Chapter 55
It's sunny outside right now, but too cold for the ice to melt.
It's just casting shadows around the edges along the patio.
Hidden Secrets
Leona Palmer Haag
Chapter 55
Natalie smiled and Senor Diaz seemed dazzled. She
reached out her diamond-drenched hand and took his warm grasp. "At last we
have an agreement," she said, laying on the charm as she masked her
relief. A deal was finally coming together nicely after many long weeks of hard
work.
Senor Diaz gave her fingers a delicate squeeze, then
pulled them to his lips. "May I suggest that we seal our arrangement over
a drink?"
Natalie allowed her hand to linger a moment longer
than necessary in his warm grasp, then gently pulled away. "There is a
beautiful little restaurant on the street. Shall we include dinner?"
Senor Diaz smiled broadly. "I have a much better
place in mind. He rose and took her elbow, guiding her from the lush office
toward the elevator. "A friend owns a nightclub not far from here. He
supplies the bar with wine from his own vineyards. Chef Pierre was schooled in
France and is very accomplished. The accommodations will be excellent for our
celebration. Shall I make reservations?"
"Absolutely," Natalie agreed as they stepped
into the elevator. Senor Diaz pushed the lobby button and they descended. For a
moment no one spoke. Natalie reveled in the payoff of research and hard work.
She had just negotiated the purchase of two pieces of work from one of the
finest art collections in the world. If everything continued as hoped, within
days her deal would lead to shutting down one of the most notorious drug rings
in Mexico City. Victory was almost insured to one song decoded and thanks to Matt
and Monica's hard work. It was really a team effort.
On the street Senor Diaz rose his hand as if to hail a
taxi, but a sleek black Mercedes pulled next to the curb. "Your car?"
Natalie asked as he opened the back door with a bow.
"Much more comfortable than a taxi without
shocks."
"Very thoughtful," Natalie agreed. As they
rode, they spoke about art and what pieces they personally hoped would someday
enter the market, especially legally so they could brag about them once they
possessed them.
"Is your friend's nightclub far?" Natalie
asked as they paused at a stoplight.
"If I was a taxi driver I'd tell you it is on the
next street, but since I'm not, I'll be honest and admit we still have a few
kilometers to go."
A few kilometers turned into many. Natalie cheerfully
submitted to small talk and eagerly listened to Senor Diaz speak about his
interests. Inwardly she wondered if things were turning sour. Her senses honed
into Senor Diaz and her surroundings. Each turn. Street names they passed.
Within an hour they entered an exclusive area of estates nestled among brush
and tree-covered rolling hills. The Mercedes stopped to wait for a huge iron
gate in an immensely tall fence to open before they drove into a rough,
unlandscaped, tree-choked grotto. "My friend has three jaguars. You know
what a jaguar is?"
"Yes. Yes, I do," Natalie said.
Senor Diaz smiled. "They roam the grounds at
night unattended, thus the tall fence. They are known for hunting and stealth.
Beautiful and strong beasts. They cry like demons, but generally they remain completely
silent."
"Very interesting," Natalie said. She
glanced out the window. Perhaps less than a mile of natural trees gave way to
rolling lawns that finally approached a long garden-lined driveway.
The Mercedes passed a wide circular driveway in front
of spacious front steps hosting several urns overflowing with flowers and a
lush red carpet welcome. The car slowed to a crawl and stopped at a reinforced
gate under a wide arch. The gate swung open from the center and they drove into
the inner courtyard.
"A private estate? I thought you mentioned a
nightclub," Natalie said with a smile showing she was impressed.
Senor Diaz smiled in reply. "Ah, I've brought you
here to enjoy the best there is." When the car stopped he opened the door
and climbed out. He reached back and Natalie took his extended hand.
"The back of the house? How unusual,"
Natalie said, looking around to catch her bearings.
"This way." Senor Diaz motioned toward a
tall wooden door with thick iron hinges.
Natalie followed without hesitation, but her thoughts
were not as eager. Previous experience and extensive training told her she'd
lose another pair of expensive shoes. That always put her in a bad mood. A
moment later her suspicion seemed confirmed. Senor Diaz stopped and turned to
face her. "Your diamonds, please."
"Excuse me?" Natalie said, faking surprise.
Senor Diaz nodded to his left and Natalie's eyes
adjusted to the dim light. A gun was leveled at her chest. She looked back at
her escort. "You brought me here to rob me?" She acted confused.
Surprised.
Senor Diaz laughed. "Not at all. I brought you
here to save my job. Now, your diamonds, please, and then if you'll be so kind
as to give me your handbag and shoes."
"Your job?" Natalie asked. "You're an
art dealer and you want my purse and shoes? How does that add up to your
job?" During the stall her mind raced to assimilate all the information it
could. She could see only one guard. Senor Diaz was tense, and probably armed
as well. There were two doors leading from the small portico where she stood, and
there was only one large gate leading out of the courtyard. All the walls were
stone. Bars hung at all the windows. But it was very dark and she could easily
miss something hidden. Cameras. Weapons. Windows. Other doors.
Senor Diaz didn't answer with anything more than a
hasty, "Now, please," as he rubbed his fingers together to try to
hasten her.
Natalie frowned and shook her head. "I bought a
sculpture and painting and now you want my purse?" She shoved the bag into
his hands. "What exactly do you want, my hairdresser's phone number from
my cell phone? Maybe a tube of lipstick?"
Senor Diaz no longer smiled. "Your diamonds,
please."
Monica slid off one diamond. Genuine. She slapped the
ring into his outstretched hand. She pretended to work with the next one that
was tighter fitting, allowing her a moment of time to plan her escape. What had
she recently taught a bunch of civilians? Very little compared to the skills
she possessed. The real question was how to avoid capture, and that she had
somehow failed. She slapped the second ring into the waiting hand.
"Now the bracelet and necklace. Earrings
too."
Natalie obliged with a scowl, taking her sweet time,
determining she'd be free within two minutes. And the owner of a dark Mercedes.
It was a piece of cake.
"Shoes, please."
That was going too far. Natalie loved shoes. "I'd
like to keep them if you don't mind," she angrily said through clenched
teeth.
“But you will surrender them," Senor Diaz
confidently said, nodding toward the armed man.
He'd fallen right into her clutches. Natalie turned
and scowled at the man. "I will keep my shoes. I hate runs in my
stockings."
The armed man stepped forward, pressing the barrel of
his gun into her ribs. He was right where she wanted him. Close. Confident.
Losing.
Natalie sighed in exasperation. She nudged the gun
away and bent down and unbuckled one ankle strap and then the other. With one
shoe in each hand she quickly rose and struck out. From nowhere a whip lashed
out and one of her hands was disabled before it reached her intended
target—Senor Diaz. The other shoe hit the guard squarely on the wrist,
deflecting the gun. A dozen blasts fired and thundering bullets ricocheted off
the walls. Bits of gravel and dust splattered through the opening.
"Your shoes," Senor Diaz said with malice as
the portico grew quiet again.
Natalie sighed and released her favorite pair of heels
and very valuable weapons to a villain. In stocking feet, she was led through a
door, past an unoccupied desk, down a dark hallway, and into a small room.
"Your quarters," Senor Diaz said. He bowed and exited the room. The
lock clicked and Natalie was alone.
Alone, except for a security camera, she thought as
she stared at the little black and silver eye watching her from above the door.
She turned her back to it and studied the room. A bed with a thin mattress. One
sheet and one blanket. A commode, hopefully with a chamber pot inside. A
pitcher of water and washbasin on top. Hopefully there was water. A single cup.
Plastic, like the pitcher and basin. A straight back chair. For what?
Interrogations?
Natalie stalked to the chair and sat down and smoothed
her skirt. She was ready to talk. No, she was ready for answers. She stared at
the camera and waited. As she sat in silence, her mind pieced together the
events of the past few days that ended with her incarceration. One thing stood
out above all else: the narrow red carpet leading up to the front door. Blazing
red in the sunshine.
Red.
Blood red.
Slowly it sank in. She was sitting in the depths of
hell. It was the first time she'd ever felt a wave of despair rush through her.
Like ice water. This was not an island retreat. A cabana or a patio. This was
not a fortress, it was the fortress.
The Red Devil's lair.
End Chapter 55
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