The Beasts of Juarez, R.B. Schow [books to read for self improvement .txt] 📗

Cira again. No answer. He called Codrin, who answered right away.

“Leopold,” Codrin said, alert.

“I need a location on Cira’s phone as well as Fabian Dicampli’s personal cell number, and I need it ASAP. Dicampli is the warden of NorCal State Prison for cross-reference.”

“I’m on it,” the Romanian said.

Leopold dialed Cira again, twice. There was still no answer. Now he was getting pissed off. Dialing Codrin back, he said, “I need to get into Cira’s cell phone. Can you get me remote access to her microphone and camera?”

“Yeah, that’s easy,” he said.

The link came through and all he saw was darkness. He put his ear to the phone’s speaker and listened to the muffled sounds of people talking.

“Dammit.”

Codrin called back. Leopold closed the patch and answered the phone. “Her phone is at NorCal State Prison in California.”

“Can you find out how long the signal has been coming from there?”

“Yeah,” Codrin said. “I’ll call you right back.”

“We’re clear to take off when you are, Mr. Leopold,” the pilot said.

“Give me a few minutes, then we’ll be set,” he replied.

The pilot looked a bit uncomfortable. “Our window is tight, sir.”

Leopold’s cell phone rang. He picked it up right away. Codrin said, “Her phone has been there since early this morning.”

Covering his microphone, Leopold addressed the pilot. “All right, let’s go.” The pilot nodded and returned to the cockpit. Removing his hand from the microphone, Leopold asked Codrin, “Can you patch me back into Cira’s line?”

“I’m dropping you a link now.”

“Great job, Codrin.”

They hung up, Leopold accessed Cira’s phone again, then tried to boost the audio. But then something happened. The darkness moved away, and not only did light appear on the screen, but a face appeared as well.

“Dicampli,” he hissed under his breath.

A moment later, Fabian Dicampli’s personal number appeared in a text from Codrin. He texted the hacker back and said, “Get me a photo of Dicampli’s kid and find out where he’s at right now, and do it as fast as you can.”

“You got it.”

He sat there seething. Kiera barely even noticed. When they were in the air, another text came through—a photo of a boy as well as a link similar to the one that allowed him access to Cira’s phone. When Leopold clicked the link, he saw a classroom full of kids, but it was the child in the front row that interested him most.

He dialed Dicampli’s personal number. The man answered on the second ring, not sure about with whom he was speaking.

“Fabian, it’s Leopold Wentworth.”

“I’ve been expecting your call,” the warden said.

“Whatever you’ve done with Cira and Atlas, if they’re not out of your prison in thirty minutes flat, I’m going to have a local asset pick up your kid and gut him in the school parking lot. I’m talking about his intestines sitting on the asphalt in a steaming heap. You had better read me loud and fucking clear because you’re standing in front of a raging bull right now.”

The man hung up. Leopold screamed.

He waved off the co-pilot who came to check on him, then sat there stewing. When most of the heat burned off, Leopold forwarded the boy’s photo and the classroom’s live link to Fabian Dicampli. He poured himself a Scotch and waited.

Fortunately for all parties, he replied with much haste. Like a punk bitch, though, he did so in a text. Dicampli indicated that Cira and Atlas would be released within thirty minutes.

“Good dog,” he muttered as he finished three fingers worth of the Scotch. The only pity was that, at four hundred dollars a bottle, and because of the warden, he hadn’t enjoyed a single sip.

Leopold called ahead to El Paso, reached Richie Frank, and said, “I need a car for El Paso, something clean that I can take into Juárez, and I’ll need entry into Mexico.”

“Do you want bang bangs?” he asked.

“Yes, I do.”

“Consider it done.”

A few minutes later, a picture of a black Audi S6 sedan showed up in a text. Below the picture, Richie indicated that the Audi would be left in short-term parking and that he would forward him the number of the parking space the minute it arrived.

He then texted Richie back: IS IT HOT?

NOT ANYMORE. FRANKENSTEIN. FEEL FREE TO ABANDON IT EITHER IN OR OUT OF COUNTRY.

It was a Frankenstein car—multiple parts, nothing identifiable. If he left it in Mexico, or if it didn’t survive the journey back to America, it was apparently okay.

THX.

The last thing he did before sitting back and trying to unwind for a few minutes was look up the address of the border attendant who helped the carpet van into Mexico. The man was identified as Gill Franklin. He didn’t live that far from the airport.

“We’re coming for you, Gill,” he said.

He glanced over at Kiera and saw she had her eyes closed. If she was sleeping, it wasn’t deep because who the hell sleeps in perfect posture? Slowly, she opened her eyes and turned to look at him. For some reason, this animatronic gesture scared the crap out of him. Leopold turned away because he didn’t want her to see his fear.

Putting all these strange Monarch encounters out of his mind, Leopold reclined in his seat, closed his eyes, and prepared for war. Thirty-five minutes later, he received a text that woke him up and put him right back in the fight.

Chapter Twenty-Four

ATLAS HARGROVE

When Atlas woke up, he didn’t know if it was day or night and he couldn’t understand why his side hurt so badly. Then that thing putting pressure on his side moved and he sort of freaked out, scooting back into the wall.

“Who’s there?” he asked, startled.

“Cira,” the soft voice said.

“Cira? Really?” He reached out to her, found