Phoenix Burning

by Isabella Maldonado

  Gates looked thoughtful. “When are we supposed to execute this simultaneous warrant service?”

  Veranda relaxed. The task force was gradually climbing on board. “With luck, we can get what we need within a couple of weeks.”

  “What?” Agent Gates’s pen dropped from her hand and clattered to the table. “This sort of operation takes months, if not years, to plan and execute properly.”

  Veranda drew a clear distinction between Gates’s field experience and their current operation. “That’s what it takes for methodical FBI investigations. The Bureau gets convictions. But that’s because you spend years on a case before an arrest is made. Everything’s wrapped up with a bow on it.”

  Gates snatched up her pen and pursed her lips. “Because that’s what I call good police work.”

  Veranda realized she had inadvertently offended the senior FBI agent. She softened her tone. “The city is in lockdown right now. Everyone is scared Phoenix is becoming like some of those cities in Mexico where innocent citizens have been slaughtered by cartels dividing the country among themselves.” She regretted the words the instant they left her mouth. She slowly turned to the two Mexican agents. Now she’d probably alienated them as well. “I apologize if I—”

  Agent Lopez held up a hand. “No.” His voice was grave. “You are correct. We have spent many years under attack from criminal organizations. Officials who dared to stand up to them got killed or disappeared. Judges, police chiefs, politicians, community leaders, even priests.” He shook his head. “I wish we could go back in time and stop the cartels before they grew so powerful.” He looked around. “There is a price on my head, and there is a good chance I will not live to retire. But I will never stop until they are gone from my country.” He directed his final comment to Gates. “Don’t let them get stronger in yours.”

  A wave of gratitude washed through her, and Veranda let Lopez’s words linger before she spoke. “Agent Gates, we don’t have time for a standard investigation. My proposal is the fastest way to put the SSS gang and the Villalobos cartel out of business with minimal risks.” She perused the room. “Does anyone have a better alternative?”

  Agent Flag from Homeland Security spoke for the first time. “I support Detective Cruz’s plan.”

  Deputy US Marshal Fitzhugh lifted his index finger as if voting. “Me too.”

  “You don’t even have to ask us.” Marci indicated the Homicide squad with a sweep of her hand. “We’re on board.”

  A murmur of agreement went around the room.

  Diaz sat in stony silence.

  Gates gave a resigned sigh. “You’ve got a majority, Detective.”

  Veranda flashed a brief smile before she picked up her copy of the papers she’d circulated around the table earlier. “You all should have a copy of this document.” While the others skimmed through their copies, she explained the contents. “It’s a preliminary ops plan including known Villalobos locations I’d like to hit. We need to confirm these places and get more SSS sites. This version of the plan is a starting point. We’ll all refine and update it as we go.”

  Veranda spent the next hour laying out the details of her strategy. She illustrated with examples of successful operations she’d led as a detective in DEB. In the end, she felt she’d gained everyone’s support, albeit begrudgingly in the case of the two FBI agents and Lieutenant Diaz.

  At the end of the meeting, she got cell phones for Lopez and Rios before pairing detectives from her Homicide squad with Federal agents. Each team would gather information from ongoing investigations including narcotics, theft, assault, and other criminal activity. She directed the teams to write affidavits sufficient to convince a Superior Court judge to sign search warrants.

  Veranda and Sam would take the Mexican officials to their hotel after first stopping by the police academy to speak with Sergeant Grigg, leader of the PPD tactical team. She wanted Agents Lopez and Rios with her to provide details about defenses they encountered at Villalobos strongholds in Mexico. Since Sergeant Grigg and his team were at the academy for a SWAT training exercise, they could modify operational tactics based on any new information.

  As she started toward the exit with Sam and the two Mexican agents, Lieutenant Diaz stepped into her path. “I have an update about lodgings for our … ” He paused, looking first at Lopez, then Rios. “Guests,” he finished, gaze lingering on the younger agent with an air of dislike before returning to Veranda. “I forwarded an email to you before the briefing. It’s a verification form vouching for two unarmed representatives from Mexican law enforcement here on official business. They qualify for a discounted government rate at the downtown Hyatt Regency. You’ll need to show your creds and the form when they check in.”

  “Great location,” she said. “Close to my house so it’s convenient for me to pick them up.” She turned to Agent Lopez. “And a four-star hotel. Not bad.”

  She started for the door again, but Diaz touched her elbow. “Detective Cruz, a word.”

  Annoyed, she tossed Sam her car keys. “Go ahead. I’ll be right there.”

  Sam caught the ring of keys, shot a dark look at Diaz, and led the agents out.

  She pivoted to confront her lieutenant, but he was gone. Brow wrinkled, she glimpsed him striding into his private office. She blew out a frustrated sigh and stalked across the room. When he closed the door with a distinct snick, she braced herself for trouble.

  He frowned down at her. “How long do you think it’ll take for this to blow up in your face, Detective?”

  Shocked by his intensity and his question, she stepped back. “What are you talking about?”

  He moved closer, invading her space. “Why didn’t you tell the group about the missing DNA results?”

  His words hit her like a punch to the gut. She clamped down her physical reaction, meeting his hard stare. “Because it’s not important.”

  “Bartolo Villalobos waved an envelope around claiming it contained your paternity information.” He put his hands on his hips. “But the envelope went missing. Very convenient for you.”

  Reeling, she fought for composure. Diaz might as well have accused her of taking the lab report from Bartolo’s body after he died.

  She squared her shoulders and returned Diaz’s glare. “I couldn’t possibly have smuggled anything out of that crime scene.” Her cheeks flamed at the memory. She couldn’t have concealed the envelope

  because she’d been in the company of about twenty people—including Diaz. And she’d been completely naked.

  He tensed. “I remember why you couldn’t have hidden the envelope, but I find the whole situation suspicious.” He lowered his voice. “Too many people on the department know there’s a question about your parentage. Eventually, word will get out to the rest of the task force and they’ll want the truth about your relationship to the cartel. The team should hear about the missing DNA results from you before that happens.”

  “I barely got a consensus on my strategy this morning. Do you want to undermine me right now?” She tested the water to see how much credibility Diaz put in Bartolo’s claim. “Especially when the whole DNA thing is probably bullshit Bartolo made up.”

  “Maybe so. But if it turns out you are Hector Villalobos’s daughter and you’re the lead detective on a high-profile task force designed to take his business down—”

  “I’ve proven my loyalty.” Lieutenant or no, she wouldn’t stand for this.

  Anger radiated from him. “So have I, Detective. I don’t want any nasty surprises during this investigation. It’s too important. I didn’t bring it up in front of the others … yet. But I will inform the team if you don’t.”

  This time, she stepped forward. They were almost nose to nose. Pulse pounding in her ears, she spoke in deliberate, measured tones. “I’ll tell the task force about Bartolo’s insane rant if and when it becomes relevant to the investigatio
n.”

  He didn’t back down. “There’s something you’d better understand, Veranda.” It was one of the few times he’d used her first name.

  “What is that?”

  “Secrets are like landmines. When you least expect it, they blow up in your face.”

  Unable to tell if his words were meant as advice or a threat, she spun on her heel, opened the door, and marched out, hiding her turmoil behind a mask of calm.

  11

  Adolfo ground his teeth as he clenched the pages in his fist. He’d dismissed Nacho immediately after his hacker had given him two sheets of paper that changed everything. He would rise to this test of his leadership. “Ten of our facilities are compromised.” His eyes slid from Salazar to Carlos. “How?”

  The three men sat in the living room of the two-story house in South Phoenix, a recent rental their human traffickers used as a drop house. Carlos leaned back against the heavy blue fabric of a recliner. “The police have a lot of resources.” He shrugged. “They pool information.”

  The flippant remark infuriated Adolfo. Didn’t Carlos understand that they had to identify their weaknesses to avoid future problems? He suspected his playboy younger brother only concerned himself with his own part of the business. Especially the women involved in his sex trade. Disgusted, Adolfo turned to Salazar.

  “We can figure out how the police knew about your locations later,” Salazar said in Spanish. He spoke English, but not as well as the Villalobos siblings, who had been raised bilingually and sent to expensive private schools in the US. “Right now, we need a strategy.”

  Adolfo switched to Spanish. “Nacho gave me Cruz’s email five minutes ago.” He raised the papers in his hand to eye level. “How could I have come up with a response already?” Salazar always made him feel incompetent. He didn’t want the man’s impudence to spread to his brother. “I’ve got an idea how to turn this”—he shook the rumpled pages open to glance at the wording—“multiple warrant service to our advantage, but I need time to figure out the details.”

  Salazar’s lip curled. “While you’re working on your … details, there’s something I have to do. It’s about the federales who flew in from Mexico this morning. The other email Nacho intercepted said they’re staying at the Hyatt in downtown Phoenix.”

  Always alert for danger, Adolfo’s internal radar pinged on a disturbance. What was Salazar up to? “They’re only listed as two agents from the Policía Federal Ministerial in the email attachment. No names or other information were included in Cruz’s memo. Why are you interested if you don’t know who they are?”

  Salazar shot him an insolent look. “It’s because I don’t know who they are that I’m interested.” When Adolfo continued to stare at him in silence, Salazar sighed as if it pained him to explain himself. “When I came back from South America last month, your father told me about a PFM agent he’s been trying to recruit. So far, he’s had no luck, but I want to know if it’s the same man.”

  Adolfo bristled. His father hadn’t told him anything about this. He wondered what else Salazar knew that he didn’t. “What is the PFM agent’s name?”

  “El Lobo chose not to tell me. That’s another reason I have to get a look at the two agents in person.”

  Careful to appear unfazed, Adolfo chipped at the unseen iceberg he sensed beneath the dark water. “How do you propose to do that?”

  “Unlike you, no one in Phoenix knows who I am. I’ve never been to the States before, so there’s no reason for anyone to be looking for me here.”

  “You plan to just go up and shake their hands?”

  “Not quite.” A fleeting look of contempt crossed Salazar’s features. “I plan to stake out the Hyatt Regency.”

  “That’s an upscale hotel. They have private security.”

  “I won’t be doing anything illegal. I’ll walk around outside. Maybe stroll through the lobby.” He lifted a shoulder. “It’s a business open to the public. Again, no one knows me. Just another tourist taking pictures.”

  Adolfo couldn’t conceal his surprise. “You want to get a picture of them?”

  “And send it to your father. He can identify them.” He slid a thumb and forefinger along his jaw. “I can also see this detective, Veranda Cruz.”

  Adolfo tensed. “I’m the one responsible for keeping my father informed.”

  A slow smile curved Salazar’s mouth. “Actually, that’s my job too.”

  White hot anger shot through Adolfo. Why had his father sent a viper into his tent? Salazar’s arrogance enraged him further. Other men in the cartel were cowed in his presence, but not El Matador. Mind racing, Adolfo latched onto a flaw in the plan. “You don’t have a car or a license.”

  “That’s why you’ll have someone drive me.” Condescension laced Salazar’s words.

  As usual, Carlos was no help. His younger brother sat impassively in the recliner, apparently unconcerned that someone outside the family dared speak to a Villalobos this way.

  Adolfo jabbed a finger at Salazar. “You’d better show some resp—”

  Nacho burst into the room, his face contorted with anger. “That little bitch!”

  Adolfo had never seen him so upset. Already thrown by Salazar’s thinly veiled mockery, he decided to overlook the unannounced interruption. “Nacho, what happened?”

  Quivering and red-faced, his computer expert waved a sheet of paper. “This is the task force’s real plan.” He slapped the page on the table in front of Adolfo.

  Adolfo put down the wrinkled papers he’d been holding and picked up Nacho’s sheet. “Explain.”

  “That puta you assigned to help me monitor the police emails just tried to sabotage us. She changed the plan before bringing it to me. Nacho pointed at the paper Adolfo had previously been holding. “This doesn’t show all the places they want to search.” He balled his fists. “That whore deleted half of them to make sure we got caught with contraband on Villalobos property.”

  Salazar looked from Adolfo to Nacho and frowned. “What is this about?”

  Adolfo drew a breath and turned to Salazar. “Six weeks ago, the coyotes brought a group over the border and took them to a drop house on the other side of Phoenix. A mother and her twin fourteen-year-old daughters were among them. My brother Bartolo wanted some … companionship and forced their mother to choose which of her two girls he would have. He enjoyed watching the woman beg for her daughters.”

  Adolfo had seen—and experienced firsthand—Bartolo’s cruel streak. The women were chattel, but he didn’t relish tormenting them the way Bartolo had. “In the end, the mother gave him Mia.” He didn’t hide his disdain. “The girl was almost dead when Bartolo finished with her. Apparently, she wouldn’t cooperate without … persuasion.”

  Something squirmed inside Adolfo’s stomach. Bartolo’s perverse appetites reflected on the rest of the family. He struggled to identify the uncomfortable feeling. Slowly, a single word bubbled to the surface of his mind. Shame.

  Salazar narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing Adolfo. “There’s a point to this story?”

  When Adolfo didn’t respond, Carlos picked up the thread. “The mother had a reason for choosing one girl over the other. Turns out it was the same reason she brought them to Phoenix in the first place. The family is from the barrios of Mexico City. Sofia qualified for a program for inner-city youth to take advanced computer classes in the US for six months. The non-profit group would pay for Sofia, but not for anyone else. The mother, who obviously isn’t as bright as her daughter, contacted my coyotes.”

  “I don’t understand,” Salazar said. “Why did she need you?”

  Carlos smirked. “Because she wanted to come with Sofia and bring Mia along as well. Thought they’d be safer traveling in a strange country together.” He shook his head as if the notion was beyond stupid. “When I heard about a girl with computer skills, I thought of Nacho and told t
he mother she could bring both girls for one transport fee. I assured her they could clean houses to pay for room and board while Sofia studied.”

  Salazar’s heavy black brows went up. “The mother fell for that?”

  Recovered from his epiphany, Adolfo answered. “She was so desperate to make a better life for her girls, she’d believe anything. When they arrived, we turned Sofia over to Nacho, who trained her to hack. And now, apparently, she’s betrayed us.”

  All eyes turned to Nacho, who blurted his excuse. “When Sofia printed out Cruz’s plan, I didn’t take extra time to review the steps. The info looked urgent, so I gave it to you right away.”

  Nacho’s red-rimmed eyes darted from one man to the next. He bore the pleading look of a dog who expected punishment. “After I got back to my desk, I read through it again carefully and noticed an extra line space. I got suspicious and searched for the same document in other team members’ emails. When I compared them, I discovered Sofia deleted ten of the twenty Villalobos locations on the original plan.” He hung his head. “I asked one of the coyotes to watch her and came to you immediately.”

  Adolfo’s simmering fury broke over Nacho. “She is your responsibility. You should be watching her!”

  Nacho winced and kept his head bowed, his response directed at the floor. “I do, señor. That’s why she couldn’t fix every copy. She only had time to change one and must have gambled I wouldn’t go back and check.”

  Adolfo’s nails bit into his palms as he clenched his fists. “One little girl almost brought us down.”

  Carlos shot to his feet. “She must be punished.” He unbuckled his belt. “She will understand that the Villalobos family owns her now.” He slid the thick leather through the loops on his pants and wrapped it around his wrist. His free hand snaked out to thump the back of Nacho’s head. “Bring her here.”