Death Blow

by Isabella Maldonado

  Rios rubbed the back of his neck. “I could never understand why Salazar left the army before, but now it makes sense.”

  “His loyalty was to his father, not his country,” Flag said. “His sole reason for joining might have been free military training.”

  Ortiz looked at Flag. “What about that time in Colombia when Salazar showed up? We were—”

  “That’s classified.” Flag glared him into silence.

  Curiosity piqued, Veranda directed her question to Flag. “What would an agent with Homeland be doing in South America?” She paused a beat. “Why don’t you just admit you’re a spook, Flag? Everyone knows it.”

  For several seconds, nobody spoke.

  Flag’s features hardened into an opaque mask. “I work for DHS, Detective Cruz. That’s all you need to know.”

  Irritation loosened her tongue. “Some Feds are like the kids in the sandbox who don’t share toys, don’t take turns, and don’t play well with others.” She tilted her head. “Nobody likes those kids.”

  Sam turned his laugh into a cough, fooling no one.

  Ortiz jabbed a finger at her. “You should be grateful for the resources and expertise we bring to the table.”

  She opened her mouth to deliver a retort, but Diaz pointed at a nearby work bench. “Start cleaning your weapon, Detective.” He turned to the others. “Let’s go over last night’s events.”

  As she dumped her magazine and cleared the chamber, Diaz began an impromptu meeting. “You’ve all heard Detective Cruz’s debriefing. Daria Villalobos claimed responsibility for both bombings and implied she plans to take over the cartel in the future. How does this mesh with our intel?”

  Ortiz spoke first. “I’m not buying it. Now that we know Salazar is El Lobo’s biological son, we can assume he’s the shot-caller. He put Daria up to the kidnapping.”

  “Agent Ortiz has a point,” Sam said. “But why would Salazar order her to do it? She was the only Villalobos family member without outstanding warrants in the States. Doesn’t make sense.”

  “There’s an important point we’re avoiding.” Ortiz gave her a considering look. “Why are they targeting Detective Cruz?” All eyes followed his gaze as he continued. “And why such elaborate plans? Two bombs and a kidnapping?” He shrugged. “Why not just tag her at a thousand yards with a sniper rifle and be done with it?”

  A stricken look crossed Diaz’s face before he recovered. “Thank you for that … assessment, Agent Ortiz.” He hesitated. “Commander Webster and I have wondered the same thing. We’ve come up with a theory.”

  Veranda laid her gun on the cleaning table and gave Diaz her full attention.

  “We believe El Lobo put a bounty on Detective Cruz.” He held their questions with raised palm. “But only for someone in his bloodline. Maybe even for a designated individual.” He flicked a glance at her before proceeding. “And if that’s the case, then it would be the person who will take over the cartel when he retires.”

  “You’re saying Hector tied inheriting control of the cartel to killing Veranda?” Sam asked.

  Diaz nodded, but Flag shook his head. “That’s a lot of supposition, Lieutenant. With nothing to back it up.”

  Diaz’s over-protectiveness suddenly made sense. She needed to change the subject before the others got aboard his crazy train.

  “Why is this even important?” she said. “What difference does it make?”

  To her surprise, it was Rios who reached out to grasp her shoulder. “If it’s true, you will always be in danger as long as any of the Villalobos family are alive.” His grip tightened. “You need someone watching your six.”

  “Oh, no.” She jerked away from him. “I can take care of myself.” She turned from Rios to narrow her eyes at Diaz, who had opened his mouth to speak. “And no safe houses.”

  Rios looked at Diaz. “I can stay with her at her cousin’s apartment.”

  Her jaw dropped. “What part of no don’t you understand?”

  Diaz fixed a murderous glare on the federale. “We can both move in with her.”

  Anger bubbled to the boiling point. She was choosing which profanities would best describe their behavior when Sam shot her a quelling look and intervened.

  “Veranda’s safe at the moment. The address isn’t listed in any department databases and apparently you two are the only ones who know where it is.” He shrugged. “Don’t give away her location by parking police vehicles there.”

  Flag tipped his head toward Sam. “He’s right.”

  An audible buzz sounded. Diaz pulled his phone from his pocket and tapped the screen. “It’s marked urgent.” He turned and put the phone to his ear.

  She caught Sam’s eye and mouthed thank you. His warm grin extended to his eyes. He had a way of wading in when her temper was about to override her judgment. Their bond as tight as any she’d had on the job, he could read her.

  Diaz turned back to them, still on his phone. “I’m putting you on speaker.” He touched the screen and held the phone out. “Detective Warner’s with computer forensics,” Diaz said by way of explanation. “Detective, please repeat what you told me.”

  “After we were hacked a few weeks ago, we set up additional safeguards on the server and some of our cell phones,” Warner said. “When Lieutenant Diaz called us out last night, we initiated a process to triangulate the location of Detective Cruz’s stolen phone. If we didn’t get a hit in twenty-four hours, we’d brick the phone and call it done.”

  Diaz blew out an impatient sigh. “Get to the results.”

  Warner’s words tumbled out in a rush. “We pinged the phone. Coordinates were in West Phoenix. A cross check of the location led us down a bunch of false trails. Eventually, we matched it to one of the Villalobos cartel front companies you provided for us earlier.”

  “Nice work,” Veranda said.

  “Hell yeah.” Warner’s enthusiasm carried over the mini speaker. “And it gets better. We also remotely accessed the phone’s camera and set up a photo trap.”

  “What’s that?” Sam asked.

  “Antitheft device. When it’s activated, the phone instantly sends us a photo of whoever unlocks it to Computer Forensics.”

  They exchanged grins as Warner continued. “The phone snapped a picture. I forwarded a text to Lieutenant Diaz with the image.”

  “Do you still have access to the phone?” Flag asked. “Can you activate the camera to take more photos or relay a live video feed?”

  Warner responded without hesitation. “As soon as the photo came through, we remotely bricked the phone. Couldn’t risk leaving it open for data mining or a Trojan horse from the cartel.”

  Diaz slid his thumb and index finger apart on the screen to expand the picture. She looked over his shoulder. Her heart raced when she recognized two faces squinting in concentration, their images captured as they peered down at the phone when it unlocked.

  “Nacho and Sofia,” she breathed.

  Ortiz looked at her quizzically. “You know these two?”

  “Nacho is a nickname for Ignacio,” she told him. “He’s the cartel’s resident hacking expert and all-around computer geek. The girl is Sofia Pacheco.” She shook her head in wonderment. “I can’t believe she’s here. The cartel’s coyotes smuggled her across the border a couple of months ago. We managed to rescue her mother and sister, but she’s still being held against her will. She has tech skills, so they force her to work for Nacho.”

  “We might have a problem.” Warner’s disembodied voice piped up from Diaz’s hand. “Before we bricked Cruz’s phone, they could have accessed a backdoor to the server through downloaded data on the device. If this Nacho is good at what he does, he might have even managed to clone the unit before we shut it down.”

  “What do you suggest?” Diaz asked.

  “For a start, you should change the cell phone numb
er for everyone in Detective Cruz’s contact list.”

  She waved the comment off. “More than three hundred contacts are in that list. No way can we change all those numbers.” She imagined the chaos such an overhaul in the PPD communication system would create. And she would be the cause of it.

  Diaz weighed in. “Changing hundreds of phone numbers on the department’s call lists isn’t feasible while we’re dealing with an imminent threat. Too risky. What else have you got?”

  They waited while Warner consulted his fellow computer forensics detectives. After a lengthy discussion, he got back on the phone. “We can set up a notification system in our server’s firewall to alert us the moment it’s been breached. Best we can do.”

  “Do it.” Diaz disconnected and faced the group. “Now that we have a location, I’ll contact SAU. If we move fast, we might pin them down.”

  She’d worked with the Special Assignment Unit many times. The Phoenix Police tactical team was highly skilled. They could deploy on the fly if necessary, but storming a cartel stronghold involved too many unknowns. They needed an ops plan for this raid.

  Sliding the phone in his pocket, Diaz turned to Sam. “Did you finalize the affidavits for Daria and her premises?”

  Sam nodded. “As soon as the courthouse opens, I’m headed to a Superior Court judge to swear out warrants to arrest her and search the listed locations.”

  “I’ll go with Sam,” she said.

  “You’re the victim,” Diaz said. “Detective Stark is the lead on this case and has no direct involvement with the suspects. His name goes on the documents.”

  As much as she wanted her name on the warrant and her cuffs on the future defendant, she accepted Diaz’s logic. Police routinely obtained simple assault warrants against people who hit them, but this case rose to a completely different level. Felony abduction involving a blood relative who was part of a major investigation demanded bright lines between the arresting officer and the suspect.

  “I’m calling SAU now. While we’re in a holding pattern, they can use the time to get their teams briefed and prepped.” Diaz checked his watch. “We’ll meet at the SAU briefing room in two hours.”

  “There’s a problem,” Agent Flag said, looking at his phone. “Emergency weather bulletin. There’s a massive haboob forming. Should hit here in about an hour.”

  Veranda groaned. The infamous desert dust storms could last over three hours and made it impossible to see clearly.

  Diaz slid a finger down his phone’s screen to scroll through the contact list. “I’ll reach out to the air unit and ask them to take a look with the FLIR while they still can. They’ll be grounded for at least a half hour before and after the storm window.”

  “Dammit,” Sam said. “We can’t execute the warrants until after the storm. We don’t even have them in hand yet.”

  Still scrolling, Diaz responded without looking up. “SAU will have more time to evaluate whatever images the air unit comes up with and develop a plan. I’m changing the meeting time to four hours from now. Should put us at the tail end of the storm.”

  “Detective Cruz can get some rest before the operation,” Rios added, looking at her. “You had a busy night.”

  She started to object, but exhaustion flooded through her. Her reaction time had to be sharp when they raided the cartel site. She was about to concede when her stomach growled loudly.

  Everyone laughed. “And get something to eat, Detective,” Diaz said. “There’s no fleet car available, so I’ll give you a ride. We can hit a drive-through on the way to the apartment.”

  Veranda decided only her mother’s cooking would do. Plus, she should tell Lorena she was okay after her abrupt reappearance and departure the night before. “Lieutenant, you can just drop me at my mother’s house and Chuy can drive me to his apartment after I eat. He’s been stopping in for breakfast there before heading to his garage ever since he moved out.”

  Her family had shortened their food service hours since switching to the food truck. At this early hour, her mother would be at home with the family prepping food until lunchtime.

  Diaz got that stubborn expression he always wore when she disagreed with him. “I’ll take you there. Rios can come too. Then we’ll drive to your apartment and check it out. You might think it’s safe, but I won’t take that chance.”

  Rios moved next to Diaz in tacit alliance. “Besides, I’d like to see your mother again,” he said. “And I’m hungry too.”

  She scrunched her eyes shut and let out a groan. Her mother was bad enough with one eligible bachelor around. Two potential husbands for her oldest daughter at the same time would send her into matchmaking overdrive. Too exhausted to argue, Veranda accepted the inevitable and steeled herself for the breakfast from hell.

  28

  Veranda sat at the scarred wooden table in her mother’s kitchen. The scent of home cooking filled the house. Lorena put a heavy earthenware plate in front of her. She looked down to see chorizo and eggs. Her favorite breakfast. After sliding even larger helpings in front of Diaz and Rios, her tío Rico grabbed a round terra cotta warmer filled with freshly made tortillas.

  Her cousin Chuy, who had arrived twenty minutes earlier, was steadily working his way through a second helping. “Paradise Valley’s got the nice houses,” he said around a mouthful of fluffy egg, “but South Phoenix is where the best food is at.”

  “And the best people,” Veranda said, forking up a piece of chorizo. Parting her lips, she slid the spicy pork sausage onto her tongue. A moan of sheer pleasure escaped her as savory heat flooded her mouth.

  “Damn, mi’jita.” Chuy stopped shoveling to watch her. “Why do I feel like I should look away?”

  Rios grinned. “I like a woman who enjoys her food.”

  Diaz reddened, indicating his plate. “You’d have to be dead not to enjoy this.”

  Lorena gave Diaz an approving nod. “Thank you, Richard.” She gave him a coy smile. “I taught Veranda from the time she was little. She cooks real good too.” She shifted her gaze to Rios. “My own recipes from Mexico City. For a man who is used to that kind of food.”

  Rios lifted the warmer’s lid and pulled out a warm tortilla. “A man like me.”

  Diaz stabbed a piece of egg with unnecessary force. “A man like you who will be going back to Mexico City very soon.” He paused. “Too bad it’s so far away from here.”

  “Mamá,” Veranda said, desperate to put a stop to her mother’s blatant matchmaking. “We can’t stay long. Thanks for breakfast, but we’ve got to leave as soon as we’ve finished.”

  “I’m sorry to hear it, mi’ja. Will you and your friends be coming back for dinner later?” Lorena looked at them hopefully as tío Rico brought more homemade hot sauce to the table.

  “I doubt it. And you’ll be at the food truck anyway.”

  Her mother didn’t give up easily. “You could go there to eat.”

  She couldn’t tell her mother about the upcoming operation, but she didn’t want to get her hopes up about seeing them tonight. “We won’t be finished until late.”

  Accepting defeat, her mother and uncle trudged back to the stove.

  When Rios excused himself to visit the bathroom, Chuy lowered his voice. “I need to run something by you two, but it stays between us.” He circled his finger to point at each of them in turn.

  Disturbed by the reminder of her cousin’s close friendship with her boss, she inclined her head. Diaz followed suit.

  Chuy leaned in. “Tiffany’s father, Baz Durant, wants to hire me for some part-time work.”

  She laid her fork on the table. “What does he do?”

  “All that money he’s got,” Chuy said. “Turns out he made it from security work. His main office is in DC, but he winters here in Arizona. From what I understand, government agencies hire his company to do certain jobs.”

  D
iaz’s brows drew together. “He’s a Beltway bandit.”

  Chuy cocked his head. “What the hell is that?”

  “Sometimes federal agencies hire out certain jobs to private companies,” Diaz said. “They’re contracted as consultants for everything from white paper studies to covert operations.”

  “So, Baz is one of those ‘security consultants’”—she air-quoted the term—“that crop up on the news doing stuff no one talks about. Stuff that never happened.”

  Diaz tensed as he regarded Chuy. “What does he want you to do for him?”

  Chuy spread upturned palms. “He made the offer when he found out I’m a professional mechanic. Said something about having a couple of breakdowns on their last mission. I guess they can’t wait around for Triple A.”

  When neither of them smiled, Chuy passed a hand over his smooth scalp. “See, Baz can’t give me details because it’s classified, and I can’t get a clearance because of my record. He said I can go along with the team, but I won’t know what the mission is and there may be certain things I can’t see.”

  Her apprehension turned into confusion. “Then how can he expect you to—”

  Chuy cut her off. “That’s what I wanted to run by you. I’m interested, and the kind of money Baz is paying makes it worth my time—a few days here and there, I can work the shop’s jobs around that—but I’m used to doing my own thing. And I’m not real good at following orders.”

  “Runs in the family,” Diaz muttered.

  She ignored the gibe, focusing on her cousin. “He must have something specific in mind. Something soon. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have approached you so quickly.”

  “Muy lista,” Chuy said, acknowledging her shrewd insight. “He just got a contract that will take his team across the border. They’re all former commandos. Mostly clean-cut white guys. He needs someone who can speak Spanish and pass for a local.” He lifted a shoulder. “And fix whatever kind of vehicles they drive.”