Authors: Maxine Thompson

Slipping Into Darkness (11 page)

BOOK: Slipping Into Darkness

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Chapter Twenty

“Are you sure you don't want me to stay with you?” Esmeralda said, as she dropped me off at the Carnival later that afternoon.

“No, I work alone. You need to be at the house, just in case Appolonia sends another message.”

“Here,” Esmeralda said, “Take this. This is the note she wrote to me, letting me know she would be at the Carnival. Also, I've written a note telling her who you are. Here's a map to get a cab to get you back home, if you don't find Samaria. If you find her, take her to her mother's at this address.”

Esmeralda hugged me closely. “Make sure you use the amulet the Santera gave you.” Esmeralda had explained to me that the Sambad-rome MarquÃªs de SapucaÃ or simply Sambad-rome, also known as the Apoteose Square, was a purpose-built parade area in downtown Rio de Janeiro, Brazil where samba schools parade competitively each year during Carnival.

I'd gone to the Mardi Gras in New Orleans once in my early twenties, but I'd never witnessed such an extravaganza as the Carnival in Rio. It was such a spectacular street party, for a moment I almost, but not quite, forgot my fear. The trucks with national music blasting from them followed the different floats.

Esmeralda had loaned me a sequined fuchsia-colored and lime costume, which resembled a mango and kiwi fruit. I had tucked my iPhone in the pants of the costume. I decided to leave my passport at Esmeralda's houseâjust in case. I was to blend in with the dancers of the Blocos Afros who were dressed in bright fruit colors. These were the darker dancers, whom I resembled.

Working my way into the group of dancers who wore the watermelon, melon, kiwi outfits, I held my stomach. I was glad the gripes had past. I finally understood what the Santera meant by “cleansing me out.” I'd stayed in the bathroom most of the day, until it was time to get ready for the Carnival.

“Who are you?” one of the samba school instructors asked me as I eased in with her group.

I had to think fast. “I'm the alternate. I'm takingâ”

She interrupted me. “Okay. Good. I'm glad they sent someone to replace Letty. Come on let's get in our places.”

“Ladies, we've got to win this time. Come on, let's do this!” The instructor turned away, clapping her hands for order.

Fortunately for me, I knew how to samba. Occasionally, Romero and I went out to a Latin club where we would samba.

I found the sight to be breathtaking as the parade of samba schools danced and swiveled up the street. It seemed like one big, moving organism as the crowds swayed in the bleachers and cheered. A sudden spurt of adrenaline coursed through my veins. I was getting hyped by the music and the crowds myself.

I regretted I didn't have my camera. All I had was my iPhone, which would lose its signal every so often, but I took pictures with it the best I could, trying not to seem conspicuous. From what I was told, Appolonia would be wearing a lime-green feathery costume. She would stand out because she would hold a white feather that was different from the others in her group.

I really wished I had my gun, but I just had to do what I could with what I had to work with. Truth be known, I had no idea what I was going to do, but I tried to map out a strategy.
The Art of War
said a good soldier could win the war without a fight. Surprise could be your best weapon. I itemized in my head what I had to do: 1) Find Samaria. 2) Get her to her dying mother's bedside. 3) Get the money to release Mayhem. 4) Get out of dodge myself in one piece. It really wasn't the best of strategy. I absently fingered the amulet the Santera had given me. I had no idea how this thing would play out.

The orange ball of sun had almost dipped into the ocean before I spotted Appolonia's float. I'd left the dance group and started following it on the stands. When the float turned to go to the hotel, I caught a cab and had the driver take me to the Copacabana Palace.

Once there, I waited in the shadows at the ball and watched with interest. I was surprised to see that it was a black tie and formal dress event. All the attendants were from the upper class, or so it seemed. The dancers were still dressed in full masquerade costumes. When I finally recognized Appolonia and got close enough, I called out her name. She wore a gardenia over her ear, Billie Holiday style. Although darker, she favored the oldest sister, Lonette McKee in the movie
Sparkle.

“Appolonia. Come with me. I'm Mayhem's sister. He sent me for you. We're going to get to safety.”

Appolonia looked skeptical at first. “What? Who are you?”

Thank goodness her mother had given me the note she sent them and she also had handwritten a note that David sent me there to help her. I thrust it at her.

Once Appolonia recognized her mother's handwriting on the note, the light of recognition rose up in her beautiful face.

“Does my David know I'm being held against my will? Good. I was so afraid he thought I'd betrayed him. Never. I love him.”

“Well, come on.” I pulled Appolonia's arm and we tried to ease into the center of the crowd. We started trying to dance our way in a zigzag, backward line through the crowd, working our way to the entrance. My masquerade costume blended in with the dancers.

At first we were just walking fast, throwing in a samba move once in a while with our hips rolling from side to side. Then we started trotting, and finally, we broke into a jog. Once we were outside the hotel, we broke into an all-out straight run. I felt like someone was following us.

“Halt!” an authoritative voice bellowed. We both stopped running and looked around to see where the voice was coming from. I was scared witless at the loud voice. My heartbeat sped up.

A black police officer marched up to us, and held us at gunpoint. “Halt! Where are you two going? What are you running for? What have you done wrong?”

Before my eyes, I watched Appolonia transform into this femme fatale. She batted the longest sooty eyelashes, dropped her beautiful almond-shaped eyes, and just oozed sensuality. “Officer, I just got word from my friend here that my mother is dying. She's asking for me. I've got to get to her bedside.”

The officer paused, but tears welled up in Appolonia's eyes. I knew she wasn't faking those tears. Those were real. “My mother was the best mother a child could have. I've been out the country and I haven't seen
mi mamÃ
in fourteen years.”

“Too bad.” The officer seemed nonplussed at first. “I'm still going to have to take you in and run a check on you two. You're showing suspicious behavior. You could be a terrorist.”

My heart leaped into my throat.

“Do you have any identification?”

“I have my passport,” Appolonia responded. “Officer, don't you have a mother?” She tried to appeal to his sense of decency.

I could see the officer waveringâunsure of what to do. He seemed hypnotized as he eyed Appolonia with lust. Her costume, like many of the dancers at the Carnival, was very provocative. Her narrow waistline was draped in gold-trimmed pearls, and her low-cut sheer top revealed an ample bosom. He stared her curvy body up and down and licked his lips like she was a pork chop.

All of a sudden, to the far west, the staccato of gunshots rang out in the air. It sounded like firecrackers on the Fourth of July.

Random shouts pierced the air. “He's got a gun!”

“Run!”

“It's a sniper.”

The officer turned in the direction of the shots. He got a call on his walkie-talkie. “Sniper. Trouble near the Palace.”

“Okay, I'll check it out.” Totally distracted, the officer turned on his heel and sped off, never looking back at us.

“Come on, let's run,” I whispered to Appolonia, grabbing her by the arm. We ran in the opposite direction. “Come with me!”

“Where are we going?”

I spoke tersely. “I'm trying to get you to your mother's. She's holding on to see you. Also, they are holding Mayhem until you send the ransom money that you were supposed to do the deal with Diablo.”

Appolonia nodded. “I still have the money in an account.”

Before I could get happy over this, I saw a man in the corner of my eye, moving aggressively toward us.

“Run!” I shouted. “I think someone's spotted us.”

For some reason, I had a feeling that that shooting in the air was just a diversion for the police and a way to get us out of his clutches so our pursuers could get at us.
Might as well have leaped out the frying pan into the fire,
I thought. We didn't get arrested but now we were about to get caught by assailants, whom I assumed were Diablo's men.

We ran as fast as we could, huffing and puffing, jostling people. I was glad I was in shape from the tae kwon do, but running in heels was not the most conducive to being swift.

“Take off your heels,” I called out, as I stopped and took my heels off and threw them aside. I picked back up my pace. Appolonia did the same, and kept trotting behind me. We broke our way through the crowd of partying people.

We hadn't run two city blocks when two cars screeched in front and in back of us. Three men, armed with nine millimeters with silencers, leaped out the car and bum-rushed us.

“Get in the car, bitch. Both of you.” The lead goon pushed me by the shoulder into the back seat of a black sedan.

Chapter Twenty-one

The last thing I recalled was someone putting a handkerchief, which smelled like chloroform, over my nose, when I hit the back seat of the car. After that, I was out like a light.

Off in the distance
,
I saw a tunnel of light and my father was standing in front of it. Then suddenly, he materialized before me. He looked like he did before the last time I saw him with his chest blown out.

“Baby girl, be careful,” he said. “You've got to wake up. You're going to have to be strong and help yourself.”

I could feel him fading away. I reached out my hand to him. “Daddy, I want to go with you.”

“It's not time. You have to go back.”

“Why can't I go with you?”I asked.

“You have work to do. I want you to promise me something.”

“What?”

“Never be a victim.”

“Okay, Daddy, but don't leave me.”

“I'll never leave you. I'm always inside of you.”

I didn't know how much longer it was before I woke up, but when I did, I was somewhere in a darkened room. I tried to remember what had happened. I was sure someone had drugged me.

Where was I? I tried to move, and couldn't budge. That's when I realized I was tied up. I was laying sprawled out, spread eagle into a Y shape on what felt like a king-sized bed. I was lying on a thick quilt. My hands were manacled on each side and both legs were bound. I wiggled and struggled to do all I could, but the ropes wouldn't give and I couldn't get loose. My head was hurting so bad I couldn't worry about the danger I was in. I felt sore inside, as if I'd been raped, but I wasn't sure.

Talking about a freak accident! Now here I came to Brazil to try to help free my hostage brother's hostage wifey, but instead, I'd wound up kidnapped too. Possibly raped.
Ain't this a bitch?
Forgive me, Lord, but I had to cuss. I guess I got caught up in a hostile takeover, because obviously, these people wanted Appolonia. I was a hostage by association. Now I really could choke Mayhem for the mess he'd gotten me into. I was in the belly of the beast. I thought of Romero and wished I'd told him I would marry him when he asked.

I was in a country I knew nothing about, and in a world, that from all appearances, was hell.

Then I remembered what I came to Rio for in the first place. The ransom money. Mayhem's kidnappers said I only had a week to get this money and get back to L.A. How was I going to be able to do that now?

Determined to get free, I shifted around on the bed. I could feel the amulet that was around my neck move. I moved and squirmed my body around again, trying to locate my phone, which had been latched to a belt inside my costume. I couldn't find my phone. I wanted my iPhone so I could somehow get in touch with Romero. I looked down and searched the costume I was wearing and I couldn't find my phone. I remember tucking it down into my costume pants, inside of my passport cover. Now I was grateful I'd left my passport at Esmeralda's.

What was I going to do?

“I hear her moving around in there,” I heard a male voice with a heavy accent say.

“Who are you?” a gruff voice demanded. I jumped with a start. The voice sounded all the scarier because the room was dark.

Suddenly a light flashed on. “She's coming to,” I heard a voice say in Spanish.

“Yeah, we got to see where's she's from.” Another voice piped in. “Samaria said she's an American. Do you think she's a Fed?”

“I don't know.”

I squinted as I tried to adjust my eyes to the light. “Who are you?” I asked in return. My voice sounded slurred. My mouth felt like sandpaper. I tried to rake the room, but everything was still kind of blurry.

“Look, I'm asking the questions in here. My boss, Escobar, wants to see you.” His English was short, clipped, but I understood him.

Now that I could see, my eyes raked the room. I found out I was tied to a large four poster bed. Actually, the room was extremely large and decorated with gilded furniture. From what I could surmise, this was a room that was part of a mansion.

The one man took a knife. I held my breath as he cut loose my restraints. I was so afraid he would cut or stab me with the knife. He came close to my wrists, but he didn't cut me.

“Look, who are you? Why are you trying to kidnap Samaria?” he whispered.

I didn't answer. This must be the lie that Appolonia told her captors. I didn't know if he was friend or foe. Now I didn't know what to think about Appolonia. Was she really staying here against her will?

At gunpoint, the two men pushed me toward a flight of winding stairs. My bare feet padded on the dark oak hardwood floor, which felt cold and clammy. My legs were so weak, I stumbled and staggered. I still felt woozy and druggy. I held on to the birch stair rail to keep my balance. I did feel sore inside like someone had touched me, but I wasn't sure. Right now I had to make sure I kept my life.

The men walked with a military gait, and they escorted me under a teak wood high-beamed ceiling, which was one of the main things I noticed. The stairs were dimly lit, so I had to be careful not to fall.

They marched me through a long corridor to the end of the house. We entered a room, which had French doors that opened up to an ocean view. I could see a white stone fence surrounding the property. The terrace outside was surrounded by cactuses, palm trees, and acacia trees. I could see several other houses on the compound. The house looked like part of a villa. It was early morning, judging by the position of the sun.

A swarthy, gruff-faced man with a pockmarked complexion sat at the head of a large Queen Anne desk. He leaned back into his leather wing-back chair, lacing his fingers like the venomous spider with the unsuspecting fly. He was the spider. I was the fly, but I was far from unsuspecting. As I stared in his face, I saw the same visage I'd seen of the beetle inside the orange at the Santera's. I'd been given a sign and a warning. He wore a beard and he reminded me of Castro. I felt like I was in the presence of Satan himself. He was smooth and charming, and had a macho stance. I felt like I was staring in the face of pure evil. “Well, well, well. Zipporah Saldano.”

I didn't like how he said my name. I knew I was on the hot seat. I felt like I was a fly caught in his spider's poisonous web. “How do you know my name?”

He paused as if for dramatic effect, then sniffed his glass like a connoisseur. He swished wine on his tongue and assumed a judicial expression as he slowly sipped from an amber wine goblet. He finally spoke. “Samaria told me your name.”

“What is your name?”

“Escobar. You're a bold woman.” He paused. “I like that in a woman.”

I didn't answer. I tried to hide any signs of fear. This was something I'd learn to do well over the years. What was he planning to do with me? Would they torture me or would it be a quick death?

“So you're David aka Big Homie's sister?”

“I thought you wanted to do business with MayhemâI mean Big Homie.”

“I was, but he has something that belongs to me. I have it back now. Tell him I don't want to do business with a thief.”

“What does he have that belongs to you?”

“He had Samariaâwell, you all knew her as Appolonia. Even with the facial reconstruction she's had, I'd know her anywhere. But now I have her back.”

“Why do you feel he took your woman? You were before his time.”

“No, you tell your brother this woman is mine.” He took a flat hand and pounded his chest. “I raised this girl from a wee girl.” He held his hand low like about age ten. “I'm no short eyes, though. I waited until she became a woman at thirteen before I made her mine. I popped her cherry. And you know what they say. You never forget your first. She loves me. She came back to me. I'm willing to forgive her and take her back. She was under duress when she turned state's evidence with me. She will always be mine.”

I didn't answer. Did he mean to send me back to the States? I felt a glimmer of hope.

“My lieutenant has an eye for you. He says you're the finest piece of chocolate woman he's ever seen or tasted.”

My throat constricted and turned dry as a cotton ball. “And what is that supposed to mean?”

“That means you'll get a little reprieve. You know I could have my men kill you, but if you make my lieutenant happy ... we'll see. Relax. Trust me.” Both of his arms were crossed, indicating he was lying. I just held my face straight.

Trust you? Hah!

I sat and stared at the smug look on his face. He was playing with me like a lion playing with a mouseâuntil he got ready for the kill.

BOOK: Slipping Into Darkness

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