Next Exit, No Outlet

by CW Browning

  If there was a small part of her that regretted having to ask Jack for assistance, Viper ignored it resolutely. He owed her, and this was a very small price to pay for her having saved his life twice now. The fact was that, while she could have found the information she needed herself, Jack had saved her not only time, but exposure. There was no way she could have got into the account without Harry suspecting it was her and, more importantly, tracing her location. MI6 would have led him to a dead end, and even if Harry was able to determine that England’s Secret Service had been nosing around in one of his accounts in Singapore, he would never connect it with her. Her association with Jack was something no one knew about, and she had worked hard to keep it that way. Even though Charlie had been the one to initially send her on the suicidal rescue mission that had introduced her to the head of MI6, as far as he knew, she had retrieved Jack and moved on to the next mission. Nothing more.

  Alina scanned the first page in the file as she sipped her coffee, bringing her attention back to the information before her. The door opened behind her and she glanced up as Damon entered carrying a plate of reheated Chinese food and a beer. He closed the door behind him quietly and went over to the armchair in the corner where he had left his laptop.

  “Are you going to eat?” he asked, moving the computer and sitting down.

  “Maybe later,” she replied absently, turning the page.

  He nodded and fell silent, setting his plate on the small side table next to him and opening his laptop. A comfortable silence fell over the room, the only sound the occasional tapping of his keys.

  Alina focused on the information before her, ignoring Damon for the moment. Her lips tightened as she turned the pages, scanning what Jack had been able to gather. The information was substantial, and she was impressed, even though she was expecting it. The frown on her face grew as she sorted through the pages of figures and data. When she had finished, Alina turned to her laptop and opened the attachments Dave had sent John all those years ago. A moment later, she broke the comfortable silence.

  “Son of a bitch,” she breathed, sitting back in her chair.

  Damon looked up from his screen. “What?”

  She swiveled around in her chair, her face carefully devoid of any emotion.

  “It’s one thing to know that your mentor, the man who trained you and made you the weapon that you are today, had your brother killed. It’s something entirely different to see the proof in black-and-white.”

  Damon’s eyebrows came together and he closed his laptop, giving her his full attention.

  “What did you find?”

  “Not me. I didn’t find anything. Jack did.”

  Damon’s eyes narrowed.

  “Jack?” he asked softly. “Jack as in the head of MI6? That Jack?”

  Viper looked at him ruefully. “Yes, that Jack.”

  “What the hell are you doing, Viper?” Hawk exploded. “You brought a foreign agency into this? Are you out of your mind?!”

  “I didn’t bring a foreign agency into it. Jack owed me a favor. Actually, he owes me two, and I called one in.”

  Hawk set his laptop aside and stood up swiftly, turning to stalk across the room restlessly.

  “How many times do I have to tell you that people that high on the food chain can’t be trusted?” he demanded, turning his head and fixing her with the glare. “All you have to do is look at Harry to see that! As for Jack, hell, he has a direct line to the Prime Minister of England! That means, if he wants, he’s also got the ear of the President. You know who else has the ear of the President? Oh yeah, that’s right. Harry!”

  Alina watched him pace back and forth, her lips pulling upwards and amusement.

  “Trust me, Jack does not have the ear of the President,” she said calmly, “and as far as Harry goes, there is no good reason for him to connect MI6 to us. Calm down.”

  Hawk stopped in the middle of the room and looked down at her, his lips pulled into a straight line.

  “When did you get this information from Jack?”

  Alina’s eyes slid away from his. “Thursday.”

  A heavy silence fell between them, Damon glaring down at her as she avoided his gaze.

  “I thought we agreed no more secrets? Or did I just imagine that whole conversation?”

  “First of all, I met with Jack initially before that conversation,” she said, snapping her eyes back to his with a flash of irritation. “Second, he gave me the information on Thursday and then we went after Kasim and Tarek. When was I supposed to tell you?”

  Damon’s scowl lightened somewhat and, after a moment, he exhaled.

  “You might as well tell me the worst of it,” he said. “What did you have him do?”

  “I asked him to look into Senator Carmichael’s bank account in Singapore.”

  Damon raised his eyebrows.

  “And he just did it? No questions asked?” he asked incredulously. “What did you tell him?”

  Viper shrugged. “Nothing. I told him it was probably nothing, but I needed to know everything I could about that bank account.”

  “And he didn’t wonder why you couldn’t do it yourself?”

  “Oh, he did.”

  “And?”

  “I told him he was my insurance.”

  Hawk stared at her for beat, then threw his head back and let out a laugh.

  “You told the head of MI6 that you were using him as an insurance policy?” he chortled. “Oh God, that’s priceless!”

  “I don’t know that I would exactly call it priceless,” she said thoughtfully. “Nothing comes for free, and I’m sure there will be dues to pay. It was worth it, though. He got more information in a few days than I would’ve been able to find in a week.”

  Damon sobered.

  “That’s because he’s not being hunted like a wild dog. It’s hard to be efficient and gather information when you have to cover every digital track and keep looking over your shoulder for killers.”

  He went back to his chair and sat down, leaning forward and dangling his hands between his knees.

  “Let’s hear it.”

  “Carmichael’s account was in his name, but he’s not the one who opened it. It was done twelve years ago by a shell company, Menlo Data LLC. Jack’s team was very thorough. They were able to trace the company back to its sole investor.”

  Damon watched her steadily. “Who?” he asked, already knowing the answer.

  “Harry. The bank account was opened by Harry, as the sole investor in Menlo Data.”

  He exhaled and dropped his head, silent for a moment.

  “And Carmichael?”

  “Last year, the senator was added as a signer on the account. On the same day, $1.4 million was withdrawn, and Menlo Data dropped off the account altogether.”

  “How much was left in the account?”

  “Close to $4 million.”

  “That’s quite a hefty payment. I hope the senator was worth it. What’s happening with the account now that Carmichael is dead?”

  “Oh, that’s the fun part,” Alina said, reaching behind her for the bottle of water on her desk. “As soon Carmichael’s death was released, all his accounts were frozen, pending probate.”

  “But not that one?”

  “Oh that one was included. The remaining funds in the account have been duly frozen, just like all the rest.”

  Damon raised an eyebrow. “I feel a ‘but’ coming.”

  “The total amount of funds frozen amounts to $150,000.”

  Damon shook his head.

  “Son of a bitch,” he muttered. “How did he get it out?”

  “When Menlo Data dropped off the account, one board member remained on as an emergency signer. Kind of a silent partner, if you will.”

  “And they cleaned the account out.”

  Alina nodded. “Once you factor in the time difference between here and Singapore, the account was cleaned out eight hours before Sen. Carmichael was killed. The funds were wired out.”


  “Well, that’s perfect. That means we can trace where they went.”

  “Oh, I already know where they went,” she said. “As I said, Jack was very thorough. They went through a few different banks before ending up in a bank in Mexico.”

  Damon’s lips tightened unpleasantly.

  “Mexico, huh? Well, I can only think of one reason for the funds to go to Mexico. How about you?”

  “Only one comes to mind,” she agreed. “I’m sure Blake will be able to confirm what holdings the Casa Reinos Cartel has in Mexico, including bank accounts.”

  “Why the hell would Harry give the cartel close to $4 million?” Damon wondered, getting up again. He resumed pacing around the small den. “I don’t see Harry letting that much money walk out the door to anyone.”

  “Agreed, unless he has no intention of letting the money stay there.”

  He stopped and looked at her sharply. “You think he’s setting up the cartel?”

  Viper shrugged.

  “I wouldn’t be surprised,” she said. “He set up Carmichael, then pulled the money out before the account could get frozen. What’s to stop him from doing the same in Mexico?”

  Damon exhaled sharply and looked up at the ceiling.

  “Well, it’s the Casa Reinos, for starters. You can’t just walk up to the head of the cartel and stab him in his back yard.”

  Viper was silent for a long moment, then she looked up slowly.

  “Yet Jenaro Gomez’s head was mailed to La Cabeza,” she said softly.

  Hawk looked at her, pausing in midstride. “FedEx’d, actually,” he corrected, his lips twisting humorously. Then he sobered again. “Are you thinking what I think you’re thinking?”

  Viper’s dark eyes met his steadily.

  “No one else has been able to get close to the cartel,” she pointed out.

  Hawk shook his head and resumed pacing.

  “How the hell does Harry think he’s going to get either one of us to go after La Cabeza?”

  “I have no idea,” she admitted, “but you have to admit that it seems like something Harry would do. Arrange it so that we do the heavy lifting for him, and he pulls the money right back out of the account.”

  “And this time, there would be no trail,” Damon said. “If the head of the cartel was killed again, there’d be chaos. It would be weeks before anyone realized money was missing from an account, and by then the trail would be cold.”

  He stopped in front of her. “You said you had proof in black-and-white that Harry killed your brother. What proof?”

  “Over the past 12 years, there have been regular deposits made into Carmichael’s account. We’re talking large amounts, all coming in and going out at regular intervals. On a hunch, I compared the manifests that Dave sent John from Iraq with the account statements.”

  “And?” His blue eyes bore into hers.

  “The amounts from the manifests match deposits made at the same time that the shipments went missing or were destroyed.”

  “All that proves is that Harry was dealing arms on the black market and charging cost.”

  Alina cleared her throat. “On the day Dave died, ten grand was withdrawn from the account, in cash.”

  Hawks sucked in his breath. “Where?”

  “Erbil. It’s a city in Northern Iraq, not far from where Dave’s company was operating.”

  Damon swore softly. “Alina, I’m so sorry.”

  Viper waved her hand in dismissal. “There’s nothing for you to be sorry about,” she said shortly. “Trust me, by the time I’m finished with him, he’ll be the one who’s sorry.”

  Before Damon could answer, there was a knock on the door, and Michael poked his head into the den.

  “Hey,” he said. “Not to interrupt, but there’s something on the news I think you two should see.”

  Alina strode into the living room, Damon close behind. Blake had turned on the TV above the mantelpiece and the screen was paused. She raised an eyebrow and looked at Michael.

  “Well?”

  Michael went over to the coffee table and picked up the remote.

  “We paused it so you could see the rest,” he said, pointing the remote at the screen and hitting play.

  Alina crossed her arms and leaned against the back of the couch, watching the commercial on the screen absently.

  “I wanted to watch the news,” Stephanie said from the recliner. “I wanted to see if they had anything more on the shooting at work. Instead, we got this.”

  The commercial had ended and Alina found herself looking at a female reporter, standing on a city street.

  “I’m in Atlantic City tonight where yet another body has been found in plain sight. This is the fifth so far today in what appears to be a deliberate and targeted attack ranging from Vineland up to Newark.” The camera panned to a section of boardwalk outside a casino, cordoned off with police tape and surrounded by a smattering of onlookers. “The body was discovered just half an hour ago by a couple walking their dog. While the identity of the victim is unknown at this time, the attack appears to have followed the same pattern as the other four victims found today. Authorities tell us that the victim is a young male between the ages of 18 and 24, and sustained multiple stab wounds. In the same manner as the other bodies, this one had been stabbed in the stomach before his throat was slit. Authorities are scrambling to unravel what appears to be a mass killing spree. All the victims share the same wounds, but all have been found in different locations throughout the state. Authorities are asking anyone with any information to contact them.”

  Alina glanced at Michael. “Why is this something you think I needed to see?”

  “Just watch.”

  The camera went back to the studio where two reporters sat behind a desk, looking appropriately grim.

  “And that makes the fifth death today in what can only be described as premeditated and deliberate attacks,” the male anchor on the right said. “While none of the victims’ identities have been released, there are preliminary indications that all the victims had close ties to the Casa Reinos, a notorious and deadly Mexican cartel.”

  Alina stilled, her gaze arrested, and she felt Hawk stiffen behind her.

  “While the association is still officially unconfirmed, there have been several indications in the past few months that the cartel has moved into the United States, and even as far north as Boston,” the female anchor on the left continued. “If all the victims are, indeed, connected with the cartel, this could be an indication of a growing gang war taking over the streets of New Jersey.”

  “That’s exactly right, Patty,” the man agreed to soberly. “Wait. I have something here. This just in: another body has been found in Newark. I repeat, another body matching these same wounds has been found in Newark. That brings the body count up to six.”

  “Still no official word from the authorities as to possible suspects,” Patty said, “but it certainly is starting to look as though this could be an inter-gang related killing spree.”

  The camera cut again to a commercial and Michael switched off the plasma, turning to look at Alina.

  “Well?”

  She shook her head slowly, her lips pressed together.

  “If they are Casa Reinos, it’s not good,” she murmured.

  “That’s an understatement,” Blake said, getting up from his seat on the couch and going to the dining room table. “If someone’s killing off cartel members, things will get very ugly very fast.”

  “You’re the expert,” Damon said. “Have the cartel established themselves here?”

  “It’s more than likely,” Blake replied, sitting down and opening up his laptop. “They’re moving products pretty freely up and down the coast, and have been for the past six months or so. Traditionally, Salcedo doesn’t trust outsiders, so that would indicate a permanent presence of his own people.”

  “That certainly didn’t hold true with the bombs a few weeks ago,” Alina pointed out. “He had no problem
s passing those onto outsiders.”

  Blake glanced up.

  “Those weren’t his own product. It was product he was moving for someone else. As far as we can tell, the drugs coming up the coast are direct revenue for the Casa Reinos.”

  “Who would be going around knocking off members of the cartel?” Michael asked with a frown. “Could it be a rival gang?”

  “That would be a little too convenient,” Alina said. “When have you ever known anything to be that cut and dry with us?”

  “More to the point, why is someone going after the cartel now?” Blake wondered. “It seems to be very suspect timing.”

  “Why do you say that?” Damon asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

  Blake gave him a puzzled look for moment before glancing at Michael.

  “You didn’t tell them?”

  Michael shrugged. “I told Damon earlier.”

  “Then you know about the Sea Queen,” Blake said. “She left port yesterday and was seen passing Miami earlier today. You don’t think the timing is strange given what we just saw on the news?”

  “I’m not sure why you think the two are connected,” Damon answered. “It’s apples and oranges. Salcedo moving his yacht to the East coast wouldn’t have anything to do with a possible gang war going on in New Jersey. He’s too smart to get involved in something like that this early in his tenure as La Cabeza. He’s still trying to regain control of the factions down in Mexico.”

  Blake looked at him, surprised.

  “How do you know so much about Salcedo and the cartel?”

  The look on Damon’s face was impassive. “I’ve had some dealings with the Casa Reinos.”

  Alina’s lips twitched and were repressed sternly.

  “If Salcedo isn’t on the yacht, who is?” she asked.

  Blake met her stare.

  “That’s just it,” he said. “We don’t know. We’re assuming it’s his second-in-command, Roberto, but no one’s been able to get eyes on the actual crew. The team in Florida is trying to pull better satellite footage from when it passed Miami, but we’re not hopeful.”