He recalled an article that he had read years ago stating that one in ten cars in Juárez were stolen from the United States.
Evan mumbled to himself, “Why go to Afghanistan.”
He made sure his H&K .40 was truly concealed and scanned the city. His bulletproof vest constricted his breathing a little, and he began to sweat.
Evan found the motorcycle that Mr. Z had left for him in a far corner of the parking lot. The bike was an older BMW model with chipped paint and a few dents—most likely stolen from Texas. Evan sat down, adjusted the mirrors, and fired up the engine.
He eased into traffic and went around the block a few times to see if he was being followed. Once satisfied, he zoomed off in the direction of Armando’s brother’s grocery store.
Private Hangar, Juárez International Airport
Nathan sat at a small desk in the rear of a white Gulfstream V. The plane was in a private hangar owned by an oil executive. The plane had been washed, repainted, and outfitted with new tail decals within hours of landing. Nathan had built a network with some of Mexico’s wealthiest business owners in his fight against the cartels. No one spoke as he and five of his team members looked at a map of Juárez. Laptops, cell phones, police scanners, and an assortment of coffee cups littered the makeshift operations center.
“OK, we stick with our original plan. Gerard has two men with him, and they have gotten comfortable and lax, to say the least.”
Nathan looked at his men, who had pulled off such snatch-and-grab missions hundreds of times over the years. Each man had at one time been a member of Mexico’s elite Air Mobility Command.
“Boss, the People’s Market is in a busy part of town; the police response time is my only worry. I also am not comfortable with managing five kidnapped girls; if our intelligence is sound, they are drugged. We can leave them and call the police, but my team is not rescuing them. Getting Gerard alive may be an issue.”
Nathan sighed. “I have confidence in your abilities and in your planning of this. This is your show. I have pulled two men off Gerard task force to watch someone else. I have another person of interest that we may have to make contact with. Could complicate things,” Nathan said quietly.
“We need all hands, sir. You have a plan for this other person of interest?”
Nathan stood up and felt his stomach turning; he was more concerned about Evan’s appearance on the scene than anything else right now. His team knew he was distracted.
“We have to snatch Frenchman at the People’s Market. If not, the second option is the airport.”
The leader of his assault team opened a Coke, shook his head, and spoke up. “The airport will be difficult. Well guarded, too open. Fine if we want to just pop him, but we need to trap the little rat, corner him!”
Nathan stood up and walked away from his team. He went to the back of the jet, turned, and said flatly, “You guys know what to do. Just do it. I have to be alone for a moment.”
The shooters from Dark Cloud looked at each other perplexedly and then got down to business preparing their gear.
Evan arrived at the grocery store and parked on the sidewalk. This part of town was a different world from the area he had just left. Gang signs were spray-painted on empty storefronts. Abandoned cars, lost people, and trash lined the street. He observed empty lots with rusted fences, houses with bars, and convenience stores with shoppers going about their business. It was hard to believe that just a few miles away was El Paso and an entirely different world.
He walked into the small grocery store and pretended to look around.
“Can I help you?” An elderly lady with weathered skin and facial hair approached him.
“Gustavo?”
She looked at him and nodded. Evan noticed that she only had three teeth. “Follow me.”
Gustavo was sitting among piles of paper at a desk that was probably as old as he was. He had the twitch of a man who had Parkinson’s.
“Sí?”
“Don’t get up, sir.”
Evan put his hand up and tried to find a place to sit. A pregnant cat appeared, looked suspiciously at him, and then left.
“I am Evan. I am here on behalf of your niece.”
Gustavo looked relieved and terrified at the same time.
“Hell of a cannon there.” Evan nodded toward the gun.
“Uh-huh.” The old man coughed as he spoke. He had the permanent wet rattle that many elderly smokers get. His English was excellent.
Evan offered his hand.
“You are an American?” Gustavo asked suspiciously.
Evan nodded. Gustavo had a firm handshake. “Sí. I need you to tell me everything.”
“They contact me on this phone.” Gustavo pointed to a sparkly orange cell phone on his desk. The phone looked like it could have belonged to a teenage girl. “They tell me—‘When you have money, you call.’”
“Then what?”
“They say nothing else.”
“They gave you that phone?”
“Sí, sí. Young boy on a bike brought it few days ago. I am poor. Why they do this?” Gustavo had fear in his eyes. He was helpless.
“Gustavo, I am going to be frank. Chances are we will give them the money and never see your brother.”
Gustavo was visibly crushed but not surprised by Evans words. Hearing the truth was always much worse.
“I…I know. All my life I work hard, my brother works hard, but some, these animals, they no work—they just take!”
Evan nodded. “Put suits on them and a teleprompter in front of them, and we call them politicians. Same thing.” Evan smiled, trying to lighten things up.
Gustavo nodded.
“It’s like this everywhere.” Evan pulled out a can of Skoal and packed a dip. “We play their game tonight, and then I am out of here. Look, I am really sorry, but don’t give up hope, OK? We will try.”
“That’s all I have, Evan.”
“This is probably not going to end well. I am sorry.”
Gustavo acknowledged Evan’s statement with a nod. His eyes looked bloodshot, dry, and tired.
“My city. People are fleeing. It is a war zone. When I grew up, it was a different place. My family, we have been here since father opened in 1912.”
Evan stared at Gustavo and let the man talk. He suddenly wanted a drink and then wanted to skip across the border and go home.
Gustavo went on for twenty minutes, talking about growing up in Mexico, working, and watching his large family grow up, reproduce, move on, and die. The cycle continued for generations—some good stories but many bad. People here were just like anywhere else; they loved their families, food, and culture.
This old guy does not deserve this. Who does? Evan let his mind wander.
The phone rang. The ring tone was a Britney Spears song, and Evan almost laughed.
“Answer it.”
Gustavo tried to hit the buttons and was unable to. Evan helped him and put the phone to Gustavo’s ear. The old man’s face drained of color, and he looked as if he might pass out.
“Y-Y-You…señor—they want to speak with you.”
Evan bit his lip. He had just gotten his first piece of intel: they were watching the store.
“Hola?”
The voice on the other end spoke choppy English. “Who the fuck are you?”
“The man with your money. I don’t want any trouble. I just want to pay and return Armando to his family.”
“I said who the fuck are you?”
Evan paused. He had to play weak and submissive, no games. He really hated when people cussed like that. He tried to sound scared and let his voice crack as he spoke.
“I am a friend of Armando’s daughter. She is in the hospital, sick, sick with grief. Do you have a daughter?”
“Shut up. You have the money?”
“Yes.”
The voice paused. Evan walked to the window of Gustavo’s office and looked outside. He did not expect to see anyone, but he looked anyway.
; “The girl was supposed to come.”
“She is too sick, I told you. I want her to see her father. What do people have besides family? Please, I will do whatever you say.”
Evan tried to personalize as much as he could, then paused. “Can I just pay you now?”
“Shut up! You talk too much.”
“OK, you are the boss. I am sorry. Just scared that’s all. Look, we can work this out.”
Gustavo put his head on the desk and visibly checked out.
“Think I am stupid, eh?” the voice asked.
The phone went dead.
Evan put the phone down and looked for a trash can to spit in.
“They hang up?” squeaked Gustavo.
“Just wait.” Evan moved some dusty books and files off a stool and sat down. “Where’s a good place to eat around here?”
“What?”
“Food, I will need breakfast eventually. Breakfast tacos—that’s what is in my head.”
“Oh, um, Maria, my sister. She…she has a place. I…I can tell her that you are coming. I c-c-can’t eat.”
Evan frowned. He hoped he was not insulting Gustavo by talking about food at a time like this.
“Gustavo, my friend, you must eat something, drink some water, stay focused.”
“I have not eaten in two days. I throw up.”
“I am not asking—you need to eat something.”
Gustavo nodded.
Evan left him alone for a second and walked out into his grocery store. He found a jar of peanut butter and an apple and returned. He put the items on the table. “Eat.”
The old man could not unscrew the peanut butter, so Evan helped him.
“Look, Gustavo, I will do my best. I am going to ask you a question, very serious.”
“Y-Yes?”
“If I have an opportunity to kill these men.”
“No!”
Gustavo dug his finger into the peanut butter. “Can you cut the apple for me, señor?”
Evan pulled out his Gerber and sliced the apple into small pieces.
“Evan, who are you?”
“A friend. The less you know, the better.”
“You…you deal with men like these before?”
Evan admitted, “I have killed many men like these.”
“Does it make you feel better?”
“Never.”
Gustavo frowned. “Revenge is the Lord’s business. Forgiveness, it can free you.”
Evan nodded. “You are right, Gustavo.”
“I have three sons who died to violence. They were not innocent, Evan. Like you, they were hard, had hard hearts.”
Gustavo dug out more peanut butter and ate.
“I will do what I can. Understand?” Evan said calmly.
“God is my only comfort.”
Evan nodded and considered Gustavo.
The cell phone rang.
“My father had a similar outlook, Gustavo.”
“Where is he?”
“Dead.”
“Then his pain is gone. Your father knows the truth now. Remember he is watching you.”
Evan looked at the phone. It kept ringing.
“The pho…phone?”
Evan answered it. “Hola?”
“Shut up and listen.”
A different voice spoke this time. This one stayed in Spanish and was deeper and more self-assured. Evan figured he was the leader.
OK, so I know there are at least two of them, Evan thought.
“Five o’clock, Walmart on Ejercito National. You park near the bus stop. Wait by the pay phone. We call you.”
The phone went dead.
Mexico City, Manuel’s House, February 15, 1200 Hours
Manuel’s household was, emotionally, on the complete opposite side of the spectrum as the day before.
Roger was relieved and thankful that Manuel was alive. He tried to step back and just observe the family as they allowed the floodgate of emotions to flow. Roger wiped a tear from his eye and quickly looked around to make sure no one noticed. He was prepared to play it off.
Roger headed to the kitchen for a beer. From a safe distance, he drank his beer and noticed Mia smiling at him. Her eyes were red, and she took an offered tissue.
“Roger, why you hide?” she asked in English.
Roger shrugged and drank his beer.
Mia walked over to Roger and examined him with a sassy smirk. “You talking to yourself? Come to the group!”
Roger winked and held up his beer. “Beer is over here. We aren’t an emotional lot.”
Mia reached up and grabbed his cheek with her tiny fingers and shook him slightly. “You are not so tough.”
She spoke as one who had authority in such matters, possibly the youngest child with older brothers, Roger guessed. She was the type who touched or grabbed whomever she was speaking to.
“Your beer is leaving.” She giggled, took his beer out of his fist, twirled, and walked away.
Must have taken ballet as a child, Roger thought.
As offended as Roger was as a Scotsman to have his beer taken, by a woman no less, he did respect her sassy spirit and was thankful that she was not in the demanding business mode of earlier.
Roger joined the group.
Victor, Mr. Rosa’s detective brother, was speaking. “The doctor says he will be fine. You all leave the country for a month or longer.”
Roger nodded and looked at Mr. Rosa, who was holding his son’s hand. He faced his brother. “I have a business to run! I can’t leave.”
“Sí! You can. It’s called delegation. Life is more important. You have others to manage, I know!”
The two brothers stared at each other for an intense moment.
Manuel stared at the ceiling. The living room became quiet.
“I am not running!” Mr. Rosa blurted.
“All due respect, sir, these men, the Scorpions, they will come now with a vengeance. I believe they allowed us to retake Manuel; it was a test, a message,” said a short, well-groomed man with a deep voice and glasses. He seemed to have some authority in Dark Cloud.
Mr. Rosa was defiant and puffed out, as if he was defending some wall in some ancient battle.
Then the general spoke up, and the battle plans changed. “No! My family has been through enough! You take my grandson from here!”
No one spoke for a minute.
The wife backed up her mother-in-law with a look, and the troop withdrawal began.
’Mazin’ how they do that. Same everywhere. Roger drank his beer and looked around, trying to cover up his ridiculous smile.
The minute hand on an ancient grandfather clock was deafening. Roger had never noticed how loud the thing was before.
“Ladies, we go to our villa in Barcelona. My cousins can manage the business. My decision is final. OK?”
It was an approval and capitulation with a slight nod to his wife and mother.
“Great decision, sir.”
The casual conversations and doting over Manuel returned, and all was pacifica y maravillosa.
“Can we speak? I have someone you need to meet.”
Roger followed Mia, quite willingly, back to the bar by the kitchen. She went to the fridge and got him another cold Dos Equis.
The short man with glasses and a deep voice held a glass of wine. Roger had not seen him enter the house. He spoke to Roger softly, like a noble man might speak to a Viking.
“Allow me to introduce myself. I am Reo; I’m in charge while Nathan is gone.” He looked at his watch. “In a few hours, Nathan is going to take down a major player in the Scorpion gang. He is in Juárez. We must all go into hiding after this happens.”
“What?”
“Roger, let me be blunt. Gasoline is about to be dumped on a blazing fire. They will come after us and the Rosas.”
Roger looked at Mia. She nodded and pinched his bicep. “Listen to him.”
“OK, what is going on?”
“When we get to our training area,
we will wait for Nathan and other elements to arrive. We have a major plan to reveal. We must stay on schedule.”
Roger observed and nodded. He was more concerned about the Rosas right now.
Reo finished his wine and smiled at Roger. “It’s a bit much to take in, I admit. This is a job offer, Mr. McDuff.”
Roger almost coughed up his beer.
Mia rubbed his back. “Don’t choke old man.”
“Me? Job offer?”
Reo looked up at Roger. “My associates will fill you in on the contract and retainer bonus. Please don’t feel pressured. This is dangerous. This is big.” Reo raised his eyebrows with amusement at Roger’s shock.
“Aye, so ye can’t find a cook that can break limbs?”
Reo laughed and shook Roger’s hand.
Mia punched him in the arm with annoyance.
CHAPTER 9
Blue-Light Special
Juárez, Mexico, 1300 Hours
Evan rode his BMW motorcycle the four miles through impoverished streets, past vacant houses and empty lots, to Walmart. His mind was racing. Evan drove up and down the busy street near Walmart, making a U-turn and observing the surroundings. The intersection with Walmart was just as busy as any street in the United States. Restaurants, liquor stores, auto-body shops, and a 7-Eleven lined the opposite side of the street. A large concrete median divided the road. Evan began to see the brilliance in the site selection. The kidnappers had picked a busy, open place for the exchange. They could sit virtually anywhere and watch him. More importantly, police would be hesitant to storm a busy area. Civilian casualties would be huge.
Evan drove his bike into the parking lot of the Walmart and took an immediate left. He parked near the left side of the store, which faced the street. The store was packed. Evan parked near the crowded bus stop and observed the lone pay phone. He turned off his bike, removed his helmet, and packed a dip. He spent the next thirty minutes watching people and seeing if anyone was watching him.
OK, I will play your game, he thought.
Evan watched a white-and-green school bus pull up to the bus stop. No one paid him any attention.
OK, so they will call, and then it will begin.
Evan pulled out his Android phone and plugged the hotel’s address into the GPS. He was only four miles from his hotel.
He watched families with children, businessmen, and people who looked as if they had just been working in a factory shuffle into and out of the Walmart. He looked at the Sam’s Club and suddenly felt an urge to shop.
Silver Lead and Dead (Evan Hernandez series Book 1) Page 8