Last Call - A Thriller (Jacqueline "Jack" Daniels Mysteries Book 10) (28 page)

“Could we grab Cardova? Force him to let Phin go?”

“Cardova has better security than the President.”

My shoulders slumped. “So it’s hopeless.”

“I have an associate named Heath. He’s meeting us later. He’ll have some equipment that might be useful. But the chances of us pulling this off aren’t good.”

I searched her face, trying to find any sort of compassion. “What if he was your husband, Chandler?”

“Honestly?”

“Yes.”

She leaned back in her chair. “I don’t think anyone I married would want me risking my life to save him. And I would feel the same way. If I knew he was in a hellhole like this, no possibility of escape… I’d send in drones to bomb it into oblivion.”

“You’d kill him?”

“I’d end his misery, and stop it from happening to anyone else. You don’t send in the living to recover the dead. And any poor bastard trapped here,” she tapped the screen, “is as good as dead.”

I
brought some fresh maggots,” Lucy said, holding up a jar and giving it a little shake.

Phin didn’t say anything, but he watched her intently as she peeled off his chest tape. Lucy sniffed.

“Much better,” she said. “K—Luther—he taught me this trick. They eat all the dead tissue, and clean out the wound so it can heal. K discovered it accidentally. He was seeing how long he could keep this guy alive, and flies laid eggs in his wounds, and—ta-da!—the guy lived longer. Doctors actually do this, too. It’s called
debriding
.”

Lucy dumped more maggots on, then replaced the makeshift bandage.

“Does it hurt?” she asked.

Phin didn’t answer. It didn’t hurt, but it was disconcerting, and itchy.

“Not in a talking mood. Mr. Hanover? I can make you talk, you know. But if we’re going to be working together, I’d prefer the lines of communication to not be forced. You told me you wanted to protect your family. Tell me about them.”

He didn’t respond. Lucy rolled her eye. “You don’t have to tell me their names, dummy. But tell me what you’re willing to do for them. You said you’d die to protect them. If you want me to trust you, you need to convince me.”

Phin considered it. Then he said, “I have a son. He’s almost three.”

“And your wife?”

“She’s a writer. True crime. She’s doing a book about Luther, and she was getting too close to him. He sent her a warning.”

“What kind of warning?”

Phin recalled a chapter from one of Katie’s books. “He mailed her something.”

“What?”

“Somebody’s skin. Packed with dry ice.”

“Oooh, creepy. And when was this?” Lucy seemed particularly interested, and Phin knew why. She’d been Luther’s companion for the last few years, and would have noticed if he’d mailed anything.

“It was a long time ago,” Phin said.

“Good answer. So why did you wait so long to come after K?”

“I couldn’t find him. He disappeared for a while.”

“Another good answer. See how well this communication is working, Mr. Hanover? You’ve almost convinced me that you’re telling the truth, and if I give you the chance you’ll kill Luther Kite. That’s what you want to do. Right?”

Phin nodded.

“Good. You told me your wife is a writer. So what’s her name?”

Phin didn’t answer.

“You worried I’m going to hurt her or your son? I don’t care about them, or you. But I love to read, and I want to confirm that you’re telling me the truth.”

This was tricky. If he mentioned Katie, then Lucy could ask Luther about her, and deny Phin’s story.

“I don’t want him to know,” Phin said.

“I’ll be cautious.”

When Phin didn’t respond, Lucy said, “Or… we could go back to the playroom, I could make you tell me. Trust me, this way is easier.”

Phin had backed himself into a corner. He didn’t see how he had any choice.

“Glente,” he said. “Her name is Katie Glente.”

S
he removed her ear buds, and took her passport out as they got ready to cross the border at Calexico. Herb Bacondict snuffled her face, and she gave the pig a pat on his hairy head.

“Herb, do you have your Breeding Swine Health Certificate?” McGlade called back from the driver’s seat.

“Do you expect him to answer?” Katie asked.

“I’m not sure. I’m really, really caffeinated.”

They’d driven practically nonstop from Kansas City, and McGlade had only let Katie take the wheel for a four hour stretch, and for brief two minute interludes when he got up to use the bathroom.

“How much of that energy drink have you had?” she asked.

“I finished it.”

“You finished a whole case?”

“You helped.”

“I only had one.”

“Well, you missed out. I don’t know what Taurine actually is, but my piss was neon green and shot out in spurts, like a sprinkler. Are we still being followed by those bigfoot UFOs?”

“No,” Katie said, deadpan. “The dinosaur ate them.”

“The one on roller skates? Or the motorcycle?”

“Don’t be stupid, Harry.”

“You’re right. The roller skater could never catch a UFO. Unless they were… rocket skates! Were they rocket skates?”

“You sure go to lengths to amuse yourself, don’t you?”

“You may notice the pig in the beanbag sitting next to you. So, yes.”

Katie glanced out the window. “How long will it take to cross the border?”

“Assuming no problems, maybe an hour. I just texted Jack. My suggestion; let me break it to her that you came along. She doesn’t like surprises. You need to ease her into them. It’s like climbing into a hot tub, but the hot tub vocally disapproves and acts bitchy.”

“No problem.”

Convincing McGlade to bring her along had taken very little effort, but Katie still needed Jack to find Luther. It would be easier to be with Jack when that happened, rather than follow her around.

They got in one of the inspection lanes and slowed down.

“Time to hide the guns,” Harry said. “You have anything to put in the trap?”

Katie opened up her duffle, removing her Colt and the X26 Taser with extra cartridges.

“How about knives?” she asked, thinking of her Schempp.

“Stash it. Can’t hurt.”

McGlade flipped a few switches on his dashboard, including the defrost, rear cabin lights, and cruise control, and then pushed the button on his seat forward. The floor next to Herb opened on hydraulic cylinders, revealing a smuggler’s box. Katie placed her weapons atop Jack’s bag, already stored away.

She also put a padded envelope in the compartment; one of the items she’d recovered from the alley in Kansas City.

“So how many times have you gotten past the border in this vehicle?” Katie asked.

“Never tried it.”

“Seriously?” She stared down at her packet.

“Shouldn’t be an issue, even if they search, they won’t find the compartment. Besides, they’re primarily looking for drugs, not weapons.” He locked eyes with her in the rearview mirror. “You didn’t put any drugs in there, did you?”

“No.”

“They have dogs, Katie. I’m not holding. I don’t want to risk it, even though I’ve got a medical marijuana card for Mittelschmerz.”

“What’s Mittelschmerz?”

“Painful ovulation.”

“How’d you scam that?”

“I’m rich. And a smart ass. Did you hide drugs in there?”

“No.”

“Even if it’s pills, Katie. Those dogs are supernatural. They can smell a termite with salami farts from a hundred yards away.”

“No drugs, McGlade.”

Harry closed the trap door. It seated in seamlessly, blending into the floor without leaving an outline. Herb looked at her and snorted.

It’ll be fine,
Katie told herself.
As long as we don’t draw any special attention to ourselves, we’ll be okay.

Then McGlade started singing scat music, and Herb began to oink along.

“Zaba doobie yabba doo da doobie yabba doo bad dee dee dooba dooda deebie deebie da!”

“Oink oink!”

“Zooba dee opp opp deebie dooda doobie dabba deepie doopy da!”

“Oink oink!”

Katie took out her phone and Googled
Mexican prison
, so at least she’d know what to expect when they locked her up for life.

She frowned at the search results. They didn’t look very nice.

When they finally pulled up for inspection, and the pig did a dead-on Ned Beatty impression, and Harry joined in, Katie emotionally prepared herself to be hauled away. The quest she’d been on almost her entire adult life was at an end, and she’d failed.

If only things had gone differently in Kansas City.

If only she hadn’t decided to ride with that idiot, Harry McGlade.

If only—

“Welcome to Mexicali!” Harry said, starting up the RV as the border patrol waved him through. “We need to find some energy drinks.”

She blew out a breath, grinned, and shook her head.

Un-fucking-believable.

T
he Crimebago Deux was parked in a convenience store lot on Boulevard Lázaro Cárdenas, sticking out like a giant red sore thumb. The taxi let me out across the street. I tipped the driver, gave the rest of my change to some poor, badly disfigured man panhandling, and walked to the RV.

I knocked on the door, and Herb Bacondict answered

“Hello, Herb.”

The pig pressed its wet nose against my face and snorted.

I climbed aboard, and saw Harry sitting on a beanbag, wearing a large red Mexican hat. Several other beanbags and body pillows were strewn around the cabin, along with a few folding lawn chairs. Herb plopped down next to Harry and oinked.

“Congrats,” I said. “You turned a hundred thousand dollar vehicle into a freshman dorm.”

“Hiya, Jackie. Want a gas station churro?”

He reached over and opened up the fridge. Every shelf was filled with churros.

“You think you have enough?” I asked.

“You can never have enough churros, Jack.”

I gave Herb a pat on the head, looked for a place to sit, and saw a pair of ear buds on the counter.

“Goddammit, McGlade, you brought her along.”

“I had no choice, Jack. She promised me sex.”

“So you did it for sex?”

“No. I did it for the
promise
of sex. I never got any sex.”

“Where is she now?”

“I told her to wait in the store until you calmed down because you were gonna throw one of your
why did you do that McGlade?
fits without any appreciation for the fact that once again I’m putting my ass on the line to do you a favor that you’ll never, ever pay back.”

I considered my responses, and then my phone buzzed. I smiled, and texted back my location.

“So where are Moodypants and Wheels?”

“At a hotel. You gave her that wheelchair?”

He shrugged. “Seemed like the nice thing to do. Former owner didn’t need it anymore. Is Cuervo Junior with them?”

“He and Fleming are… getting reacquainted.”

“Seriously? That guy gets more ass than a bar stool. You think it’s because he’s got those rock hard abs?”

I considered Tequila’s abs. “Might have something to do with it. Any problems at the border?”

“Smooth as cake. Did the Jason Bourne twins come up with a plan?”