His phone beeped; O’Hanlon. “You got the intel, sir?” McGinley asked. “Are we a go?”
Ray kept looking at his watch as he paced. The driver’s fifteen-to-twenty estimate was blown. What happened? Where were they?
In the center of the floor, Zambreño and the State Department guy had a laugh. Their helpers stood next to them, eyeing each other. A few yards away, a couple FBI suits had a conference with Salgado and two of his aides. The uncomfortable looks on all their faces made Ray glad he wasn’t part of it. Too bad there wasn’t a bar.
Casillas walked in a tight circle behind Ray, chin in his hand, talking to his phone pod, his mouth a thin slash. Ray knew what bad news looked like.
Done circling, Casillas stalked to Ray’s side. “Our men just found the vehicle we sent for your friend and the woman.” He put a lot of weight on your friend. “Both the driver and guard are dead and their weapons are missing.” Casillas grabbed Ray’s arm. “You assured me your friend would be no trouble.”
“You took the man’s wife and beat the shit out of her. What do you expect?”
Casillas glared at him. “What would he do now? Where would he go?”
Ray never expected this. He tried to think. “Lucho knows what’ll happen to Bel if he fucks us over. He’s going to try to get her out. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”
Casillas nodded. “We’ll have to eliminate her, then.” He reached for his phone pod.
“No, wait.” Shut up, he told himself. But he couldn’t erase twenty-plus years with Lucho, not this way. Killing Bel would destroy him. No, not destroy; it would turn him back into what he was before he met Bel. “You kill her, there’s nothing left to control him. He’ll come straight at us and take down everyone he can. We need her alive.”
Casillas narrowed his eyes. “I hope for your sake this is true.” He paused, scowling. “Call him. Tell him he’s making a serious mistake. We can motivate him without killing his woman.” He tapped his phone pod. “Put a guard with them.”
Nora and Luis had to take cover every few seconds as they worked their way down the warehouse’s side, behind derelict cars or new cartel SUVs, pallets of shrink-wrapped crates or empty steel drums. More guards appeared every time Nora looked up. Finally, with the end of the warehouse ten yards away, she and Luis sagged to the ground behind a rusted twenty-foot COSCO shipping container. She leaned against the metal siding and let her head fall back.
This was useless. They were spending more time hiding than moving.
She unfastened her neck chain, wrapped it around her fingers, stared at the blocky pendant in her palm. This was now the most valuable thing about her.
“You okay?” Luis whispered.
“There’s something I didn’t tell you. Something about the 10/19 cover-up.”
“And why are you telling me now? Here?”
She peeked past the container to the road. Four guards paced through the tiny slice of outside she could see. “Because I don’t think I’m going to make it.”
Luis frowned. “Come on, we’re almost there.”
“And then what?” Nora dialed back her volume; even whispers could carry. “There’ll be more of them there. McGinley isn’t coming, and we can’t fight all these people by ourselves. We don’t know where Paul is or even if he’s alive.” She had to stop to fight with her stomach over that idea. “So someone else needs to know.”
Luis shook his head, a disgusted look on his face. “You’re just tired. Don’t—”
“No. I’m realistic.” And exhausted, and scared, and feeling very alone, even with Luis next to her. Everything she’d felt in the hotel room the night before had come back ten times as strong. She held up the pendant. “Just listen. There’s a folder called ‘12/5/19 AG meeting’ at the root. It has an audio recording, a transcript and notes from a meeting between the Director, the Attorney General and a White House lawyer right after we rolled up the real bombers. Give it directly to the Guardian, not to the Brit government. If their government gets it, they’ll use it for leverage and nobody else will hear it.”
“Why? What’s so special about it?”
“The Director briefed the AG in that meeting about the militia creeps and gave him two options. Either they could announce the new arrests, or they could stick to the story they already had going. The AG picked option two.”
“How’d you get that?”
“There was a fourth person in the room—Hugh, the old agent who gave me all this stuff. Officially, he was there to help the Director with the materials. But the Director had him wear a wire so if this blew up, he could take the AG down with him. When Hugh heard their decision, he got so disgusted he started making copies of everything in case it was destroyed.”
Luis shrugged. “Good for him. But, so what?”
Why didn’t he see it? “Do you know who was AG in 2019?”
“I don’t know who it is now.”
Ah. Living in the Beltway bubble, it was easy to forget that hardly anyone on the outside kept track of who did what inside. “He ran for office twice, both times as the guy who caught the Wrigley Field Four and solved the Muslim problem in America. Does that help?”
Juan just stared at her.
“In 2022, he ran for Senate in Texas and won. Then in ’28 he ran for President. And won.”
Luis closed his eyes and rested his head against the warehouse wall. He was surprised at how unsurprised he was. Of course the President was involved. That’s why Nora wanted this to screw up the election. “Thanks a lot. No pressure here.”
“Sorry.” She pulled the pendant loose from her hand and held it up so he could see. “Keep this for Paul. I don’t want these people getting it.”
Luis ducked so she could fasten the chain around his neck. When she was done, he touched the square chunk of silver, still warm from her hand. “You’re sure?” She nodded. “Okay.” He slid the pendant into his shirt.
“If Paul doesn’t get out—”
“He will, don’t—”
“If he doesn’t, there’s an address on the root of the folder tree. Get the data there.” She clutched his forearm. “Now give me up. We tried. There’s nothing more we can do.”
Luis stared through the container, deciding what to say. Surrendering her to a quick execution or a lifetime in a dungeon was so wrong. He’d been sure he’d worked it out, that McGinley would back them up, that they could pull it off somehow. But he couldn’t see it now. She was right; they couldn’t win against this small army the Zetas had brought, and who could tell which side the FBI would come down on?
“They’re not going to be real happy with me killing their guys,” he said.
“Then blame it on me. I grabbed one of their guns and shot them both, then I ran away. You didn’t tell them because you wanted to find me yourself and keep your word to them. If you want, I’ll hit you so it looks like I attacked you.”
“This is crazy—”
“No, this is crazy.” She waved toward the other side of the container. She’d put on her determined face, the one that told him she’d made up her mind and nothing would change it. “I’m tired. I’m done running. All I want is to make sure my kids are going to be okay.” Nora handed her rifle to him, then unfastened her body armor and yanked it off. “Call your friend. Tell him you caught me.”
Disbelief, anger and relief fought a cage match inside Luis. She was right, but she was dead wrong. There had to be another way out of this, not this… “Nora, I—”
“Don’t. I’ve made up my mind.” She leaned in, kissed his cheek. “You’re very sweet, and I can’t thank you enough for how hard you’ve worked at this. I’m not going to let you destroy your life for me. You and Bel and my kids need to live. Do this last thing for me, okay?”
He looked into her eyes. They were calm, at peace. Arguing would only piss her off, make her do something even more stupid. He turned his head away, pulled out his phone and tried to call McGinley. Voicemail. I guess that’s it. He disconnec
ted without leaving a message, sat staring at the screen for a few moments, then punched in Ray’s number.
“Yeah?”
“Ray, it’s me. I—”
“What the fuck are you doing?” Ray hissed. Voices buzzed behind him. “They’re going to barbeque me! Where are you? What are you trying to prove?”
“Outside. I’ve got Nora.” One last shot. “You didn’t let the boy go. She figured the deal was off, so she capped the guys who picked us up and ran. I just found her again.”
“They won’t let the kid go until they have her. And why’d you even let this happen? You know they have Bel. What, you’re trading her in for Salma?”
“No. If the deal with her was off, then it was off with me, too. Look, are you and your boys going to ante up? I’ll trade Nora for Bel and the boy.”
“I can’t make deals—”
“Then get me someone who can. She’s good with this, she’ll go quietly. She just wants her kids safe, and she doesn’t want me to take the fall for what she did.” Saying that made him sick to his stomach. Alvaro had always taught him to take the hit if it was his to take. “Straight-up swap, her for them. You guys can have your love-fest, and we’ll disappear.”
Ray sputtered for a moment. Luis had never heard him do that before. “Jesus. Hold on.” His end of the line went silent.
“What did he say?” Nora asked.
“He’s checking with the new boss.” Even if they agreed, would they stick to it? If it was just Ray—the old Ray—Luis would be more confident. With these Zeta pendejos, anything could happen. His brain started reeling off the dozen ways this could go bad.
“You there?” Ray’s voice.
“Yeah.”
“Bring her in. Any door will do. We’ll give you the kid, you give us Nora.”
“What about Bel?”
“They’re holding onto her for a while, make sure you behave.”
“Goddamnit, Ray, that’s not the deal! You said—”
“That’s the deal you get now,” Ray growled. “I had to stop Casillas from killing her a few minutes ago. We’re done bargaining. Take it and shut up.”
Casillas wanted to kill Bel? That cabrón was a dead man.
But what would stop him from killing them both after the FBI went home, just out of spite? Nothing.
Saying “okay” was the hardest thing he’d told anyone for a long time, but he did it anyway.
“What was that?” Nora said, her voice drained of any feeling.
“They’ll give me Peter when I take you inside.”
“What about Bel?”
He stood, reached out a hand. “Come on. They’re pissed, we can’t push it anymore.”
“What about Bel?”
“Never mind. That’s between me and Casillas. Let’s go.” Luis helped her to her feet. “You’d better hit me so I have a story to tell them.”
Nora nodded. She shifted Luis so his back was against the building, then drew her pistol, gripped the slide and whacked the butt into the side of his head without any warning. Luis staggered, lost balance but managed to brace himself against the wall. He leaned forward and planted his hands on his knees, waiting for the stars to clear. “You didn’t say anything about hitting me that hard.”
“It has to look good if they’re going to believe you.” She dropped her gun belt onto her body armor. “Are you okay?”
“I guess.” He straightened, shook his head clear. “I should cuff you so it looks right.”
“I understand.” She turned her back, held her wrists together behind her.
Luis handcuffed her loosely, then slipped the key into her back pocket. “In case you change your mind.” He drew his pistol. “Let’s get this over with.”
They picked up their first shadow as soon as they stepped out from behind the container. Then another. And another. Two more stood at the back door. Four AK-74s and an AA-12 automatic shotgun pointed straight at them. Sweat poured into Luis’ eyes and soaked his shirt; blood trickled into his ear. He steered Nora with her wrists, kept his pistol aimed in her general direction. Do nothing fast, he reminded himself. Keep your hands out. “La puerta, por favor,” he called out to the two sicarios before him. They yanked open the door just seconds before Nora reached it.
Inside they found themselves at the end opposite the gathering, looking down a wide central aisle between ranks of massive shelves. Three dozen faces stared back. Nora halted; the door slammed behind them. Committed. She took in a deep breath, stood straight, squared her shoulders, then marched down the aisle as if she was on parade.
Luis felt a twinge of pride mixed with sadness. You go, girl, he told her. Go out a soldier.
A gunman in Mexican Army camo appeared at the aisle’s end, pushing Peter ahead of him. The boy still wore what he had at Andrade—jeans and gym shoes and a light tee shirt. The moment he saw his mother, he broke away from his keeper and pelted down the aisle, crashing into Nora face-first, throwing his arms around her. “Mommy! You’re okay! Daddy’s here, too, we were scared for you, but it’s okay now, it’s okay…”
Nora knelt slowly, leaned into her son’s hug. Luis holstered his weapon, stepped back, gave them room. Peter went on, pouring out all the fear and doubt and relief from the past couple of days, and Nora murmured to him over his words. Her arms strained against the handcuffs.
Peter peeked behind his mother’s back. His eyes rounded. “Mommy, why are your hands tied?” That seemed to be the first time he noticed Luis. “Why did you do that? Why did you tie her up? Let her go! Let her go!” He rushed Luis, beat his little fists against Luis’ body armor. Luis took the pummeling without a sound. He deserved this. It shouldn’t have come to this.
“Peter!” Nora twisted to face her son. “Peter, stop!” The boy kept pounding Luis’ chest, then shifted to kicking his shins. Damn, the kid can kick. “Butrus!” Peter stopped in mid-kick, shrank from his mother. “Come here, sweetie.” The boy edged toward Nora, glancing back at Luis with confusion diluting the anger in his face. When he reached her, she said, “Listen to me. He did this because I told him to. I—”
“Why?”
“There’s no time to explain. I need you to go with Mr. Luis and do exactly what he says. I—”
“I don’t wanna! I’m gonna stay with you and Daddy! We gotta stick together, you—”
“No!” Peter flinched. Nora closed her eyes, took a breath, then said in a much gentler tone, “I need you to do this for me, sweetie. I need you to obey me. You need to stay with Mr. Luis. He’ll keep you safe, he’ll take you to Hope, okay? Sweetie, promise me?”
Peter looked from Nora to Luis, fear now chasing away the remaining anger. “I promise.”
“Okay.” Nora’s voice wavered. “Now give me a hug.”
Luis looked away, tried to swallow the sorrow climbing up his throat. He couldn’t watch Nora say goodbye to her son for the last time, not after having already seen her give up her daughter. It was too easy to imagine himself or Bel doing this, if they even got the chance.
She whispered to Peter as he clung to her. He sniffed. A moment later, Luis felt a tug on his body armor. He looked down to find Peter next to him, his eyes spraying tears down his cheeks, his face fighting with itself. “I’m sorry,” he choked.
“So am I.” He squeezed Peter’s shoulder, then stepped forward to help Nora stand. She resumed her parade-ground posture, then strode the last few steps to the soldier, leaving Luis behind.
Just before the man led her away, she looked back over her shoulder at Luis. He wished he could say something to comfort her, but couldn’t think of a thing. Then she mouthed “thank you” and marched away.
73
TUESDAY, 18 MAY
Ray could breathe normally for the first time in half an hour. The bruja was finally under control, Luis had brought her in (maybe I won’t have to kill him), Casillas had given Ray a tiny, approving nod (maybe he won’t kill me), the jefes had started to smile again. This might work out.
&nbs
p; Nora marched down the aisle like this was a freaking front-and-center, chin up, chest out. She could put on a show, he had to give her that. Once she and the Mexican Army captain reached the clearing between the FBI and the cartel men, she stepped into a crisp parade rest.
A scuffling and door-slam at the head of the room got everyone’s attention. A sicario dragged Nora’s husband toward her by the elbow. Ray switched back to Nora in time to catch the crack in her mask—a hard swallow, lips pressed flat, pain around her eyes. The guard pushed the husband next to Nora. She swiveled her head, whispered to him. The husband nodded, then looked at the ground.
Salgado marched up to Nora and her husband, gave them the hard eye, then faced the FBI gaggle. He wore freshly pressed and starched tiger-stripe battledress and his old Mexican Army ribbons; maybe he thought that would buy more respect from the Yanquis. “Good evening, Señores. We have captured these two fugitives in our land.” His English was slow and accented, but clear. “We know they interest you. We give them to you in the spirit of cooperation and friendship.” He prodded the husband. “Identify yourself, please.”
“Paul Khaled.” The man wouldn’t look up, barely raised his voice, but his face was dark and angry.
Salgado reached out to touch Nora, but the look she gave him stopped him in mid-move and should’ve fried his brain. She turned her head, stared straight at the FBI honcho, and announced, “Special Agent Nora Khaled. Counterterrorism Division, Federal Bureau of Investigation. And a proud American.”
Luis watched Nora walk away beside the guard—the man hadn’t touched her, or needed to—then squatted next to Peter.
The boy’s eyes locked on his mom. “Where’s she going?”
“She has some business with those men up there.” Luis put an arm around Peter, but the boy shrugged him off. “I need you to do something for your mom and me.”
“What?”
“I need you to hide. Find a place back here where nobody will see you and don’t come out except for me or your mom or dad or Bel. Understand?”
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