Silence fell around the table as everyone considered Lopez’s story. Veranda wondered whether someone in the highest echelon of the old Federal Judicial Police agency betrayed Ernesto. If so, why? Hector hadn’t risen to power yet, so he couldn’t have exerted much influence. Veranda had the sense there was much more to learn from the older federale, but she couldn’t fathom a way to get details without divulging more about herself. And that would never happen.
Out of the corner of her eye, she caught covert movement across the expansive mezzanine floor. A Latino man held a smart phone so that its camera lens pointed in their direction.
Forgetting the mystery behind Ernesto’s murder, she tapped Sam’s upper arm. “Is that man taking a picture of us?”
Three pairs of eyes followed her gaze.
Lopez released a stream of expletives in Spanish, ending in one word: “Salazar.”
Rios jumped to his feet, upending his chair, and sprinted toward the man. Veranda had never heard the name but deduced from the reactions of the federales that Salazar was a problem. Aware Rios had no law enforcement powers in the US, Veranda pushed back from the table and joined the chase.
The man Lopez had identified as Salazar stuffed the phone into his pocket and pivoted in one fluid motion, legs a blur as he bolted toward the stairs leading down to the lobby.
Veranda shot a quick glance over her shoulder as she ran. Lopez dashed toward her as Sam tossed a wad of cash onto their table and grabbed his suit jacket.
She caught up to Rios as he reached the top of the staircase. Salazar had already made it downstairs to the lobby, now only steps away from the glass main doors. From there, he could quickly blend into the downtown midday bustle and disappear.
She flew down the stairs, darted outside to the valet area in front of the hotel, and spun in every direction.
Salazar was gone.
Rios caught up to her, breathing hard. After he bit out a few colorful obscenities, Sam and Lopez pounded up behind them.
“No sign of him?” Sam asked.
Veranda shook her head and looked at Lopez. “Who the hell is Salazar?”
Lopez’s dark eyes narrowed. “El Matador.”
14
An hour later, Veranda stood in the Fusion Center surrounded by members of the task force. Detective Sanchez from her Homicide squad stared at her openmouthed, and she met his bemused expression with a frown. “You got a problem, Tony?”
Marci, always ready to needle her favorite target, piped up before Tony could respond. “Oh, he has lots of problems.” Her eyes trailed down his body. “Where do I begin?” The pair enjoyed verbal fencing matches, but Marci’s quick wit and acerbic tongue usually won out.
Refusing to take Marci’s bait, Tony kept his gaze on Veranda. “What the hell happened to you?”
Veranda realized she must look very different from her appearance this morning. Loosed from its sleek chignon, her mussed hair now tumbled halfway down her back in flowing waves. She’d tossed her suit jacket over the back of her chair as soon as she entered the Center, and her silk blouse still clung to her damp skin. She could feel the flush on her face from the adrenalin rush and knew she didn’t exude the image of a polished professional any longer.
She cast an appraising glance at Sam, Lopez, and Rios and stifled a groan. The men showed no sign of physical exertion. Granted, Sam and Lopez had only jogged briefly. Rios, however, had sprinted after Salazar out into the blazing midday heat. Why wasn’t he sweaty and disheveled? Damned men.
She pursed her lips, answering Tony over her shoulder. “I’ll explain later,” she said, turning toward the center of the room, where the tables had been pushed together again for a group briefing. “For now, we’ll concentrate on our plan. Scorpion Sting is a big op with a lot of moving parts.”
She walked to her seat at the end of the table to reinforce her unspoken directive. Everyone else seemed to get the message and followed without asking further questions about her altered appearance.
Once the group was seated, she set the agenda. “We’ll start with progress on the local gang, then cover the cartel.” She turned to Special Agent Wallace. “Craig.” She made it a point to address the DEA agent by his first name, emphasizing their past work history. “You’ve partnered with our Gang Unit and Drug Enforcement Bureau on SSS. Anything to report?”
Wallace scratched the bald spot on the back of his head. “Sergeant Fromm with DEB brought me up to speed about a high-value confidential informant his squad cultivated inside SSS. This CI can set up a buy-bust before we do our warrant services.
She had to change the plan. She could use intel from the buy for the affidavits, but arrests could alter the gang’s behavior.
“Good,” she said. “But could you make it a buy without the bust?”
“No problem. We’ll make it a controlled buy.”
She continued with Wallace. “What about other locations for SSS?”
“The CI verified two more locations. After the cartel took out Castillo, SSS moved half their product to a member’s house and the rest to another warehouse. We’ve got addresses for both places and DEB has undercover narcs on surveillance. We can share the intel we’ve gathered so far.”
She loved working with Wallace, a team player. No grandstanding or political gamesmanship. Hoping she’d set the tone for the other Feds, she turned her attention to the FBI team. “Did you touch base with your colleagues in the Criminal Investigative Division?”
She had directed the question toward Gates, but Tanner drew a sheaf of papers from a glossy black leather portfolio and cleared his throat. “My first objective was to enact deconfliction protocols.” He looked around the room as if expecting a reaction.
Gates closed her eyes and massaged her temples.
“Wow.” Marci oozed sarcasm as she gazed at Tanner with a look of wide-eyed wonderment.
Veranda interjected before Marci could go any farther. “Thank you, Agent Tanner.” Everyone in the room not only knew what deconfliction protocols were, but had used them many times during their careers.
Apparently out of patience, Gates straightened and took over. “There are currently no ongoing investigations on the cartel involving any operatives. We’ve obviously known about the Villalobos family for years, but haven’t been able to sink our teeth in.” She threw a hand up in frustration. “Informants die, paper trails go cold, front companies are suddenly disbanded before we can get traction on a large-scale racketeering investigation.”
Veranda could sympathize. She had investigated the cartel for over two years on a previous task force to build a case and it had blown up in her face. In the aftermath, she’d been forced to start from scratch. “It takes years to investigate and the cooperation of many people. Leaks are inevitable, and the cartel has tentacles everywhere.”
Marci arched a penciled brow. “I’d think the world’s most powerful cartel would be at the top of the FBI’s to-do list.”
Gates gave her a cold look. “Since 9/11, we’ve been up to our eyeballs in counterterrorism investigations. Crime syndicates that don’t support people who are actively trying to blow us up aren’t on the front burner.”
“I suppose not.” Sam’s baritone was unusually harsh. “These guys just want to destroy a whole generation of kids by selling them hard drugs and keeping them addicted. Not your concern.”
DEA Agent Wallace put up a hand as Gates and Tanner opened their mouths with every appearance of starting an argument. “No one’s giving up on those kind of investigations, we’re just letting local law enforcement agencies take the lead when it’s domestic and supporting our international partners to intervene at the source.” He nodded at Lopez and Rios. “Just like the PPD, we have to allocate our resources.”
“Fine.” Sam tugged a pair of reading glasses from his shirt pocket and shook them open. “Let’s get on with it.” He flipped h
is notepad open.
Veranda sought out another familiar face at the table. “Fitz.” She turned to the Deputy US Marshal. “What have you got?”
He grinned and jerked his chin toward Nicholas Flag from Homeland. “Nick and I’ve been working with your Homicide Squad to narrow down the potential Villalobos locations. We think we can get warrants for twelve sites out of the twenty you gave us. The team has already started writing affidavits.”
She understood the legal hurdles in their way. As a former narc, she had plenty of experience with judges denying search warrants because they felt probable cause was lacking.
She emphasized the positive. “Good work fast-tracking the affidavits. Forward the final locations for SSS and the Villalobos cartel to me and I’ll update the ops plan immediately.” She addressed the group. “I’ll email the new version to everyone so we can stay on the same page.” A potential problem occurred to her and she turned back to Fitz. “Finish the documentation, but don’t swear out the warrants until we finalize a time for the operation. We’ve only got seventy-two hours to execute them once they’re signed.” She looked around the table. “Anything else?”
“Yeah,” Tony said. “Where were you guys before you got here?”
“Sam and I took Agents Lopez and Rios to see Sergeant Grigg at the academy. SAU was at the range for a live-fire training exercise. Grigg agreed to cover all of our locations using outside resources along with his team. Of course, he insisted on a practice run using the Shoot House.” She glanced at Diaz. “I’m following chain-of-command this time, sir.” She emphasized the last word. “Grigg’s lieutenant will call you to coordinate a time.”
Tony looked her up and down. “If you were at the range, how come you came in here looking like you wrestled a rattlesnake?”
She described how they’d checked the Mexican agents in at the Hyatt Regency downtown and had brunch at the atrium restaurant. Diaz’s eyes narrowed as he looked from her to Rios and back again, an irritated expression darkening his features.
After she relayed a brief description of the unsuccessful foot chase, she turned to Lopez. “Now that everyone’s caught up, could you loop us in on this Salazar guy?”
Lopez paused as if considering where to begin. “Salazar is a dangerous man. Born and raised in Mexico City, he joined the military at seventeen and later served in the special forces. He left the army after ten years and began working as a … what is the word … fixer … for the Villalobos family. When a city police commander intercepted their drug shipments and arrested their drivers, El Lobo sent Salazar to kill him. He also murdered the commander’s wife to set an example.”
“Holy shit,” Tony muttered.
Grim lines etched Lopez’s face as he continued. “Five months later, a judge signed an arrest warrant for one of the cartel’s top heroin producers. Salazar assassinated the judge and his entire family even though they had around-the-clock security. The warrant was still active, but El Lobo’s attorney found a technical problem with the paperwork, so it would have to be reissued.” His expression hardened. “No judge would sign the new documents.”
Sam paused in the midst of scribbling on his pad. “Are there murder warrants out for Salazar now?”
“Yes, we found enough evidence to charge him, but he got away. A rival cartel in Colombia tried to cut into Villalobos profits, so El Lobo sent Salazar to South America to fix the problem. We believe Salazar killed at least seven more police officials in Colombia over the past five years. We notified Interpol and requested extradition from any country.”
Sam slid his reading glasses halfway down his long nose. “So Salazar’s banned from international travel and has outstanding warrants.” He gave Agent Rios an approving nod. “Explains why you chased him at the Hyatt.”
Something bothered her. “I’ve investigated the cartel for two years. Why haven’t I heard about him?”
This time Rios answered. “He’s been in South America for more than five years. You probably paid attention to their trafficking into Phoenix and US distribution network, not their grow operations in Colombia.”
She nodded. “Where does he fit into their organization?”
Lopez clasped his hands together, resting them on the table’s smooth surface. “Salazar has an unusual position. He reports directly to El Lobo, who assigns him specific tasks.” Lopez stopped but seemed to be withholding something. When no one else spoke, he finally continued. “To be honest, I am most unhappy to see him in Phoenix. He is the cartel’s most dangerous weapon. In the past, he’s been sent to kill anyone in law enforcement who gets in the way. Officer, chief, judge.” He shook his head. “It does not matter to Hector Villalobos. The fact that Salazar is here … at this time … ”
Sam leaned forward, eyebrows drawn into a frown. “What are you getting at?”
“You heard me call him El Matador,” Lopez said quietly. “Do you understand what that means?”
Sam nodded. “That’s a bullfighter.”
“In Spanish culture, a matador is much more than that.” Silence pervaded the space as everyone hung on Lopez’s words. “A bull faces several toreros—bullfighters—in the ring. Unlike the others, the matador stands alone at the end to deliver the fatal blow. He has only a cape and a sword, and could easily be gored or trampled. A matador must be brave, but also handsome, graceful, and skilled. He puts on a show for the audience before he uses his sword on the bull.” Lopez seemed eager to convey a deeper meaning. “This is not shooting an animal with a gun or an arrow. The matador must stand right next to a raging bull to pierce its heart.” Lopez surveyed the rapt faces around the table. “Salazar is called El Matador because he kills this way.”
Veranda had never seen a bullfight, but she understood the ritual. Now that Salazar was in Phoenix, she wanted to understand her new adversary. “What exactly does he do?”
“When Salazar executes someone, he gets in close. Whether he uses a gun, knife, rope, or his bare hands, he physically touches his victim at some point. Because of his special forces training, he is a certified marksman, but I have never heard of a case where he used a long-range weapon.” Lopez’s eyes found hers. “And he always has some kind of contact with his targets before he kills them.”
Understanding flashed through her like a bolt of lightning. “Like a matador swishing his cape to draw the bull in.”
“Exactly.”
Sam’s rumbling baritone cut through the ensuing silence as he addressed Lopez. “There’s still something you’re not telling us.”
A look passed between the two men. Finally, Lopez heaved a resigned sigh. “El Lobo sends Salazar to eliminate people who are a threat to the cartel. I have dealt with Hector Villalobos for many years, I know how he thinks, and I can only come to one conclusion.” He looked pointedly at Veranda.
A palpable sense of foreboding swept through the room.
Unnerved, Veranda refused to show the slightest hint of concern. She crossed her arms over her chest. “You think he’s here to kill me,” she said, her comment a statement, not a question.
Lopez indicated the federal agents around the table. “Your police chief briefed us early this morning before our first meeting. He explained that you had personally targeted Bartolo Villalobos.” His brows drew together. “Bartolo is dead, and our sources say Hector holds you responsible. Now you are leading a new task force with the goal of shutting the cartel down. El Lobo will make you his top priority.”
“Hector would put one of his key people at risk to eliminate Detective Cruz?” Diaz asked, his tone sharp.
Lopez turned to the lieutenant. “Hector is a strategic thinker and an excellent chess player. He’s the king, and his family members are major pieces. Everyone else in his organization is a pawn. Salazar, however, is a high-value piece, so Hector would only use him on a high-value target.”
Gates snapped her fingers. “Like sacrificing a
knight to take the opponent’s queen.”
Lopez inclined his head. “I see you understand chess.”
Scowling, Diaz pulled out his cell phone. “I’ll contact Commander Webster to request use of the safe house for Detective Cruz.”
“No way!” Veranda’s outburst drew all eyes to her.
Dark glare fixed on her, Diaz lowered the phone. “Not your decision, Detective.”
She paused to rein in her anger and spoke with grim resolve. “I won’t run and hide.” She reached down to her waist, unclipped her detective shield, and thrust it at her lieutenant. “You can take my badge.”
Sam closed a hand over hers, forcing her outstretched arm down. “Detective Cruz has shown she can take care of herself. Besides, she’ll be working with all of us practically around the clock until the operation goes down.”
“And that makes her safe?” Diaz shot back. “Keep your badge, Cruz. You can’t carry your service weapon without it.”
Veranda thought about her supervisor’s words. Diaz seemed more upset about the potential threat than anyone else. Not for the first time, she wondered about his motives. Sam and Cole both thought he was overprotective due to hidden feelings for her. She had argued that Diaz was suspicious and overbearing, always looking for an excuse to put her on the sidelines. Either way, his attitude grated on her.
She changed the subject to distract him. “Speaking of working around the clock, it’s Friday, but we’ll need to work through the weekend. I have one firm commitment. Does anyone else have a schedule conflict they can’t rearrange?”
No one spoke, and Veranda felt self-conscious at their questioning looks. “I need to take a few hours off tomorrow for my kid sister’s fifteenth birthday party.”
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