Chapter 20 | Breaking and Entering

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His feet slap the asphalt. His lungs burn. Hugo García rounds the corner. He sees the doorway, just up ahead; he's almost there. Attempting a sprint, he picks up his pace. The thick, humid air is becoming more cumbersome to take into his body. Getting closer. His side aches. He makes the final leap.

Hugo quickly presses the timer button on his digital watch. He slows his pace to a jog and then finally a brisk walk. Checking the time, his disappointment settles in; nearly a minute slower than his last run.

"Oh, come on..." he mutters between labored breaths. Walking to the end of the street, he raises his arms, interlocks his fingers, and rests his hands on top of his head. He eases his breathing as he walks back toward the door. Once somewhat cooled off, he approaches the cement step in front of his apartment complex's entryway and proceeds to stretch. Hugo watches the sunrise peeking over the apartment buildings around him and takes a moment to enjoy the silence, before the busy streets of Caracas awake.

His mind returns to his run time; it isn't his best, but it's not terrible either. Of course, his younger self would be disappointed with his current physical fitness. Hugo's former service in the United States Marine Corps demanded much of his body. But now, in his new position, he struggles to find time for any rigorous exercise.

Once he finishes stretching, Hugo steps to the door and flings it open. He makes his way up the narrow steps as they creek under his weight. A musty smell hits his nostrils - the regular 'welcome home' aroma. The nineteen-seventy-something wallpaper shows signs of age as it clings to the walls for dear life.

He finally makes it up the first flight of stairs, turns right, and then walks down the hall to his apartment. Pulling out his keys, he crams the appropriate one into the lock, and then enters his humble residence.

Locking the door behind him, he flips on the light, triggering the weak incandescent bulb above his head. It shines down on the cigarette stained walls, showing off years of yellow tinting.

Hugo proceeds to his shower, stripping off his clothes as he moves. He twists the knob and the low pressured water drizzles from the shower head. He doesn't bother shaving his scruff, but lathers his thick dark hair with shampoo. His thoughts turn to the meeting he's arranged for this evening. His informant says she has important information to share. He's curious what the woman has uncovered.

Once cleaned and dried, Hugo snatches a pair of boxers from his drawer and the 'clean-enough-jeans' from the bedroom floor. Pulling the clothes onto his body, he then wanders into the kitchen and cooks himself a simple breakfast, as he switches on the television. The screen lights up and begins to relay the local news.

---

Just outside, a brown sedan rolls down the quiet street. Easing to a stop, Lucas shifts the vehicle into park. He wears a green T-shirt and light blue jeans. His head is shaven and a thick beard grows wildly around his face. "This one, right here?" he asks, pointing at a run-down apartment complex. He narrows his dark eyes at the building, furrowing his thick black eyebrows.

"Si," replies his counterpart, Angel. Sitting in the passenger seat, he glances at the address and then compares it to the one listed on his phone's navigational map. "This is it. Apartment, 102." He tucks his phone into the pocket of his khaki pants and unbuckles the seat belt. His dark hair is neatly combed and he wears a button-down plaid shirt. His the sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, showing off his thick fore-arms.

Of the two men, Lucas is larger and stronger, but Angel has no trouble holding his own, in a fight. 

"Alright, let's do this," says Angel, yanking at the door handle.

---

Once fed, Hugo makes his way back to his bedroom and searches for a T-shirt, listening to the T.V. as it runs some low budget commercial in the background.

Angel leads the way up the stair case and down the hall. He stops in front of the door and glances at Lucas, who nods his head. He then reaches up and firmly taps his knuckles against the door.

Hugo startles. It's an unfamiliar sound - especially this early in the morning. Very few people even know where he lives. He grabs at a random shirt from his hamper of recently cleaned, but not yet folded, clothing. Walking down the hall, he stretches the garment over his head and pulls it down.

Lucas reaches up his large fist and pounds on the door, impatiently. Hugo approaches the entry way barefoot and peers through the peephole.

"What the hell?" he whispers to himself. He studies the two men on the other side of the door. He doesn't recognize them. They're both physically fit and wear civilian clothing. His stomach tightens; something doesn't seem right. These guys don't look like they're here for a friendly visit.

"Who is it?" he shouts through the door in Spanish.

"Police. Open up," says Angel.

"Bullshit..." Hugo whispers to himself. "Show your ID," he responds.

The two men exchange looks with each other. Then Lucas leans back, raises his right leg, and gives the door a strong kick.

Hugo jumps back. The door doesn't give, but the frame cracks. He turns to run down the hall, toward the bedroom. Then comes another kick. The frame splinters and the door swings open. It smacks against the wall. The two men charge into the room.

"Stop!" orders the Angel.

Hugo makes it to the bedroom. He slams the door shut. Then, frantically grabbing one end of the dresser, he spins it around and drops the heavy furniture against the door. The intruders twist the knob. The door slams into the dresser, making a loud thud. It only gives way for an inch or so.

"We're just here to talk!" Angel yells from the other side. He shoves his shoulder into the door. The dresser wobbles.

"Yeah, I feel like that's a lie," says Hugo as he runs to the window. He fumbles for the latch and fights to push it open. It groans and screeches as he forces it up.

The door hangs ajar, as the two men throw their shoulders into it. The dresser rocks back and forth. Hugo swings his body out the window and crawls backward. He hangs from the ledge as his naked feet search for something to support him. Dangling from the second story, he looks down to see nothing below, but asphalt blanketing the narrow alleyway.

The weak, hollow door cracks. Another hit and the dresser tumbles forward letting out a loud crash as it hits the floor.

Hugo pushes off the wall and drops. The impact sends a sharp pain through his body. He rolls as soon as he makes contact with the ground. Grunting, he pulls himself up from the hard landing and mutters a few curses. He begins to run and then stumbles forward.

"Ow, shit," he yelps, as his left leg gives in. He adjusts his run to a limping jog. His bare feet, unaccustomed to the rough surface of the road, complain with each step. He rushes to the main street and hobbles back toward the complex.

The two intruders squeeze through the small opening, splitting the rest of the door and shoving the dresser a few inches farther. Angel runs to the window and thrusts his head outside, searching for his prey. Gone.

"Dammit!" he exclaims, slapping the window seal. He swings his lower half out the window and drops to the ground. His body rolls to lessen the blow. Lucas does the same. "You head that way, I'll go this way," Angel orders, pointing to either end of the alley.

Hugo quickly makes his way to the front door of the complex and throws it open. He then darts to the side of the stairs and slides into the storage cubby underneath. Between his heavy breaths, he mutters a quick prayer, hoping his pursuers will not think to check the building he just fled.

After waiting several minutes, Hugo decides to test his luck. He cautiously steps out from his hiding place and then quickly limps up the stairs.

Once in his apartment, he squeezes past the fractured bedroom door and grabs a fresh pair of socks and tennis shoes. He straps them to his feet and then lies down and reaches under his bed. Shoving a cardboard box to the side, Hugo fingers for a small ledge on the floor. Once he finds the spot, he flips up the concealed compartment and tosses the cover to the side. He then grabs the backpack, hidden beneath the floorboards and pulls it to the surface. After returning the cover to its rightful place, he stands up and throws the backpack over his shoulders.

Hugo hobbles out of the bedroom. His leg is still sore from the impact. Regardless of the pain, he intends to get out fast. The intruders made quite the commotion and the police are likely to arrive soon. He doesn't know who to trust now that he's been compromised.

Hugo cautiously leaves the building and proceeds on foot. His vehicle is registered to his fictitious name so that's not an option. It would be too easy for police to put out a search for the car in order to find him. Without knowing who attacked him or why, he isn't ready to trust anyone. For now, it's best to disappear, until he can figure out what's happening.

The city begins to come alive. Pedestrians slowly start to flood the sidewalks and cars now populate the roads. Hugo turns down another street and then into a vacant alleyway. He swings the backpack off his shoulders and pulls a burner phone from the side pouch.

Returning the bag to his shoulders, he dials a memorized phone number into the device and sets it against his ear.

"Come on, come on... pick up..." he mutters impatiently.

---

Nicolás hangs up the phone, disappointed Angel and Lucas failed to grab the CIA spook. How did he evade them so easily? This is going to make a serious mess, if not resolved quickly. Letting out a sigh, he returns to work. Nicolás and his man, Alejandro, drag the last body from the cargo van. Each man holds the corpse with little reverence, as they swing it into the pit, on top of the others. The hole is about five feet deep, twenty feet wide, and five feet across. The six freshly added corpses are a small contribution to the mass grave before them. Nearly eighty dead men lie in a crumpled mass; many of them already decomposing into the ground.

"Alright, let's get out of here," says Nicolás, swatting at the flies buzzing around his face. His boots sink into the soft jungle soil as he turns toward the van. Then he hears something. Something out of the ordinary.

He and Alejandro stop and exchange confused expressions.

"Is that a phone?" asks Alejandro.

"Si," replies Nicolás. He spins around, searching for the source of the sound. Are they being watched? They both draw their pistols and scan the nearby vegetation, before finally pinning the phone's location; it's coming from the pit.

The two men approach the massive hole in the ground cautiously. They look in, over the sea of bodies.

"It's coming from the Americanos," says Alejandro.

The commandos slide into the pit, before trampling on top of the dead. They kneel down and quickly sift through the pockets of the fresh bodies, until Nicolás finds the phone. Just as he pulls it out of the Tex's pocket, it stops ringing. He checks the number; it wasn't saved in the phone's contact list. Could be anyone.

He selects the missed call and redials. Then he listens.

---

"Oh come on. You've got to be kidding me," says Hugo as the call goes to voicemail. He presses the red button and then thinks for a moment, before deciding to try another number. Just then, the phone buzzes. "Finally," he says. He selects the green icon and places the device against his ear.

"Tex, two guys just showed up at my place and smashed in my door. You know anything about that? I think they're Rodríguez's men."

No response. Silence.

"Tex, you there?" Hugo asks.

Nicolás' English isn't great; he's unsure of what the man is saying, but he listens intently. Something about Rodríguez. Does he have a connection to the President? He continues to wait in silence.

"Tex?" Hugo asks, more concerned. "You there?"

More silence.

"Who is this?" Hugo asks in Spanish.

"I'm sorry," replies Nicolás. "I found this phone and I am just trying to return it to its rightful owner. May I ask who's calling? Maybe you can help me find who I'm looking for."

Hugo's stomach drops. Tex wouldn't be careless enough to lose his phone, with the incriminating information that could be found on it.

"Who is this?" he asks, cautiously. "What have you done?"

"I'm just trying to return the phone to its proper owner."

More silence.

Hugo hangs up the phone and stares at it as he leans his back against the alley wall. Something's happened to Tex. He takes some time to consider his options and then dials another number. He waits.

"Hola," replies Hugo, as the woman on the other end answers. "You know that meeting we have scheduled for tonight? I need to meet with you right now. Tell your boss whatever- Si, I know. But this is important. Si. Same place. Okay, gracias."

He hangs up the phone and turns to walk back to the street.

---

"Who was it?" asks Alejandro.

"I'm not sure," replies Nicolás. "He was speaking in English and said something about Rodríguez... But then he started talking in Español. He knows something happened to Tex." He takes a moment to think it over, looking down at the dead American. He then stands up. "I think it was the case officer our boys were supposed to grab."  

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