Page 82
Story: Lethal Abduction
My mouth is suddenly dry, my eyes locked to his hated figure as if I’ve been paralyzed.
I watch as he splays a hand possessively over the slender thigh of the girl sitting next to him. Paradoxically, given the pain they inflict, Rodrigo’s hands are slender and always well manicured. I always found his obsession with personal grooming one of his more sinister traits. I have personally watched his manicurist scrape crusted blood from his nails before putting his hands in water to soak. Once, she did it while the girl he’d just beaten to death was still lying on the floor of his yacht two feet away.
Rodrigo might not have his father’s keen intelligence, but what he lacks in brains, he more than makes up for in sadism. Cruelty is how he made his name, and the reason, I imagine, he has managed to succeed his father, despite having none of Juan’s presence or scope of mind.
Rodrigo is exactly the kind of man Jacey would target.A sadist without his father’s genius, a son desperate to prove himself equal to the Bogotá legend his father was.
I watch as he squeezes the girl’s leg hard enough to make her wince and realize my fingers are clenched into fists.
The movement brings me back to the room, and the auctioneer’s voice, not that I need to listen to him to know what I’m seeing. I studied art for long enough to recognize a masterpiece when I’m face-to-face with it.
“Painted in Paris in 1887,” the auctioneer is saying, “three years before van Gogh’s death, this small painting depicts red and yellow poppies. It was stolen from the Mohamed Mahmoud Khalil Museum in Cairo in 2010 and is considered forever lost.” He smiles silkily, and the audience titters.
I don’t.
I’m still staring at Rodrigo Cardeñas, unable to look away.
“Of course,” the auctioneer adds, his eyes turning away from the painting and coming to rest momentarily on me, “here at Shway Kyaarpaann, we specialize in finding lost things—and offering them to select gatherings such as these.” His eyes swivel back to Rodrigo. “Now,” he says, smiling smoothly. Who will start the bidding?”
It’s a small, subtle comment, and a glance barely anyone notices, since they’re focused on the painting.
But Rodrigo notices.
His eyes narrow to dark slits. He stares at me across the room, his thin lips hardening. Then, slowly, they stretch into a calculating, insidious smile. He holds up his paddle, his eyes remaining locked on me.
“Bien,” says the auctioneer. “Bidding begins at ten million euros.”
He might be gesturing to the painting, but I have no doubt what is truly being sold off here.
Or rather, given away.
I’m a gift. A bribe. A reward.
And from Jacey’s perspective, it’s a neat solution.
Give Rodrigo his revenge.
Get rid of me.
And solidify his alliance with the Cardeñas cartel.
I stare at the tiny painting, the vivid colors like an explosion of purity amid the decadent corruption all around us, my mind racing.
It’s a setup, exactly the kind of sadistic, psychopathic plan Jacey would concoct.
Jacey always knew Rodrigo was the weak link in the Cardeñas operation—it’s why he targeted him in the first place. That was a conclusion I came to a long time ago, when I was lying in a cell in El Buen Pastor with nothing to do but think.
Some things don’t change, huh, Abs.
I suppress a slightly hysterical urge to laugh. I stare at the stage without seeing it, aware of Rodrigo’s eyes on me the entire time.
Jacey wouldn’t have had any trouble getting him here. This place appeals precisely to Rodrigo’s worst traits, and those he uses to impress others. It offers the perfect blend of glamour, elitism, and unbridled cruelty. SK is a sadist’s playground, not to mention an opportunity for Rodrigo to rub shoulders with the elite of the criminal world. It’s quite literally an offer too good for him to refuse.
In return, Jacey gains a steady supply of cocaine that he can distribute throughout South East Asia. No wonder he leaped at the chance to capture me. Offering Rodrigo revenge on the girl who humiliated him all those years ago, serving me up to him here on a silver platter to do with as he wishes, is clever business sense.
Rodrigo never knew it was Jacey who ordered us to steal his shipment of cocaine. He thought Nico and I acted alone.
It was Juan Cardeñas, Rodrigo’s father, who knew the truth.
I watch as he splays a hand possessively over the slender thigh of the girl sitting next to him. Paradoxically, given the pain they inflict, Rodrigo’s hands are slender and always well manicured. I always found his obsession with personal grooming one of his more sinister traits. I have personally watched his manicurist scrape crusted blood from his nails before putting his hands in water to soak. Once, she did it while the girl he’d just beaten to death was still lying on the floor of his yacht two feet away.
Rodrigo might not have his father’s keen intelligence, but what he lacks in brains, he more than makes up for in sadism. Cruelty is how he made his name, and the reason, I imagine, he has managed to succeed his father, despite having none of Juan’s presence or scope of mind.
Rodrigo is exactly the kind of man Jacey would target.A sadist without his father’s genius, a son desperate to prove himself equal to the Bogotá legend his father was.
I watch as he squeezes the girl’s leg hard enough to make her wince and realize my fingers are clenched into fists.
The movement brings me back to the room, and the auctioneer’s voice, not that I need to listen to him to know what I’m seeing. I studied art for long enough to recognize a masterpiece when I’m face-to-face with it.
“Painted in Paris in 1887,” the auctioneer is saying, “three years before van Gogh’s death, this small painting depicts red and yellow poppies. It was stolen from the Mohamed Mahmoud Khalil Museum in Cairo in 2010 and is considered forever lost.” He smiles silkily, and the audience titters.
I don’t.
I’m still staring at Rodrigo Cardeñas, unable to look away.
“Of course,” the auctioneer adds, his eyes turning away from the painting and coming to rest momentarily on me, “here at Shway Kyaarpaann, we specialize in finding lost things—and offering them to select gatherings such as these.” His eyes swivel back to Rodrigo. “Now,” he says, smiling smoothly. Who will start the bidding?”
It’s a small, subtle comment, and a glance barely anyone notices, since they’re focused on the painting.
But Rodrigo notices.
His eyes narrow to dark slits. He stares at me across the room, his thin lips hardening. Then, slowly, they stretch into a calculating, insidious smile. He holds up his paddle, his eyes remaining locked on me.
“Bien,” says the auctioneer. “Bidding begins at ten million euros.”
He might be gesturing to the painting, but I have no doubt what is truly being sold off here.
Or rather, given away.
I’m a gift. A bribe. A reward.
And from Jacey’s perspective, it’s a neat solution.
Give Rodrigo his revenge.
Get rid of me.
And solidify his alliance with the Cardeñas cartel.
I stare at the tiny painting, the vivid colors like an explosion of purity amid the decadent corruption all around us, my mind racing.
It’s a setup, exactly the kind of sadistic, psychopathic plan Jacey would concoct.
Jacey always knew Rodrigo was the weak link in the Cardeñas operation—it’s why he targeted him in the first place. That was a conclusion I came to a long time ago, when I was lying in a cell in El Buen Pastor with nothing to do but think.
Some things don’t change, huh, Abs.
I suppress a slightly hysterical urge to laugh. I stare at the stage without seeing it, aware of Rodrigo’s eyes on me the entire time.
Jacey wouldn’t have had any trouble getting him here. This place appeals precisely to Rodrigo’s worst traits, and those he uses to impress others. It offers the perfect blend of glamour, elitism, and unbridled cruelty. SK is a sadist’s playground, not to mention an opportunity for Rodrigo to rub shoulders with the elite of the criminal world. It’s quite literally an offer too good for him to refuse.
In return, Jacey gains a steady supply of cocaine that he can distribute throughout South East Asia. No wonder he leaped at the chance to capture me. Offering Rodrigo revenge on the girl who humiliated him all those years ago, serving me up to him here on a silver platter to do with as he wishes, is clever business sense.
Rodrigo never knew it was Jacey who ordered us to steal his shipment of cocaine. He thought Nico and I acted alone.
It was Juan Cardeñas, Rodrigo’s father, who knew the truth.
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