Jack then turned to Big Al and said, “I have to admit, she is very pretty. It would be a shame to rob your men of their entertainment … and I know Damien would feel bad about doing so simply to appease him. The important thing is I know she will never leave here alive.”

Jack glanced down at Lily. She lay on her back with her eyes staring blankly at the ceiling like she was in a trance. Her final bit of hope was gone. Her body relaxed and a calm settled over her emotions as her brain accepted she was going to die and there was nothing she could do to save herself. Perhaps, thought Jack, at this point she even welcomes death.

“She most certainly won’t leave here alive. Still, I am sure you would feel better if you knew she was dead,” he added, with a nod toward Berto, who reached for his pistol.

“Please, not now,” said Jack. “There really is no rush and Damien would be upset if he knew I was implicated in a murder. As a favour, I would appreciate it if you made sure I was away from here for at least a day or two. That way it could never be said I was somehow involved or responsible.”

“You never would be held accountable,” Big Al assured him.

“I know, but as I said, Damien has not met you and may not understand. He would be angry with me. He expects this first meeting to go without incident.”

“As you wish,” replied Big Al. He spoke in Spanish to Berto and told him to take care of her later. Berto replied that one of the men had told him she had not eaten or drank any water for several days. He expected her to die soon regardless.

Big Al shrugged in response.

Berto’s comment caused Jack to worry. Going without food isn’t a problem. Going without water in this heat will kill you in a matter of days. What if the operational plan to save her gets delayed for a day or two? Reconnaissance could take that long … will she still be alive then?

Jack knew to say something to give her the will to live could have disastrous consequence. It could be like trying to save a drowning person who panics and takes you with them.

As the men were walking out of the room, Jack decided to follow what his heart told him to do.

“Just a sec,” he said, giving an evil grin. “I’ve never tasted a redhead and there’s something I’ve always wondered.” With that comment, he returned to Lily and in full view of the men, slowly licked his lips, bent over, and made a show of nibbling on her ear and pretending to stick his tongue in as he shifted his body to block their view.

“Do not speak,” he whispered in her ear. “Things are not what they seem. I promised your friend that I would bring her little froggy home. Hang in there. Help is on the way.”

Lily did not move as Jack stood up. She stared at him silently as her brain, fuzzy from dehydration, tried to digest if what she heard was real or if she had dreamed it.

Jack smiled as he walked toward the men watching him from the doorway and said, “It is true. Redheads do taste spicier.”

The men laughed and El Pero slapped Jack on the back and said, “If you think redheads are spicy, amigo, you should taste a señorita,” a giggle shook his chubby belly and he wiped a tear from his eyes with the back of his hand before continuing, “with a habanera chile inside her. But be careful your own chile grande does not touch it!”

Jack forced a laugh to join the others and then smiled at El Pero and patted him on the shoulder. He hoped his smile hid his true thoughts.

I am going to kill you … I don’t know how … but I will …

Jack did not risk glancing back at Lily as El Pero closed the door. He was too afraid she might say something.

Lily stared at the door and heard the padlock click shut. A promise to bring little froggy home? Only Marcie calls me froggy …

Then it hit her and her body trembled as fear and hope washed over her at the same time.

That was the Uncle Jack that Marcie told me about!

She crawled over to the door and sat, wrapping her arms around her knees and trying to stifle her sobs as she listened, hoping to hear more of Jack’s voice. When it sounded like he had left, she crawled back to the bottle of water and drank.

chapter thirty-seven

When Jack and the men returned to the kitchen, El Pero was about to hang the key back on the rack, but before he could, something outside the window caught his eye. He swore in Spanish and ran outside.

“He saw the iguana again,” explained Big Al, shaking his head while pointing out the window to a big lizard clinging to the trunk of the tree. “It has become a matter of pride for him. Any of the other men here could easily kill it in a single shot … even if they were drunk. Unfortunately, El Pero has not had their training. He thinks the iguana knows this and is laughing at him.”

Jack watched as El Pero ran to his SUV and retrieved an H&R .32-calibre, six-shot, long-barrelled revolver from the glove box.

“He has replaced his pistol with a new gun,” observed Big Al. “Before his gun had a shorter barrel. Maybe now his aim will be better.”

El Pero rested the barrel on one arm and aimed, before firing two shots at the iguana. Neither shot came close enough for the iguana to even flinch.

“No, he is still a terrible shot,” muttered Big Al.

“Is there a danger someone might hear the shots?” asked Jack, concerned Adams or Rubalcava would hear the shots and come barraging in to try and rescue him.

“No,” replied Big Al. “The men often target-practise out here. The only people who could hear are security men.”

“I haven’t even seen any security,” said Jack, “other than these two,” he said, with a nod toward the two mercenaries.

“Oh, there at many others out there,” Big Al assured him. “And much better shots than El Pero,” he added, “who will be lucky if he does not shoot himself in his foot.”

As if to emphasize the point, El Pero fired two more shots and the iguana safely crawled higher into the tree, more perhaps, to escape El Pero’s string of profanity than from the bullets.

“This has gone on long enough,” said Big Al, sounding frustrated. “I will demonstrate to you that we do have security. Step outside and you will see something.”

With that comment, Big Al made a brief telephone call while Jack went outside and watched as El Pero fired another errant shot up into the tree.

The iguana was barely visible, as it had sought refuge amongst some leafy branches. A second later, the sound of a single rifle retort from off in the distance was followed by the iguana tumbling to the ground with the top of its head missing.

Jack looked from where the shot came and could barely make out two figures near an SUV on a far hill. He turned back toward the house and saw Big Al standing on the porch smiling at him.

“Your example of security has been well illustrated,” said Jack, respectfully. “You have a hell of a good sharpshooter out there.”

“There are many such men out there,” replied Big Al, with a wave of his hands toward the surrounding hills. “Now, unfortunately we must go,” he added. “There is a delivery being made soon and some more men will be arriving to look after it. I was told you must not be here then.”

“I understand. Besides, I do not want to be late to call Damien.”

“Okay, we — excuse me.” Big Al stopped to answer his cellphone. When he did, he smiled at Jack and held up two fingers. “Wait here, I will be right back,” he said, before stepping back inside the house to continue his call.

There was something about Big Al’s smile Jack didn’t feel comfortable about. Were Adams and Rubalcava in the area? Did they hear the gunfire and think I need help?