Ch 8, I Will Destroy Everything You Build
"Carajo, Teresita!" Pote had not yet gone to bed, so at least he was not grumpy about being awaken. "It seems like…the eggs are broken…so the question is do we want to make an omelet or a mess!"
"An omelet, preferably….by ensuring we load the cash from the warehouse onto George's other boat…not the one they used to rescue the girls…because I bet it's how Camila found us!" Teresa responded, trying to keep her head cool.
Pote was set to meet George and the gang at the warehouse. To his dismay Bilal sounded very much off on the phone while George wasn't even picking up. Pote got angry as he was certain the gang were stoned after their late night on the town. Don't get in the kitchen, cabrones, if you can't stand the heat!
Just as James had stuffed all of his personal belongings in the duffel bag, two hunching shadows passed quickly in front of the window but their efforts to be invisible did not escape James's spiked senses. He switched the light off and signaled to Teresa to follow him silently.
He pulled out his gun, cocked it ready, then gave her his spare one. Upon second thought, he put on his jacket, then rummaged in the duffel bag, took out his passport and a roll of cash and shoved them in his pockets.
"We're gonna lose the cash that's in Rocco's bank…but I hope we make it out alive!" he whispered and started moving silently towards the window of the small bedroom.
That's when they heard the latch on the door being played with from the other side. Teresa aimed at the door, but James raised his hand to stop her as he pulled out a silencer and fastened it on his gun.
Another few seconds past before the door was silently cracked open and James took the shot that sprawled a tall woman in Rocco de la Pena's special uniforms on the floor. The person behind her and James exchanged a few more silenced shots as Teresa snuck out the bedroom window and James followed her fast.
The street was dark and deserted as Teresa ran to the left where a small neighborhood parking lot housed the neighborhood's cars. James caught up with her and as they looked at each other hastily, she pointed at a motorbike parked between two cars. He only shrugged as he ran to it and mounted it fast.
"I guess you got your motorcycle ride!" he mumbled as she mounted behind him while he removed the front panel with force and played with the wires, bringing the bike to life.
"We got no helmets, and if they follow us, it might get tricky…so hold tight, okay!" James said as he slid the bike between the lanes of parked cars and out of the lot.
The bike's light came on automatically and a second later the lights of a SUV's followed them as it peeled off the sidewalk in front of their building and gunned its engine in their direction.
"Carajo!" James could hear Teresa's muffled curses as he flew down the street on the stolen motorcycle. She was holding onto him from behind, digging into his sides but he felt like she was trying to get the gun in position to shoot behind her and the thought of her losing balance and falling off scared him bad. He had to raise his voice so that she could hear his 'no' and only after she wrapped both her arms around his body, he was able to focus on the drive.
James pushed the bike to its limit, as the SUV's lights were gaining ground after him. Thank God they were far enough and had not started shooting! Or maybe it was just one person chasing them!
He headed for the hills as there was no sense bringing the assailants to Pote in the other apartment. He figured once he lost the tail, he would circle back to the port where the warehouse was.
Teresa's elbows dug in his body, and he welcomed the pain as it was the only sensation that made sense right now. As long as he was feeling pain, it meant he was alive, and they had a chance of escaping.
Then it started to drizzle, and he could feel the motorcycle getting unstable on the slippery cobbled streets that turned into a dirty road shortly.
The chase lasted a while on the dirty roads, the layout of which was still fresh in James's head from their little outing the day before. He was closing in on a ravine that he clearly remembered. He took the turn as smoothly as possible and with great effort brought the bike to a halt. They dismounted and hid behind the thick vegetation just as the SUV roared past them.
"Let's get out!" James was on his feet fast but as he pulled the heavy bike up, Teresa's anguished cry made him freeze: "The back tire is hit!"
He realized that a shot must have hit the tire on the way up and riding with a soft one on the slippery mountainous terrain was too high of a risk.
"Help me cover the bike with branches and we go on foot!' said as he started pulling branches from the thick bush.
"Then what?" Teresa seemed to be shivering with the chill.
"Then we call Pote and hunker down further from this road!" he said as he kept working.
James wasn't even certain they were still going in the right direction, which was to the old castle as that's where the old roads converged, and he figured Pote would be able to find them. He texted him the location pin and got a 'on my way' response. Then he lost the signal. He knew the coverage was spotty, but he kept quiet about it because he didn't want to worry Teresa. Her breathing had become increasingly labored.
He wasn't overexerted yet, but with every step, he couldn't help but wonder if the spy girl had not called Camila right after he had let her go. His mind felt like a roulette ball that spun and bounced around the wheel but never found a pocket in which to land.
The cool front that had ushered in the precipitation had also caused the temperature to drop. The drizzle had become steady rain, which made their footing riskier.
The pain of having failed to protect Teresa and the thought that his insecurity had exposed the business to danger was so bitter that he couldn't even take full breaths. Would she blame him, or would she see his weakness and understand it?
That's when he saw the bench that must have been part of a bus stop on the way to the old castle. There was plexiglass cover on the one side and without hesitation he caught Teresa by the arm and headed straight there.
He flopped the plexiglass, making it wobble but turning it inwards so that it provided shelter from the rain. He realized he had let a few profanities pour out of him as Teresa said, teeth chattering: "It doesn't matter."
"It does matter!" He knew they were talking about the business that was most certainly lost. "It matters a whole hell of a lot. Come here!" He put his foot on the bench and raised his knee, opening his lap. He held the sides of his jacket apart.
She shook her head. "I'm good." She felt frozen but it was her mind struggling with the pain of being on the run again and having lost it all again.
"Come on, Teresa! You have every reason to be angry with me for not taking her out… but it'll take Pote a while to get here, and you're shivering." She wrestled with indecision, then inched closer along the bench. He drew her against him and wrapped her inside his jacket. "Lay your head down."
"My hair is soaked. I'll get your shirt wet." She said. "And I'm angry…but not with you!"
He cupped her head and pressed it down. Eventually she folded her legs up on the bench, rested her cheek against his chest, and relaxed against him. Given her frame of mind, he didn't hold her as snugly as he wanted to, but as tightly as he dared.
But still, it felt good. Her elbow was wedged in his crotch and her breasts… despite the bra… were soft against his ribs, except for her nipples, which weren't soft. At all! He was probably going to hell for thinking along erotic lines. But they could very well have died tonight, and he was probably going to hell anyway, so why not let his testosterone fueled thoughts run free?
After a time, Teresa said quietly: "Why did you say you were the 'wrong' thing…in my life and in my biz?" Her hand went up and she touched his scruffy cheek.
He seemed to visibly relax and after a few moments he finally spoke: "This thing… that happened between us … being together and deciding to do business in a better way …was like a seismic shift…for me…in all aspects of my life!"
Teresa pulled herself up and looked at him trying to comprehend: "This thing was….ahh…momentarily pacifying…for the hormones torturing me! That's why saying it was 'wrong' makes no sense to me, James! What did you mean?" Her voice was anxious.
"I recall teaching you never to leave a witness…and I just left one which caused us to lose everything…and I can't stand myself for it!" he said, searching her eyes.
As she said nothing, he went on: "Last month …I killed a six year old girl…in Texas…It was a job gone wrong…And it haunts the living hell out of me…I can't stop thinking about her!" Teresa's eyes had opened wide, and her hand was squeezing his.
James could feel a torrent of emotions choking him, but he had said it! He had told a living soul about the murderous act he had failed to prevent! And it felt cleansing and to some extent hollowing! He had shared the pain. It was not only his to carry!
"I'm not the man I used to be, and I'm not sure I'm good for you here…You don't need a failure for a soldier…Someone who gets emotional when they have to pull the trigger on a young person…woman…" His voice trailed off.
"You didn't mean for this to happen!" Teresa's voice was soft.
His chin was on his chest, so she pulled it up to look him in the eyes: "When I was brought to Camila's warehouse, I lived through a…What did you call it?...A seismic shift…And you were there to help me…talk me through my emotions…which is why I made it…So, now that you've had this tragedy happen, it's only natural to feel this way… when you have to pull the trigger and you're looking the person in the face. Was Camila's spy girl young?"
James nodded and Teresa said firmly: "You mean way more to me than a soldier, James! Please don't ever think that!"
James couldn't respond as they heard an engine and had to move out of the bus shelter to conceal themselves in the nearest copse of evergreens.
It was a mean-looking police cruiser that whizzed past. Its flashing emergency lights soon gave up its approach. So, Rocco had his cops looking for them!
In another 15 minutes they heard a helicopter. From their cover, they saw its searchlight skimming over the treetops, but it never got near enough to pose a real threat to them.
They both felt anxious, exhausted, stiff with cold, wet…as miserable as two people could be when Pote's loading van approached the deserted bus stop. James walked out of the bush and flagged him down.
Pote was alone and as he was helping Teresa into a quilted jacket he had pulled from the back of the van, he informed them that after a short shootout at the apartment and a little ambush at the warehouse, the Somalis had loaded all the cash onto the 'other boat', one of them had taken a bullet in the arm, but everyone was in high spirits and was getting ready to set sail.
Once they got in the van, Pote gave them both a grim look and pulled a bottle of Jack Daniel's. "Anybody?" he said as James grabbed it from his hand, saying that he owed him a few 'big ones'.
He cracked the seal and took an indecorous swig, then handed it over to Teresa, who did the same. Then she closed her eyes, exhaled deep and said: "It's all my fault! Rocco is chasing me because he has found out about the girls! And Camila is the one who must have told him to follow George's men to our location! She wants to destroy everything I build! And I can't let her!"