Tracer, p.16
Tracer, page 16
Natasha picked it up. Raising an eyebrow at Korso, she removed the charger from the phone. She pressed the green button, then pressed the loudspeaker option that immediately appeared at the bottom of the screen.
They each waited for the caller to speak. All they heard was white noise.
After a few more seconds of silence, a male voice said, ‘Nobody going to say anything? Admit it, you both must be pretty curious by now.’
Korso turned to Natasha, inviting her to speak first. She pursed her lips and gave a single shake of her head.
‘You like to watch,’ Korso said, turning back to the phone. ‘Does that mean you’re watching us right now?’
There was a chuckle at the other end. ‘Not this time, friend. All I did was set a little electronic tripwire on that shutter door to alert me should anyone try to get inside, which you’ve clearly succeeded in doing. Good thing I thought ahead and left this cell, wasn’t it? I can’t see you this time, but you can only be the same two who showed up at the house in Fort Worth.’
‘Only for you to call the police on us. That wasn’t friendly.’
‘What did you expect? You were breaking and entering. Not that the cops seemed to trouble you all that much. So what do I call you?’
‘You mean you don’t know?’
‘Would I ask if I did?’
Korso pondered a moment. ‘I’m Jack,’ he said. ‘She’s Jill.’
‘Very droll. So, Jill, you not speaking to me?’
Pulling a stick of gum from her pocket, Natasha gave another quick shake of her head as she unwrapped it. She stuck the gum in her mouth, started chewing.
‘Apparently not,’ Korso said. ‘So what do we call you? We know it’s not Kujan. Is it Adamson? Or maybe Papsidera? Or are they both buried deep in a quarry somewhere?’
Another chuckle. ‘Let’s see now. You can call me… Cain. With a C, like in the Bible. Yeah, I like that. Cain.’
Natasha had unwrapped another stick of gum, which she now offered to Korso. He took it, folded it in half. ‘Okay, Cain, let’s get down to it. It seems you’ve got something we want.’
‘Maybe I do, maybe I don’t. I assume we’re talking about a certain shipment that went missing a few weeks back?’
‘What else.’
‘And look at the two of you there, going to all this effort and trouble just to recover it. Why is that, I wonder?’
‘I assume that’s a rhetorical question. You know the kind of money that shipment’s worth on the open market, so don’t act all surprised that the owners hired a couple of tracers to find out what happened to it. You must have expected someone like us, or else why hide the spy camera at Adamson’s place, or arrange the alarm system here?’ Hoping to turn the conversation away from that line of questioning, he said, ‘Tell me, Cain, you were the man Papsidera called from Kujan’s apartment in Tijuana, right? The man with the plan.’
‘If you say so.’
‘I’m asking you.’
‘And that answer’s the best you’ll get from me. Why should I fill in the blanks for you? If I wanted to know who gave you that information, would you tell me?’
‘There’s no reason not to. We located a bar girl who was present in the room at the time, that’s all. She witnessed the call, but had no idea what it signified. Your turn.’
‘Okay. It was me at the other end. Satisfied?’
‘Not even close. So why are you calling us?’
‘That’s the real question right there, isn’t it? And the answer’s simple. I want to deal.’
Korso and Natasha looked at each other. He stuck the gum in his mouth. ‘After all the time and effort you put into taking the shipment in the first place? Why?’
‘Well, for one thing I heard some troublesome rumours about that particular cargo. Long after it went missing, of course. But the main rumour I heard, the one that concerns me, is about the possible identity of the cargo’s original owner. Care to shed a little light on that for me? Because that information could make all the difference to the outcome of this discussion.’
Korso looked at Natasha. She nodded, at the same time holding her thumb and index finger close together.
‘I can give you an initial,’ he said. ‘Saying any more over an open line would be unwise on a number of levels. But that initial should be enough.’
‘That’s not exactly what I wanted to hear. Okay, what’s the initial?’
‘N.’
‘Shit.’ There was a sigh at the other end. ‘So it wasn’t a rumour then. He actually exists.’
‘When it suits him.’
‘And he’s really as bad as the stories make out?’
‘Worse.’
Another sigh. ‘Now maybe you understand why I’m willing to negotiate. Having someone like that on my ass isn’t exactly what I bargained for when I got invited into this project, know what I mean?’
‘I get the general idea. But let’s deal with the elephant in the room first. Am I to assume you’re currently in possession of the cargo in question? Because that’s kind of a deal-breaker.’
‘Well, I know where it’s being kept, let’s put it that way.’
‘But it’s in a place where you can gain immediate access to it.’
‘Maybe not immediate, but at very short notice.’
Natasha twirled her finger, indicating Korso should get to the meat of it. Ignoring her, he said, ‘So what’s the story, Cain? Are you planning to simply give back everything you took, no questions asked? Is that it?’
‘Not quite. I have to make a living, after all, so it’s only fair I get paid at least a token amount for the return of the items. For instance, ten per cent of the market value would be more than enough for me.’
‘I can see how it would be, especially now you’ve disposed of your partners.’
‘What can I say? Loose lips, etcetera. But I’d say five hundred grand is more than fair in this situation, wouldn’t you? Especially as I’m your only lead to the main prize. So, Jack and Jill, just to clarify things, that’s five hundred thousand dollars, in cash. Are you interested in my terms, or should I just hang up right now?’
Natasha gave a vigorous nod of her head.
‘We’re interested,’ Korso said. ‘Just tell us the next step.’
‘The next step is for you to come to me. I’ll leave a sample of the cargo in a specified spot to prove I’m everything I say I am. Once you’re satisfied, we can go on from there. Sound good?’
‘Where?’
‘Colorado, a little place called Bilchner. It’s a genuine, modern ghost town. You’ll know what I mean when you get there. You’ll love it.’
‘I doubt that.’
Natasha touched Korso’s arm and mimed steering a wheel. He nodded and motioned for her to give him her smartphone. She passed it over and he opened the browser and typed Bilchner, Colorado into Google.
‘You still there, Jack?’
‘I’m here. Just checking where this Bilchner is.’
He saw the town was located in the southwestern quadrant of Colorado, meaning they’d have to drive west through New Mexico on the I-40W, then at Albuquerque head north on US-550. According to Google Maps it would take around nine hours, more or less. Travelling by air would get them there in a fraction of that time, but they’d be unarmed. Making the decision a no-brainer. ‘I’ve got the location now, so give us a time to meet. Bear in mind we’ll be driving to you, and we’ll also need a few hours’ shut-eye first.’
‘I can appreciate that. We all need our beauty sleep. How does tomorrow at three sound?’
‘Reasonable.’
‘That’s fine. Oh, and you better take that phone I left as well, since that’ll be our primary means of contact. At some point during the morning, I’ll text you the sample’s specific location and we can go from there. I’ll be seeing you guys tomorrow.’
There was a faint click as Cain ended the call. Korso picked up the cell and turned it off so they couldn’t be tracked. Any text messages from Cain would show up once it was turned on again.
‘It looks like we’re back in business,’ Natasha said.
‘Why the silent treatment with Cain?’
‘Elementary survival tactics. The less the enemy knows about us, the better. Of course, you know this meeting tomorrow will be a trap.’
‘I’d expect nothing less,’ Korso said. ‘Come on, let’s go find a motel to rest up for a few hours. We’ve a long drive ahead of us in the morning.’
Twenty-Seven
63 hours, 53 minutes and counting…
Korso found them a place just off the I-40 called the Welcome Inn. It was an unremarkable, three-storey building shaped like a fat L from above, nestling between a huge motorcycle dealership on one side and an even bigger furniture warehouse on the other. From the south came the constant sound of heavy traffic travelling along the interstate.
He turned into the motel’s half-empty lot and stopped the car just outside the main office. Through the window, he saw a young Indian guy with a goatee sitting at the front desk, working on his computer. Or more likely playing a video game.
‘I’ll get us rooms,’ Natasha said, and got out of the car.
Korso said nothing. He just leaned his head back against the headrest, shutting his eyes for a moment. Other than an hour or so on the short plane trip from Tijuana, the last time he’d slept longer than a few minutes had been on the flight from Bermuda, over twenty-four hours previously. And that had only been for four or five hours. He was used to operating with little to no sleep, but it wasn’t something he liked doing too often. The body needed a certain amount of rest each twenty-four-hour cycle. If it didn’t get it, the mind started making mistakes. And his current situation, where everyone was a potential threat, meant any minor error he made could turn into a life-threatening one within seconds. He couldn’t allow that to happen. He needed rest. Just five hours would make all the difference. Four, even.
He yawned.
The sound of the door opening yanked him back to full consciousness. Natasha got in and shut the door.
‘We’re on the other side of the motel,’ she said, ‘away from the interstate.’
Korso nodded and drove them round to the rear parking lot. There were only five other vehicles parked on this side. He found an empty spot midway down and killed the engine.
Grabbing his bag from the back seat, he yawned again as he got out and locked the vehicle. He joined Natasha by the stairs, and followed her up to the second-floor landing where she came to a stop outside room 54. She inserted a key card into the slot and the door clicked open.
‘Is this yours or mine?’ he asked.
She said nothing, just opened the door wide and stepped inside.
Interesting. All of a sudden Korso found himself wide awake. He paused for a moment, then followed her into the room. Closing the door behind him, he switched on the lights and watched Natasha drop her overnight bag on the bed nearest the window.
She came over and took his bag and set it down next to hers on the same bed. Korso didn’t miss the significance of the action. She looked over at him, that half-smile never looking more inviting than it did at this moment.
‘You told me before that I was attractive,’ she said.
‘I did. You are.’
‘So these sleeping arrangements are agreeable to you?’
‘They couldn’t be more agreeable.’
‘Good.’ Her smile widened as she reached out her hand to him. ‘I want a long hot shower, Korso. I have other people’s blood on me, and I will need help washing it all off.’
* * *
‘Not that I’m complaining,’ Korso said, later, ‘but that kind of came out of left field.’
‘Left field?’ Natalie raised her head from his chest. With her body still pressed close to his, he could feel her heartbeat. ‘What does this mean?’
‘It’s an American baseball term. It means unexpected.’
‘Oh, I see. Yes. But I think it would be in your best interests not to make this more than it is. Or was.’
‘And what was this, exactly?’
‘A simple biological function between two consenting adults. Very pleasurable, I admit. But nothing more than that.’
Korso smiled in the darkness. She was right. From the shower to the bed, then back to the shower again, it had been very enjoyable. Not to mention draining. ‘I’m not about to ask for your hand, if that’s what worries you.’
‘I would hope not.’
‘But I am curious. What caused the change of heart?’
‘I’m not sure.’ She paused for a moment. ‘Maybe it was that brief exchange in that storage place, after you shot the steroid man.’
Korso frowned, trying to remember, but he couldn’t think of anything that stood out. ‘Really? What did I say?’
‘It’s more what you left out. When I said I didn’t need your help, you could have made me feel very foolish with a single well-chosen comment. But you chose to do the exact opposite instead.’
‘It’s in my nature to avoid the obvious.’ He ran his index finger along the faint scar that trailed down the side of her face.
‘You like this?’ she said, pressing his hand against the scar. ‘You kissed it many times over the past hour.’
‘One of my little eccentricities, I guess. But, yes, it’s definitely one of your more attractive features. I can’t be the first man who’s said that to you.’
‘You’re not. One man has… well, he told me it adds character to my face. He also offered to pay for cosmetic surgery if I wanted it removed. But I told him no. It’s a part of me, and I’ve warmed to it over time. It’s also a good reminder that we learn from our mistakes.’
‘If we’ve got any sense, we do. It looks old. A memento from your childhood?’
She just stared at him, slowly rubbing the back of his hand along her temple. He thought she was going to ignore the question entirely, but she finally said, ‘That depends on your definition of childhood. I was seventeen, so still a child in many ways. I was in basic training, and one of my instructors wanted me very badly. His specialty was hand-to-hand combat. He knew all the ways to kill a person, all the techniques. A walking encyclopedia of death. Tae kwon do, judo, karate, jiu jitsu, boxing, close-quarters knife fighting, and many others. He taught me much, but he was arrogant… and a sadist. He enjoyed suffering, more so when he was the cause of it. He was tough. As tough as they come.’
She rested her chin on his chest, looking at nothing. ‘I was young and attractive, and he was not the first NCO to suggest my training would go a lot easier if I were to share a bed with him on a regular basis. Except in his case it was more like an order than a suggestion.’
‘Let me guess. You refused, and he took your rejection badly.’
‘Outwardly, no. For a few weeks, he trained my class and me the same as always. But soon he began to target me for demonstrations. After a while it was always me he chose. Never anyone else. One time, when he was teaching the class on the use of improvised weapons, I dared to challenge him on his constant victimisation of me in front of an audience.’ She ran a finger down the scar. ‘This was the result.’
‘What did he use to cause that?’
‘That day he was training us on the use of barbed wire as an offensive weapon.’
Korso winced. ‘Jesus.’
She smiled. ‘I admit I could have chosen a better moment.’
‘What happened afterwards?’
‘Afterwards? I was taken to the barracks infirmary where I was operated on by a surgeon who looked even younger than me. I spent a month recuperating, then when I was discharged I resumed my basic training. The sergeant responsible for my disfigurement received a verbal warning from his commanding officer, then resumed his duties as per usual. Nothing changed, except he no longer targeted me for demonstrations.’
Korso stared at the ceiling, at the odd, distorted patterns caused by the lights from the parking area outside. He listened to the faint sounds of traffic coming from the interstate. He could also make out a siren somewhere off in the distance.
‘How long did it take you?’
‘For what?’
‘You don’t strike me as the type to turn the other cheek, so how long before you paid him back?’
‘Three years. Closer to four, actually. I was on a week’s furlough and I travelled across the country under an assumed name and paid him a visit one night. He was still at the same barracks. I knew he liked to frequent a certain bar on Fridays, where the women were happy to head out to the back with a man for a few extra drinks, so late that night I waited at the delivery entrance at the rear. In the early hours of the morning, he finally came out the back door with a woman who was just as drunk as he was. I waited for them to get their business over with. It took a long time. When she finally went back inside, he went to one of the dumpsters and urinated against it. I wore dark coveralls and a black ski mask, so he never saw me coming. I overpowered him very easily. After that, things became… messy.’
Korso could imagine. Although he preferred not to. ‘Was he still breathing at the end of it?’
‘Just barely. He survived, although he must wish I’d finished him. Without going into specifics, I made sure he was no longer the whole man he used to be.’
‘I wish I hadn’t brought it up now.’
‘Yes, it has kind of ruined the mood. But this is all ancient history and is not typical of me. As a rule, I tend not to dwell on the past. What about you?’
‘I don’t think about it at all.’
‘Yes, I’ve noticed you never speak of your own history. Why is that?’
‘There’s no point. Any mistakes I made back then I’ve already filed away and learned from. The rest is just white noise. Only today and tomorrow matter.’ He didn’t bother adding that the less anyone knew about him, the better in the long run. Present company included. Instead, he closed his eyes and said, ‘Let’s get some sleep.’
