Jesús shook his head. “I’ve seen some disagreeable things over the years, but even I find cannibalism a bit… excessive.”
“Throughout history, humans have shown a distinct ability to find the practices of other cultures cannibalistic, even as they practice culturally-approved-of forms of it in their own.”
A tiny smile. “Ah, but I’m afraid it’s rather uncommon to eat people in Mexico these days. And we certainly don’t grind up corpses and mix them into our coffee.” His men snickered in agreement.
Derek pointed to the cross of Christ on the wall. “Jesús, your namesake told his followers to eat his flesh, to drink his blood. Mass, or the Eucharist, or the Lord’s Supper, whatever term you wish to use, is a symbolic form of cannibalism that millions of Mexicans take part in every week. Catholics believe the body and blood of Christ are actually present. How is that not a cannibalistic ritual?”
Jesús clasped his hands together admiringly. “Well done. Very good, Colonel. Yet, despite that, I think I will pass on the mummy dust for today.” He downed his own coffee. “So then, on to business?”
“Yes.”
“The merchandise. It will be delivered tomorrow night?”
“At 8:46. Just as we agreed. That’s when the training exercise begins.”
“You’re going to get the codes from the base’s engineer?”
If Jesús wasn’t the person orchestrating the project, he’d at least been well informed about the plans that had been put in place.
“Yes.”
“Do you have him yet?”
“We will. Tonight.”
“We?”
“I have an associate.”
“The woman.”
“Yes. That’s right.”
“You seem rather confident in her.”
“She’s quite good at what she does. And so am I.”
Jesús took a moment to watch the candles flick and dance, throwing their strange and subtle shadows against the walls. “And you know where the airstrip is?”
“It’s all been arranged.”
They spoke for a few minutes about the details of who would be receiving the delivery, what to do if things didn’t go as planned, and the transfer of money and of the essential information for using the device once it had changed hands.
Derek said, “I have a request of my own.”
“Yes?”
“I’m planning to move our research out of the States. There’s been more turnover in the department than I’m comfortable with. I’d like to relocate to a place with fewer liabilities and less possible exposure. Because of that, I’d like to renegotiate the terms of our agreement.”
A small silence. “Renegotiate.”
“Yes. I’d like to change the means of payment for my cut. I’m not interested in money.”
“Drugs?”
“No. Volunteers.”
“Go on.”
“I need you to do what you specialize in.”
“And which specialty would that be?”
“Kidnappings.”
A mock scolding finger. “Ah, now, that’s never been proven.”
“Of course not. But I’ll be needing more volunteers to continue my research. I think you can help me.”
“From here in the States? Because, depending on the numbers we’re talking about, it might attract undue attention.”
“Mexico is fine.”
“People disappear mysteriously from my country all the time.”
“So I’ve heard.”
“How many volunteers do you need?”
“Fifty.”
Jesús didn’t flinch at all when Derek mentioned the number. “And you’re going to paralyze them all?”
“Locked-in syndrome. And we’ll need all ages, both sexes, to study how neural impulses change over time and with the physical development of the body.”
“Children too?”
“Yes.”
Jesús walked to one of the candles, licked his fingers, closed them over the flame to extinguish it, then gazed at the colonel through the rising tendrils of smoke. “I choose the people.”
“Certainly.”
“But I need to know you’re serious about this.”
“What would convince you?”
His gaze went to the suitcase near the door. “A demonstration.”
Out of the corner of his eye Derek saw the short, stocky man who’d met him at the airport grin and roll up his sleeves.
Ah. That kind of demonstration.
“Of course.”
Derek removed the arm from the case and turned to the other man, the tallest one in the room. “Can you hold this for a moment?”
Somewhat taken off guard, he accepted the robotic arm. Derek was careful to hand it to him upright so that he was holding the base and the robotic hand was near his throat.
Then he turned toward the brutish man and prepared to defend himself.
To everyone in the room, it must have looked like Derek was just readying himself — and he was — but he was doing something else as well.
Derek was concentrating on sending the appropriate neural signals to the electronic array implanted in his left forearm.
As the stout man came at him, the fingers of the robotic arm twitched slightly, and then his associate who was holding the robotic arm said the last words he was ever going to say: “¿Qué está pasando?”
Derek’s Spanish wasn’t what it could have been, but he could at least make out that the guy was asking what was happening.
Well, he was about to find out.
The robotic arm twisted, the hand bent and clenched tightly around the giant’s throat. He grabbed at it to try to pull it off, but since it had the grip strength of nearly twenty men, that was not going to prove very effective.
The bullish man who’d been coming at the colonel turned to look momentarily at his partner, and that was a mistake. Derek was on him and in two moves had disarmed him. He shot him through the left eye and then whipped around and placed a bullet in the foreheads of the two men holding the AKs before either of them could even raise their weapons to fire at him.
While the driver quivered in fright, the man on the floor who was choking writhed and tugged futilely at the robotic arm. With his throat completely closed off, he made no sound, but his face was getting red and his eyes were bulging out. It wouldn’t be long now.
Derek faced the driver, who held up both hands and begged in Spanish for his life. Derek glanced at Jesús, who signaled for him to spare the driver, which he did.
Jesús scanned the room disapprovingly. “Good help is hard to find.”
“If they were good, they wouldn’t be lying dead on the floor.”
“Indeed.”
Both of them turned their attention to the choking man.
Derek decided to end things quickly and had the robotic hand close completely, driving its fingers through the man’s throat and ripping out his jugular vein. A spray of hot blood shot through the air, the man convulsed, and then, as his body became still, the blood pooled profusely on the floor.
“That,” said Jesús, “is very impressive.”
“Thank you.”
Derek retrieved his needle and thread from the man’s pocket, then, through his thoughts, he released the robotic arm’s grip on the corpse. “How far would you have let them go with me?”
“Just far enough.”
“I understand.”
Using the shirt of one of the dead soldiers, Derek wiped as much of the blood off the robotic hand and arm as he could.
The drug lord and the avenging hero gazed at each other. Neither appeared afraid. Neither was.
The driver stood nervously watching them, his eyes glued on the gun that Derek still held. Then his gaze shifted to one of the dead man’s AKs and Derek said, “I wouldn’t advise it.”