Part 17 (1/2)
”Why are you telling me all of this?” I said when he finally hesitated. He'd been talking for half an hour.
”You charged me with murder. I want you to know that I've never hurt anyone.”
”Who killed the girls?”
”I'm not going to tell you anything else unless you give me your word that you'll dismiss the murder charges against me.”
”Not a chance.”
”Let me ask you a question, Mr. Dillard. Are you familiar with how Colombian drug smugglers exact revenge? How they deal with people who betray them or who they think might be a threat to their operation?”
The images of Zack Woods and Hector Mejia with their throats cut came into my mind, along with what Bates had told me about the Colombian neck tie.
”Why?” I said. ”What do Colombian drug dealers have to do with three murders in my district?”
”The Colombians are famous, perhaps infamous is a better word, for their creativity when it comes to revenge and domestic terrorism. If a smuggler is betrayed by someone in his organization or feels that he needs to send a message to someone who might be a threat a prosecutor or a politician, let's say he'll order his sicarios to murder the person in some s.a.d.i.s.tic way, but it doesn't stop there. Before the sicarios murder this person, they will capture or kidnap as many of his family as they can find. They'll take all of them to some obscure location, and the traitor or the prosecutor or politician will be tied up and forced to watch while his wife and daughters, maybe even his mother, are raped. If he has sons, they, too, will be s.e.xually humiliated in the most shameful ways. Then the sicarios will murder the entire family. The traitor or the politician will be the last one to die.”
”A sicario is what? A hired killer?”
”A paid a.s.sa.s.sin, loyal to one organization.”
”And the reason you're giving me this civics lesson?”
”My lawyer told me about your witnesses on the plane back to Nashville. He said their throats were cut and they were placed outside your home. I'm guessing that their tongues were pulled out of the wounds in their throats.”
”How do you know that?”
”It's the Colombian way. Your witnesses were killed by a Colombian sicario, probably more than one. They were probably led by a man named Santiago, they call him El Maligno. It means 'the evil one.' I've only seen him once in my life, when John hired him to murder the man I was telling you about earlier, the man who owed him money.”
”We're not in Columbia, in case you haven't noticed.”
”You don't understand, Mr. Dillard. John Lips...o...b..is a powerful man, a sociopath who has more resources than you can imagine and who has loyal contacts in the Colombian drug culture. They have different rules. They don't respect the law. John gave you your warning, and you responded by a.s.saulting him in a jail cell. He was livid on the flight back from Nashville. I heard him yelling at his lawyer. He's going to have you killed, but before you die, you'll watch while your family is murdered.”
I was silent for a full minute. Could he be serious? Was John Lips...o...b..really capable of having my entire family murdered? I thought again about the bodies in my driveway, the way it was staged, and I felt my pulse quicken.
”Turn the light on,” I said. ”I want to see your face.”
Pinzon got up, walked around the bed and turned on the light. He was wearing a long, black coat and had a black cap in his hand. He looked tired, and he looked scared.
”Tell me what happened to the girls on the boat,” I said.
”I'll tell you everything, but I want your word about dismissing the charges.”
”What difference does it make? From what you're saying, there isn't going to be a trial.”
”I want to continue my life with my wife and child when this is over, just like you,” he said. ”I can't do it with a murder charge hanging over my head.”
I swung my legs over the side of the bed.
”What happened to them, Mr. Pinzon?”
”I didn't see it.”
”But you were there.”
”I was on the boat, but I was asleep when it happened. John insists we come up here every year for a party. It's the anniversary of our takeover of an insurance company that took us from rich to ultra-rich. It's supposed to be a private celebration, but John bores easily. A few years ago he added girls and drugs to the mix. I stay away from both. I'm happily married and I don't do drugs. But John is. . . well, he's different.”
”I asked you what happened to them.”
”I drank too much. I pa.s.sed out around two in the morning, but John was still going strong. He woke me up at around five-fifteen and told me we had to leave. I asked him why and he said, 'Dej vu, Boston.' I knew what he meant. The cocaine he gets is pure, straight from Columbia. He still has contacts there. The girl must have done too much of it. I knew she must have died. I asked him what we were going to do and he said, 'Don't worry. I took care of it.' Nelson dropped us at the house, we went in and picked up our things, got on the helicopter, and flew back to Nashville. I read about the other two girls on the internet after they were found and I knew he'd killed them.”
”But you didn't see it. Maybe Nelson killed them.”
”John killed them. Nelson wouldn't have the stomach for it.”
”Did you confront John about it after you read the news?”
”Of course I confronted him. He said they were strippers and hookers. He said it was like taking out the trash. n.o.body would miss them. But then you arrested Nelson and you showed up in Nashville, and I knew things were about to get much worse. That's why I told you to let it go. You'll never convict him of anything.”
”I'll make a deal with Nelson as soon as we find him. With both of you testifying, John will go to prison for the rest of his life.”
”You won't find Nelson.”
”Do you know where he is?”
”Nelson is dead. I suspected it when he didn't show up at the jail, but when my lawyer told me about the dead witnesses, I knew Nelson was dead, too.”
”John Lips...o...b..would have his own brother killed?”
”John is capable of anything. I'm convinced the only reason I'm still alive is that the sicarios haven't had time to get to me. As soon as I got back to Nashville this afternoon, I gathered my family and got back on a plane. They're at the airport waiting for me right now. We're going into hiding until this is over, and I suggest you do the same.”
The door pushed open and Caroline walked in.
”What's going on?” she said. ”Is everything all right?”
”Everything's fine. This gentleman and I are just having a discussion. Give us a few minutes, would you?”
She walked back out, closing the door behind her. A hundred questions were whirling through my mind. I tried to slow my brain down, to concentrate on what was most important at the moment.
”What happened to the boat?” I said to Pinzon.
”It's been dismantled and is on a sc.r.a.p heap somewhere. He didn't tell me who he hired to get it out of the water and he didn't tell me where they took it. You'll never find it.”
”Tell me again about this sicario. What did you say his name was? Santiago?”
”I've only seen him once, and that was twenty years ago. I know his reputation is that of a cold-blooded killer. He has a scar on his face. It runs from the corner of his mouth on the left side all the way to his temple in a sort of half-circle. Of course, by the time you recognize him, it will probably be too late.”