by Evan Graver
Valdez was closer to Oscar’s height but weighed more than the fit Marine. He was in his late thirties, had thinning hair, which was going prematurely gray, and a wispy beard along his jawline. His mustache looked like something a prepubescent boy would have been proud to grow. What Maria saw in this guy wasn’t visible to Ryan unless she was after his money.
They carried Valdez to the elevator and rode down to the second floor to avoid the lobby. When they exited the elevator car, the two men dragged their charge through the door to the stairway. Ryan flung the smaller man over his shoulder, and he and Oscar rushed down the steps and out the service entrance to the waiting van.
Mango had the side door open and helped Ryan lay the drugged man on the floor between the seats. They all climbed in, and Rick drove them across town to an abandoned farmhouse on the edge of the city.
Ryan and Oscar duct taped Valdez’s ankles and knees to a chair, then wrapped more tape around his midsection, securing it to the chair back. Oscar pushed a wooden table against the lawyer’s stomach, pulled his arms across it, and tied each wrist to a table leg.
Once they finished securing the prisoner, they set up a video camera to watch him before filing out of the room. While they waited for Valdez to come around, Ryan fast-forwarded through the video he’d taken in the apartment, found a profile and front view of the woman’s face, and sent it to Barry Thatcher so he could use his facial recognition software to identify her.
Rick Hayes swatted at the cloud of mosquitoes buzzing his head, glanced around the dark jungle that surrounded the house, and shook his head. “You could have at least found us a spot with air conditioning.”
To Ryan, his friend was a dead ringer for Telly Savalas’s TV detective, Kojak, with his shaved head and stocky build. At five-foot-five and three quarters of an inch, he had a hint of a Napoleon complex. He could be boisterous, aggressive, and braggadocios, but the man had a right to be. He’d been an Army Ranger and then gone through EOD school, making him a member of a very elite club. When he’d left the Army, he’d gotten his pilot’s license and flew tourists around Key West in a Robinson R44 helicopter before Greg Olsen had offered him a job at DWR. Like Ryan and Mango, Rick had jumped at the chance to get back into the action, and he had quickly become Greg’s right-hand man.
“This is the best I could do,” Ryan said. “Next time, I’ll let you pick the interrogation site. Maybe down at the Holiday Inn so we can have a continental breakfast in the morning and the other guests can hear our prisoner scream through the walls.”
Ryan didn’t enjoy being out in the jungle either, and he hoped this would be over soon. Although he couldn’t imagine Valdez would take long to crack as long as they came at the lawyer strong and convinced him they were more of an immediate threat than the people who controlled the money in the accounts he’d established.
The twilight sedation wore off, and Valdez finally awoke with a sudden realization that he was bound to a chair and table. His head snapped up and he swiveled it around, taking in the sagging floorboards, the leaking roof, and the broken windows. A curtain stirred in the faint breeze.
Ryan knew the smell of rotten garbage would make the man breathe through his mouth. He’d pulled his mask back on to help cover the smell, as had the rest of his team.
“He’s awake,” Oscar said, watching the camera feed on a tablet computer.
“Good,” Ryan said. “Let him sweat for a little while.”
They had planned to leave him until morning before beginning their interrogation, but another plan was forming in Ryan’s mind.
First, he’d let Oscar do it his way.
Chapter Sixteen
It was close to midnight when Barry called Ryan back to let him know that he had identified the woman Valdez had been sleeping with. Her name was Maria Ortega, and she was the wife of a local baker.
“I can still use her for leverage,” Ryan said.
“I doubt his partners at his bank would be happy that he’s having an affair, but for your purposes, she needed to be the spouse of a drug boss or a politician.”
“Yeah,” Ryan agreed. “That would have made it easier, but he did tell her he loved her.”
“I have a bad feeling,” Barry moaned. “And when I get bad feelings, I charge more money.”
“I’ll let you know if I need your help,” Ryan said, and he ended the call.
The men took turns standing guard while the others were resting in the van, but none of them slept well. Oscar nudged Ryan at four in the morning and asked if he was ready to get started.
Valdez raised his head off the table as they entered the house. Ryan clicked on a powerful flashlight and aimed it right at the prisoner’s face.
Valdez blinked and turned his head to shield his eyes. He licked his lips before asking hoarsely, “What do you want?”
Ryan walked behind him, leaned over, and wrote the account number on the table with a black marker. “Tell me who owns that account.”
“I don’t know.”
“Bullshit,” Ryan said. He pushed Valdez’s face onto the table, grinding his cheek into the wood. “You set the tripwire on that account.”
The lawyer remained silent, other than to grunt in pain.
Ryan let go of the man’s head, but he didn’t lift it off the table.
Oscar placed his hands on the table and leaned down to face Valdez. In Spanish, he demanded, “Who owns the account?”
Again, the lawyer was silent.
For the next twelve hours, they worked on Valdez, but he refused to answer any of their questions. Ryan suspected that whatever information they needed would be inside Valdez’s office. Therefore, they needed to keep his face undamaged, but the rest of him was fair game if Oscar wanted to use him as a punching bag.
After another long night in the humid jungle, the team got together beside the open side door of the van and decided they needed to try another tactic.
“Anyone have any ideas?” Mango asked.
Ryan already had a list prepared for them. He laid it on the van’s step. “First, we need to get a suit for Valdez, so he can escort me into the bank. Second, we need to snatch his woman. Once we have the information we need, we can release her.”
“A hostage scenario,” Rick mused, rubbing his head, which, like his face, was growing stubble.
“Let’s use your ‘lover boy’ charms to lure her off the street,” Ryan said to Rick. “If she’s after Valdez’s money, maybe you can flash some cash around and get her interested.”
Rick rubbed his hands together. “Business is about to pick up. No,” he corrected himself, “I’m about to pick her up.” He laughed, then did a few pelvic thrusts to drive home the point.
“What if we tell Valdez we know who she is, and that we can get to her any time we want to?” Mango asked.
“That’s good,” Ryan said. He glanced at his watch, wondering if someone had reported Valdez missing. He wanted to get this done quickly and retrograde out of this situation before some poor kid stumbled upon their operation and blabbed to their parents or the police, but they still had work to do. “You and Rick get one of Valdez’s suits from his place. Go in the back way in case someone is staking it out.”
The two men nodded.
“On your way back, rent a helicopter so we have fast transport back to Dark Water.”
“What about the van?”
“I’ll call the rental agency and tell them where to pick it up,” Ryan said.
“What else?” Rick asked.
“Just keep your eyes open. Valdez has been off the street for two days. Someone is probably looking for him.”
“Roger that,” Mango said as he and Rick climbed into the van.
“Wait a minute. We’ll see if he takes the bait or whether we need to snatch her.” Motioning to Oscar, Ryan said, “Let’s go.”
Inside the house, Ryan placed his phone on the table and played the footage of Valdez fornicating with Maria Ortega. When the video ended, Ryan pulled up
a picture of Maria that Barry had pulled from her social media account. She wore a short red dress and posed with her arms in the air in front of the large sign which spelled out ‘Panama’ in a park off Balboa Avenue.
“Her name is Maria Ortega,” Ryan said. “Her husband owns a bakery in the old town. I know where she lives, and I know how she will die, unless you tell us what we need to know about this account number.” He tapped the table where he’d written it.
“Please, señor. I can’t. They will kill me.”
Oscar pushed Ryan out of the way and got in the lawyer’s face. “The men you’re talking about have already killed my family. And I’ll do whatever I have to, to get to them. I won’t hesitate to kill your punta, but I think I might have a little fun with her first.” His eyebrows danced deviously. “You know what I mean. And when I am done with her, I will come back for you.” He pulled a knife from his pocket and flicked it open with a flourish. The snap of the blade locking into place made the prisoner jump. Oscar used the point to slice Valdez’s forearm.
The lawyer screamed.
“Don’t worry. That’s just a flesh wound. I will continue to cut you until you tell me what I want to know.” Oscar stepped back and wiped the blood from the blade with his finger. “But first, I will taste the blood of your woman.” He turned and went out the door with Ryan on his heels.
“No. No! Wait!” Valdez sobbed.
Oscar grinned. “I should have cut you yesterday.”
Valdez stared up at them with a pleading look on his face. Blood spilled from his arm and pooled on the table.
“Tell us about the account.” Ryan tapped the number he’d written on the table.
“The information you need is in a safe deposit box at the bank,” Valdez said.
“Give me the key,” Oscar said.
Valdez shook his head. “I have to be there. It’s my box, and they won’t let you into the vault without me.”
“Then you’ll walk me into the vault,” Ryan said.
“Just don’t hurt Maria,” Valdez pleaded.
Ryan left the room. He told Mango and Rick to go to Valdez’s apartment and get his suit, then he went back inside and bandaged the man’s arm.
During their study of Valdez’s daily habits, they had spent plenty of time observing the bank that also housed his law offices. At only twenty-six-stories, the bank building was one of the smaller high-rises, and the architects had covered it with multicolored panels that reminded Ryan of urban camouflage. Surrounding the building were even taller skyscrapers filled with luxury apartments and offices.
Laundered money had built many of the buildings, and office space was cheap. Often, the offices and residences sat empty, but their records would show they were full. Shell corporations and money launderers like Paul Langston paid the rent for these fictitious tenants.
Going into an urban environment with high-rise buildings, pedestrians, and lots of vehicles always complicated an operation. At least tomorrow was Sunday, and the offices were closed. The only people they might have to deal with were the tenants on the upper floors or someone working overtime.
Ryan opened his laptop and studied blueprints of the P.H. Torre Banco Panama building that the architects had posted online. Open source access was very thoughtful of them, but the floor plans were blank, and the occupants would have created their own individual spaces. There was only so much information he could glean from pictures and blueprints. He wouldn’t have a complete picture until he was inside the building with Valdez, and even then, there might be a surprise around every corner.
Chapter Seventeen
The next morning, Ryan and Oscar threw a bag over Valdez’s head and cut him free from his bonds. They had to carry him to the van, and they laid him on the floorboard between the two back seats. They hadn’t allowed him to use the bathroom during his captivity, and he stank from soiling his pants. Mango rolled the window down and stuck his head out.
Oscar sat by the lawyer and, in a low growl, said to him, “Remember what will happen to you if you do something stupid.” He laid his knife blade on Valdez’s forearm and the lawyer nodded, fear etched across his face and in his terrified eyes.
Rick drove them on a winding route through the tangle of suburbs that surrounded Panama City. All four operators kept their heads on swivels, watching for a tail, but it was near impossible with the high volume of traffic. By snatching the lawyer, they had painted a target on their backs, and everyone fully expected to see action before leaving the country, although Ryan hoped it wouldn’t go loud in the streets where civilians could be in harm’s way.
Their next stop was a small house just off the Pan-Am Highway, a few miles from the interrogation hut. Rick parked the van in the driveway, and Ryan pulled the sliding gate shut on the fence to block the view of any onlookers.
Inside the house, they took turns showering and shaving before putting on clean clothes. Ryan dressed in slacks, a dress shirt, and a suit jacket he’d brought with him so he could accompany Valdez to the bank vault. The others had purchased similar outfits during the week, hoping to blend in with the lawyers, bankers, and diplomats that roamed the streets around their target.
“Where is Maria?” Valdez asked as they hustled him back to the van.
“She’s at the bakery with her husband,” Ryan replied.
“I want to speak to her. I want to make sure she is safe.”
“No.”
“I know how this works.” Valdez planted his feet and fought to keep from being stuffed into the van again. “I have done hostage negotiations for the bank.”
Oscar seized Valdez by the hair on the back of his head and wrenched backward, exposing his neck. He placed his blade against Valdez’s carotid artery and growled, “Get in the van, punta. Your woman will have a rich, full life without you in it.”
“I want proof of life,” Valdez demanded.
Oscar was about to say more, but Ryan cut him off with a wave of his hand. He pulled Valdez’s phone from his pocket and dialed the number stored in it for Maria. She answered tentatively, and Ryan put it on speaker.
“Maria, are you okay?” Valdez asked.
“I told you never to call me while I’m at work,” she hissed.
Valdez glanced up at Ryan, who raised his eyebrows in an ‘I told you so’ gesture.
“I love you, Maria. I’ll call you soon.”
Ryan ended the call while Maria was still speaking. Oscar pulled his knife away from Valdez’s throat and shoved him forward, and Valdez scrambled into the van. With Oscar and Rick keeping the hostage in check, Ryan climbed into the driver’s seat, and Mango rode shotgun. They left the house and drove to a private airstrip near the port of Balboa on the Panama Canal, where Rick got out and headed for the hangar to make sure the helicopter he’d rented was ready to fly while the others headed for the bank.
After driving a circuitous route to lose any tails, Ryan pulled the van to a stop under the awning at the front entrance of Valdez’s bank. Mango got out and opened the sliding door. Valdez stepped from the van and adjusted his suit jacket, buttoning the front as Ryan and Oscar did the same. Together, the three men headed for the door as Mango jumped in the driver’s seat and pulled away in the van.
Ryan slowly let out a deep breath as they approached the security turnstile. He glanced around the opulent lobby as they strolled across the gray marble tiles that looked like three-dimensional boxes underfoot. A guard in a two-tone blue uniform stood by the security turnstile, and another had positioned himself by the bank of elevators.
As they passed through the turnstile, a buzzer went off. The security guard stepped forward, saying in Spanish, “Sir, we need to search your team.”
Valdez pulled his credentials from his pocket. “These men are with me. They are my security detail.”
“They’re not allowed to carry firearms in the building, sir.”
The lawyer moved closer to the guard and lowered his voice. “I’ve had several death threats recently.
They’re here for my protection, just as you are. Right, Manny?”
Manny rubbed his chin as he looked at Ryan and Oscar.
Ryan took a stab in the dark, figuring someone had been checking on Valdez’s whereabouts over the last few days. “Manny, have you seen any other men attempting to access Mr. Valdez’s office?”
The guard cleared his throat, then nodded. “Yes. I was told they were his security team.”
“They’re the men I have received threats from, Manny,” Valdez said. “As you can see, my security is here—with me.”
Ryan nodded to Oscar. “This man will accompany you to the control room and retrieve any video footage you have of the imposters.”
After glancing at the lawyer one last time, Manny motioned for Oscar to follow him and turned on his heels. Ryan and Valdez walked toward the elevators.
Ryan whispered, “One wrong move, and you’re dead.”
They stepped into the open elevator car and rode to the sixth floor.
“What’s going on, Oscar?” Ryan asked into his Bluetooth earpiece.
“I’m reviewing the surveillance camera footage.”
“Mango?” Ryan asked.
“Circling the block, bro.”
“What about you, Rick?” Ryan asked.
“I’m finishing the preflight. I’ll be in the air in ten minutes.”
“Roger that. Step on it if you can.” Ryan looked at his dive watch. They’d spent ten minutes getting through security and up to the bank.
When the elevator doors opened, the two men stepped out. They bypassed an empty reception area where the white marble desk bore the words ‘Citizens RBG’ in back-lit gold letters across its front.
Valdez used his keycard to unlock the heavy glass-and-aluminum double doors to the inner lobby. Ryan figured they were bullet resistant. The bank was a fortress, but the same invulnerability that made it hard to break into would also make it hard to escape from. A hard knot formed in Ryan’s gut, and he had the awful feeling that Mr. Murphy of Murphy’s Law was about to make things go pear-shaped. The plan was to get the docs and then take the van to the airport, but things were rapidly changing. The team had now split into four individual units, and Ryan didn’t like it one bit.
