He stiffened but didn’t say a thing.
“If you’re dead, what will happen to the girl? She’s already tied down. A regular offering, I’d say.”
He nodded, and I heard him curse, low and fluently. Even with a Spanish last name, those curses were pure American.
“Who is that girl?”
He just kept walking.
“You might as well tell me.”
Finally, not turning to face me, he answered, “She is my daughter.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Where are your men, Molinas?” I said near his left ear. “Some operation you run here. Hard to believe you haven’t been run out of town.”
“The men are not professionals,” Molinas said, and I could tell that disgusted him. “They have courage but no discipline.”
“I buy that,” I said. “Now, tell us where we are.”
“No, you can’t kill me. If you do, you won’t ever get your friends out of here. I can’t tell you anything. If I did, I would be dead and so would my daughter. Very few people know about this place. If you find out on your own, I cannot be blamed. Your friends are just around that corner. There are three guards around the door.”
Suddenly, Laura put her finger against her lips. We heard a man talking in a low voice. She walked quietly to the corner and looked around it. She came back. “There are three guards up ahead, just like he said. They’re sitting on the floor outside a door. Their heads are down, but I’m not certain they’re asleep.”
“The other agents are behind that door?” I asked.
“I wasn’t lying.”
He was pale now, but he didn’t say anything more.
“Del Cabrizo’s behind the whole operation, isn’t he?” Laura asked Molinas.
“I can’t tell you anything. You can kill me if you must but I know that you won’t harm my daughter.”
“We’ll do whatever we need to,” I said. “I want you to walk ahead to the men and tell them that you intend to speak to the prisoners. You will tell them to go outside until you come to tell them to return. If you screw this up, Molinas, I will personally shoot you. I won’t harm your daughter, but I will shoot you. Trust me on this.”
He looked me straight in the face. He had dark blue eyes, and there was something familiar about them. The shape, perhaps, slightly tilted at the corners. They were his sister’s eyes, Elaine Tarcher’s. He said in a low voice, “My daughter is innocent. She has suffered enough. If I release your friends, will you leave here?”
“You can hardly expect things to go on as they have.”
“No, once you escape, my job here is over. Then I will deal with what will happen.”
I shrugged. “Your daughter, who is so precious to you-why is she here with you? Have you let her watch you pump drugs into people?”
“No. We have only been here for a short time. We arrived just before you did. I couldn’t leave Marran back home. She needs me. You cannot take me with you as a hostage. You cannot leave her here alone. She would be savaged by these men. She would kill herself. She’s tried before. I will do as you ask, Mr. MacDougal.”
He was pleading with me, his expression as raw as his voice. His daughter was more important to him than his pride, certainly more important to him than his own life. “Let me see what kind of shape my friends are in. Then
I’ll decide what to do with you. You try to screw me, Molinas, and you’re dead. Just think of your daughter before you decide to betray me. By the way, I speak Spanish.”
Molinas nodded and straightened. As he walked forward, he looked like a man used to command, a man in charge. Laura and I watched him kick one man in the knee. The man cried out. The other two awoke. The man Molinas had kicked scrambled to his feet, excuses tumbling out of his mouth. I understood only that they were excuses. Molinas raised his foot and kicked another man in the ribs. The third managed to jump away.