Tony returned with his laptop. He set it up on the coffee table and angled it so that Anna and Hunt could see the screen. He pulled the thumb drive from his pocket and nervously twirled it before inserting it.
Hunt’s body tensed in anticipation. It wasn’t every day that you watched your daughter being kidnapped. When the video started, his heart was trip-hammering, and a nervous sweat pricked his forehead. At some point during the video, he heard Anna yelp with fright, and her hand gripped his arm. Hunt did his best to keep his cool and not let his temper get the best of him. It was as much for his own sake as Anna’s. When the video ended, Anna looked as if she wanted to bolt out of the room. Tony simply sank deeper into the sofa and placed his head into his cupped hands.
Hunt was the first to compose himself. “I’ll need to look at the video again.”
When Tony didn’t immediately react, Hunt clapped his hands to get his attention. “Wake up, Tony! Sophia needs you. Play the damn video again.”
That did the trick. Tony came out of his trance and punched a key to restart the video.
“Now,” Hunt said to Anna and Tony. “I know watching it over and over again is going to be difficult, but we need to pay attention and dissect the details in case they give us clues as to where they took our girls.”
“This was done by professionals,” Tony said.
Hunt concurred. He was glad Tony had regained his self-control.
“Let’s watch it a couple of times, and then we’ll compare notes, all right?” Hunt suggested.
And that’s exactly what they did for the next fifteen minutes. Once Hunt was convinced he had learned everything there was to learn from the video, he looked at the two pages of notes he’d written.
“So?” Anna asked him, her voice still a bit shaky. “Anything you’d like to share?”
Before he could answer, his burner phone rang.
It was Simon Carter.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Hallandale Beach, Florida
Hector Mieles wasn’t one to slack off when it came to operational security. With the exception of what Mr. Granger had told him over the phone and what he had been able to find online, and also the couple of minutes they had spent shooting at each other, Hector didn’t know much about Pierce Hunt. One thing was certain, though: the guy was bad news.
There was little doubt that Hunt was looking for them. Not only was the man dangerous, but he was a DEA agent too—and a former rapid response team leader at that. Hector didn’t fear the DEA, but he respected their tenacity and how ruthless they were outside the United States. Friends who had fought in Afghanistan had told him about the DEA Foreign Advisory and Support Team—FAST. They were hardworking, dedicated, and also merciless toward Taliban kingpins and drug facilitators. He had no reason to believe Pierce Hunt would act differently with his team if he managed to pick up their trail. If this were Mexico, Hunt would never find them. Hector would leave a trail that would be impossible for Hunt to untangle. Here in the United States, they were in the lion’s den. Treading carefully in this hostile environment was a necessity, not an option.
With that in mind, it only made sense to change location. The four vehicles his team had used to conduct the abductions of the two teenagers were inside the garage. Three more Mercedes SUVs were parked in front of the house. There were two additional safe houses available to him outside Miami. One was in Orlando, and the other one was in Hypoluxo. The one in Orlando was larger and had a significantly bigger weapons cache, but the distance was too far. The house in Hypoluxo was located in the Mediterranean-style gated community of the Hypoluxo Yacht Club. Although smaller in size, the three-bedroom, three-bath town house had two things going for it. First, a thirty-second walk from the house was the marina, where a Hydra-Sports 4200 Siesta, powered with quad Yamaha 350 engines, was fueled up and ready to go. With the Boynton Inlet a little less than half a mile away, and the Siesta’s top speed of over sixty-five miles an hour, it would be difficult for the police or the Coast Guard to catch them if they had to flee by water. The boat couldn’t outrace a helicopter, but they had a couple of RPG launchers on board for such an eventuality.
The second benefit of the Hypoluxo safe house was the proximity of the Palm Beach County Park Airport. It was a mere five minutes’ drive away. The two pilots for the King Air 350 Hector had chartered were standing by at a nearby hotel.
A voice crackled in his earpiece.
“Hector, it’s Antonio. Do you copy?”
Antonio was the leader of one of the two-man teams he had sent to do a recon of the safe house.
“You’re five by five,” Hector said.
“I-95 is light traffic only up to Boca Raton,” Antonio said.
That was good to know. The other team was taking Highway 1. Both teams were to report to him every ten minutes with traffic updates, or sooner if they noticed anything unusual, like a police speed trap. Hector wanted to be gone within the hour. The only thing he had left to decide was how to proceed with the girls. Should he drug them? It would be the safest way to travel with them. So far they were cooperating with him and his men. Hector guessed they were too terrified to do otherwise. They were so young.
In Hector’s mind, they were lucky he was the one in charge. He knew men—none of them on his team—who would have raped the girls by now, just to show them who was in charge. Hector had read about the history and evolution of human torture, and even though he never fully embraced its explicit usage, he also had no problem with it—or murder for that matter—when the situation called for it. But rape was another matter. It was wrong.
He made his way to the basement, where Emilio was faithfully babysitting the teenagers.
“Take a break,” Hector said. “Go pack your gear. We’re leaving soon.”
Emilio stood up and stretched. “You want something to eat?”
Hector declined. “I just ate a protein bar.”
“What will you do with them?” Emilio asked, his finger moving back and forth between Leila’s and Sophia’s doors.
Hector showed Emilio two syringes. “I’ll put them to sleep.”
Leila had an unsettled feeling in her chest, like a hard fist squeezed around her heart. She sensed that something bad was about to happen. She’d assumed that all of this was about a ransom. But what if it wasn’t?
Hector’s face had changed when she had told him about Pierce and the fact that he was a DEA agent. Could all of this be her father’s fault? Could this be payback for some of the secret stuff he did?
Leila’s thoughts moved to Sophia. Poor Sophia. She was the true victim here. Kidnapped because of Leila’s father, a man she had never met, a man she didn’t even know existed. How more unfair could this whole thing be? A deep sadness washed over her, and she suddenly felt an urgent need to throw up. She ran to the toilet but didn’t make it. Vomit spurted out of her mouth and splashed against the cement floor. The acidic taste was disgusting, making her retch again. Spasm after spasm racked her body, but only bile came out.
Fuck!
Her throat was wrecked, and her head ached like hell. She was one massive mess.
Sophia, what have I done to you? I’m so, so sorry.
She hated her father. She hated him for walking out on her mother. She hated him for working too much and for always making excuses. She hated him for thrusting himself back into her life. She hated him because he wasn’t here. But most of all, she hated herself for feeling so helpless and for betraying her friend.
Then she heard the unmistakable sound of a key inside the lock.
Her tormentor was coming back.
The door opened, and Hector stepped in. For a moment, he hesitated.
At the sight of him, she felt adrenaline surge through her body, and all her pent-up rage and fury broke loose. With a feral scream of sheer anger, she attacked.
The pungent smell of vomit caught Hector off guard, and he recoiled. Startling him even more was Leila leaping at him as if she was possessed. She sla
mmed into him, momentarily knocking him off balance, her screams echoing through the entire floor. Somehow, she managed to hold on to him with her legs and dug a finger deep into his right eye while scratching the other side of his face with her nails. His cheek throbbed where her nails had gouged deep cuts.
The little ungrateful bitch.
Hector backhanded her away with all his strength. She hit the ground hard and rolled several times before becoming still. Hector raised his hand to his right eye and cursed. Every time he blinked, a knifelike pain drove into his eye.
He sidestepped a fresh puddle of vomit and knelt down next to Leila. She was still motionless. Her chest wasn’t falling or rising.
Mierda. Did I hit her too hard? Not that she didn’t deserve it.
He pressed a finger on her neck to check for a pulse. He was relieved there was a strong one. He stuck his ear in her face and listened for a breath.
Leila’s whole body hurt from landing on the floor. Every muscle. Her head was throbbing. She fought to remain conscious, afraid Hector would do unspeakable things to her if she didn’t. She flinched when she heard his footsteps getting closer and closer. She kept her eyes closed and willed herself to lie still, but her heart was pounding.
Play dead, Leila. Maybe he’ll leave you alone.
Her throat constricted when he touched her neck. A thick smell of sweat, shaving cream, and coffee made her nose burn. She opened her eyes a slit, only to realize he was right in her face, his ear less than two inches from her mouth.
She acted out of instinct more than anything else. She bit his ear. Hard. She felt a crunching between her teeth and wildly shook her head from left to right until a piece of Hector’s ear tore away. The hot, salty, and metallic taste of his blood filled her mouth.
Hector, howling like a wild animal, grabbed her by the throat and squeezed, robbing her of oxygen. She tried to knock his arm away, but he was too strong. He gritted his teeth as his grip became even tighter. Leila frantically looked around for something, anything, that she could use to defend herself, but her strength was almost gone. She had only seconds to live, and the unfairness of it all crushed her. Her last thought was for Sophia. She hoped her best friend would fare better.
I’m sorry, Sophia.
Leila didn’t feel the needle Hector jabbed into her neck. She had already passed out.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Stafford, Virginia
Simon Carter punched in the number Hunt had given him and drummed his fingers on the table while he waited for his friend to pick up. Hunt picked up on the fourth ring.
“Thanks for doing this, brother,” Hunt said by way of greeting.
“No worries, man. I’m here for you. Anything you need, you know that.”
“I do. What do you have for me?”
Carter looked at the printout in front of him. “Listen, Pierce, most of the fingerprints you forwarded to me came back negative. But two of them scored a hit.”
“What do we know?”
“That you’re dealing with real professionals. The guys were former members of the Mexican navy, more specifically from the Infantería de Marina.”
On the other end of the line, Hunt sighed.
“Their names are Eustacio Sarmiento and Juan Pablo Carballal,” Carter added, his eyes still on the printout. “They spent seventy days at Camp Pendleton in California in 2010.”
“Doing what?”
“Seems like they went through the Marine Corps’s Basic Reconnaissance Course,” Carter said. “That’s how we got their fingerprints.”
“Goddamn it! This makes me so sick.”
Hunt’s tone suggested he was beyond mad.
“You’re telling me we trained those guys? And now they turned against us? This is fucking nuts!”
Carter didn’t disagree with Hunt’s assessment, but this was hardly the first time such things had happened. Rogue Afghan and Iraqi soldiers were increasingly turning their weapons against their American trainers. In fact, Carter had read somewhere that this was now the leading cause of death for NATO troops in Afghanistan. How sick was that for a statistic?
“I know,” Carter replied.
“They killed all the marshals, Simon. All of them. I’m the only one who survived the ambush.”
Carter clenched the receiver against his ear and swore under his breath. It pissed him off to no end that so many federal agents had lost their lives protecting a scumbag like Vicente Garcia.
“I’m sorry, Pierce.”
“I don’t think it’s too far-fetched to assume the other assaulters were former members of the Mexican military too,” Hunt said. “They knew what they were doing, Simon. They really did. They used the terrain for cover and concealment, and they exploited their superior firepower to cover their movements and to keep us pinned down. These guys weren’t our regular certified crackheads. They were well-trained operators.”
Carter could only imagine what Hunt must have felt when the motorcade SUVs started to blow up.
“What do you want me to do? I have a few leave days left if you need my help.”
Hunt didn’t reply right away. After a moment, Carter asked, “Are you there?”
“That’s not all,” Hunt said, his voice suddenly only a whisper. “They took Leila. My daughter’s gone, Simon.”
The words didn’t make any sense to Carter. What the hell was Hunt talking about? Didn’t his daughter live with her mother and her mother’s NFL husband?
“What do you mean they took Leila, Pierce? Who’s they?”
“The Black Tosca. She’s behind all of this. Vicente’s death, Leila’s abduction. She orchestrated everything.”
Carter stiffened. He hadn’t expected this, and, for a moment, he was the one who went quiet. He didn’t know Leila well. He had met her only a couple of times, but she seemed like a fantastic kid. Why would the Black Tosca kidnap Hunt’s daughter?
“Pierce, buddy, I’m lost here. Why would the Black Tosca kidnap Leila? What is she to her?”
He heard Hunt clear his throat. “It was a mistake. She was traveling with Tony Garcia’s daughter, Sophia, and—”
“Stop right there. What was Leila doing with Garcia’s daughter?”
“Don’t go there, Simon. I didn’t know about it either, but it’s beside the point.”
Hunt sounded angry now, and Carter wondered what role Pierce’s ex-wife had played.
“Okay,” Carter conceded. “Not my business. When did this happen?”
For the next few minutes, Hunt told him everything he knew about the kidnapping and the Black Tosca’s demand for Tony Garcia’s head. Carter had known Hunt for a long time and was aware of some of the hardships his friend had endured, but it was the first time he felt Hunt wasn’t 100 percent in control. There was a calculated edge to Hunt’s voice that chilled him to the bone.
“I need you to keep feeding me all the intelligence we have on the Black Tosca and her organization,” Hunt said. “I want to know everything there is to know about her. Who she knew growing up, who were her parents, does she have children, what—”
“I get the picture,” Carter said. “Don’t worry.”
“Good,” Hunt said. “Call me anytime at this number. You’re the only one who has it.”
Carter hesitated for a second, wondering if he should bring up the subject of Hunt’s arrest warrant. He decided against it. The man had enough on his plate.
“Copy that. Give me an hour or so. I should have something for you.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Miami, Florida
Hunt placed his mobile phone on the coffee table next to Tony’s laptop. Anna and Tony were both looking at him, their eyes desperate for answers he didn’t have. Anna was seated ramrod straight in her chair. She was barely moving.
“Simon is a good man,” Hunt told them. “He’ll call back soon enough with additional info.”
“So we’re supposed to sit on our collective asses until Simon calls back? That’s your plan, Sup
erman?” Tony stood up, looking like he wanted to fight again.
Hunt hoped it wouldn’t get to that, because the next time Garcia decided to spar, Hunt would put him down for the count.
“You’d better sit your ass back down and listen to what I have to say if you want to see your daughter again,” Hunt said, looking him straight in the eyes and reining in his own frustration.
Hunt could tell that Tony was struggling to swallow his pride, but he managed to sit back down.
“Please, Pierce,” Anna said, always trying to be the peacemaker, “tell us what you have in mind.”
Hunt leaned toward Tony and said, “Are you ready to make a deal?”
Tony blinked, and a furrow appeared between his dark brows. He cocked his head and asked, “What kind of deal are we talking about?”
“I’ll get Sophia and Leila back,” Hunt said. “And once I do, I want you to start converting your illegal business interests into legitimate ones.”
Tony’s head snapped toward Anna. A look of complete surprise crossed his face. Anna let go a small, abrupt laugh but didn’t respond otherwise. Even Tony seemed at a loss for words.
“We got a deal?” Hunt said.
Tony’s face contorted in anger. “You’re crazier than I thought,” he said.
“I was under the impression you’d do anything for Sophia. I guess I was wrong.”
“How dare you demand such things? Why does it even matter to you?”
Hunt’s expression hardened. “Because your business is the reason our daughters were taken,” he roared, “or are you too fucking blind to see that?”
A man like Tony didn’t get to where he was by being stupid. He might have inherited the organization from his father when Vicente went to prison, but he was the one who had bullishly expanded it into many different and lucrative niches. Tony had invested heavily in real estate using money laundered through his numerous legitimate contracting corporations. He now owned several high-value lots and apartment buildings all around the east coast of Florida. In the process, Tony had made new enemies but also achieved a degree of diversification that provided the kind of synergy rarely seen in the drug-trafficking industry. A fifth of the family business income now came from genuine businesses. An organization like his would be a prime acquisition target for a powerful Mexican cartel like the one the Black Tosca controlled.
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