“Copy that. So they decided to cooperate?”
“I wouldn’t go so far as to say that.”
“Understood, Control. Okay, confirmed, we now have the footage. Do we have any intel indicating any change in our expectation that our targets will be coming from the south?”
“Negative, Zero-One, no change.”
“Copy that, we’ll find a position with a good view of the southern approach. And you’re still sure they’re not already there?”
Leroux glanced around the room, everyone shaking their heads. “Affirmative, Zero-One. There’s no chatter, and our satellite coverage has shown no indication of that, though we don’t have constant coverage.”
“So they might have arrived during black-out periods.”
“We don’t think so. The Mexicans have had constant drone coverage, and they haven’t moved yet.”
“Good point. Keep us posted on that convoy. That’s a lot of mobile firepower, and I don’t want it surprising us.”
“Roger that, Zero-One. Control, out.”
66
En route to Quintana Roo Cartel Compound
Tepich, Mexico
Headlights bounced ahead, approaching fast. Officer Hector Santana cranked the wheel of his truck, pulled down a side street, then gunned it as he watched his rearview mirror. A dozen vehicles sped by, there little doubt where they were coming from.
Or where they were going.
They were probably heading for the police station to finish the job the others had failed at. But they’d find nothing except their prisoner, still locked in his cell. The officers and staff had left to wait for the Federales to arrive, Federales who despite repeated phone calls, kept pushing back their ETA. They were obviously up to something big, or El Jefe’s tendrils ran far deeper than even he thought. Could he truly be powerful enough to stop the federal authorities from responding to a massacre this large?
He pulled a three-point turn, slowly returning to the main road leading to El Jefe’s compound, wishing he owned his own car, his police vehicle a beacon in a town where tonight, being a police officer meant death. If the Federales didn’t get here soon, there wouldn’t be a police officer left alive.
Including him.
He glanced at the tracking device on the passenger seat. As soon as he handed it over, he was dead, and so was Esperanza. Nobody would be left alive, their deaths, and those of his fellow officers, a message to the replacements—keep out of El Jefe’s business, or the same happens to you.
He stopped at the end of the side road, checking both ways, seeing no one. The only way anyone was surviving was if the Federales showed. They were the only force large enough to stop El Jefe, the tiny police detachment inconsequential.
His eyes widened slightly at a thought. There was another force large enough, large enough to challenge the stranglehold El Jefe had on his town, especially now that so many had left the compound undefended.
But it meant making a deal with the Devil.
He turned left, away from the compound, already praying for forgiveness.
67
Outskirts of Tepich, Mexico
James Acton peered through the trees ahead and frowned. The glow he hadn’t been sure was there minutes ago, was now obvious in the rapidly darkening surroundings. And it wasn’t the moon. They were approaching the town, which meant their fate would soon be decided. Their only hope was if El Jefe had any interest in the millions Laura’s money could bring him, and that interest could be heavily influenced by these men he had offered a million each in cash.
“There it is!” cried Diaz, quick thumping hugs exchanged. Acton looked over his shoulder at the jungle behind them, wondering who it was following them, and if they even had any interest in him or the others. Whoever it was had killed four so far, all bad guys. But that was purely because they had left the strength of the group. Their pursuer could simply ambush them and kill everyone. There was no reason to suspect whoever was following them had any motivation other than killing El Jefe’s men. This wasn’t some sort of stealth hostage rescue.
As soon as they were behind the walls of the compound, they at least stood a chance of negotiating with El Jefe. But if they were to remain out here, they could be killed any moment by whoever was after them. The idea of dying didn’t bother him. He had been overwhelmed with a rollercoaster of emotions over the past day, knowing that the only woman he had ever really loved was dead. In fact, he couldn’t care less if he died.
He glanced at Reading to his right. He had a son. And Morales had a wife and several children. They deserved to live, to see their loved ones again. And so did he. He may have lost Laura, but his parents were still alive, and no parent should have to outlive their child. And he had friends. And his students. His eyes burned as he realized he had a lot to live for. It would just be hell living it without Laura. But she would want him to go on. To survive this ordeal, and to honor her memory.
He drew in a deep breath and squared his shoulders as he spotted the corner of a building through the trees, now determined to survive.
And with no idea how.
Rosa pointed at several lights ahead and wisely kept her mouth shut. Laura nodded, dropping to a crouch beside the woman. “I see it.” She could hear the others just ahead, perhaps a hundred yards, though without going in, guns blazing, she could see no way to stop them. “How far is it to the compound?”
Rosa stared at the lights then pointed to the left. “It’s just over there. Very close.”
Laura cursed.
Too late.
“Okay, we can’t stop them now. We’ll have to follow them, then I’ll call for help.”
Rosa pointed to the right. “I live that way. I can go home and call.”
Laura considered this idea for a moment. She still didn’t completely trust the woman who less than an hour ago had held a gun on her, yet what choice did she have? If Rosa was going to betray her, staying together would probably make that more likely, since all she had to do was call out. If she left and betrayed her, El Jefe’s men would know nothing beyond what they already knew. Somebody was following them and had killed four of their men.
She frowned. No, they’d know something else. They’d know who had killed their men, which could mean her husband and the others could be killed in retaliation. But if she trusted the woman, she could keep an eye on things, perhaps take advantage of some lapse that might let her free them. If her message had been received by Kane, then help might already be here, simply waiting for an update as to where everyone was.
And if he hadn’t, well, no amount of phone calls would matter.
And that was a risk she couldn’t take.
She had to continue to follow the others, in the remote possibility there was something she could do. She stared into Rosa’s earnest eyes, and took a leap of faith. She pulled a pen and piece of paper from her backpack, quickly writing down Greg Milton’s number, the only person she could think of who might be able to help them quickly. “Call this number and ask for Greg. Tell him that you’re calling on my behalf, and that Dylan”—she wrote the first name down—“knows what’s going on. Tell him where we are, okay?”
Rosa nodded, taking the paper and stuffing it into her pocket. “Good luck, señora.”
Laura smiled. “You too.”
Rosa turned to leave then stopped. She grabbed Laura and hugged her hard. “Thank you for saving me.”
Laura squeezed her eyes shut, a sense of relief surging through her as she realized this woman could be trusted. “You’re welcome.”
Rosa pushed through the trees, quickly disappearing, leaving Laura to wonder if the poor woman would even make it to her home alive.
68
Galano Residence
Tepich, Mexico
Officer Hector Santana trembled, hopefully imperceptibly, as he stared at the second most powerful drug lord in the region, Antonio Galano, sitting behind a large, antique desk, a cigar clamped between his teeth, a scotch held delica
tely to the side, gently swirled as one vice was exchanged for another.
“What brings you here so late, Hector?”
“I have a problem.”
Galano smiled, holding both vices out to either side as he looked at his men. “Well, I’m known in these parts as a problem solver.” His men chuckled. “Tell me what your problem is, perhaps I can help.”
Santana sucked in a long, slow breath, steeling for what he was about to do. This was a crossroads in his life, and the moment he asked for this favor, everything would change. “El Jefe has my wife, and he’s going to kill her.”
Galano’s head bobbed before taking another sip of his scotch, the ice clinking against the crystal. “That is a problem. But why should I care? You’re a good cop, Hector, and good cops are of no interest to me unless they get in my way.” He leaned forward in his chair. “Or decide to become bad cops.” He stabbed the air between them with his cigar. “Are you ready to become a bad cop?”
Santana tensed, playing his one card. “No.”
“Then I think you’re wasting my time.” Galano flicked his wrist, dismissing Santana, his henchmen moving closer. Santana took a hasty step forward.
“Wait! I have something you want.”
Galano waved his hand, his men backing away. “What?”
“I have El Jefe’s tracker.”
Galano’s eyes narrowed. “What tracker?”
“One of the ones he uses to track all of his lab workers.”
Galano’s eyes widened slightly as he rose from his chair and leaned forward, his knuckles pressed into the wood. “Now just how did you manage to get your hands on that?”
“There was an incident. His men are dead. I took it off one of the bodies.”
Galano stood. “Show it to me.”
Santana shook his head. “Do you really think I’d be stupid enough to bring it with me?”
Galano smiled, grinding his cigar into an ashtray, putting it out. “No, I suppose not. What do you want for it? Money?”
Santana shook his head. “My wife.”
Galano laughed, the others joining in. “And just how the hell do you expect me to get your wife from him? I assume she’s at his compound?”
Santana nodded. “But there’s something you don’t know.”
Galano’s eyes narrowed. “What?”
“I just saw at least fifty men leaving there. They’re going to the police station. If you hit him now, there’ll be almost nobody there.” Santana recognized the glimmer in Galano’s eyes and pressed his advantage, stepping closer to the desk. “Get my wife, and the tracker is yours. You’ll know the exact location of every single drug lab he has in the country, and you’ll be rid of him once and for all.”
69
Tepich, Mexico
Rosa rushed through the streets of her new home, every voice, every laugh, every bark of a dog sending her heart racing even faster. She kept to the shadows, terrified if someone recognized her that a call to El Jefe might be placed. She had no way of knowing whether they knew she was alive, but if they did, she had no doubt word would already be out, a substantial reward offered for her capture. And in these parts, with everyone so desperate to survive, a hefty reward from El Jefe could change lives.
She ducked down the alleyway behind her home, not trusting to use the front door. If El Jefe were watching the home, that’s where she suspected they’d be. She froze.
But wouldn’t they cover the back, too?
She stared into the dimly lit alley, the dusk sky providing little light, and saw no one. She had to risk it. She walked as calmly as she could the last few feet then opened the back gate, wincing as it creaked, the hinge unoiled in years. Before today, it had been a security feature, its opening never going unnoticed. Today, it was a dead giveaway to anyone who might be listening for it.
“Rosa, is that you?”
It was Señora Villas next door. She ignored her and yanked open the back door, stepping inside quickly before closing it.
“Mama!”
Little feet stampeded toward her, crying out in excitement.
“Shhh!” She held a finger to her lips, trying to silence them, yet it was no use. She sighed when her husband appeared.
“Where have you been?”
She shook her head. “No time. I have to make a phone call. Everyone pack a bag. We’re leaving tonight.”
70
Milton Residence
St. Paul, Maryland
“I’m going to call Washington and have his damned passport revoked.”
Sandra looked up from her eReader at her husband. “Can you do that?”
Gregory Milton shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m the dean of a university. That’s gotta count for something in this world.”
Sandra reached over and patted his hand. “Only in your little corner of it, dear.”
Milton gave her a look. “Sure, kick a man when he’s down.”
Her eyebrows rose. “Didn’t know you were.”
He sighed. “I just wish I knew what was going on. It’s been two days since I’ve heard from them. I can’t reach any of their phones, and the university says they haven’t heard from Morales either.”
“Well, he did mention it was a new discovery. Maybe there’s no cellphone coverage.”
Milton shook his head. “No, there’s no answer on their satphone either.”
Sandra sighed at him. “Like I already told you, the battery is probably just dead. You’re worrying about nothing.”
Milton dropped his head forward. “Umm, you do know who we’re talking about, right? Jim Acton? The world’s greatest magnet for trouble? Movies should be made about what that guy gets himself into.”
Sandra waved her eReader. “Books too!”
Milton grinned. “Yes, books too.” He sighed, trying to relax his back muscles, the tension aggravating his old injury.
“You okay?”
“Yeah, but I think I’m going to need a massage later.”
Sandra’s eyebrows bobbed up and down, a mischievous grin appearing. “Front, back, or both?”
Milton rolled his head toward her. “What the hell kind of question is that? Of course both!”
Sandra glanced at the stairs. “Race you to the bedroom.”
Milton jumped to his feet, immediately regretting it as Sandra did the same. He reached forward and pushed her back on the couch, eliciting a surprised giggle.
The phone rang. “With Jim’s timing, that’ll be him.” He pointed at her. “Don’t think you’re getting out of this, little lady.” He grabbed the phone, pressing Talk. “Hello?”
“Hello, Señor Milton?”
His heart nearly stopped. The thick Spanish accent was unmistakable. It had to be bad news. “Yes.”
“My name is Rosa Carona. I have a message from Laura Palmer.”
Milton dropped back into his chair, grabbing the pen on the end table. “Yes?”
“She wants me to tell you that someone named Dylan knows what’s going on. That he needs to be told that her husband and her friends are being held at El Jefe’s compound in Tepich.”
Milton wasn’t sure what to say. “Wh-what’s going on? I mean, who are you?”
“I can’t talk long. Señora helped me escape. Now I repay her. You must send help or her husband and friends will die. Please, señor.”
“Okay, I’ll see what I can do. Is she with you?”
“No, she went after her husband.”
Milton sighed as he closed his eyes, his head dropping back against his chair.
Why, Laura, why?
“Okay, I understand. And they are at this compound now?”
“Yes, they just arrived.”
“Okay. Can I call you—”
The phone clicked, the dial tone sounding a moment later.
I guess not.
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m not sure. I think Jim and Hugh have been kidnapped, and Laura is following them.”
Sandra dropped onto
the couch. “What! Who was that on the phone?”
“Some woman who claimed Laura saved her.” He picked up his notes. “She said they were being held at El Jefe’s compound in Tepich, and that Dylan apparently knows what’s going on.”
“Dylan Kane?”
“Yes.”
“What are we going to do?”
Milton shook his head. “We need to get a message to Dylan, somehow.”
“Call Washington?”
“Who in Washington? He’s a spy. It’s not like you can just call up Capitol Hill.”
“Call the CIA.”
“How the hell do you call a spy agency?”
Sandra tapped away at her eReader then handed it to him. “Go to their website and look up their number.”
Milton stared at the screen, the contact number listed. “Holy shit!” He quickly dialed, the phone ringing before he even had a chance to think about what to say. It was answered by a human, not some machine.
“Hello, Dean Milton. How can I help you?”
His eyes popped wide as his heart slammed. “Umm, how did you know it was me?”
“We’re the CIA.”
That didn’t make him feel any better about the situation. “Umm, I need to speak to Dylan Kane.”
“I’m sorry, he’s not available, but if you give me the message, I’ll get it to him.”
“Umm, who are you?”
“You can call me Chris.”
“Umm, okay. Ahh, well, I just got a call from some woman named Rosa. Sorry, I didn’t think to write down her last name. Actually, I’m not even sure if she mentioned it.”
“Yes, go on.”
Milton took a deep breath, trying to steady himself, his side of the conversation degenerating into babble. “Sorry. Listen, she says that Professor James Acton and others he was traveling with have been kidnapped.”
Wrath of the Gods (A James Acton Thriller, #18) (James Acton Thrillers) Page 16