Heroine: California Dreamin' (14 page)

Andrew and Soto got into the car beside me after they showed no interest in Cody’s complaints about my behavior where he accusingly showed them his hand with my bite marks. The door closed behind us and I sank into the dark red upholstery in apathy when the van slowly set into motion. I startled up once more when a penetrating stench of vomit filled the interior of the car. Soto cursed and knocked on the glass partition and screamed at Cody to halt the car again. The side door opened and Soto ordered Andrew to take off his T-shirt and throw it out. I hadn’t looked at Andrew prior to that but now I saw that his black shirt was all stained and full of mucus. He probably had to throw up.

“It was his first job”, sneered Soto spitefully when the car rumbled on again. “Under those circumstances this can happen.”

“You killed Diego”, I said accusingly and tears ran down my face.

Soto just shrugged his shoulders while Andrew, who still stank to heaven, lowered his head.

“The boss told me what needed to be done. We only took care of an order. We even watch out for you.” He grinned again. “At least as long as your pimp meets his contractual obligations.” Rage bubbled up my throat. I decided to dare putting him to the test. Perhaps I could manage that he was going to lose his cool when I told him a fairy tale.

“Diego worked for Roberto. He was his cousin”, I hissed at him. Soto turned pale and looked at me with eyes wide open. Andrew lifted up his head and whispered quietly: “Fuck”. He couldn’t turn any paler, he was already white as a sheet. I had hit them at a sore point. Many minutes passed by in which the car rumbled through pothole filled terrain. Nobody said anything. Only when I looked outside I realized that the curtains had been drawn back. I had an unhindered view of the splendid landscape at the ocean. I understood now that I was part of these people in the car. And that is how they felt about me.

For a short moment I enjoyed the friendly light, the many small bushes, rocks and the waves on the beach. Then Soto interrupted my day dream.

“Damn’, why didn’t you tell us that beforehand? There was no way that we could know that. You better explain that yourself to the boss when we arrive there. Andrew will now face revenge from your pimp. What the hell, you stupid cow planned that quite cleverly.” Andrew looked at his accomplice with eyes widened in terror and he could barely speak when he let go:

  “But you gave me the order to kill him. Shit, shit, shit now I’m up the creek”, he continued to whine. He turned his head to the side and I had the impression that he cried.

“Pull yourself together”, Soto growled at him. “We do our job and this little whore will not …” He stopped in his tracks.

“I am sorry. I just lost my cool. I didn’t want to insult you. Honestly, if you had informed us earlier this would have never happened. You must understand that. Actually, the responsibility is with you now”, he said accusingly. I turned to the side and kept my mouth shut.

Two things had become clear. For one thing they respected Roberto if they were not even afraid of him.

That is of this Rodriguez not of the cop Gutierrez. My intuition had guided me correctly. That could help me.

For another thing it was correct what he had said. Why didn’t stupid me have this idea earlier to declare Diego as a relative of my alleged lover? Now it was me who cursed on the inside. Diego could still be alive if my thought processes wouldn’t have been so slow. Instead I sat together with murderers and had allowed that my fear switched of my brain. Feelings of guilt inundated me but at the same time they heightened my vigilance.

Because why would I think so slowly and why was I sometimes so keen on psychopaths? I dug up some memories. Long before my university studies I had my IQ tested. 130. That was borderline genius said the woman tester, obviously quite impressed then. She had conducted the test at the request of my parents. Because they were convinced then that I was too stupid to even finish secondary school. The test was performed by a psychologist at the employment office in the Cologne Westend. She was to find out which job description would fit me. I might be suited to become a gardener or sales woman if I put my mind to it; that was my mom’s opinion then. The young woman at the employment office was totally dismayed and after the consultation with my biological parents she couldn’t hold back her feelings. She yelled at my mother and asked whether she’d play with a full deck. What my mother was doing with me would almost be borderline child abuse. And she hurled further accusations against my parents but their details have left my memory. After that conversation I was bound to become a psychologist. That would facilitate me to handle my parents’ attempts of intimidation – every day they threatened me that I would inevitably land in hell. But at least my father had noticeably changed after that long conversation. He became more thoughtful and ever since that day I didn’t hear any more threats about ‘punishment in hell’ from him though he was a Lutheran pastor.

‘To think slowly’ I kept on pondering. Surely, you can’t think fast if you receive idiotic or crazy accusations from some corner of your brain all the time. You must dissect those charges first with your intellect before you can continue to think. Rage is forbidden, lies are deadly sins, absolute submission is mandatory – otherwise we’ll meet in hell and so forth. And now exactly those perverted ideas on morality had helped to cause the death of an innocent human being. If I had only be able to lie properly Diego could still be alive.

And Roberto wouldn’t have died either. I felt that I still had regrets about his demise. And earlier? If I had shown Erich his boundaries last year when he tried to pull through with his perverted egotistical little games – I could have finished my studies by now and graduated. Rage overcame me. Three dead people, I, as sex zombie mutant through abuse of drugs, finding myself thrown together with perverts of some nutty congregation – only to be held hostage and perhaps forced into cooperation with them in the future.

My head banged against the window when the van bumped into a deep pothole; that woke me up from my trance. Now back in reality I became aware that I had just gone through a state of great clarity. The last time that had happened to me was a few years back. It was shortly after my wedding with Daniel when our difficulties in bed had not yet been prevalent. Then I was happy. Now I probably had turned already crazy.

I pinched my arm. It hurt. Once again. It still hurt. That means I had not gone completely of my rockers yet. I looked up. My two accomplices had already nodded off. I was dumbfounded at once why I was still so present after almost 24 hours uninterrupted strain and pain with little sleep. Did the fear of death that I had to endure invigorate me that much? I looked out onto the road. In the meantime the car had made its turn onto Highway 1 and I saw that Watsonville was signposted up north, while Prado and Los Angeles pointed south. I assumed that we would get back to Roquetas via Watsonville. But when the car unexpectedly turned towards Prado I was so flabbergasted that I first couldn’t think straight. Didn’t Soto mention that we go ‘home’ now? Apparently I had already been in a half sleep, otherwise I would have thought of it earlier and I wouldn’t have considered myself to be safe.

What did he say the whole trip would take? Until this evening. And we drove southbound. We could reach Los Angeles via Interstate 5 by midday. To reach San Diego would probably take another two hours. My stomach turned into knots. And it hurt especially since I hadn’t eaten or drunk anything since yesterday noon. My bladder was also pressing hard as I felt just now. Since last evening I hadn’t been to the bathroom. I guess the angst had knocked my body unconscious.

I continued thinking. There were two possibilities. Either Cody would turn east from Los Angeles, perhaps to Palm Springs. Or we were going to cross the border into Mexico. That thought made me feel sick. We slowly rolled along on the right lane; some trucks passed us with a lot of noise. If we went into Mexico I had not the slightest chance to survive. The moment they learned that Roberto was dead they would dispose of me just as they did with Diego. Only that they probably would have first some ‘fun’ with me. My panic merged with the stench from Andrew’s clothing and I almost gagged. Something had to happen. Something had to happen fast before these stinking criminals realized that I was not on their side. With first opportunity I would escape, I said to myself in defiance. In my case any prison would be better than Mexico. But how?

Soto snored quietly. Andrew’s deep breaths let me suspect that he had dozed off also. I looked through my purse and picked up my cell phone. Should I send an SMS message to Irene? But she worked for the justice department. What would happen if they learned about the video during the questioning? I could be seen in the movie with her son. And the movie was made at Roberto’s studio. The connection between me and the dead cop would become evident. Irene would kill me. Or, what would be worse, hand me over to prosecution. Pete? Something inside me held me back. Pete was together with Ron. Ron’s father … Ah, we already had gone through that. Strike it. It wouldn’t work.

I opened the cell phone. The screen displayed several unanswered calls and a message from Daniel:

“I have tried to reach you last night and this morning. Where are you? I am concerned.” When he typed in the message it was in the middle of the night here. At that time I was still in ‘incarceration’ where no message could be conveyed. Now it was already late morning in New York. Why didn’t I ask Daniel to help me? Was it because my mother referred to him with such contempt at any opportunity? He was my husband and when anyone had to help me then it was him! And beside that he was worried about me. I started to feel sentimental. I wished I hadn’t given him such a frosty good bye yesterday … Spontaneously I typed a message for him.

“I was attacked and have been kidnapped. I am on my way in a gray van on Highway 1 southbound. Between Watsonville and Prado.” I sent it. Quickly I turned off the sound for new messages arriving so that the two kidnappers wouldn’t wake up from it. The car continued to hum along and now took a turn to Prado at Castroville. Cody wanted to take I 5. While I registered all that I became aware again that I was absolutely alert. Earlier in my life I would have fallen into some dull self-pity in such a situation due to my panic mode. What kept me awake? I would have to fight. I owed that to Diego. A short time later I looked my cell phone’s screen again. A message from Daniel was displayed!

“I’ve called the police in Roquetas. I know somebody there. They alert their colleagues along the route you’ve been taking. Do you have more info? My plane leaves at three o’clock.”  That was at noon our time. Although he wanted to stay in New York until Saturday he’s now aborted his visit in New York. Then he would be here by this evening. I was impressed. When Daniel took things into his hands then they were promptly executed.

How could I provide him with more info? My bladder pressed hard again. Now I needed a break. Didn’t the fat guy say that they should stop over with me at a motel? I kicked Soto’s shin bone. He started up and reached for his gun in his jacket in his half sleep. And that startled me. I had to control my emotions. When Soto saw me his grim facial expressions relaxed.

“What’s the matter?” he snarled.

“I urgently need a break. Can’t we stop at a motel?”

“Are you nuts? What do you think where we are? Leave me alone or I punch you in the face”, he growled even more ill-tempered. I stared at him with my mouth open:

“But your boss said that we are allowed to take a break.” I whined. My self-assurance had gone with the wind. Soto widened his eyes and he sat up straight.

“Hey, damned. Oh, that is you. I think I had fallen asleep. Of course we will stop. Sorry, I mistook you for somebody else in my half sleep.” He was suddenly really friendly, turned around and banged with his fist onto the glass partition.

“Cody, you sleepy head. Look for a motel and stop there. Our baby must go potty.” His choice of words did not fit his good appearance at all as I realized in dismay.

A few minutes later the car stopped in front of a motel close to the airport of Prado. Andrew needed some fierce pushes from his accomplice before he woke up. He lifted his head drowsy and when he saw me he turned pale again and cursed. He didn’t feel good and not only physically. Soto didn’t seem to care about that. He got out of the car, ordered Andrew to watch me and then marched to the entrance of the motel. Soon thereafter he returned with a hotel key and we drove to the booked room. When we arrived there Soto opened the room with the card-key and I ran immediately into the bathroom. But before we had entered the room I had taken a second to glance at the vehicle’s license plate number. The car was registered in California. Soto re-opened the door to the bathroom when I was already sitting there and peeked inside. The room was without windows and Soto closed the door again with a pleased grunt. The respect for Roberto reached all the way to this quiet location – I realized with great satisfaction.

I took my time and sent Daniel the information about the motel and the license plate number. Then I took a shower. I enjoyed the warm water and allowed that it also rinsed off the remembrance of Diego. That is what I wanted. Subsequently I found some cheap lotion to freshen up at least a bit. And I had a little bottle of deodorant in my purse. Under the given circumstances this was more than enough. Slowly I started to relax and had a good yawn.

When I left the room again the older kidnapper sat in an armchair and played with his gun. Andrew lay with knees pulled up to his chest on his side of the bed. His head was turned away and he didn’t move.