Free Bloodline by Jeff Buick

friendship endured.
    Now Pedro sat at the rickety table in the lunch room of Cerámico Cuidad, already knowing what his answer would be. He adored Julie; she was like a sister to him. And Shiara had turned into a wonderful young woman. She and Miguel always called him Uncle Pedro. It was the family he had been denied as a young boy surviving the rough-and-tumble streets of San Salvador. He took a sip of coffee and cupped the warm mug in his hands.
    â€œI’ll need some expense money, Eugene. I’m kind of tapped out right now.”
    Eugene finally let out his breath and nodded. “Money’s not a problem. I can give you twenty thousand American dollars. That should pay for your plane flights, hotels and food.”
    â€œWhere did you get…?” Pedro let the question die, not really wanting to know the answer. “What should I do? How do I get close to Javier Rastano and his father?”
    Eugene shrugged. “I don’t know. You’re a resourceful kind of guy. You’ll think of something.”
    Pedro finished his coffee. “And if I find your wife and daughter? Then what?”
    â€œThat’s your call. Get them out if you can. Call me. Call the police. Do whatever you have to.”
    â€œAre they in El Salvador right now?”
    Eugene shrugged. “A friend of mine thinks so. He was tied into the drug business a few years ago and he’s still in the loop. You’re going to have to wing it, Pedro. Make it up as you go.”
    â€œHow do we stay in touch?” Pedro asked.
    â€œI’ll get two cell phones from a dealer in Caracas this afternoon. I’ll be the only person with your number, and vice versa.”
    â€œI’m assuming you’d like me to leave for El Salvador right away,” Pedro said, and Eugene nodded. “All right, I’ll have to settle up a few things here before I leave. I don’t want to burn any bridges. I like working here. I’ll just tell them I’ve got a family emergency.”
    â€œThanks, Pedro.”
    â€œNot a problem, my friend.” He rose to finish his shift. “Where are you staying?”
    Eugene shrugged. “Hadn’t thought about it.”
    â€œTry the Plaza Catedral, on Boulevard Plaza Bolívar. It’s in the colonial section of Caracas. Nice rooms, great restaurant on the roof.”
    â€œI know it,” Eugene said. “You want me to check in and wait for you?”
    â€œSure. I’ll need a few hours here to wrap things up. Give me another hour to pop by my apartment and have a shower and change. I’ll see you then.”
    â€œ Ciao, amigo, ” Eugene said, shaking Pedro’s hand.
    Their eyes met. “It’s going to be okay,” Pedro said, seeing the agony in his friend’s eyes. “We’ll find them.”
    Eugene nodded and they split. Pedro headed back to the problem with the hydraulic system, and Eugene cut back through the office to the parking lot. He thought about Pedro’s words as he slid into the cab and gave the driver the name of the hotel. We’ll find them. The words were hollow, just spoken to appease his suffering, both men knew that. But somehow, just hearing someone else say what he wanted to believe was encouraging. And one huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders now that he had Pedro helping him. Without Pedro he was dead in the water. He closed his eyes and the vision of Julie and Shiara, captive with blood-soaked bandages wrapped about the stumps of their severed fingers, came to him.
    Despite his eyes being tightly closed, his cheeks burned as the tears slowly rolled down.

Chapter Seven
    They met in Les Grisons at seven in the evening, the sun just setting on the rugged horizon. Splashes of color streaked across the evening sky, and then a muted gray washed across the palette and dusk descended. The lights of Caracas flickered and then glowed dimly against the stark darkness of the towering hills to