Raymond Benson - Doubleshot

Margareta had never seen Espada so upset over the disappearance of one of his girls. He refused to admit that several had escaped with his guests in the past, despite efforts to keep them in the compound. Margareta had been lobbying for tighter security measures. She had worked for Espada for a few years; her job was to train and look after his secret harem residing in the compound. She knew that he often obtained the girls from poor families in Spain and Morocco. After they spent some time learning their “trade,” the girls were sent out to points abroad that were managed by Espada’s organization. If they were lucky, they became high-class call girls and earned a lot of money. If not, some of them simply disappeared.

“She must have been a favorite,” Margareta observed. “Was she particularly good at something?”

“Shut up,” Espada said. “Maria was the freshest, most beautiful girl I’ve ever found. She was the best. So pure, so … tight … I cannot believe she would leave!”

“Why not? You do keep them prisoners.…”

“But they have a great life here … it’s paradise … all the food and sun and …”

“… sex, whether they want it or not,” Margareta continued.

“Part of this is your fault!” Espada said.

“Oh, please, Domingo,” she said. “I train them and patch them up after you get too rough with them, but I don’t guard them.”

Carlos, a large man in his late twenties, came out onto the patio. He appeared nervous, fingering the Beretta M92 that hung on his belt.

“You wanted to see me, sir?” he asked.

“Did you see Maria today?” Espada spat.

“No, sir.”

“What time did you come on duty?”

“Eight o’clock this morning.”

“And the girls were in their quarters all day and night?”

“Except for those with chores, sir. Maria wasn’t scheduled to work until this afternoon,” Carlos explained.

“You must have seen something.”

“No, sir, I swear,” Carlos said, shaking his head.

Espada looked at him hard. Agustin stood behind the guard, waiting for a signal from his boss. Espada glanced at his lieutenant and gave him the slightest of nods.

“Very well,” Espada said to Carlos. “You may go.”

“Thank you, sir,” Carlos replied, then went inside.

“Agustin,” Espada said. The lieutenant stopped. “Have him interrogated. In the meantime show our guest outside. I’d like you to join us, too.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Oh, Agustin?”

“Yes?”

“What are the enrollment figures for today?”

Agustin cleared his throat. “I’ve just checked on that. We’re up to about one thousand four hundred.”

“Only fourteen hundred men? We must do better than that!”

Espada turned abruptly, holding his arms up in frustration.

“If we had a little more to spend on recruitment …” Agustin suggested.

Espada rubbed his chin a moment, then turned back to his friend and confidant. “All right. Call the accountant and tell him to release another three million pesetas. We have to reach our goal of two thousand five hundred men quickly.”

“Yes, sir.” Agustin went back inside as Espada and Margareta sat in comfortable lounge chairs with a view of the green, manicured lawn and the pool twenty meters away.

The servant girl brought the wine and poured glasses for the couple. Margareta looked her up and down, admiring the girl’s youth and wholesomeness. She was probably no more than fifteen. After she had left, Margareta said, “You sure know how to pick them, Domingo.”

Espada held up his glass and said, “ Salud. Yes, I certainly do. I’ve been picking them all my life. That one, she’s from Granada. My men found her in a particularly poverty-stricken area. Her parents were quite happy to accept the money that was offered for her.”

“And how has she worked out in the bedroom?” Margareta asked with a wicked smile.

“I haven’t had the opportunity to try her out yet. I was still breaking in Maria,” Espada said, twisting his mustache. “You’re a fine teacher. So are the other girls. They all do whatever I want. Damn, that upsets me about Maria.”

“Tell me, Domingo. What would the police say if they knew you were keeping sex slaves against their will?”

“Nonsense. I give these poor girls a wonderful life. They are treated like queens. They eat the best food, live in a nice home, and have access to the outside world through the miracle of television and video. A far better life than they had before.”

“They also have to submit to you anytime you want.”

Espada laughed and said, “You’re jealous! You would like your own harem of young men, I think!”

“And tell me, Domingo. What do the police say when a body is washed up on the shore near Marbella? It happens, what, every other year or so?”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, I don’t, Domingo? Young girls, most of them unidentifiable, runaways, street kids … There’s a steady stream of them being found up and down the Costa del Sol.”

“You’re imagining things. Besides, the local police turn a blind eye when they see me coming. I have them all in my pocket.”

“There is a high turnover rate of your girls, Domingo.”

“That’s because they get jobs within my organization—as expensive call girls. There is no better training ground than here. They travel to exotic locations like South America or Mexico to work.”

Margareta looked sideways at Espada. “Not all of them. Come on, Domingo. What do those girls have to do to incur so much wrath that you dispose of them in so … ignoble … a fashion?”

“Look who’s talking.” Espada wagged an accusatory finger at her, then shrugged. “That only happens when one of them disobeys me.

It’s not often.”

Agustin returned with a tall, dark man in a suit and fez and said, “Señor Nadir Yassasin, sir.”

Espada didn’t get up, but instead motioned to the chair next to him. “Welcome, Nadir, sit down. Did you have a pleasant journey?”

Yassasin gave a slight bow and replied, “Yes, thank you, Señor Espada. It’s a pleasure to be here.”

“How are things in Casablanca?”

“The same. As you know, the cercle fermé met last week.”

The servant girl returned and poured the wine for Yassasin, then left. The Arab pulled a thin cigar from his jacket. “Mind if I smoke?”

“Go ahead.” Agustin leaned over with a lighter and lit the Arab’s cigar. Yassasin held it pretentiously, close to his face with his hand bent, palm upward. Margareta thought this enhanced his stereotypical image as a mysterious North African spy. Agustin sat down and pulled his chair closer.

“Now,” Yassasin said. “ Le Gérant has given me instructions to thank you for your generous and impressive offer of five million dollars to the Union. The territories you control are profitable.”

“It’s my pleasure,” Espada said. “However, I do hope that Le Gérant realizes the tremendous risks I take to keep operations going. South America and Mexico are still quite new and require a lot of payoffs. Law enforcement is particularly strong when one gets near America. The drugs are doing well, but I’ve lost several men. Some were arrested, others killed by the police. It’s becoming more difficult.”

“We can all appreciate that,” Yassasin said. “It’s time to discuss your proposal.”

Espada brightened. “So Le Gérant has agreed to help me? Is he committing Union resources to my cause? I thought he said it was a ‘suicide mission.’ ”

“He still believes that, but … that’s where I come in.”