three nights ago, a girl I have spoken with disappeared. When they called her name, no one could find her. She was still very popular in the yellow house, so I know they didn’t…” She paused. “I
know
she escaped. We have to try.”

“Do you know which road to take? What about the guards?”

“That’s another reason I need you. You know Sebastian?”

“What’s he got to do with this?”

“Sebastian is allowed to go everywhere on the ranch. He knows where the guards are. The other girl said he showed her, although she was sure he didn’t know he was helping her plan her escape. And, he goes into town with Master Garcia every week, so he knows the roads.”

“Why do you need me for that?”

“I’ve seen the way he looks at you.” Julia gave her a coy smile. “He would do anything you asked.”

A
light rain
had fallen during the night, leaving cloudy, oil-streaked puddles in the low spots to match the cloying, humid air. After a quick breakfast, Leine and Grigori drove to the meet. The Russian didn’t display any ill effects from the ample amount of tequila he’d ingested the evening before, and acted chipper and raring to go. He suggested they leave early in order to check the location.

“Turn left,” Leine told him, reading from the map as though she was traveling the route for the first time. Grigori followed her instructions and parked the Hummer a short distance from the warehouse.

Leine slipped her 9mm into an ankle band while the Russian shrugged on a shoulder holster and pocketed the grenades. Grigori would keep the MP-5 with him, and Leine would take the money, locked inside a case. They both wore lightweight Kevlar vests under their clothes.

She grabbed the case and proceeded to the warehouse. Grigori skirted the alley, remaining out of sight in case things went sideways. Zamir didn’t expect him, which worked in their favor.

The rusty metal door was open, and Leine walked into the cavernous building. The overhead lights cast stark shadows on the rough concrete floor. A shiver spiraled up her spine from the unexpected coolness.

A black GMC Yukon was parked on the left. To her right a metal stairway led to a door one floor up, and on the back wall was what looked like the door to a walk-in cooler. A man resembling Rutger Hauer wearing a buzz cut and a bad attitude rose from behind a table and drew his weapon, leveling a .45 at her. Leine raised her hands and scanned the warehouse for additional gunmen. There were none.

Leine tensed, calculating the distance between them.

“Take it easy, Rutger,” she said. “I’m expected. Nicholas sent me.”

The man frowned at the reference.

Apparently not much for watching TV or the movies,
she thought.

“What is your name?”

“Leine Basso,” she replied. “And you are?”

Buzz Cut relaxed his grip on the .45.

“Zamir. You have the money?” he asked in accented English.

Leine lowered her hands and set the case on the floor.

“Right here,” she answered.

Zamir pointed at the case with his gun.

“Open it.”

“As soon as I see the shipment.”

Zamir grunted. “Wait here.”

He strode to the back of the warehouse and opened the door, disappearing through a wall of plastic strips meant to keep the warm air out. A few moments later he returned carrying a blue and white hard-sided cooler, which he set on the floor between them.

“I need to see the contents,” she said, foreboding stippling her spine.

Zamir bent down and removed the cover. He reached inside and pulled a piece of Styrofoam off the top, revealing a plastic bag of red-tinged liquid underneath. Zamir lifted the bag out of the cooler and held it so she could see the contents. Inside were two brownish-pink kidneys. Appalled, she choked back the bile rising in her throat.

Fucking Vlad.
When neither Russian would describe the contents of the mystery shipment, she’d assumed it would be illegal.

She hadn’t counted on brutal.

She stiffened, acid burning the back of her throat. She could feel Zamir’s eyes on her, and she consciously relaxed her hands, forcing herself to breathe normally.

Something the waiter said in Tijuana jogged her memory. When describing the Russian man at the bar with Josh, he mentioned white hair and light blue eyes and that he looked similar to an actor he’d seen before. This guy resembled a young Rutger Hauer—an older actor with white hair and light blue eyes.
Although Zamir was Albanian, not Russian, an outsider unfamiliar with the two languages wouldn’t necessarily know the difference.

Leine kept her expression impassive as events tumbled into place. Eastern Europeans in Tijuana. Josh, dead in his car with jagged gashes where his kidneys should have been. The shipment in the cooler. She smoothed her hand over her front pocket, feeling the small crystal bead she’d found in the street outside of the warehouse the night before.

Elise.

A loud commotion erupted behind Leine and she turned. Zamir looked up sharply as two men dressed in camouflage dragged Grigori through the door. The Russian lifted his head, revealing a bruised and bloody face with one eye partially swollen shut. Bloodstains marred his T-shirt and his holster was empty. One of the gunmen carried the MP-5, which he handed to Zamir.

“Who is this?” Zamir asked.

“We found him on the roof,” the taller gunman said. “He had a pocket filled with grenades and this.” He presented Grigori’s side arm.

“He’s with me.” Leine said, unchecked anger bubbling to the surface.
Calm down, Leine. Focus.
“What the hell did you do to him?”

Zamir waved her question away and narrowed his eyes, his expression cold.

“Again I ask, who is this?” His voice dropped an octave.

“He was making sure you didn’t ambush me and steal the money.” Leine nodded at Grigori. “Nicholas assured me that my associate would accompany me across the border with the shipment. If that isn’t what you were told, then I suggest we call our respective bosses and straighten this out, because I’m not doing this alone.”

“You will not be alone.” Zamir turned toward the metal stairway leading to the second-floor landing and whistled. The door at the top of the stairs opened and two men dressed in fatigues with AK-47s slung over their shoulders filed out. They took the stairs to the ground floor and walked over to join him.

“Hold on a minute,” Leine said, eyeing the gunmen. “No one said anything about company.”

“And I was under the impression you would be alone.” Zamir shrugged. “Plans change.”

Leine and Grigori exchanged glances. Nicholas hadn’t mentioned any of this to either of them. Which told her they meant to go as far as the border crossing, probably hijack the shipment, and kill them both.

Why would Zamir and his gunmen go to all this trouble for just two kidneys?
The amount he might gain wasn’t enough to warrant damaging his reputation in the criminal world. At most, one would fetch an additional twenty or thirty thousand above what Nicholas paid.

Unless the recipient had a rare blood type.

“Look. I realize Grigori wasn’t part of the deal, but Nicholas sent him to keep me and the shipment safe,” Leine continued. It wasn’t exactly the truth, but it didn’t hurt to make them think Nicholas wanted her alive, too. “Since I’m expected to go along on this little joyride, wouldn’t you feel better if you had another professional backing us up if things went sideways?”

Zamir appeared to think over what she’d said. Leine noticed he didn’t seek agreement from the others, pegging him as the leader. She studied his body language, trying to get a read on him. Two against five wasn’t great odds, but doable if she could acquire a weapon. She was damned sure going to have words with Vlad when she got back.

If
she got back.

“Is not healthy to make Nicholas angry,” Grigori said, his voice hoarse.

Zamir raised the .45 and pointed it at Grigori’s head. “Is not healthy to make me angry, either.”

He’s going to kill him.
“Wait—” Leine said, trying to stall for time.

One of the gunmen stepped forward and murmured in his ear. Zamir raised his chin.

“Good point, Andre. This one will be worth top dollar on the open market,” he said, lowering his gun. “Search them both.”

Andre handed his weapon to another gunman and walked up to Leine. He looked strong as did the other three. Deep scars crisscrossed his face and neck, marking him as a fighter. She glanced at Grigori. The look on his face told her he was working the odds, too.

Andre pushed her arms out to the side and kicked her feet apart. Leine kept a neutral expression, trying not to wince. Though the gunshot wound was healing, it still hurt like a bitch.

The guy was thorough. When he discovered the bandage on her upper arm, he lifted her sleeve. He motioned to Zamir, who was on the phone. Zamir ended the call and came over to investigate.

“How did you get this?” Zamir asked, his expression unreadable.

“It’s nothing. A dog bite.”

Zamir studied her for a long moment. Leine kept her gaze steady. He muttered something and Andre resumed frisking her.

Relief flowed through her. Zamir hadn’t ripped the bandage off to reveal the gunshot wound. Catching her in a lie this early would compromise them even more than they were. Although, the pat-down didn’t exactly give her the warm fuzzies.

Andre found her phone, threw it to the floor, and stomped on it, breaking the case. When he started working his way to her feet, she said, “There’s a nine millimeter pistol attached to my ankle.” Grigori frowned. Leine shrugged. “Professional courtesy.”

Andre nodded and lifted her pant leg. He slid the gun free and handed it to Zamir. One of the other gunmen approached from behind and yanked her arms back before she could react, lassoing her hands behind her with a zip tie.

“This wasn’t part of the deal, Zamir,” Leine said, gritting her teeth.

Grigori strained against the two gunmen holding him. The shorter one rammed a pistol against his head.

Zamir frowned. “You’re right. I will have to call Nicholas and raise the amount he owes me, now that I have two of his people.”

Andre stepped behind Grigori and, with the help of the other two, cinched his wrists. The gunman behind Leine did the same to her ankles.

That’ll make things a bit more challenging,
she thought.

Zamir studied Leine’s pistol before he slid it into his waistband. “Russian made? I would have expected Swiss or Austrian.”

“Why is that?”

Zamir smiled. “Because of your reputation.”

“What are you talking about?” The sinking feeling in her chest told her that this was something other than a simple shakedown. Had Vladimir already betrayed her? Short-sighted, even for Vlad. He would have waited until Nicholas received the shipment before he set the Albanians loose on her. What the hell was going on?

“I could kill you now, but you are worth so much more alive.” Zamir leveled his gaze at her. “You would be surprised who is looking for you. Did you know that your picture is readily available on the Internet?”

When she didn’t respond, he smiled. “It is true. Your photograph has been posted in a certain chat room that I frequent. Although, I will say it is not a good likeness.” He shook his head. “So many ways to make money in the digital world. But you must know where to look, yes? I could not believe my luck when you appeared.”

Zamir was talking about the deep web. The invisible Internet most people weren’t aware of where criminals used message boards and set up chat rooms to do business under the radar. Drug deals, child pornography, arms dealing, human trafficking, murder for hire, you name it, the deep web was a one-stop shopping Mecca for black-market goods. Leine had trolled for leads when working cases for SHEN and exploited it extensively as an assassin. The irony that it had been used to track her wasn’t lost on Leine.

“I hate to tell you this, Zamir, but you’ve got the wrong gal.”

“If either of us dies,” Grigori added, “you will know the unimaginable fury of my family.”

Zamir snorted. “I am shaking with fear.” The other gunmen joined in the laughter.

The sound of a vehicle approaching outside echoed through the building. A white box truck with a refrigeration unit mounted above the cab pulled into the warehouse and backed up to the cooler door. Zamir and his men leaped into action. Two of the gunmen stayed behind, their weapons trained on Leine and Gregori.

Zamir opened the back of the truck while Andre and another gunman extended the ramp. The two men and the driver disappeared through the strip door into the cooler and reappeared pushing a shrink-wrapped pallet on wheels, stacked ten high with bundles of currency. Two more pallets followed before they replaced the ramp and closed the back of the truck.

Zamir said something to the driver and handed him a stack of money. Smiling, the driver turned to leave. Zamir raised his gun and fired. The sharp report echoed through the warehouse. The man fell forward, onto the cold concrete. Zamir motioned to Andre.

“Put him in the cooler.”

Andre and the other guard each took an arm and dragged the driver through the PVC strips, streaking a path of blood across the floor.

“We go now.” Zamir slid on a pair of expensive sunglasses and motioned to the two guards. “Bring them.”

And then it hit Leine.

Without the clean shave and the expensive suit she hadn’t recognized him. Zamir resembled the man standing next to the Bulgarian target in the picture accompanying the French news article. Z. Ristani
.
Zamir Ristani.

Dick Bennett’s former business partner.