“At the main entrance. It’s up the hill in the Parque General San Martin. Beautiful – the entire zoo is built around the peak on a set of trails. But bring lots of sunscreen. It will be hot today.”
“Okay, then. Two thirty. We’ll be there.”
Hannah came running, backpack clenched half open in her arms, now anxious to get her eating and sleeping over with so she could see the animals. Jet kissed Sofia on the cheek, as was the local custom, and took Hannah’s hand. Hannah practically dragged her to the front park entrance, so eager was she to get home, and Jet allowed her to set the pace, her stubby little legs moving in overdrive, playtime and her swing forgotten in favor of the irresistible lure of the zoo.
Catalina took longer, and Sofia placed a call on her cell phone while she waited. Her mother’s voice answered, and they chatted for a few minutes before Catalina stood with raised eyebrows, finally ready. Sofia held her hand over the phone and whispered to Catalina to go ahead, and then continued the discussion with her mother – the topic was Sofia’s brother, Carlos, who’d been in rehab three times for alcoholism over the last five years and had disappeared a week before, leaving his wife and two children to fend for themselves.
Carlos’ behavior was a constant source of embarrassment for the family, and their mother was distraught that he’d apparently lost yet another round with his demon, forcing his loved ones to pay the price.
Sofia was so engrossed in the discussion she didn’t notice the man on the mountain bike hurtling toward her down the path. His long, black, unkempt hair blew in the wind, his beard lending him the air of a lunatic, his clothes barely more than filthy rags. When he collided with her, she went down hard. The phone tumbled from her hand, bouncing twice on the pavement before skittering to rest near the grass, its screen dead. The rider almost lost control but managed to pull himself up at the last moment, his brakes screeching as he clamped down on them. He stopped a few yards from her, his face a filthy mask of fury, and he swore at her as she tried to get up.
“You stupid bitch. What the hell’s wrong with you? Why don’t you watch where you’re going, eh?”
Sofia was dazed from the fall and now frightened as she realized that there was nobody nearby. “I…I’m sorry… I was on the phone…”
“You’re lucky I didn’t break my neck. I should sue you,” the biker snarled and then spit to the side. “Idiot.”
He stood on his pedals and wheeled off, leaving Sofia sprawled on the path, shocked by the sudden violence of the event and the aggressively crazy demeanor of the rider. She watched him disappear around a grove of trees and pushed herself to her feet, her hip hurting and her hand bleeding from where her palm had absorbed much of the force of the fall.
Sofia spied her phone and retrieved it, and cursed to herself when she saw the shattered display. She looked up at the park entrance in search of Catalina, but didn’t see her. A flash of fear tickled her stomach as she swung around, hunting for her daughter’s blue dress. Fighting down the surging panic, she hurried to the entrance, worried that Catalina might run out into the street, but when she got there, there was no sign of her. She turned, eyes sweeping the area, and gasped when she saw Catalina’s dress disappear into an old van, its license plate obscured with mud.
Sofia broke into a run as she screamed for someone to help her, but the only one around was an old man sitting on a bench, a bag of stale bread by his side for the pigeons. The van picked up speed with a belch of black exhaust and lurched around the corner. Sofia stopped, hand over her mouth, eyes unbelieving, her face frozen with shock as she realized that her baby daughter, the love of her life, was gone.
Chapter 7
A crosswind buffeted the Gulfstream V executive jet as it banked on final approach to Governor Francisco Gabrielli International Airport, the Andes Mountains towering on one side of the plane, endless vineyards stretching into the distance on the other. Tara rubbed her face and took a final sip from her bottle of water as they dropped past a few scattered clouds hanging over the valley. She was tired from the flight, which had taken an hour longer than planned due to unexpectedly powerful headwinds.
The plane’s tires left black streaks on the runway as it touched down. Tara peered out the window at the low terminal building, only a few commercial jets on the ground, still fewer private planes in evidence, and most of those single-engine prop jobs. The three men in the cabin with her stretched and yawned, each a hardened veteran of wet operations across the globe. Carl, the tall crew-cut man in the seat across from Tara, was the oldest at thirty-six, a geriatric by the group’s standards in a business where few made it past thirty before taking a desk job or making a terminal mistake. Ken, twenty-nine, with dusty blond hair and a Midwestern look that concealed a ruthless temperament, was the resident interrogation expert, as well as being a skilled martial artist. And Isaac, a short Hispanic brawler of Cuban heritage, was their explosives and demolitions ringer, at twenty-seven the youngest of the team.
The jet taxied to the terminal, and the pilot shut down the engines once they’d parked where directed by the ground crew. The group exited the plane, carrying overnight bags and their passports, and made their way to the immigration area, where they were waved through with hardly a glance. Once inside the terminal, Tara activated a burner cell phone and called the number she’d been given. A sandpaper voice answered, and after a few terse sentences, she was told to go outside and wait for a green Chevrolet Suburban to pick them up.
Ten minutes later the vehicle arrived, piloted by a taciturn driver who remained silent for the entire trip to Dante’s contact’s building – an auto parts warehouse on the outskirts of town in a marginal area. Two stray dogs watched with dull eyes as the SUV pulled up to the iron gates and honked. Moments later a chubby man with a fringe of brown hair ringing his nearly bald head swung one of the oversized panels wide, and the Suburban pulled into a large dirt yard and rolled to a stop. Everyone got out, and the driver waved for them to follow him into the back of the building.
Inside, Luis sat at a makeshift conference table in a large room to the side of the warehouse area, near a thin older man with a burn scar running down one side of his gray face, who occupied a metal chair by the door.
“Welcome. Our friend in Buenos Aires told me all about you. Please. Sit. I trust your trip was pleasant?” Luis asked.
Tara would do all the talking, as usual. The men took seats while she eyed Luis, taking his measure before sitting. “Pleasant enough. You’re Luis?”
“The one and only. And you must be…Maria.”
“Yes.”
Luis waited for her to introduce the others and, when it became obvious she wasn’t going to, nodded. “So. Would you like something to drink or eat? Water? Soda? Beer?”
“No, thank you.”
“Well then, let’s get down to business, shall we? Armando, get the hardware.”
The older man rose and disappeared, returning several moments later with two duffle bags. He placed them on the table and returned to his seat as wordlessly as a phantom. Luis stood and unzipped the first.
“As you requested. Four Beretta 9mm pistols with sound suppressors. Three spare magazines per weapon. One Ruger 22/45 threaded barrel pistol chambered for .22-caliber-long rifle cartridges with ten rounds of subsonic ammo and a custom suppressor. And in the other bag, four FMK-3 submachine guns with sound suppressors, also chambered in 9mm, with six thirty-two-round magazines per gun. A thousand rounds of subsonic ammunition, all custom loads. Enough firepower to fight a small, silent war.”
Tara inspected each piece and then handed them to her men, who scrutinized the guns before returning them to the sacks. “This will be acceptable, although the FMK-3s look well used.”
“They’re perfectly serviceable, I assure you, even if they have a few nicks and scratches.”
“Very well.” Tara slid a bundle of hundred dollar bills across the table to Luis. “Fifty thousand, as agreed. For which we will require two vehicles for our
stay, a safe house, and logistical support as needed.”
Luis nodded and proceeded to count the money, taking his time, his fingers running through the bills with practiced familiarity. When he was done, he tossed the bundle to the older man, who disappeared again, this time not returning. Tara pointed to the color printout of Matt’s photo that Luis had pinned to a corkboard on the wall behind his head.
“Have you had any luck with that?”
Luis shrugged. “I’ve made copies and circulated them, but nobody recognizes him right off the bat. Is it possible he changed his appearance?”
“Anything’s possible. He could have different color hair, a beard or mustache, anything. But if you get a hit, I have to warn you. He’s extremely dangerous and is an experienced field operative. Make sure nobody gets clever, or it’ll be the last thing they ever do, and he’ll disappear like a ghost. Which would make me extremely unhappy.”
Luis held her gaze. “Dante assured me I was to do everything I could to make you happy.”
“Dante is a wise and generous man.”
“That’s always been my experience.”
Tara folded her hands on the tabletop. “So what are we going to use as our base? I don’t want anyone watching our coming and going.”
“I own the building immediately adjacent to this one, and it’s vacant – very private since this warehouse is the only other tenant on this block. I would imagine that will work well for you. We also own a nearby hotel that won’t disturb you with formalities like identification, and where the staff is extremely uninterested in its guests.”
“That’s perfect. How many minutes is it from downtown?”
“Only five by car.”
“Excellent.”
“The vehicles are already there. At your disposal.”
“All paperwork in order?”
“Of course.”
Tara stood. “Very well, then. How long do you think it will take to get something from the photo?”
“It’s impossible to say. Although I have a large network, including taxi drivers, police, restaurant and hotel workers…if he’s out and about around town, it’s only a matter of time.”
“Let’s hope sooner rather than later. Much as I like Argentina, this isn’t a pleasure trip.”
“I understand perfectly, and I’ve relayed this to the field. There’s not much more we can do than wait.”
“Fine. Who’ll take us to the hotel?”
“Armando, the driver.”
“He’s not very talkative. I like that.”
“As I said, we aim to make you happy.”
The men rose and shouldered the gun bags and trailed Tara to the door. When she opened it, Armando was sitting in the warehouse, reading the newspaper. He looked up when they left the room. Luis followed them out and instructed him to take them to the building, and he nodded.
“Don’t worry. If he can be found, we’ll find him,” Luis said in parting.
“I never worry. I plan.”
Luis nodded. “I understand why Dante holds you in such high regard.”
“As I said, he’s a smart and generous man.”
Chapter 8
Jet stood by the zoo entry gate, the sun beating down on her as Hannah played nearby, intoxicated by the sound of the animals bleating and baying and chittering. A troop of schoolchildren led by a harried woman poured out of a private bus, and suddenly the tranquility of the area shattered as peals of laughter and shouted retorts filled the entryway. A large parrot stared at the newcomers from its perch near the ticket gate, its colorful plumage somewhat the worse for wear from the inexorable ravages of time.
Jet checked the time and watched Hannah sprinting happily after a butterfly, enraptured by the nature all around her, the city’s bustle seemingly a million miles away in the lush green calm of the zoo grounds. The skyline seemed to shimmer in the distance; the sunlight reflected off the towering buildings’ glass in a blinding display, the high-altitude atmosphere crystal clear. After waiting another few minutes, she fished out her cell phone and dialed Sofia’s number, but received an out-of-service message. Annoyed, she thumbed to Sofia’s home and called.
Her housekeeper, Isabella, answered. “Hello?”
“Hello. This is Rebecca. Is Sofia there, or has she already left for the zoo?”
Isabella hesitated. “One moment, please.”
When Sofia came on the line, her voice was hoarse and she sounded…odd.
“I’m sorry, Rebecca. I completely forgot about…” she said, trailing off as though she’d lost her train of thought.
“No problem, Sofia. Is…are you all right?”
“I’m…fine. This is just a bad time.”
Jet frowned. This wasn’t the Sofia she knew. “What’s wrong? You don’t sound fine.”
“It’s nothing. I…I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Sofia, is there anything I can help you with? We’re friends. All you have to do is ask. Is it Catalina? Is she sick? Hurt?”
Sofia began sobbing softly, and her next words rushed out in a jumbled torrent. “Oh, God. I don’t know what I’m going to do…”
“Sofia, what is it? Tell me.”
“I’m not allowed to talk about it.”
“Allowed? What does that mean? What happened?”
“It’s…I…” Sofia gasped for breath, now in a full-scale meltdown. “They took her.”
“Took her? Who? What happened, Sofia?”
“At the park. Kidnapped…”
The blood drained from Jet’s face as she watched Hannah, now skipping to a song only she could hear.
“Kidnapped! No. How? Why?”
Sofia sobbed again. “Money. Of course. Isn’t everything about money?” She broke down, crying, unable to continue.
“I’m coming to your house, Sofia. I’ll be there in ten minutes. It’ll be okay. I promise.”
“No…I…no…”
“I’m not leaving you to deal with this by yourself. I’ll see you soon.” Jet hung up and called to Hannah. “Honey, come on. Aunt Sofia has an emergency. We have to go help her.”
“But…soo…the…maminals…” she protested. How could her mother have forgotten about the zoo and the animals?
“I know, my love. But first we need to go see Aunt Sofia. Come on.”
Hannah shook her head and, when Jet gave her a steely stare, began crying and stamping her feet. “No…no…no!”
Jet took a deep breath as her mind raced over Sofia’s bombshell, and tried not to overreact to Hannah’s tantrum. She could understand her disappointment – she’d been promised a trip to a miraculous place filled with unimaginable wonders, and now it had been snatched from her when she was literally only feet from the entrance. Jet moved to her and held her shoulders as tears rolled down her red face, allowing her to vent before giving her a light shake.
“Hannah. Enough. Sofia’s in trouble. Catalina’s in trouble. We need to go to their house. The zoo will still be here. I promise.”
Hannah registered her mother’s serious tone and snuffled, her nose running, her eyes radiating betrayal, but she gradually quieted as she took in Jet’s expression.
“Pro…meth?” she said in a tiny voice.
Jet nodded solemnly and knelt so she was eye to eye with her daughter. “I do. Now come on. Be a brave girl and help me with Catalina. We need to go.”
Hannah wiped her eyes with the back of her sleeve while Jet felt for a tissue and blotted her nose. This particular crisis over, Jet took her hand and led her to their car, a newish maroon Chevrolet compact sedan with absolutely no distinguishing qualities – the anonymous styling a deliberate choice, forged by a lifetime of tradecraft, where her training placed a premium on avoiding being memorable.
Jet’s thoughts raced as they rolled down the hill toward the city and Sofia’s huge home in the Quinta district – one of the most upscale, old-money neighborhoods in Mendoza. When they arrived, she parked across the street and led Hannah to the ornat
ely carved entry door, where she rang the buzzer and waited. Footsteps on hardwood sounded from within, and then Isabella swung it wide, her face tight.
“I’m here to see Sofia,” Jet announced in Spanish, and the woman nodded and stepped aside so they could enter. After pushing the heavy door closed behind her, she escorted Jet and Hannah into the living room, where Sofia was sitting with red eyes on one of the expensive sofas, clutching a handkerchief. A bottle of water sat in front of her on the polished coffee table. Sofia stood, and Jet rushed to her, greeting her with an embrace. Sofia was trembling and looked to have aged several years in the last two hours.
“You…you shouldn’t have come…” she whispered. “But thank you.”
“Tell me what happened,” Jet said, taking the seat next to her. Hannah sat cross-legged on the floor in front of them and gazed up at Sofia with wide eyes.
“It…it all…happened so fast…” Sofia began and then gave a rambling account of the events at the park.
“Oh, my God. I can’t even imagine what you must be feeling,” Jet said.
“It’s…the worst violation I could imagine.”
“But why is it a secret? And where are the police?”
“The kidnappers called an hour ago and warned us not to contact the police or tell anyone. They said if we did, they’d know, and they’d…they’d kill Catalina.” Sofia began crying again at the mention of her daughter’s name.
“Of course they did. They’re afraid of the police. Which is why you need to go to them.”
Sofia shook her head. “We can’t take the chance…”
“I disagree. These are criminals. Thugs. They can’t be trusted. Their word means nothing.”
“I know. But my husband feels that we’re best off doing as they say.”
“Your husband. What about you?”
“I…I don’t know what to think.”
“Are kidnappings common here?” Jet asked, thinking furiously.
“No, not like in Buenos Aires. And certainly nothing like in Mexico. That’s why it never occurred to me there might be any danger…especially in that park…in the best area of town…”
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