by Tom Fowler
“One more thing,” Windholm said in a small voice. “He . . . uh . . . found my stash and flushed it. I’ll need more.”
Héctor rubbed his forehead. “You should have been more careful with it. I have a lot to deal with right now, including the best way to find and kill this man. You’ll get more when I have some to spare.” Before Windholm could object—or worse, grovel—Héctor hung up. Burning down the place where he worked didn’t deter the American. He represented a growing threat to Héctor and the cartel. He needed to die. Héctor imagined him suffering at least a full day of torture before begging for death, and the thought made him smile.
24
Tyler drove past Baltimore and headed into Columbia. It was the largest city in Howard County, one of the most prosperous electoral districts in the country. Tyler remembered it as a “planned community” and wondered how much the original design changed in the intervening years. In addition to expensive houses located on streets with pretentious names, the area boasted of a good restaurant selection. He parked in a garage near Clyde’s to meet Sara Morrison for lunch.
She waited in the lobby when Tyler walked in. She smiled at him, and they shared a tight embrace. “How are you?” she asked, frowning at his nose. It looked black and blue in the mirror this morning, and he figured it hadn’t improved since.
“I tried out a new cosmetic surgery technique,” Tyler said. “I don’t recommend it.”
Sara grinned as a hostess led them to a secluded table. They sat against the large windows and enjoyed a nice view of the manmade lake behind the restaurant. People strolled about it, and an occasional bird swooped from the sky to pluck an unsuspecting fish from the water. “What happened?” Sara said as she opened her menu.
Tyler looked around the restaurant. He took the seat allowing an easy view of the main entrance. A corridor at his four o’clock led to the restrooms, and the kitchen was at his two. At least one would have a door to the outside. Tyler angled himself on the chair so he could keep both the lobby and kitchen in sight. “The cartel has an enforcer,” he said in a hushed tone. “He and I disagreed about a few things.”
“Looks like he won the argument.”
“We both lived to see another day.”
A young waitress approached their table. Sara ordered a fancy-sounding salad. Tyler, who’d never even opened his menu, chose a burger and fries. “What if they didn’t have what you wanted?” Sara said.
Tyler shrugged. “Then, I’d watch you eat, and I’d get food from a more sensible place.”
A spark of happiness danced on Sara’s face, but it left as quickly as it came. “I got the feeling this wasn’t entirely a social call.”
“You’re right,” Tyler said. He kept his voice low even though no one else sat close enough to overhear them. “I need someone else’s help with the cartel. It’s gotta be somebody who has some actionable intelligence on them. Preferably a person who can shoot straight if it comes down to it. None of my old army buddies have the knowledge I’d need. I was hoping you could make a recommendation.”
Sara frowned and took a long, slow breath. “I can think of a few people right away. I’m simply not sure the information you want is . . . public domain.”
“I wouldn’t ask anyone to divulge something secret. I took an oath to protect classified information, too, and I know it’s a lifetime obligation.”
“Have you considered dropping this?” Sara sipped her water. “I understood Braxton because of your connection to him. This isn’t your fight.”
“Someone needs to speak for Alice,” Tyler said. “The cops don’t seem to want to do it. People like Héctor need to know they can’t get away with everything. I didn’t tell you yet, but the bastards burned down Smitty’s shop.”
Sara nearly dropped her water glass. “That’s terrible! What’s he going to do?”
“I’m not really sure.” Tyler crossed his arms. “He fired me. I don’t blame him. This wasn’t his mess, but he got caught up in it.” He shook his head. “Héctor and his cronies have hurt way too many good people. I’m drawing a line in the sand.”
“You really are a knight errant,” Sara said.
Tyler shrugged. “I kick down doors and shoot people. Labels aren’t for me to worry about. Can you help?”
Sara lapsed into silence. Worry creased her forehead and pulled her brows down. Tyler wasn’t surprised she wanted him to drop this. He’d gotten her away from Braxton, and it served as an unconventional beginning to a relationship. Tyler never considered himself marriage material, though. He cared about Sara, but he couldn’t let the matter of the cartel go. Even if Sara couldn’t understand why. “I think so,” she said after a moment. “I know someone who might be precisely who you need. I’ll see if he’s interested.”
“Thanks.” Tyler smiled. He put some effort into it and turned the brightness up. Sara didn’t share his good spirits.
Nataniel waited impatiently as Raul peered through the binoculars. They sat in a Jeep outside the Evergreen Acres retirement community. The American’s father lived here. The place sat about ten minutes from Héctor’s house. Nataniel didn’t understand why Raul kept looking at everything. This was a complex full of elderly people. They could drive in and be done with their target in a few minutes. “What’s taking so long?”
Raul took the binoculars away from his face. His long black hair grayed at the temples. Of all the men who came north with the last shipment, Raul was the oldest and most experienced. Maybe he saw something significant. “This won’t be easy,” he said.
“What do you mean? Everyone here is a hundred years old.”
“There are two guards at the gate.”
“So?” Nataniel said. “We could kill them before they knew what was happening.”
Raul nodded. “Maybe. We would then need to raise the gate ourselves. There are three cameras at the entrance. We’d be seen. If anyone is watching, they’d call the police.”
“So we would need to work quickly.”
“You’re not getting it,” Raul said with irritation in his voice. “There is another guard patrol in a golf cart. I’ve seen a different sentry go in and out of each building. We would not be unchallenged.”
“You and I each have an AK,” Nataniel said.
“I’m telling you a frontal assault won’t work. It’s way too risky.”
“Fine.” Nataniel waved a hand. “We’ll try it from another side.”
Raul turned in his seat. “Do you know what building the old man lives in?”
“Six,” Nataniel said after a moment of thought.
“Right.” Raul nodded. “Now show me which one is six.” Nataniel stared at the compound. “You looked through the binoculars before I did.”
“I know, Raul!” He sighed. “I guess I didn’t notice.”
“Good thing I did,” the older man said. “It’s on the right. There’s a guard station at the side of the road just before it, and it’s protected by trees to the side.”
“You’re afraid of walking through the forest?” Nataniel asked.
Raul rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Did you listen when Héctor told us about the man who lives here?”
“He’s the American’s father, and he needs to die. What else do we need to know?”
“Maybe the fact he spent his career in the American navy,” Raul said. “He’s the registered owner of enough guns to start his own security force. Considering his son was in the army, do you think they haven’t spoken? Do you think we’d be taking him by surprise?” Nataniel didn’t say anything. “I think he’s expecting us. He doesn’t know when, of course, but he’s prepared.”
“He’s one geezer in an apartment,” Nataniel said.
Raul made a sweeping gesture with his hand. “By all means, then . . . you try to walk through his front door.”
“I’m calling Héctor.” Nataniel slipped his phone out of his pocket. When the boss answered, he put the call on speaker. “We’re outside the old man’s place.�
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“Why isn’t he dead yet? I want to show the American a video of his father bleeding out.”
“Raul is chicken.”
“I’m cautious,” Raul said. “The area is well-guarded. The building we want is protected by trees. It would be hard to come from the side. Our target is well-armed. Even if we made it past everyone, he’d be ready for us.”
“We can do it, jefe,” Nataniel said.
“I don’t think we can,” Raul said. “Not easily, at least. It’s too risky.”
Héctor’s sigh hissed through the speaker. “Fine. Abort for now. We might try this again later with more men. Come back to the house.” Héctor broke the connection. Nataniel sat in the driver’s seat staring ahead at the complex.
“You heard him,” Raul said. “It’s not worth it. Let’s go back.”
“You’re scared of a bunch of old people and a few guards.”
“I’m cautious. I’ve seen a lot of easy situations go bad. One day, you’ll know better.”
Nataniel fired up the engine and put the Jeep in gear. “Screw you,” he said as he steered them away from Evergreen Acres.
Tyler played the two encounters with Orlan in his mind. He gave up a lot to his adversary in terms of size, strength, reach, and youth. Experience and treachery would need to cover the gaps. Orlan knew how to use his size and throw a powerful punch. He could have ended a lot of fights with one hit, but the last one showed he liked to let things play out and go for maximum pain.
It could be his downfall.
Tyler believed in ending fights as quickly as possible. Knock out, disable, or kill within the first few seconds. He’d need a major infusion of luck to do any of those to Orlan. The giant proved himself to be a skilled adversary. Tyler needed to make a plan and stick with it. He understood no plan survived contact with the enemy. He’d need to adapt based on what Orlan did. Tyler was too rigid last time. Too inflexible. He felt lucky to get out of it with a broken nose and a few bruises.
Trading blows with someone of Orlan’s size and strength would be suicide. Tyler would need to wait for the long arms to finish swinging, then move inside and get his hits in. If he stayed close, he would lessen the big man’s advantage in power. The new plan called for quick strikes and the ability to shift to defense in an instant. Tyler opened his basement door. He’d work out the finer points on the heavy bag.
Before he got downstairs, his phone rang. An unknown number with a DC area code. He returned to the main level, kept his Sig handy, and picked up. “John Tyler?” a man’s voice said in a light Hispanic accent.
“Who are you?”
“Lorenzo Aguilar. Sara Morrison asked me to reach out to you.”
Tyler relaxed and holstered the M11. “Thanks for calling. Did she mention what I needed your help with?”
“You use Signal?” Aguilar asked.
“What?”
“The messaging app.”
“Oh,” Tyler said. “Actually, I do. My daughter suggested I download it.”
“Good. I’ll call you in it. Give me a minute.” He hung up. Tyler checked his phone and confirmed he’d installed Signal. Half the apps on his mobile probably came from Lexi’s suggestions. He still didn’t understand Spotify despite her constant reminders of its greatness. A few seconds later, a white and blue box popped up and showed an incoming call. Tyler answered.
“We’re secure now,” Aguilar said. “They encrypt end-to-end with no central server.”
“Sure,” Tyler said as if he understood what this meant.
“Tell me what’s going on.” Tyler relayed the story from the beginning, naming the key players and events along the way. “It’s only you and one other guy?” Aguilar asked.
“In our defense, we’re both pretty damn good.”
“You’d better be to take on the Espinoza cartel.”
“I’ve taken out six guys so far,” Tyler said. “My friend got one. I haven’t told him I’m keeping score yet.”
“They have a lot more men back in Mexico.”
“How many could they send without weakening themselves? These assholes always face challenges at home. Someone’s trying to move in on their territory or whatever. He can’t simply snap his fingers and get two dozen guys.”
“Fair point,” Aguilar said. “He could probably replace the ones you killed, and you’re still only three when you count me. Long odds.”
“We need to plan and execute well, then,” Tyler said. “I’ve been in this spot before. Outnumbered by the Taliban. IEDs all over the damned roads. I’m still here. Unless I’ve missed my guess, you’ve probably been through something similar.”
“A time or two,” Aguilar said after a pause. “I did a tour in Iraq before I left and moved into intelligence.”
“What area did you specialize in?”
“South America. Narcoterrorism.”
Tyler grinned. Sara hit a home run. “I’m sure you dealt with a lot of classified information, then. I won’t ask you to break your oath.”
“Good,” Aguilar said. “I wouldn’t do it. Even avoiding anything secret or top secret, I think I can help you. Police can’t do much against organizations like Espinoza’s because they’re normally attacking endpoints. Reacting to low-level stuff. I can tell you how to take the fight to them before they make it to Maryland . . . if you’re willing to get on a plane, of course.”
“To where?”
“Texas.”
“Yeehaw,” Tyler said.
25
Rollins knocked on the door about an hour later. He held up a brown bag stuffed with takeout as Tyler opened up and let him in. Tyler checked the street out of habit, even though Rollins would’ve noticed anything amiss. “Where’d you go?” he asked as he joined his friend in the kitchen.
“Kabab Stop.”
“Good place. Thanks for picking up dinner.”
Rollins grunted. “I told them you’d be paying for it with your charm and good looks. They tried to charge me double.”
Tyler grinned. “Sounds like you got off light.” Neither he nor Rollins cared about eating on plates. Tyler grabbed a beer from the fridge. He held the bottle up toward Rollins, who shook his head. “Sorry, I don’t know how to make a cosmopolitan.”
“Just because it’s the official drink of the gays,” Rollins said, “doesn’t mean I like it.” He caught the bottle of water Tyler tossed him. “You said someone called you earlier?”
“Yeah. Sara put him in touch with me. I think he’s going to help us.”
“He got any friends who can shoot?”
“Probably.” Tyler opened the white cardboard container which was already damp with steam. The aromas of beef, rice, and grilled onions made it past his battered nose. “This is the first thing I’ve smelled in a couple days.” The container also held grilled red pepper and a small salad. Condensation rolled off the inside of the lid and onto the tabletop. Tyler focused on the two skewers of seasoned beef, sliding the chunks off the thin wooden spears. “I want to keep the operation lean, though. Héctor can’t have a lot of men here, especially with the ones we’ve already taken out.”
“You think he can’t get more from Mexico?” Rollins opened his dinner. The scent of lamb hit Tyler’s nose, and he wished the break would prevent him from smelling again.
“I think cartels face challenges in their own country.” Tyler speared a chunk of beef onto the crappy white plastic fork and ate it. When he finished, he added, “Even if he’s replaced everyone we’ve killed, he can’t have more than a dozen or so.”
“You and me against twelve men?” Rollins said.
Tyler nodded. “Personally, I’d make us three-to-two favorites.”
Rollins bobbed his head. “Sounds about right. You talking to this guy again?”
“I’m going to call him back when we finish eating,” Tyler said. “He’s given me some info already. I want to make a plan and take these bastards out.”
Fifteen minutes later, Tyler opened Signal and cal
led Aguilar. “Your friend with you?” he wanted to know after picking up.
“I’m here.” Rollins introduced himself in brief. Tyler felt he underestimated his own military career, but Aguilar didn’t notice or mind.
“I’ve done small-team work before,” he said, “and I suspect both of you have, too. I know what’s going on south of the border. I can tell you how they get their product into the country, where it probably goes when it’s off the plane, and when the next shipment is coming in. What I don’t know is the local operation. How much have you seen?”
“Not a ton,” Tyler admitted. “Héctor has a fancy house in a swanky community. He’s at the end of the main road with a gate around the property. Basically advertising he’s someone important. As far as I can gather, he’s an investor in the building and development. The property manager is a toady.”
“It’s a chance to wash his money, too,” Aguilar said. “One thing at a time in any event. We need to know more about how he does things locally.”
“Why don’t we all go in the morning?” Rollins said. “I’ll sneak in and see what he’s got. Then, we can put something together.”
“When’s the next shipment come in?” Tyler asked.
“Few days,” Aguilar said. “They don’t finalize it until the end in case someone’s listening. And someone’s always listening.” He paused. “You thinking about hitting the transport?”
Tyler swigged the last of his lager. “I’d rather deal with it when it’s off the plane. The guys are more relaxed by then. They’ve taken it someplace they know . . . a facility they control.” This was true of the Taliban and Afghan opium producers more than a decade ago. Tyler figured it would apply to the cartel, too. People let their guard down in familiar locations.
“I like it,” Aguilar said. “I’ll keep an ear out.”
“Let’s scout their local operation first,” Tyler said. “Like you told us . . . one thing at a time.”
A voice pulled Lexi from her sleep. She mumbled something incoherent and rolled over. “Alexis . . . wake up.” She recognized her grandfather’s voice. Why was he rousing her? Did something go wrong? Lexi shot up in bed, her heart pounding in her ears.