18. Ghost
GHOST
I’m back in the corner where they first dumped me after they tied me up. The assholes who’ve taken me haven’t noticed the razor blade still up my sleeve. It’s in a little plastic container, so, before I can do anything else, I need to break it out.
Making sure no one is near, I shake it out of my sleeve, so it drops into my hands.
They’re tied behind me, so this isn’t easy, but I’ve opened enough containers of this kind over my lifetime that my fingers recognize the pieces I can’t see.
I’ve got pretty good dexterity and focus due to my training.
The most dangerous part is going to be not slicing my hands to bits when I get it out.
I’m tied with rope, since they realized I’m strong enough to snap the cable ties. It’s going to take a little sawing to get through it, but I’m confident I can, so long as I’m not interrupted.
My gaze rests on Hector’s plane. He’s going to need to go back home eventually, and I’m guessing he’ll use the plane.
Land travel will take too long, and he’d have to deal with border patrol.
An idea sparks in my mind, though I’m not sure I’ll be able to pull it off.
I can try, though, if I get the chance. I’ll do whatever I can to take these fuckers down.
Grinning grimly to myself, I return my focus to the razor blade.
My fingers slip and slide on the covering, but finally they get a purchase, and it gives.
The plastic separates, and I tip the blade into my opposite hand.
It’s awkward and uncomfortable to hold it at the angle I need, but I set to work, sawing at the piece of rope that stretches between my wrists.
I keep my head partially down, not wanting to draw any attention to myself or make eye contact.
Each time one of those assholes turns my way, I stop what I’m doing and drop my chin closer to my chest, making it look like I’m either asleep or unconscious.
Something seems to be going on. There’s a rushed urgency among them, like they’re making plans, which they most likely are.
A high-pitched scream suddenly comes from inside the plane. What the fuck was that? It sounded like a woman.
A moment later, a figure appears in the cockpit, shimmering in the window like an apparition, before disappearing again.
The door flies open, and a woman in her twenties stumbles down the steps, glancing wildly around.
Her face is bloodied and bruised, her clothes torn, and her hair a chaotic mess.
I don’t recognize her. Who the hell is she?
She looks left and right, as though trying to figure out which direction to go, then her gaze alights on me. I’ve just seen several of Hector’s men walking out of the hangar, to my right, so I nod in the opposite direction, toward one of the smaller doors.
Her dress is shredded, revealing part of her bra, and she’s barefoot. Did these bastards assault her? I wouldn’t put it past them.
She glances at me again, at the men, and pauses.
Jesus, I think, don’t stop now, or you’ll never get away.
As our gazes lock, I realize there’s something familiar about her that I can’t put my finger on.
I haven’t seen her before, but she reminds me of someone, but I can’t think who.
What’s her connection to Hector? She must have been held in the crew area of the plane, behind the curtain, because I didn’t see her when I was in there before.
Her body twitches as if she’s had a small shock, and she turns and runs, away from the men, toward the direction of the smaller door.
I yank at the rope between my wrists, hoping I’ve done enough to make it thin enough to snap, but, frustratingly, it holds.
The woman runs, barefooted, glancing behind her at almost every step.
If those men see her, they’ll hurt her even more than she already is. I watch them like a hawk, and, if they begin to turn around, I’ll distract them, even though it puts my own escape at risk.
She reaches the door and pauses. I want to yell to her to hurry, but if I make any noise, the men will turn. Instead, I jerk my chin in encouragement. She seems to take a deep breath, then she slips out onto the airstrip and out of sight.
A moment later, someone else appears in the cockpit of the plane. He’s holding his head with one hand, and it’s bloodied.
Good girl, I think. She clearly hurt him. I didn’t notice anyone going inside, but the man must have entered while I’d been in the bathroom. Had the woman been tied up inside all this time? She must have been unconscious, or I’d have heard her sooner.
“Which way did that bitch go?” the man demands.
I keep my head down, my eyelids mostly shut, so it looks like I’m either asleep or unconscious.
A couple of the others have come back into the hangar, and they spot the bleeding man.
“What the fuck is going on?” one of them asks.
The bleeding man stumbles down the couple of steps leading from the plane. “That fucking bitch got away.”
“How did she get away? Who untied her?”
The man’s lips pinch and he looks away. Yeah, my guess is that he’d untied her so he could rape her and he hadn’t wanted the hassle of having her legs tied together.
“You’re a fucking idiot, Romero,” the other man says. “Hector is going to have your scalp for this.”
“Hector is going to have your scalp for what?” a voice booms from the other side of the hangar.
Now the boss has gotten involved. I’ve already watched this man shoot one of his men for screwing up and shooting Jack, so what’s he going to do to the one who’s let the girl go—whoever she might be?
Is she connected to Ledger in some way? I can’t imagine they would snatch some random young woman just for the men to have fun with, but perhaps they did.
After all, I don’t know these people or how they operate.
“The woman got away,” the bleeding man says.
“What? When?”
“Just now.”
“Well, what the fuck are you waiting for? Go after her!”
The one who’s bleeding, plus the other two, glance at each other then take off in the direction the woman has gone.
I hope she’s had time to put a decent amount of distance between us and herself.
I wish I had a better idea of what was around here.
Will there be a road nearby that she can run to, and perhaps flag down a passing vehicle to ask for help?
Or we might be in the middle of nowhere, in which case it’ll be easy for her to lose them, but she might also risk getting lost herself.
It might be better for her to be lost in the mountains than at the hands of these assholes.
I don’t know why I care so much about what happens to a random woman when I’m not exactly in a great place myself, but I do.
Another couple of men follow in from behind Hector. They seem worried, too. How important is this girl?
“Jefe,” one of them says, “we have a problem.”
Hector spins to face them. “I know, the girl has got away.”
But he shakes his head. “No, it’s something else. Inspectors have arrived. They want to look at the hangar.”
Hector looks like he’s about to blow. “The owner told me no one was due to arrive today.”
“I don’t know what to tell you, but they’re here, and they want to speak to whoever is in charge, which is you.”
“?Mierda!” Hector curses. “You, come with me. The rest of you, make sure the woman doesn’t cause us any trouble and bring her back to me.”
They separate and head in two directions to deal with their two problems.
I can barely believe my luck. Distracted by these new dramas, it would seem they’ve forgotten about my presence, and they’ve left me alone.
Foregoing any attempt to look like I’m not doing anything, I sit up straight and put all my effort into getting the rope cut.
I’ve got a window of time, but I’m not stupid enough to think it’s going to last. They’ve forgotten about me, but the moment they’ve dealt with those other issues, they’ll be back.
I could try to run, and perhaps that would be the most sensible plan, but I’m outnumbered, and right now, all of Hector’s men are outside of the hangar. Someone is bound to see me, and then I’ll be smack back in the position I was in before, without having achieved anything.
My line of sight goes back to the plane.
Is there any chance someone would have left the key?
It might not even use a key—some larger or more modern planes use a series of switches and buttons to start the engine.
I have visions of me driving this thing through the wall of the hangar like something out of an action movie, busting down the wall and plowing through Hector and all his men.
They’d probably shoot at me, though, and since I don’t know how to fly, I don’t think I’d get very far.
Plus, running doesn’t deal with Hector. He’ll still be alive to cause Camile and her family problems. Men like him don’t just slink quietly away.
But maybe there’s something else I can do to make sure Hector leaves Camile the fuck alone, and for good this time.
The rope between my wrists finally snaps, freeing my hands. I shove the rope into my pocket, not wanting them to see it, but needing to keep it for later.
Keeping the blade in my grip, I push to my feet and run to the plane, staying low in the hope nobody will return and spot me. The door is still standing open after the woman and man ran from it, so it only takes me a few strides before I’m in the cockpit.
I don’t have long. I’m listening for shouts of alarm if Hector’s men return, but none come. Thank God.
There’s a panel in the cockpit, with screws holding it shut.
I might not know how to fly one of these things, but I know other things.
With sweat dampening my face, I use the blunt side of the blade to open the screws, the blade slipping in my hands a little as I do so, and carefully remove the panel to reveal wires.
I see what I’m after and bite back a smile.
I can’t take too long because I need to get back into position before any of the men return. I don’t want them to know I’m loose, or that I’ve been anywhere other than in the exact same spot they left me.
Thankful for my training, which gives me the ability to work under such extreme pressure, I focus on the task at hand.
I work fast.