Damien nodded in agreement and said, “Stay here and somebody will explain what steps you need to take to set up tomorrow’s meeting.”

As Lance and Damien walked away, Lance said, “I take it you had a reason for not telling them Taggart’s wife’s name is Natasha and she’s a doctor?”

“Hell, yes, I have a reason. There is no way I want any of that to come back on us. I meant it when I said they would be digging their own graves.”

“I agree with you there. These guys have a lot to learn about the cops in this country.”

“No shit. They don’t seem to appreciate how much they’re crossing the line. How many other cops out there have Taggart’s mentality? I’m not afraid to face our court system or some cop who follows the rules, but I sure as hell wouldn’t want someone like Taggart coming after me if I fucked with his family.”

“Still thinking about going into business with them?” asked Lance, with a jerk of his thumb back toward Miguel and Ramiro.

“That’s the dilemma. We have a great opportunity to make a lot of cash, but at the same time, killing Taggart could generate a lot of heat.”

“A hell of a lot if they start knocking off wives and kids.”

“If they do, we’ll immediately sever all ties. I need to think about this. Maybe convince them to wait a while after they kill Taggart and see what comes of it. I was thinking if they killed him down there, it might not cause too much heat up here. There is huge potential for financial growth with these guys, but they need to be educated.”

“Sounds to me like you just tried. I don’t think they were listening. If they do start killing cops’ families … what do you think will come of it?”

“Something those two clowns could probably never imagine.”

chapter forty

Jack stirred as a blinding pain in his skull brought him back to reality. He opened his eyes and saw El Pero sitting on a kitchen chair facing him from the hallway outside the laundry room. The long-barrelled revolver was shoved in his belt and he was skimming the pages of a Playboy magazine before pausing to hold up the centrefold.

El Pero saw Jack watching him and turned the picture around for Jack to see. “No more of this, for you, gringo!”

Jack did not respond, but El Pero laughed and shouted down the hallway in Spanish. Jack’s brain was too numb to follow the conversation, but a couple of men in the kitchen also laughed and yelled back.

El Pero went back to looking at more pictures and Jack tried to focus. If he turned his head slowly, images no longer appeared like multiple overlaps of themselves. He stared at El Pero while carefully cupping the pipe with his hands. His muscles strained, but he was unable to turn the pipe from where it was attached to the laundry tub.

A rubber drain plug dangling over the side of the tub gave him an idea. He could use the small spring steel loop attaching the chain to the drain plug to pick the handcuffs … given enough time and privacy.

Jack brooded about how to get El Pero to close the door. The room already reeked and he toyed with the idea that if he defecated, it might cause El Pero to close the door. But then what? Open the door and try to grab his gun? Even if I succeeded, the guys in the kitchen would gun me down … not to mention the snipers outside.

He looked at the other items in the room. The containers of bleach and ammonia sitting next to a mop, broom, and dustpan in the corner gave him another idea.

A combination of bleach and ammonia together produce a deadly chlorine gas. If I do get El Pero to close the door and get free, I could use the dust pan to pour them slowly out under the crack of the door. Maybe El Pero will die. I could sneak out and take his gun and … what the hell am I thinking? Great idea for a movie or a book. Not so good in real life … there has to be another way …

Big Al’s conversation about what they would learn from his torture came back to haunt him. He thought of Natasha and Mikey. For a moment, a small, half-smile formed on his lips as he recalled the moment.

Michael Edward Taggart … you’re our little boy. Michael Edward Taggart, you’re our pride and joy. Michael Edward Taggart, you’re such a little clown. Michael Edward Taggart, you’re fun to have around!

Jack’s smile disappeared as he reached a decision. The fear that had been overwhelming him was replaced with sadness. He truly understood how Lily felt when she believed there was no hope.

I can’t risk being taken alive. If I can get El Pero to close the door, I need to dump the bleach and ammonia in the tub and kill myself before Big Al comes back …

The sound of a truck arriving outside told Jack the expected delivery was being made. Someone in the kitchen hollered to El Pero to come and help. He hollered back that Big Al had told him to guard the gringo. The others would have to unload the truck themselves.

The sound of the men going outside caused Jack to hastily go over his plan again. He did not know how much time he had before the men outside returned, but for the moment, it was only El Pero he had to contend with. He eyed the bottles of bleach and ammonia once more, but was distracted when he noticed El Pero giving a few furtive glances down the hall toward the kitchen … and then back at Jack.

What is he up to? Jack let his head slump to his chest and closed his eyes. He heard the grate of the kitchen chair as El Pero stood up and dropped the magazine on the chair. Next he heard El Pero shuffling down the hall and opening the padlock to Lily’s room.

For Jack, it gave him hope. Thoughts of suicide were replaced with hope of survival. He knew he only had a matter of minutes to get free and turned to the drain plug, using his teeth to bite the plug and pull it free from the chain. When he did, he was able put the plug in his hands and extract the wire ring.

Normally he could have picked the lock in a few seconds. Today was not normal. The circulation had been cut from his hands because the cuffs were on too tight. His fingers were like sausages and the exertion caused his scalp to start bleeding again, causing a mixture of sweat and blood to seep into his eyes as he frantically picked at the lock.

A couple of minutes ticked past and from the painful moans emitted by Lily from down the hall, he knew he had little time left. Finally one cuff opened and he slipped it past the pipe, not bothering to take the time to try and pick the other cuff.

He crept to the doorway and looked down the hall. There was nobody in sight so he hurried to Lily’s room, leaving a trail of blood droplets along the way. The door was partially open and he looked in.

Lily was on her hands and knees on the mattress facing away from him. So was El Pero, who was mounting her anally from behind, supporting part of his weight with one hand on the mattress while clenching Lily’s hair with the other hand. Between grunts he cussed at her and his fat buttocks shook as his strokes increased in tempo. His shirt was still on, but his pants and the .32-calibre long barrelled revolver were beside the door.

It was what Jack had hoped to find. He picked up the revolver and glanced at the cylinder to see the lead ends of the bullets sticking out. There was only one. The bastard didn’t reload … one will have to do.

Jack knew the use of deadly force was restricted to imminent life-threatening situations to either the public or himself. Despite what El Pero was doing, he was unarmed. To shoot him would qualify as murder.

In theory, as Jack did not have the authority to work in Mexico, he should make a citizen’s arrest and perhaps attempt to take El Pero hostage until he could turn him over to the proper authorities.