“Yes, we’re aware of the situation.”
Milton paused. “Wait. What? You’re aware?”
“Yes. You have information for us?”
“Well, I don’t know. Maybe you already know.”
“Why don’t you tell me anyway?”
Milton exhaled, nodding. He wasn’t thinking clearly, and was just wasting time. “Yes, you’re right. Okay, this Rosa says that they are being held at El Jefe’s compound in Tepich, and that Laura is following them.”
There was a pause. “She said they were held there? As in they were already there?”
Milton tried to recall the conversation. “Yes. I definitely got the impression that they were there, not going to be there.”
“And that’s all she said?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, thank you for calling us, goodbye.”
“Wait!”
But it was too late, the line dead. He hung up and put the phone in its charger. He stared at his wife. “I think that was the scariest phone conversation I ever had.”
“What do you mean?”
He stared at the phone. “I think we’ve got a direct line into the CIA.”
71
Outskirts of Tepich, Mexico
Javier Diaz pushed through the trees, the sounds of life now filling his ears. He recognized a roof through the leaves and adjusted their course, the compound only a few hundred feet away. All he had to do was make it through those gates, and he’d be safe from whoever had been pursuing them.
Then he’d take fifty men and comb the entire area for them.
And when he got his hands on whoever was responsible, he’d slice them to pieces, slowly, letting them feel every cut of his blade as he stared into their eyes. Whoever had killed his men was already dead.
And so was their family.
And if it was one of Galano’s men responsible, he’d personally castrate the prick and force-feed him his balls before slitting his throat.
He drew a long breath, the adrenaline surge at the thought of payback bringing a smile to his face.
Oh, yes, there will be blood.
He glanced at the hostages. Even if El Jefe kept them alive to collect the ransom, he’d see none of it. Perhaps a few whores as a reward, but little else. Were a few whores worth the death of four of his men? Four of his friends? In fact, El Jefe might even kill him for bringing them here, or for the loss of four good men.
Or you could collect the ransom yourself.
He paused, an unexpected debate raging. If he took the hostages, he could collect the ransom, and he’d be rich. He’d have enough money to get out of this shithole and free himself of the hold El Jefe had on him.
He continued forward, his lips pursed. Acton had promised them a million each in cash if they survived. But he had also agreed to ten million per hostage earlier.
Thirty million dollars.
All for him.
A sneer curled up the side of his face. He spun toward the last of his men and squeezed the trigger.
Nothing.
“Javier! What the hell!”
He stared at Ybanez for a moment as he battled with the jammed weapon, but Ybanez didn’t stick around for answers. He sprinted back into the trees, disappearing into the dark. The weapon unjammed and he fired after him, spraying the entire area until his mag emptied.
Shit!
Laura froze as gunfire erupted ahead, the sounds of someone crashing through the jungle approaching. Her immediate thoughts were that her husband and the others were attempting an escape. This would be when they’d do it, probably desperate now that they were at the edge of the town. They had to know El Jefe’s compound was close and that any hope of escape would die beyond the walls that apparently surrounded it. Yet she had to assume their plan had been an exchange for ransom. If that were the case, then the end game would have had them going to the compound anyway.
Perhaps Rosa had been right.
Perhaps El Jefe would have killed them anyway, and they had found out and decided to make their escape.
She raised the AK-47 and aimed toward the trees in front of her, whoever had escaped now almost upon her. She lowered her aim, afraid she might panic and shoot an innocent. A man burst through the trees, his head turned behind him. In the dark, she couldn’t tell who it was. Could it be James? Hugh? Eduardo?
“Hey!”
The man’s head spun toward her, a shaft of moonlight illuminating his face. She squeezed the trigger and the man dropped without a sound. She rushed forward and kicked him over onto his back, confirming the brief glimpse she had caught had been right—this was a stranger.
Which meant there was only one left.
She charged forward as she reloaded, this perhaps the best chance she’d ever have of rescuing her husband and friends.
Someone crashing through the trees toward them made up Diaz’s mind. Moments ago he was ready to go it alone, to cut El Jefe out completely and collect the ransom himself, but with a madman rushing their position, and the safety of the compound less than a hundred feet away, he had only one sure way to survive.
He grabbed the gringo and yanked him through the trees, quickly emerging onto the road that ran along the front of the compound. He sprinted toward the gate, the well-lit walls the most beautiful sight he had seen in days.
“Open the gate!” He spotted two lookouts as they aimed their weapons at them. “It’s me, Javier! Open the gate!”
Somebody shouted the all-clear, and the hum of the motors kicked in, the gate rolling aside. He glanced over his shoulder and saw a shadow emerge from the woods, not a hundred paces from where he was.
Is that a woman?
He sprinted across the gate’s track and into the safety of the compound, his hostages still behind him, their pursuer now out of sight. The gate rumbled closed and he spun toward the prisoners before any of his men could come within earshot.
“If any of you tell anyone what just happened, I’ll make sure you die slow, painful deaths.”
The gringo smiled at him slightly, the bastard knowing he now had leverage. “You just remember our deal. You keep us alive, and you get a million cash.”
Diaz reasserted control “It was a million each. I want their shares too.”
Acton opened his mouth to renegotiate, but Diaz cut him off with a gun pointed at the Mexican.
“Deal?”
Acton glared at him. “Deal.”
Laura ducked back into the trees as Acton and the others disappeared into what must be El Jefe’s compound. Rosa had described it as a fortress, and she was right. Built at the bottom of a hill, the property gently sloped upward, away from the road. A wall surrounded the entire complex—a well-lit wall topped with razor wire, a road ringing three sides. There was no way she was getting in there without being seen.
Her shoulders slumped. It was up to Rosa now. If she had made it home, would she have the courage to make the phone call? And if she had, was she even able to reach Greg? Greg might not even know they were missing, so might not think to answer a phone call at this hour, especially from a number he didn’t recognize.
She sighed. And it might not matter even if he did. If Kane had never received her original message, then there would be no one here to help, regardless. If Milton were the first to know of their predicament, it could be days before anyone arrived to help them.
Her chest tightened as she stared at the compound, teeming no doubt with scores of heavily armed guards. It was hopeless.
Oh, James!
72
Operations Center 3, CIA Headquarters
Langley, Virginia
“Did we miss something?”
Shoulders were shrugged around the room, the phone conversation with James Acton’s boss and friend, Gregory Milton, suggesting they had. Milton’s number had been flagged in the system, with the computer tasked to send any calls he might make to a government facility, directly to Chris Leroux for the duration of this situation.
; It had proven a wise move.
Though the result was confusing. The message from the survivor suggested they were already there, yet no one had been seen entering the compound since the convoy left.
“Sir, we’ve got movement.”
Leroux turned, Sonya Tong pointing at the screen, a shot from the drone showing four people rushing through the gate. “Can we see their faces? Is that our people?”
Tong threw up her hands. “They’re not doing anything with it! It’s like the Mexicans haven’t even noticed.”
Leroux cursed then jabbed a finger toward the display. “Take over the drone. We need faces.”
“Yes, sir.” Tong’s fingers flew over the keyboard, the drone banking hard to the left, the camera zooming in on the four new arrivals. “I have control.”
Randy Child leaned forward in his chair. “Are those ropes?”
Leroux nodded, three of the arrivals clearly tied together. “I need faces.”
“I’m trying, sir, but they’re facing the wrong direction. I need to get the drone around for a better angle.”
Leroux snapped his fingers, pointing at Child. “Get me Delta, now!”
73
North Side of Quintana Roo Cartel Compound
Tepich, Mexico
Command Sergeant Major Dawson brought the SUV to a halt on a road overlooking the compound, the walled estate poorly located from a strategic standpoint, the best place for it at the top of the hill, not the foot.
Though it probably didn’t matter.
If the police were to ever raid the compound, it wouldn’t matter where the compound was located—it would eventually fall. The defenses were designed around ensuring privacy and keeping rival gangs at bay, which with the numbers Langley was reporting inside, should be easy.
It was the departure of the convoy that had him interested, and as he scanned the scene below with his night vision goggles, he smiled at what he saw—or rather, didn’t see. There were about a dozen guards outside, with an unknown number inside, though with it being a time of heightened tensions, he would assume El Jefe would have all hands on deck. And twelve outside wasn’t enough to protect a compound that big.
The main gate rolled closed with a clang heard even from their position, suggesting it had been closed on an emergency setting. He could make out several figures, though only the top half of a couple of them, heads only for two others, the roofline of the house in the way. He was about to activate his comm when it squawked.
“Zero-One, Control. Come in, over.”
“Control, Zero-One, we’re in position north of the compound, over.”
“Copy that, Zero-One. We believe the subjects have just arrived. We’re showing four people just entering the compound’s main entrance, now going inside the main structure.”
Dawson cursed, slamming a fist into the steering wheel. If they had gone to the south, they would have run right into them before they even entered.
Timing is everything.
“Are you sure it’s them?”
“Negative, but they came from the tree line.”
Dawson exchanged annoyed glances with the others then paused. “Wait, did you say four?”
“Yes.”
“Have you identified them yet?”
“No. We’ve got a bad angle from the UAV, but three are bound, all male.”
Dawson’s head bobbed as he resumed his surveillance. That fit with the intel. Sort of. Laura Palmer was believed to be following her husband and the others. If there were no women in this group, then that suggested she was either still free, or dead. He’d go under the former assumption for now, Palmer the toughest civilian woman he had ever met.
“We believe if she’s still alive, she’s in the immediate vicinity.”
Niner poked his head between the seats. “Don’t worry, my Laura is still alive and well and she’s been kicking ass. There’s no way only one man took Acton and Reading.”
Dawson agreed. “What’s the status of the Mexicans?”
“Mobilizing now. They’ll be there in under fifteen minutes.”
“And that convoy that left here?”
“Unknown. We’ll have satellite coverage again in a few minutes, but we’re almost positive they were heading for the police station. If they did arrive, it would take them a minimum of ten minutes to return. There’s a large increase in cellphone traffic in the vicinity of the station, which suggests the attack has begun.”
Dawson frowned. “Our contact, is he clear?”
“We haven’t heard from him. He’s turned off his phone, so we can’t trace him either. What’s your plan?”
Dawson scanned the area below, the defenses formidable, though nothing they hadn’t handled before. “We’re going in before the shit hits the fan.”
“Wait a minute. Something’s happening.”
Everyone in the vehicle leaned to the left, staring through their goggles. Dawson spotted the problem.
Shit!
“Who the hell is that?”
74
Quintana Roo Cartel Compound
Tepich, Mexico
Javier Diaz headed for the main house, his multi-million dollar payday in tow. The portly Rayas emerged from inside and stared at the prisoners then at him with disgust.
“What the hell happened to you?”
Diaz glanced down at his clothing and realized he must be a sight. “Long story. Where the hell is everyone?”
“Gone to hit the police station and clean up your mess. Where the hell have you been?”
Diaz jerked a thumb at his prisoners. “Walking through the damned jungle for two days. Galano’s men hit the lab and have been stalking us ever since. I lost five of my guys. Where are Daniel and Fernando? Did they make it back?”
Rayas shook his head. “No. Daniel is dead, and Fernando was arrested.”
Diaz frowned.
That’s not good.
“Did he talk?”
Rayas shrugged. “Dunno. El Jefe wants a complete cleanup, though.” He gestured toward the hostages. “Who the hell are these guys?”
“Nosy neighbors. They claim to be rich.”
“Huh. I don’t think El Jefe’s going to be happy. Too much heat right now.”
And that means no payday.
“Where is he?”
“In his office.” Rayas eyed the prisoners. “Want me to get something to tie them up a little better?”
Diaz glanced at the unbound hands of his prisoners, a necessary freedom in the jungle, an unwise one here. “Yeah, grab some zip ties for me.” He yanked on the rope attached to the gringo as Rayas disappeared inside. “Let’s go.” He received a glare, but the three men followed him without complaint, Rayas rejoining them a few moments later, binding their hands. He knocked on El Jefe’s closed office door.
“Come!”
Diaz opened the door and stepped inside.
“Javier!” El Jefe jumped from his seat and rounded his desk, giving him a thumping hug. “My old friend, I thought you were dead when I hadn’t heard anything.” He stepped back, curling up his nose. “You stink! What the hell happened?”
Diaz breathed a silent sigh of relief, half expecting a bullet to the head rather than a hug. “Galano’s men hit the lab. When we went to pick up a stray, they sliced our tires and took our satphone. We’ve been walking through the jungle ever since.” He lowered his chin and closed his eyes, trying to fake just the right amount of shame. “I lost five of my guys to them.” He frowned, opening his eyes. “Six I guess. I wasn’t aware of Daniel.”
El Jefe flicked his wrist, dismissing the man as he returned to his chair. “He was killed by Officer Santana. We’re dealing with him now.” El Jefe turned his attention to the three prisoners. “And who are they?”
“Archaeologists or something. We found them nearby.”
“Why didn’t you just kill them?”
Diaz pointed to Acton. “This one claims they’re rich. He’s offered ten million dollars for each of their liv
es.”
El Jefe’s eyebrows climbed at the number, faint hope that he might see a payday returning to Diaz. “Thirty million dollars. Impressive.” He regarded Morales. “You don’t have ten million dollars.” He stared at Acton. “You’re the rich one, aren’t you?”
Acton stepped forward. “Like I explained to your man, we all are.”
“Bullshit.” He jabbed a finger at Morales’ left hand. “That’s a twenty dollar watch. A rich man doesn’t wear a twenty dollar watch.” El Jefe leaned forward, glaring at Acton. “No bullshit. Who’s got the money?”
Acton, remarkably, kept his cool. “I do.” He stepped back, closer to his friends. “But if anything happens to them, then nobody gets any money.”
El Jefe eyeballed him. “You think I need your money?”
“Everybody needs money.”
El Jefe snorted. “You arrogant fool! You think just because I’m a Mexican means I’m automatically poor? That I don’t know what rich is? I’m worth tens of millions. Hundreds! I employ hundreds in this town alone. I supply product to hundreds of thousands. And you know how?” He rose, leaning forward on his desk as he stared down Acton. “By never showing mercy.” He stood, holding out his hand to Diaz. “Gun.”
Diaz’s chest tightened as he handed over his Beretta. El Jefe stepped toward the prisoners, pointing the weapon at Morales. Acton stepped in front of the barrel. “You kill him, you get nothing.”
El Jefe sneered at him. “Again, you have nothing I need.” He pressed the muzzle against Acton’s forehead. “I’m bored with this conversation.”
75
En route to Quintana Roo Cartel Compound
Tepich, Mexico
Officer Hector Santana sat quietly in the back seat, squeezed between two of Galano’s men as they raced toward El Jefe’s compound, bringing up the rear of a large convoy of vehicles. The others were already talking about the attack on the police station, one of their informants in the community who lived near his place of work, phoning in with updates on the action.
Wrath of the Gods (A James Acton Thriller, #18) (James Acton Thrillers) Page 17