The name sounded familiar to Jonathan, and a quick Internet search reminded him that the Crystal Palace was spiritual home to Reverend Jackie Mitchell, a fire-and-brimstoner whose preachings were beamed throughout the world to her million-plus-member congregation.
Ms. Almont obviously had no experience in dealing with the likes of Jonathan, whose line of work made most officers of the court pretty damn jumpy. Under the circumstances, though, she didn’t have much choice.
Tristan and his friends were missionaries from the Crystal Palace, sent to Mexico to help with recovery from a recent earthquake. The very thought of it angered Jonathan. These missionary trips with children were just extended photo ops as far as he was concerned. In the grand scheme of things, what could a bunch of kids possibly contribute that would be worth the risk of sending them into the lawless land of diseases and bad medical care? And after doing so, how could the so-called responsible adults claim to be shocked when things go horribly wrong? Dangle a carrot in front of an alligator’s mouth for long enough, and sooner or later it’s going to snap at it.
In the case of the Crystal Palace missionaries, fate struck swiftly. Less than half an hour after the busload of innocents had crossed into Mexico, gunmen stormed aboard as it was waiting at a traffic light in Ciudad Juárez. The speed with which the ransom demand had arrived in Reverend Mitchell’s email told Jonathan that there was nothing random in this human seizure, and the efficiency of the kidnapping and the subsequent extortion left little doubt in Jonathan’s mind that it was a well-planned operation executed by well-trained, well-funded professionals. In that part of Mexico, that meant Felix Hernandez was involved. The fact that the hostages were subsequently transported over a thousand miles to their current location closer to the Guatemalan border than that of the United States hinted at a cooperative deal between drug lords that meant more trouble for the Mexican government.
The terms of the ransom could not have been simpler: Pay the money, get the hostages back. Done and done. Any attempt to involve the police or the army or the United States government would result in the summary execution of every hostage.
In his initial conversation with lawyer Almont, Jonathan had felt compelled to be blunt, lest she not understand the seriousness of the hostages’ plight. “There’s good news and bad news when dealing with the Mexicans,” he’d said. “The good news is, the drug cartels have reduced kidnapping to a business. They don’t bluff, and they don’t jerk you around. You give the bad guys the cash, and they let their hostages go. If they didn’t, people would stop negotiating with them, and they’d lose a major revenue stream.”
“You’re assuming that this is drug related,” Ms. Almont said. “That isn’t necessarily the case.”
Jonathan’s research showed that she was a corporate lawyer, more used to negotiating lease terms than ransom payments. Her voice didn’t exactly tremble, but the stress was plain. “They were taken in Ciudad Juárez,” Jonathan explained. “If it’s violent, and it’s in Ciudad Juárez, the drug cartels are involved.”
“You sound experienced in these things.”
“I’m assuming that’s why you called me.”
He sensed that she was marking time in the conversation, perhaps to wrap her head around it all. “You said there’s good news and bad news,” she said after a few seconds of silence.
Jonathan thought it was obvious, but apparently not. “Like I said, it’s a business for them. For the intimidation side of the equation to work, they have to show no mercy when the ransom fails to appear.”
“You mean they kill the hostages.”
“I mean, they make a show of killing them as violently and with as much gore as possible before dumping the bodies in a public place in plain sight of dozens of witnesses who know better than to have seen anything. Ciudad Juárez saw four thousand murders last year, all of them carried out by the cartels.”
“Four thousand! Why haven’t I heard about these?” Ms. Almont asked.
“The newspapers won’t write about them,” Jonathan said. “A few of the stories get printed, but mostly they get quashed by the editorial boards.”
“I guess they don’t want to scare off all the tourists,” she guessed.
Jonathan laughed. “Clearly you’ve never been to Ciudad Juárez. No, that’s why they quash the stories about the growing number of murders in Aruba and the Mexican Riviera. Bloodbaths and spring break make bad partners. The reason they suppress the stories in the northern areas is to keep their own families from being targeted.”
He could hear the shock in the lawyer’s voice. “Is it really that bad? The cartels are running the newspapers?”
“And the television stations and the police force and the army. Well-orchestrated intimidation is a powerful weapon, Counselor.”
“So, are you suggesting that we pay the ransom? I thought you specialized in hostage rescue.”
“I specialize in returning hostages to their loved ones,” Jonathan corrected. “If I can accomplish that by paying off the bad guys and not get shot at, I’m happy.”
“And you think that will work?”
“I think we need to plan that it will,” Jonathan hedged. “But we prepare for the possibility that it won’t. They may be businessmen, but they’re also murderers.”
“That’s why we need you,” she said.
“Whether you need me or not is your decision. I’m telling you what we bring to the table.”
“And I’m just supposed to trust you with three million dollars? I don’t even know who you are.”
While Jonathan understood her hesitation, he didn’t have patience for it. “You called me, Counselor,” he said. “Not the other way around. Hire me or don’t hire me. Just don’t waste my time.” One fewer opportunity to put his life on the line for strangers wouldn’t bring a tear to his eye.
Almont said, “I’ve never been in a position like this before. Everything I know tells me that this is a matter for the State Department and the Mexican police.”
“And I’m telling you that’s the biggest mistake you can make. Word travels at the speed of light, and bullets aren’t a whole lot slower. Do not expect hesitation from these people, and don’t expect mercy.”
The lawyer took her time weighing options. “How do I know you’re really the best?”
“You’ve seen my fee,” Jonathan said, “and I assume you heard about me from someone you trust. The fact that I’m still alive to be talking to you must say something.”
“I don’t even know your name.”
“Sure you do.”
“Scorpion is not a name. It’s a cartoon character. You could be anybody.”
Jonathan reached the end of his patience. “Okay, Ms. Almont, I’m done with you. If I get word in the next two hours that my fee has been deposited in my account, I’ll get back in touch with you. If I don’t, so be it. Either way, best of luck.”
Then he hung up. Twenty minutes later, he heard from his bank. Four days after that, here they were on the tail end of it all, and the kidnappers had won on every count.
And now this.
“You know, we’ve still got a perfect record,” Boxers said. “For rescues.”
Jonathan appreciated the effort to make today’s outcome somehow less shitty than it really was, but he wasn’t buying.
Boxers read his expression for what it was. “I’m serious. They executed the hostages before we were even part of the game. That’s not on us.”
Then Jonathan understood that the Big Guy wasn’t trying to make Jonathan feel better; he was trying to make himself feel better.
“Something to talk about over some scotch when we get back to the World,” Jonathan said.
“Can’t happen fast enough for me,” Boxers growled.