by Diane Capri
“Scarlett’s clients have some fancy jets. But this one can compete, for sure.” He shrugged and kept working while the jet taxied to the runway for takeoff.
After they were in the air and reached cruising altitude, Gaspar unbuckled his seat belt and stood to stretch. He handed over his laptop.
“Take a look at the files. I’ll be right back.” He walked toward the lavatory.
Gaspar had downloaded encrypted files from the secure servers and opened them. The Boss had sent reports as well as still photos and videos. She started with the passport data.
Three folders were labeled J. Reacher, T.J. Mackenzie, S.R. Sanderson. Each folder contained files.
She opened the Reacher files first.
Reacher’s passport had been used only once. He’d returned to the United States on a bus from Canada last summer, crossing the border through the tunnel from Windsor to Detroit.
Which didn’t make her uneasy at all. He probably wasn’t in Detroit because of her. Not back then, anyway. She’d never heard of Reacher until November, which was long after he’d crossed from Canada.
She watched the short video recorded at the customs agent desk at the checkpoint. Reacher was dressed in work clothes. Jeans and a blue chambray shirt with cuffs rolled to mid-forearms. The shirt made his eyes seem blue as cornflowers, even in the bad video.
He stood at the counter and looked directly at the agent like a man with nothing to hide. She couldn’t see his feet, but she guessed he was wearing brown work boots. He usually did.
He squared his shoulders in front of the customs agent, handed over the passport. The agent asked a couple of routine questions.
There was no audio recording of the exchange, but Reacher’s answers must have been satisfactory. The agent nodded and returned the passport.
Reacher stuffed it into his pocket and walked through, carrying nothing. No luggage, no duffel.
She played the video a couple more times. The scene unfolded precisely as she expected. Nothing out of the ordinary at all.
Also in the folder was a copy of Reacher’s passport. It was a ten-year passport, issued six years before. Old, but still valid.
She turned next to the folders for both sisters. The first thing she noticed was the volume. Each sister’s folder contained several files. She ran through them quickly. None reflected trips to or from Canada, which allowed her to breathe a bit easier.
Americans could travel into the US from Canada without a passport if they showed other acceptable forms of official ID. But surely if the sisters had done so, the Boss would have included those records for completeness, if for no other reason.
Looked like Jane and Rose had been traveling together quite a bit, though. Several times in the past year, they had traveled to exotic places like India, Brazil, Malaysia, Singapore, and Costa Rica. They took a two-week Mexican Riviera cruise just last month, departing from San Francisco and visiting several ports.
Rex Mackenzie said Rose and Jane had booked a trip to Thailand two weeks ago, but never showed up for departure. These passport records confirmed that. No travel to or from Thailand was listed.
Gaspar returned to his seat bearing hot coffee in travel mugs.
“Nectar of the gods,” Otto said, accepting the mug with a pleasurable whiff of the best aroma on earth.
“I found some snacks, but I couldn’t carry everything. Hang on.” He set his mug down and walked back to the galley. He returned with a tray of cheese, crackers, nuts, and fruit.
“Found this in the fridge,” he said, handing her a black and white china plate along with a burnt orange linen napkin.
“You could get a job as a flight attendant if your new gig with Scarlett doesn’t work out,” she teased.
“You’re welcome,” he replied equably, resettling into his seat with a plate of snacks. “Find anything interesting in those files?”
“Several interesting things.” She nodded, swallowed the cracker she’d nibbled, and sipped the hot coffee. She held up an index finger. “One. Even in the bad videos, Jane Mackenzie is astonishingly beautiful.”
“Yeah, I saw that from the passport photos. Who looks good in those things?” He grinned.
She held up a second finger. “Two. Rose is the same height as her twin sister, and that’s where the similarities stop. They are definitely not duplicate copies.”
He raised one eyebrow. “No?”
“Not even close. Here, look at this video.” Otto found the one she wanted and pulled it up on the screen. She turned the laptop so Gaspar could see.
“In every one of these videos, Jane looks directly into the cameras. She smiles and flirts with the customs agents like a movie star,” Otto said as she finished the cracker. “You’ve got a bunch of daughters, Chico. You know how women behave. Look at Jane’s appearance, her behavior.”
Even in these poor-quality videos, Jane appeared beautiful, relaxed, and pampered. Her blonde mane was expensively tousled. Makeup minimalist but not minimal. Sophisticated preppy style clothes were chic and pricey and fit her perfectly. The casual handbag she tossed across her body was Chanel. Her body looked toned and trim. Flexible and agile. She moved like a woman who owned the world.
Gaspar, on the other hand, chewed like he’d been starved for a week. He grinned appreciatively. “She’s something, all right.”
“Now pay attention.” Otto clicked a couple of keys and pulled up another file and turned the laptop toward him. “This is Rose. Her video was recorded only a few seconds after Jane’s. Same trip. Same time. Same customs agent.”
Rose barely glanced at the customs officer. Her hair was covered by a hood that concealed her features. She’d been asked to push the hood back, which she did quickly. Messy gray-blonde hair tumbled out around her shoulders for a couple of moments, until she raised the hood and poked it back inside. Her ill-fitting wardrobe consisted of jeans, sneakers, and a hoodie in every video. She didn’t wear any kind of handbag. Everything she carried with her was stuffed into her pockets.
“Play the videos again,” Gaspar said. He nodded slowly as he watched the second time. “I see what you mean.”
She said, “Every one of these video files shows the same thing. Jane looks beautiful and perfect. Rose? Not so much.”
“Amazing Jane. And, what? Defiant Rose?” he replied thoughtfully.
Otto cocked her head. “I don’t know if I’d call Rose defiant, exactly. It’s hard to categorize her. Jane’s easier.”
Gaspar watched the videos again. “In what way?”
“Jane’s posture is confident, self-assured, and I guess I’d say flirty. Rose’s posture is…not the same. Confident and self-assured, but also no-nonsense. Like she can take care of herself, and she’s willing to prove it.”
“I can buy that. She’s a West Point grad. An infantry officer. She survived five tours in Iraq and Afghanistan. She can definitely handle conflict. It’s instinctive after all that training and experience.” Gaspar polished off the last of the food on the tray.
“The other odd thing about these passport files is how many there are. Twelve trips, most of them recent,” Otto said. “These two have been traveling the world. They could be on another vacation now, actually.”
“Vacation? I thought they were missing?” Gaspar arched his eyebrows and widened his eyes. “Didn’t Noble and Bramall both say that? Didn’t Rex Mackenzie hire Bramall to find them?”
“There’s no missing persons report filed, though. How do we know they’re missing? All we have is Rex Mackenzie’s word on that, right?” Otto nodded. “And he certainly seems to be at the center of whatever’s going on here.”
Gaspar said, “You’re just saying that because the guy’s a scumbag.”
She grinned. “Well, there’s that.”
“Tell me what else you found out in those video files. We’ve got another couple of hours of flight time to kill.” Gaspar stood up with the empty tray and his cup and limped toward the galley. “Be right back. Talk loud. I ca
n hear you.”
She watched him closely, which she didn’t often have the opportunity to do. His gait was off. He held his forearm close to his right side. About every third step, he paused slightly to reposition himself. Perhaps when he thought she wouldn’t notice, he slipped his hand into his pocket for another Tylenol.
Gaspar had been seriously injured long before she’d met him. He’d had similar combat training to Reacher’s and to Rose Sanderson, for that matter. He’d survived his Army career. It was his FBI experience that had disabled him and almost cost him his life.
He loved his wife and kids like crazy. He’d do anything for them. But it was sheer grit and determination and family that kept him going. Simple as that.
What was it that General Simpson had said about Rose’s injuries? Severe and disfiguring. She needed expert, expensive plastic surgery. We’re not set up to handle injuries like hers. Last time she called, she said she’d find a place she could afford.
Otto pulled up the list of trips reflected on Rose Sanderson’s passport. She connected to the internet, typed in the list of destinations as a group, and pushed the button to search.
In less than half a second, a list of hits was returned.
The top hit was Medical Tourism Market.
She leaned in, clicked on the article, and read through quickly.
“Okay. No shouting on airplanes. I get it. Tell me what you know,” he said when he returned to his seat. “I’m ready.”
“Do you know what medical tourism is?”
He grinned. “You mean like take a vacation in Brazil where you can get a cheap and quick Brazilian butt-lift?”
“I was thinking more like India for a heart bypass, but yeah, sure, that’s the idea.” Otto nodded.
“It’s kind of a thing in Miami, my wife tells me,” he said. “Several women she knows have been to Brazil, only to return looking more toned and terrific than they’d get from a nice month on the beach.”
“In countries that have socialized medicine, long waits for care are common, even if the patient has the means to pay for the procedures,” Otto read from the website. “Medical tourism is a means to get faster treatment. Basically, for Americans, it’s about quality medical care abroad at lower cost. I think that’s what Rose has been doing.”
Gaspar frowned. “Rose Sanderson was injured in to service her country. She’s entitled to health care at Veterans Administration hospitals. She isn’t required to pay for her medical treatment. And the US has the best medical care in the world.”
“Sure, but remember that Simpson said she wanted plastic surgery that the VA couldn’t handle?” Otto clacked keys on the laptop. She checked each of the destinations on their passports again. “She’d be a private pay patient for that. She was concerned about affordability, too.”
His frown deepened. “You think that’s what this is all about? That the two sisters aren’t missing at all? They left the country to get plastic surgery for Rose?”
“Maybe. Or maybe it’s both.” Otto fell back in her seat to think. She recalled Rex Mackenzie’s behavior on the flight from St. Louis. “Rex Mackenzie doesn’t know where Jane and Rose are. I’d bet money on that.”
Gaspar nodded. “And Noble and Bramall believe they’re missing, but that information came from Rex.”
“Let me check something.” Otto completed two more quick searches on Gaspar’s laptop. “That’s what I thought. Some of the top destinations for medical tourism require visas and waiting periods. Others are accessible without a visa if the tourist has a US passport. And Mexico is similar in that regard to Canada for US citizens. Mexico doesn’t require either a visa or a passport.”
“Yeah, US citizens can live in Mexico indefinitely with very little paperwork,” Gaspar said. “My in-laws retired to Mexico because it’s a lot cheaper and they can come back to visit the kids and grandkids.”
“Did they move to Mexico City?” she asked.
He shook his head. “Guadalajara. It’s more upscale but still affordable and safe. Good services. He can drive his BMW and not worry about bulletproofing. Guadalajara is more like what they’re used to in Miami, but cheaper.”
Otto checked the web. “Chico, you’re a genius.”
He grinned. “I’ve been telling you that for weeks.”
“The cruise Rose and Jane took last month to the Mexican Riviera stopped in Puerto Vallarta. Which is a short flight from Guadalajara.” She clicked a few more keys. “Guadalajara is booming in medical tourism. Including one of the best cosmetic surgery facilities in the world. Celebrities get their work done at this place. The before and after photos show amazing results.”
“So you think Rose and Jane left the cruise ship in Puerto Vallarta and moved on to Guadalajara for Rose?” Gaspar asked.
“It’s feasible, isn’t it?” Otto said.
“The timing’s not right.” Gaspar cocked his head. “If they didn’t come home from that cruise like he claims, he’d at least have known to look for them in Mexico. Why would he go looking in Vegas? Doesn’t make sense, does it?”
“Next time I see him, I’ll ask before I shoot the bastard,” she snarled. “But if I’m right, we’re more likely to find them at this clinic in Guadalajara than Mexico City.”
Gaspar nodded, picked up the phone, and called the pilot. “We’ve received new orders. Change course for Miguel Hidalgo y Costilla Guadalajara International Airport.”
When he hung up, he said, “The pilot says the change shortened our travel time. We’ll be landing sooner than expected.”
She nodded. “Tell me everything you know about Guadalajara.”
“For starters, it’s a huge place. My father-in-law says the metro area has about seven million people.” He shrugged.
“Which means we need to find Rose and Jane before we land.”
“Just how do you propose to do that?”
“With a little help from our friends,” she replied.
CHAPTER 40
Saturday, February 12
9:15 p.m.
Guadalajara, Mexico
The Boss had provided a car and driver familiar with the area. He’d delivered them directly and quickly to their destination. Even so, they’d arrived at El Mejor Cosmetic Surgery Clinic well after sunset. The Clinic was closed, which allowed Otto and Gaspar to stare from the back seat without attracting attention.
To maintain its reputation and appeal as the medical tourist’s nirvana, no expense had been spared. The place was stunning.
The clinic was located on the top floor of a modern skyscraper near downtown. The views from up there had to be spectacular. Otto had located a few photographs showing the offices with windowed curtain walls which provided an expansive view of the city and beyond. The surgeons lived in penthouses above the clinic’s medical facilities.
Medical care here might be affordable, but it was also extremely profitable.
El Megor Clinic was an outpatient facility. Those who required inpatient surgery were treated at a hospital instead.
After surgery, a patient’s recovery period could last from weeks to months, depending on the procedures they’d endured. The clinic facility did not provide aftercare. Instead, patients returned to the even more stunning Segovia Alcazar Hotel next door.
The Segovia Alcazar Hotel, a dedicated aftercare facility, resembled the famous Spanish castle. Online photos showed rooms similar to luxury hotel suites but provided hospital-like amenities.
Segovia Alcazar was attached to the clinic by a system of underground tunnels. Patients checked into the hotel before the surgical procedures and were wheeled through the tunnels to their suites afterward.
Patients stayed at least a week and then returned to their homes where private home health care was provided for as long as necessary.
In Beverly Hills or New York City, such aftercare would cost $2,000 a night, or more. Here, the cost was less than $500, including meals. Which meant the prices were steep, but the care experience was stellar, the
testimonials Otto had found all claimed.
“We don’t know Rose’s suite number. We’d never get in the door in a US hospital unless we got really lucky or found a clueless guard,” Gaspar said. “So your plan is to sit around the lobby and watch until Jane or Rose show up? Sounds like a colossal waste of time doesn’t it?”
“I’m feeling lucky,” she said.
He scowled and said nothing.
“My plan is to get her suite number and knock on the door. I’m related to plenty of blonde beauties, believe it or not. I’m here to visit my cousin, Rose. I was supposed to be here with her when she had her surgery, and I got delayed.” Otto said with a nod. “It’ll work. I’m not worried.”
Gaspar ran splayed fingers through his hair. “Hell, we don’t even know if she’s using her own name. Rex Mackenzie is looking for her, and she probably knows that. She’s using an alias, don’t you think?”
“Both Jane and Rose seem at least that smart to me. Definitely. But surgery needs to be scheduled and medical records provided in advance,” Otto said.
“So Rose may have registered under an alias, but her medical records would reflect her real identity,” Gaspar said.
“Exactly. Finlay and the Boss are searching the files for the alias and Rose’s suite number. Until they find it, we can wait. Or we can try something more creative,” Otto replied.
He arched both eyebrows. “We don’t even know what kind of surgery Rose had. Because we have so few details, anyone working the reception desk is likely to be suspicious. She might not even be here anymore. We don’t know when she had the surgery. She could have checked out by now.”
“If we can’t get what we need, we’ll come back in the morning. But we’re more likely to get in tonight. I want to try since we’re here. You can wait in the car if you want,” Otto said with a frown.
He shook his head and sighed. “You’re going in, I’m going in.”
“Just follow my lead. It’ll work out. Or it won’t. We’ll do the best we can.” Otto opened the door to leave the car. She told the driver, “We’ll be inside for a while. We’ll call you when we need you to pick us up.”