by JT Sawyer
Dev had to control her eyes from rolling back as she tried to ignore the racial slur. “And you guys sure don’t look like rank-and-file officers that would be dispatched to investigate an abduction in the sticks.” She leaned forward, matching his posture. “See, I know a little about how these kinds of kidnapping cases work and the information you’ve requested so far isn’t exactly SOP for this line of work.”
He snapped his fingers then pointed one at her. “That accent—you’re Israeli, that’s it. Almost thought you were Puerto Rican at first glance—you got that fiery look like my ex-wife had.” He ground his boot down on the porch, squashing a ladybug. “Now what’s a pretty Israeli woman doing caravanning around southern Arizona?”
She leaned back, folding her arms in front of her chest. “You know, I was told there were a number of prehistoric ruins in the area but didn’t know the cavemen who occupied them were still here as well.”
He slapped his hand on his leg. “Now, that’s a good one. You got some sass, girl. I like it—but too much can get you into trouble.” Tony shot a wry smile over at Alex, who had been standing silently near the steps. Slowly, he turned back towards Dev, looking over her face. “You know, someone with your complexion and street smarts might be a person the cartels would seek out for some of their business in these parts.”
She frowned, still leaning back, arms folded. “Nice bait-and-switch diversion tactic—trying to draw attention away from yourself by forming an accusation.”
He rounded his lips and sucked in a deep breath. “Whew, you are good—nice comeback. Shit, maybe I oughta look you up on my little laptop inside my rig there. Make sure you’re not the one who pulled off this little crime caper against Steven Jacobs.” He stood up, making a half-motion to move to his SUV, then laughing. “Ah, don’t worry, young lady. We’re all good. Just a little tug-o-war between you and me, right. Seems like we both enjoy testing the waters to see how the other swims.”
He arched his back and sauntered down the steps. “Gonna go grab a cold bottle of water and douse my head.” He patted Alex on the chest as he walked by. “You two good—you want a drink?”
Dev shook her head in the negative then watched him walk off, wondering how many tentacles lay beneath his loose-fitting t-shirt.
Chapter 19
The drive back out to Steven Jacobs’ capsized truck was only five miles but with each turn in the road, it felt like the engine was struggling against Mitch’s urge to move faster as he sat in silence beside Nora. He decided not to take the shortcut where he’d run into the militia member in case there were others afoot there now.
He kept wanting to break the ice but he was never one for small talk. Instead, he focused on looking for animal tracks along the road to take his mind off the awkwardness that seemed to permeate every inch of the jeep.
“Why would they take my brother?”
He gave her a sideways glance. “Not sure, but this looks like the work of a cartel.”
“I just hope Steven is OK.” Her voice trembled. “Damn drug runners are a plague upon our land—they’re everywhere now. I know for a fact that they have scouts watching our place—probably your uncle’s as well.” She gazed up at the sky. “This country here ain’t the carefree place it was when we were kids.”
“That’s what I’ve heard.”
He heard Nora clear her throat. “So, you still with the FBI in Phoenix?”
Mitch clutched the steering wheel tighter. “Nope, pulled up stakes there about a year and a half ago. Doin’ some contracting work now over in Israel with Dev’s company.”
“Seems like a nice lady—been with her long?” She dragged out the last few words.
“A while, yeah.” He nodded then felt like he needed two hands on the steering wheel. Mitch took a right bend in the road, causing them to both sway from the motion. He used the momentum to glance down at her hand, noticing her wedding band. Her husband Raymond had died from stomach cancer two years ago and he always regretted not sending a card.
“I was sure sorry to hear about Ray. He was a helluva guy from what my uncle’s told me.”
She glanced out the window, rubbing her hand along the length of her dusty jeans. “Just when you think you’ve found a good man, he leaves ya.”
Mitch wasn’t sure how to take that but he suddenly felt like the road had more bends and precipitous drops in it than earlier so he eased up on the gas pedal.
“Nora, I gotta ask—can you think of any reason the cartel would target your brother? Was he involved in a legal case of any kind?”
“No, he’s a researcher with the Department of Energy—still the same nerd he was when you knew him.”
“What kind of research?”
“Not sure about the details—he showed me some of his new work this weekend. Some pretty amazing stuff—boosting energy output remotely using GPS tracking and some other things I only got part of.”
“Hmm, interesting. He ever work with the DOD, by chance? Sounds like some cutting-edge work I heard about years ago.”
“Who knows? I only see him every coupla months and it seems like he’s always got a new promotion and more funds to play with.” She lifted her hat and ran a deeply tan hand through her blonde hair. “You think he was kidnapped for his money?”
Mitch tilted his head slightly. “Just not sure at this point. I’ve worked plenty of kidnapping and ransom cases in the past and some things just don’t fit the familiar profile. For instance, why not nab him in Tucson when he’s walking out of his house or going shopping? Out here might seem ideal because it’s remote but then you gotta make a run for a hideout and risk running into other ranchers or rival smugglers. Plus, that dead guy sure looked like the cartel type—and who plugged him?”
“Another criminal organization, maybe?”
“I thought only the Culebras operated in this area?”
“Me too, but that seems to change every few years when some new group tries to muscle their way in; there’s also the militia guys. They could’ve wandered into the area during the abduction.” She paused at the sound of the last word, her voice going low. “Then, maybe they got into it with the cartel.”
“Again, a lot of maybes, but the guy who was killed suffered a precision shot to the head—and from above. That doesn’t strike me as militia handiwork—those guys are only aces at hitting cardboard cutouts of zombies.”
Mitch eased up on the gas slightly as they approached a dry wash that intersected the narrow road. He slowed the jeep as they approached a bullet-riddled truck parked at an angle, its engine block hissing out smoke. It was a green four-door Z71 and he could see fresh footprints in the sand that led off towards the mouth of a small canyon. Mitch’s attitude matched the smoldering wreck before them. This is turning out to be a great day—what’s going on around here? Is this still Arizona or am I back in Afghanistan?
Putting the jeep in park, Mitch climbed out with his newly acquired AR rifle. He inspected the magazine and slid it back into place then racked a round into the chamber. Apparently Bagley had forgotten to do that and he let out a partial grin thinking about the unprepared oaf he had previously encountered.
He heard Nora emit a gasp as she stared at the blood-stained interior of the truck. “God—do you think that this belongs to…” She cut herself off, raising a hand to cup her mouth. Mitch looked at the tracks on the ground and traced them back to the blood in the truck. “No, this is from another guy who exited from the back seat.” He pointed the muzzle of his rifle at the two sets of tracks. “See, this guy with the smaller boots—he’s limping. That blood must be his.”
After he and Nora inspected the vehicle more thoroughly, he began following the clear line of three tracks that led in the opposite direction. No sooner had he walked ten feet than he heard the thump of bullets impacting the Saguaros along the road, followed by a staccato of gunfire emanating from a mesquite tree near the mouth of the canyon. He ducked to his left near an outcropping of boulders then pivoted around
to check on Nora, who had run to the rear of the truck as another barrage of bullets tore through the air.
Mitch swiveled his torso to the right of the boulder to scan ahead. He saw the shots coming from a partially concealed figure near the left side of a canyon thirty yards from the jeep. He heard another barrage of rounds clatter off the rocks behind him, their configuration spreading in a wide area. This guy must be lobbing rounds downrange to keep us occupied or he’s fuckin’ blind.
Mitch waved to Nora then motioned with his fingers outstretched that he wanted her to fire her rifle a few times then duck for cover once he gave the signal. She nodded then got into position with her 30/30.
He leaned forward, resting his left elbow supporting his AR on his knee, then began counting down from five with the fingers on his other hand. Nora commenced firing, which enabled Mitch to focus his scope on a tangle of thick manzanita bushes in the canyon where the muzzle flashes could be seen. He intentionally fired a plate-sized swath of rounds into the brush then saw the body of a seated figure slump to the side, an AK-47 falling out of his hands. Mitch scanned the immediate surroundings for any other movement then crept out from his cover and bounded from tree to tree along the road, sweeping the ridges above and the route ahead with his rifle. Arriving at the canyon, he saw a lone gunman, his chest seeping from numerous bullet holes.
Mitch studied the canyon floor and saw two sets of tracks moving at a quick pace to the south. He motioned for Nora to come up to his location then examined the body of the dead man for any maps or a cellphone. Not finding anything of value, he surveyed the bootprints again and then turned to Nora, who had just arrived with her backpack.
“Looks like your brother and one other guy took off from this point—a few hours ago by the looks of their tracks.”
Nora stood silently, her eyes fixed on the blood-soaked chest of the dead man. She closed her mouth and cleared her throat, trying to regain her composure. She took a step back while looking at her brother’s bootprints in the sand. “Thank God Steven’s still alive.” She started to move forward. “Then we can catch up with him.”
“Not so fast,” he said, blocking her way as she tried to move forward. “I want to radio in our location back to the ranch. Once we get into this canyon, we’re going to be out of reception from any of the repeater towers in the region.”
“We should radio in to the sheriff too, don’t you think?” she said, her voice still shaky.
“Let me call Dev first and then she can always relay a message to the authorities.” He glanced around the rim of the canyon. “I don’t like staying put in a chokepoint like this for too long. You never know who else might happen along. Besides, the trail is fresh and I’m pretty sure we can catch up to your brother.”
She flung her pack on the ground and handed him one of her two-way radios. “I just hope Steven’s going to be alright.”
Mitch turned on the Motorola and called Dev, informing her of their location and plans. Then he handed the radio back to Nora and proceeded up the narrow confines of the rugged canyon, alternating between studying the ground and scrutinizing the rim above as he felt the outside world contract behind him.
Chapter 20
The iPhone in Mateo’s cargo pocket kept vibrating, which caused the crease on his forehead to deepen from his constant irritation. He had seen it was from Anna and knew her persistent attempts would continue until she had her way. He yanked the device out and blocked her call then flung it beside the laptop before him. He shifted his swivel chair pensively from side to side while staring at the assorted video feeds coming in from his scouts in Cochise County. He had gotten glimpses of Vincent on the move with Jacobs and knew they would be arriving at the secondary rendezvous point in a few hours. His scouts were told to stand down as there was too much risk of having Jacobs injured if there was a shootout between Rafael’s men, the militia groups, and any roving border patrol agents.
The rendezvous location was a weather service relay station atop Adams Peak, a few miles north of the border. The old government building was nothing more than a twenty-by-forty cinder-block structure designed to house weather collection monitors, the most important feature being a large repeater tower that sat atop the building. The weather service had never had anyone molest the area, probably because they figured their proprietary equipment couldn’t be of use except to them and because of the antiquated electronics which dated back to the ’80s. Adams Peak was only a hundred and fifty feet high so the building and antenna blended into the otherwise flat terrain, unlike the stations situated on more prominent mountaintops.
If they couldn’t get Jacobs back to Agua Prieta then this station would serve their purpose for using the device in Vincent’s possession. Mateo had already alerted two teams of his scouts, which combined consisted of twenty-two men. He instructed them to head to the station and wait for Vincent’s emergence from the rugged canyon to the north.
Mateo had learned of Jacobs’ research from one of his informants in the federal government in Tucson. The man was a longtime cocaine buyer who owned a Porsche dealership and hobnobbed amongst the Tucsonian upper crust and university professors.
Mateo surmised that he could use the electronic tracking equipment to pinpoint Rafael’s RIP crews in their desert hideouts then take them out in one swoop with his own strike teams led by him and Vincent. Rafael would never see it coming and all of his years of experience in evasion would be undermined in a few hours by Steven Jacobs’ handiwork. He had thought of just procuring the device but he needed its creator to ensure the smooth unfolding of this operation. Once Mateo learned how Jacobs pinpointed Rafael’s locations, he would dispose of the rancher.
Mateo had only received one text from Vincent since he had set out on foot with Jacobs but he knew his second-in-command’s physical stamina was akin to that of a jaguar.
Mateo glanced at his watch. He planned to cross the border at an unmanned region eighteen miles east of Agua Prieta once he got word from Felix that his plan to draw border patrol resources to the west was underway. Everything was falling into place. He rubbed the back of his neck as he saw his phone crab across the table, and hoped it was news about the missing component needed by Jacobs to activate the device.
“Si,” he said, eagerly waiting for the voice of an American named Tony to come across the speaker.
“I’m at the Jacobs ranch. There’s a lot of folks here—family and such. This is going to be tight locating the hard drive then getting out of here.”
“What do you need?”
“A distraction—any of your boys in the region?”
Mateo swung around in his chair and rested his elbows on the table, studying the laptop surveillance.
“Un momento,” he said, searching for the current location of one of his resupply teams closest to the Jacobs ranch. He pulled up the video feed from one of his men’s shoulder-cams then examined the coordinates. “I can have a group of four men on your doorstep in thirty minutes.”
“Fine—just a distraction though. I don’t need all these people getting into a firefight and drawing tons of attention to our location so the feds swoop down on us.”
“That whole section will be devoid of policia shortly. You need not worry about that. Just get the device and then bring it to the relay station—my men coming to the ranch will do whatever is needed. And if the opportunity presents itself, bring the little girl too. Her old man will be more likely to cooperate and speed this along.”
“Entiendo, amigo. Then we can get back to doing business.”
Mateo thought back to his dealings with Tony during the past three years. He had used the man’s freelance transportation services and had found him to be an excellent businessman. He had been thoroughly vetted and had proven himself to be a particularly brutal henchman when it came to dealing with rivals, including bludgeoning one of his own inept drivers to death with a baseball bat. They hadn’t had much interaction during the past few months as Mateo reconfigured his pla
ns for eliminating Rafael. Tony had responded quickly to Mateo’s texts during the past few days, and he was one of the few people amongst his network in southern Arizona that could be counted upon to move swiftly when Mateo needed something done.
During the past twenty-four hours, Mateo had learned some things about his old transportation handler that he needed to clear up after he’d obtained the hard drive. Mateo had intel that would either confirm or deny Tony’s allegiance but he would only know when they met in person whether their future ventures together would continue in earnest or if he would be leaving another body in the desert for the ravens.
Chapter 21
Agua Prieta
Anna was standing at the edge of an alley outside of Rosa’s Cantina a few blocks from Main Street when she saw one of Mateo’s close advisors exit through a nondescript door near the rear. She waited a few minutes so he would be out of sight of the surveillance cameras and the few bar-goers wandering the streets. Anna’s heart was racing as she thought of what had to be done. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, thinking of the face of her son to calm herself. He was safely in the arms of his grandparents, who had arrived that morning from El Paso and were taking him back with them for a few days.
Anna looked down the alley towards the rear of the cantina, wondering what Mateo was planning behind those walls. Then she slid her eyes back to the man approaching the street corner.
His name was Martin, a trusted henchman who laundered money for the cartel. Though Martin was Mexican, his anemic complexion made his skin appear wax-like. Anna could never bring herself to look at his ghostly face for more than a few seconds at a time.
He would be easy prey for Anna and most importantly, he’d be able to fill in the blanks on what her husband was undertaking. As Martin approached the corner, she stepped out from the shadows and whispered his name.