Chapter 15 #2
From the way Pablo wrapped his arm around my shoulders, pressing my head down, I can tell he wants me to rush. He doesn’t want me encumbered by anything. He has his handgun resting against his right thigh as we hurry.
The pilot of the helicopter we approach flashes a thumbs up before climbing inside.
Pablo helps me and then follows me. Three guards join us as Pablo hands me headphones and then fastens my belt.
He secures his own while I watch the rest of the men take seats in the other helicopter.
I don’t know where our luggage wound up since it disappeared.
I hear Pablo’s voice through the headphones.
“We have about an hour before we arrive at our next stop. We can have something to eat after the last leg of the trip.”
I nod. I’m starving, but I didn’t want to complain.
I watch as we take off, but my attention shifts when Pablo takes my hand.
He laces our fingers together. I look up at him and smile.
He pecks my lips, and it shocks me. I didn’t expect the public display of affection in such close quarters to his men.
He squeezes my hand and brings it to rest on his thigh.
He looks past me to see what shrinks beneath us as we take off.
His thumb strokes over mine absentmindedly.
If it weren’t for the armed guards and the ever-present danger, we’d be a normal couple on a romantic getaway. It’s a shame there are people trying to kill me. It dampens the mood.
When I glance up at Pablo again, his gaze meets mine, and I know he feels the same way. There’s nothing either of us wants to talk about since the others aboard will hear us through the radio. We both enjoy the view until we’re landing again. The time flew for lack of a better pun.
I don’t know what to make of our newest destination.
I don’t know that we can even call what we landed on a helipad.
It’s so small that the second helicopter can’t land until the one we’re in takes off again.
We’re basically perched on a ledge on a mountainside.
We hurry to get off, and Pablo pulls my hood up since the wind is ferocious when we get out.
He shuffles me to the edge of the concrete slab closest to the mountain.
He waves to our pilot who offers us another thumbs up. She never spoke.
I observe the second helicopter doing the same thing: touch down, people climb out and rush away while carrying our luggage and things I can’t make out, then take off again. I sweep my gaze over our surroundings. There’s no road and no vehicles waiting for us.
Are we rappelling down the mountain?
“Hold my hand, Flora. It’s icy.”
I follow his lead as we appear to be walking to another part of the mountainside, but I realize there’s something like a white industrial garage door. As we approach, it opens.
What in the James Bond–evil-villain’s-lair kind of shit is this?
I don’t know what the fuck kind of vehicle I’m looking at, but it’s somewhere among a train, tank, and an SUV.
I can see what looks like train tracks leading into the mountain.
It’s not like one of those old-fashioned Western cartoons with the two miners on a wooden platform pushing a seesaw-looking thing up and down.
But that’s what comes to mind. It must be the altitude.
I follow Pablo as he follows two guards.
There are three men behind me and two standing watch on the helipad.
The vehicle has tires like a tank, but they’re on the railway tracks.
The body looks more like an SUV with four doors and comfortable seats.
We climb in, and Pablo helps me with my belt because the light is so dim.
He takes my hand like he did in the helicopter, and we all ride in silence.
It’s eerie as fuck.
Lights turn on as we move forward and turn off once we’re past them. We’re headed deeper into the mountain, and I’m questioning what I got myself into.
Salir de Guatemala para entrar en Guatepeor.
It’s a play on words meaning from Guate-bad to Guate-worse. It’s a common phrase that changes mala—bad—to peor—worse. It loses something in translation, but it’s a common phrase in Colombia.
Basically, have I jumped out of the frying pan and into the fire?
Is my trust in Pablo utterly misplaced?
Where the fuck is he taking me?
He must sense my anxiousness because he lifts our hands and brings the back of mine to his lips. He kisses my temple as he brings our hands to rest on his thigh.
Is this some Hansel and Gretel shit where his kindness is the gumdrops and candy he uses to lure me into his magical house that’ll trap me?
How high up are we? The altitude is making me delusional.
It’s not long before we arrive in a garage.
I see four snowmobiles and a sled. The latter looks like something Pablo, his brother, and his cousins probably played with when they were kids.
A door closes behind our vehicle, but only the front passenger gets out.
He walks to a box on the wall that looks like an alarm system control.
I watch him tap it, and the screen comes to life.
He swipes a few times before looking over at us and nodding.
I reach for my belt, but Pablo covers my hand.
The five guys who were in the second helicopter get out, and the six men go inside.
They’re sweeping the place even though nothing concerning appeared on screen.
My emotions tumble around inside me, and I’m not sure if the vigilance reassures me or terrifies me.
Pablo gives my hand a squeeze and leans over to whisper in English.
“No one’s been here in a while. We keep our security systems on, so we would know if there’s ever a breach. But the men know no Diaz would allow family into one of our foreign properties without guards checking it first.”
He’s the only Diaz here, so there’s no one who’s family with us.
“You, little one. You’re the family I’m talking about.”
“Mind reader.”
Him thinking of me as family so soon after we got together should freak me all the way out. However, it’s the only reassuring thing that’s happened since we landed.
He helps me with my belt again, and the driver opens my door.
I climb out and walk around the front of the vehicle to meet Pablo.
His arm slips around my waist as we enter the house.
I don’t know what to expect, but it’s definitely not what I find.
It’s clear the house is huge—he has a massive family after all.
But it’s cozy like a cabin. The furniture’s inviting, and there’s a fireplace one of the men lights.
I can see into the kitchen, and it’s definitely gourmet.
But what’s most impressive are the floor-to-ceiling windows.
I can tell they slide open to give the feeling of being on a deck with nothing protruding.
I walk toward them, and Pablo follows. I peer out of one, and I realize the house is truly built into the mountain face.
There’s nothing overhanging that a blizzard or avalanche could snap off.
We’re hundreds of feet above ground, so snow couldn’t accumulate high enough to barricade us in.
It’s also high enough that no one is climbing up or rappelling down easily.
I see what looks like it could be a trail down the mountainside, but I wouldn’t take it without an experienced or knowledgeable guide.
I’m certain the untrained eye wouldn’t see it.
The snowmobiles must be for this path in case they need another route to escape.
It makes me wonder where Pablo and his relatives used the sled.
He takes me on a tour of the house, and I discover there’s a plateau of sorts on the far end. There’s a concrete wall along the wide ledge’s length. This is where Pablo played as a kid. There’s also what appears to be an ice plunge pool with a lid on it.
Yeah, no, I’m not a Viking. This Latin American chica only does warm water.
Besides, Daniel’s wife didn’t include a bathing suit in the assortment of clothes she brought me. I have nothing to wear in it. I turn away, but Pablo wraps his arms around me.
“It’s heated, chiquita. None of us are polar bears. It’s nice in summer, but we don’t need to use it in winter unless we want to.”
“Why would anyone do that?”
“If you can handle the cold as you get in and out, it’s pretty magical to watch the steam rise as you stare at the stars.”
He gives me a quick kiss before we finish the tour. He shows me our bedroom before showing me the office. We head down a set of stairs, and a flash of fear surges through me. He wouldn’t take me down to see a torture chamber, would he?
He flicks a switch that illuminates an enormous marble room.
It’s like being in a Roman bathhouse. There’s a pool long enough to do laps that has a bench running along both lengths.
You could swim or sit. The front wall is windows, like the main floor.
It’s absolutely spectacular. I spot a hot tub and sauna in the back.
“The windows are avalanche proof and bullet proof, chica. This is our most secure property, but that’s more about protecting it from Mother Nature than attack.”
“But your family built into the side of a mountain as a fallout shelter or something.”
“That’s a fortunate outcome. Papá built it for Mamá as a wedding gift after they honeymooned in Geneva, among other places. She fell in love with the Alps. She took up skiing and has always enjoyed hiking. Papá wanted to give her the most breathtaking view in Switzerland.”
It’s breathtaking all right when you realize how high up you are. I’m looking more closely out the window.
“Mamá’s in remission now, but when she was in between chemo treatments and well enough to travel, Papá brought her here.
We’re all convinced it helped her. My entire family comes here on vacation sometimes.
We came a lot more when I was younger, but it’s Mamá and Papá’s special place when they want to escape the world. ”
“They don’t mind you bringing me?”
“I’m certain they both knew this is the only place I’d suggest.”
“It’s incredible.”
Pablo slips his arms around me, and I lean against his chest as we look out the window. My fears slip away, and I pray we can come here again one day under better circumstances.
“Chiquita, you must be starving. Let’s make something to eat. My stomach doesn’t know what meal it’s expecting. It just wants something.”
“I am, and mine too.”
We head upstairs again and into the kitchen. Much like the house in Colombia, there are plenty of nonperishable items stocked in the kitchen.
“El patrón?”
“Sí.”
“?Podemos traer las compras?” May we bring the groceries in?
“Sí.”
Three guys enter the house from the garage with our luggage and bags of food. I expected the luggage but not the food. It’s what I couldn’t identify earlier. Maybe they loaded these provisions before the jet landed since they were at the waiting helicopters before us.
They didn’t enter the house without Pablo’s permission. It makes me wonder where they sleep when they’re here. I help unpack, and it surprises me the variety of fruits, vegetables, and meat I discover. We’ll certainly eat well while we’re here.
The men disappear, and it leaves Pablo and me to move around the kitchen.
We work well together, and it’s not long before we have steak and three side dishes ready.
We share stories about our childhood, and he learns more about my time in America and why I moved back.
He admitted he’d heard about my mom’s cancer.
We share silent sadness as we both reflect upon our mothers’ illnesses.
We do the dishes and tidy up the kitchen together before making a bowl of popcorn. I don’t expect him to practically soak it in butter, but he can tell I’m not objecting. He confesses it’s a secret indulgence.
It’s not long before we’re curled up on the comfiest couch I’ve ever been on.
The fireplace crackles beneath the television mounted on the wall.
It shouldn’t surprise me that the Wi-Fi signal is so strong.
We watch three movies on a streaming service Pablo projects from his phone before we head to bed.
I love every minute of our evening together.
It was like one a normal couple has, and that makes me nervous.