Prologue

or

The Proximity to Montezuma

Before dawn, Holt left the woods where he and his passenger had been hiding in his vehicle. By the break of day, passed Heredia, and looking toward his left he noticed that the volcano Poas was already behind him. He knew he could not take the ferry across Puntarenas because of his passenger who lay behind the rear seat under a carefully packed old blanket. The waiting time at the ferry, and the sail across the water, would take over two hours. He knew instinctively that he may attract many curious looks, and the risk of being caught as a kidnapper was great. In order to get to Montezuma, he had to take a detour of about two hundred miles in a northwesterly direction to the Gulf of Nicoya. It was unavoidable, he had no other choice in the matter. Puerto Monero would be where he would have the first opportunity to get onto the Nicoya Peninsula. The map did not indicate that there was a ferry or a bridge. He had no other choice but to drive to Liberia, and from there in a southwest direction to Paquera. Some years ago he drove from San José to Playa Tamarindo taking an adventurous shortcut through a national park, but he could no longer remember the place where he had turned off the Pan-American Highway. After eight hours of driving, he pulled off the road near Santa Cruz to check on his kidnapped passenger.  The effect of the injection had worn off, so he was awake. His eyes were wide open in fear as he looked at his kidnapper. His mouth was taped shut, gasping out unintelligible sounds. Holt pulled off the tape and asked him if he had to relieve himself. His hostage only shook his head, and stammering, asked where he would take him. Holt’s only answer was a drug-filled syringe sending him into another drugged stupor. After it began to take effect, they continued on their journey.

Finally, he came upon a turn off for a ferry with still two hours left to drive expecting he would arrive in Montezuma by daylight. He needed to get some rest, but he could not turn left, as it would bring him to the popular beach of Playa Tambor. The police controlled this area, and often got money from unsuspecting tourists. So, after driving a few more kilometers, he saw an inconspicuous branch off in the road, which ended with a primitive barrier. He got out of the car, pushed the barrier aside, drove the car a few meters further out of eyesight, and turned off the lights and the engine. Once his eyes had adjusted to the darkness he got out of the car and walked along a path. A starry night sky and the crescent moon gave him enough light to make his way in the darkness.

After about a hundred steps, the path made a curve to the right and ended up on a beaten path of the mountainside. He made mental note of a sand excavating operation in progress and also noticed an abandoned yellow excavator in the middle of a sandy hollow. He realized that shortly after sunrise, the work would start again. He checked his watch and saw that he had over nine hours to get some rest before continuing on his journey. He walked back to the car and sat back in his seat to sleep.

An hour before dawn he roused himself, and checked on his victim. The evening before, he had replaced new cable loops to the feet and arms of his victim, and made sure that they were not too tight. Then he pulled him out of the car and placed him on a bed spread on the ground. He did not give him another drug filled syringe. He removed the adhesive tape so he could give him a little water to drink. He was barely civil to his victim and really didn’t care if he’d wet himself or not. But because he already could smell the defining smell of death and sweat from the man, he didn’t want to add another foul smell which was beginning to become very noticeable in the car. So he let his victim relieve himself. He loaded him back in the car, and continued his journey.

A few kilometers after Montezuma the two-lane road ended. The road continued on to the National Park of Cabo Blanco as a ONE WAY street closed to the general public.

The road was only used by Park Rangers, and specific tourists who required a special permit to gain access. Holt had been on an expedition years ago, and knew that before reaching the dead-end there was a dirt road which was barely passable that led to the coast. It was so difficult to drive on, that a person would need a 4 wheel drive to navigate it. It was at least 10-15 kilometers long, and he knew it ended at a bay. The sun was at the zenith as he turned his SUV following a rough path in the field. The vegetation had already begun reconquering the territory since the last time the path had been cleared. Several times he had to get out of the vehicle to clear broken, larger branches and stones out of the way. Sometime he had to use the machete to cut stronger lianas . After two hours the road became wider, the trees and plants thinned out a little and revealed beautiful scenery. He looked down, and saw a bay with snow-white sand. He noticed that there was a couple occupying an area on the beach that were not aware of his presence as they were caught up their passion.  He wondered how they got there. As he looked a little further, his question was answered. Not far from them pulled onto the sand was a boat with an outboard motor. The two young people had not heard his vehicle approach, and not wanting to embarrass them, he quickly went back to the vehicle and backed it up about twenty feet into the forest. He gunned the motor a few times, and honked the horn. Under the blanket in the backseat, he heard the questioning and fearful noises of his victim.

After a few minutes passed, he drove slowly out of the forest. As he came into the clearing, he could see the boat disappear behind the northern cliff. The beach was empty, except for a few empty bottles the couple had left behind in their haste to get to their boat. Looking toward the beach, he noticed the road opened slightly, and led to what looked like a small clearing.  If other people should come, his vehicle would not be too likely to be seen under the low-hanging lianas where he decided to park the vehicle. After he made sure that his victim was still alive, he went to the shore to collect  dry wood. He collected 3 armfuls and made sure the wood pile was big enough for his plan. He crumpled up some paper, and jammed it under the wood at the edge of the pile. He also placed a broken candle on the top of the wood pile. He prepared it that way, so he could easily set it on fire. After he had finished all the necessary preparations, he went back to the vehicle. When he opened the car door, his victim began to move restlessly. Holt grabbed his victim by his feet and pulled his legs out of the car so that only his upper body was still in the car. His legs buckled at the knees and lay with his feet on the ground. His victim heard the snapping of a knife and winced in terror. Under the duct tape gag came gurgling noises. Holt then blindfolded his victim with a strip of tape then proceeded to cut the shackles, and pulled the man from the vehicle. The man, paralyzed with fear, and unsure of his fate, stood in front of the car.

Holt grabbed his victim by the arm, and pulled him towards the shore . Twice the bound man stumbled and fell, but Holt yanked his arm to lift him up on his feet. One meter in front of the woodpile he pushed the man roughly onto the sand. He bent down and tied his legs above the ankles with a cable clamp. Then he ripped the tape roughly off of his victim’s eyes and mouth. The man squinted at the bright sun, trying to orient himself. He had heard the breaking of the waves when he was still in the car, so he now visibly saw what his audible perception had been. When his head cleared more, the bound man found himself laying on a beach in front of a large stack of wood. When he looked up, leaning over him stood his mortal enemy who was looking at him intently.

 " Welcome to hell, you bastard!" his voice seething with hatred. The victim’s were eyes wide open as he stared at his tormentor.

 "What ... what ... are you going to do with me?!!"

Holt did not answer him. The bound man watched as his tormentor walked to the edge of the forest, and disappeared behind the trees. After a few minutes he appeared again with a metal briefcase in his hand, and came back to the wood pile. Slowly, but always with an eye on the man laying on the sand, Holt put the briefcase down and flipped open the lock. After he opened it, he looked searched carefully through its’ contents. The man laying on the sand could not see the contents because of the position he was in. He raised his head, but Holt put his foot on his chest, and kicked him back to the ground.

 " Do not move your ass, or I’m going to make short work of you!" he snapped at him. He was flat on the ground, and from the corner of his eye he watched as Holt came towards him with a pair of scissors in his hand. All of a sudden he felt the cold steel touch the flesh above his ankle. With a few swift cuts the left leg of his jeans was completely separated up to his belt. The same happened to the right leg of his jeans, then his underpants, and finally his T-shirt. With one swift movement he pulled the belt out of the loops, ripped off the rest of his jeans, and the T-shirt from the pale body of his victim. He was completely naked, curved like an embryo in the womb, laying on the sand. He looked horrified as his tormentor lit the pile of wood! Once the wood pile was engulfed in flames, he saw Holt throw his clothes into the fire, and watched them disappear as they were engulfed in smoke and flames. Then Holt reached in the briefcase and pulled out a red envelope. Inside was a red passport which the victim recognized as his. Holt opened it in front of him and threw it violently into the fire.

 "I turn over this passport to the flames, because you do not need it anymore!" Holt yelled at him. He kept reaching into the briefcase, and got more papers out, and showed them to his victim one by one, before he threw them into the flames.

The man laying on the ground watched helplessly as his Costa Rican residency card, German passport, medical card, and all his papers that identified him as Michael Schulz from Ulm, Germany burned in the fire. Silently Michael watched as the flames did their work. Out of the corner of his eye Holt watched his shocked and almost paralyzed victim watch his life disappear into the flames. Slowly Holt turned to his whimpering victim.

 "Now Schulz, listen very carefully,” he began, "I will tell you this only once. You think I want to kill you here and now? I do not want that! I'm not a pig like you. You wanted to kill Pauline and I. You stole my company, and threw my life into misery. I would have every legitimate reason to end your life, but I'm not a murderer like you."

 "Holt, what ... what do you want to do with me?” Schulz whispered hoarsely.

Holt looked at the pile of misery with disgust on his face and said, “I will give you one last chance. What you make of it is your decision. It is within your power to stay alive, or die a miserable death. Do you remember when we lived together in Bello Horizonte? You told us the worst thing that could ever happen to you, and said that you would never want to experience it. Can you still can remember? I can, I have not forgotten.” Schulz pursed his lips together and refused to answer.

 "You told us the worst thing you thought possible was to wake up in the morning without a penny, without any clothes, plagued by drug withdrawal, on the beach of Montezuma. So, I'll let your nightmare, and your worst fear, be realized. This is not the beach of Montezuma. It is located twenty kilometers behind us. I could not take you there, because there are too many tourists.  This is the only beach close by the beach in Cabo Blanco. And now comes the best part, a special treat, just for you!”

Holt took a new pair of hospital gloves out of the briefcase, and pulled them slowly over his hands. Then he reached into the trunk and pulled out a surgeon’s mask, which he immediately put on. Then he straightened Schulz’s body, and piled some loose sand behind his victim’s back so he could sit upright. Schulz watched in horror as Holt reached into the briefcase and ripped open a box. From the torn box he took a glass ampoule which had a red band and a black skull etched into the glass. Holt broke off the tip of the glass vial, and slowly pulled the contents of it into a syringe.