Prepper Jack: Hunting Lee Child's Jack Reacher (The Hunt For Jack Reacher Series Book 12)

by Diane Capri

  “I’m not asking you to find me a new partner forever, Chico. Just for the next few days. One of our own guys. Somebody we know to be reliable. You got anybody at that fancy agency you can loan me?”

  It wasn’t an outrageous request. Katie Scarlett was his employer. She owned Gaspar’s new agency and she had operatives. Good ones. Trained personnel. Capable in every respect. And Gaspar knew what Kim needed. He could make a solid choice.

  “I don’t like any of this, Kim,” he said quietly. “Just go home. Let Treasury deal with their missing agent. Leave the Vigo cartel to the local FBI office. Let Finlay deal with whatever the hell it is he wants. You don’t have to be there. Go home.”

  She shook her head slowly, as if he could see her, too. They hadn’t been partners very long. Less than six months. But they’d functioned well as a team. Too well. She couldn’t find another partner to do the job as well as Gaspar, and she knew it. She also knew the choice wouldn’t be hers. The Boss would send her a new partner when he was damn good and ready, whether she wanted the guy or not. She’d be stuck.

  Until then, she’d improvise. “What about that dude you’re always raving about? What’s his name? Bauxite? Onyx?”

  Gaspar laughed again at her teasing. “Flint. Michael Flint. And you’d be lucky to get him.”

  “That’s what I figured. Can you talk him into it?”

  “Not likely. Flint’s independent, in every sense of the word. Does what he wants. When he wants. And absolutely nothing else.”

  “Sounds like someone else we know,” she said dryly. “Okay, then ask Scarlett to persuade him. Brothers do things for their sisters they wouldn’t do for anyone else. Trust me, I know. I’ve got three brothers, remember?”

  He sighed. “I’ll see what I can do. Any chance there’s some money at the end of this thing? Scarlett isn’t operating a charity and Flint likes to get paid. A lot.”

  She smiled and said nothing. She already had him hooked. She could feel it. Her plan B could work.

  If not, she’d move on to plan C, which relied on the same principle: Family First. Uncles do things for their nephews that they wouldn’t do for anyone else. She didn’t mention Jake Reacher because she knew Gaspar would like her plan C even less than bringing Flint into the mix.

  Gaspar asked, “Do you want to hear what I found out about those names you got from Finlay? Or should I upload the stuff to your secure server and you can read it when you have a chance?”

  “I can read it later. I don’t have my laptop with me, but I’ll figure out how to access the files. Anything I need to know right now?” she said.

  “Agent Peter Ross seems like a straight shooter. Been around awhile. Knows what he’s doing. Nothing special about him, but nothing hinky either,” Gaspar said.

  “The others?”

  “O’Hare’s files turned up nothing much. His paperwork says he’s exactly what he seems. Pinto Vigo you already know about.” He paused and said more seriously, “The brothers, Gavin and Bruce Ray, will require more digging. I’m on it.”

  The little hairs on the back of her neck tingled. “Why? What did you find that made you want to look further?”

  “Not a whole lot. But it’s weird. Two brothers from a militia family start a commune and live in peace and harmony ever after? That seem a likely story to you?” he said.

  “No. But I’m a cynic by nature,” she smiled.

  “Yeah, well, a healthy dose of skepticism is necessary for a cop. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it,” Gaspar replied.

  “What about the herbal products? And all the little side jobs they do?”

  “They look legit on paper. They give hot air balloon rides to tourists. O’Hare does his accounting. A couple of the women run a day care in one of the homes out there on that compound.”

  “But?”

  “But what the hell is the Vigo cartel doing involved in all of that? And you know they are involved, even if Ross hasn’t locked that down yet. Otherwise, Finlay wouldn’t have brought Vigo into the mix. And they wouldn’t have taken Lawton.” She could imagine Gaspar shaking his head and running his palm over his face. “Watch yourself, Suzy Wong. I don’t like any of this.”

  “Yeah, I’m not thrilled, either.” The hotel phone rang. “Hang on a second.”

  She reached over to answer. When she came back, she said, “My vehicle’s here. I gotta go.”

  “Okay. Destroy this burner before you leave. We’ve used it too long already,” Gaspar said. “You’ll find a fresh one in the new vehicle.”

  “Will do. Upload the stuff to my server. Keep digging. See what you can do about Flint. Call me back as soon as you know”

  Before she hung up, he said, “You do realize I don’t work for the FBI anymore?”

  She put a grin in her voice and said what they both knew was true. “Which means now you can do all the stuff that you wanted to do before. Neither one of us are violating orders. That’s the beauty of it.”

  She disconnected the call and yanked the insides out of the burner. She broke the flimsy plastic with the heel of her boot and flushed everything down the toilet in three batches. Then she grabbed her gun, put her jacket on and opened the door to leave.

  Which was when she saw the padded envelope on the floor.

  So much for avoiding the Boss.

  She bent and picked up the envelope. It could have been from Finlay, she supposed. So she opened it to look at the burner phone inside. This time, the burner was exactly like every cell phone the Boss had sent her in the past. No doubt at all.

  Briefly, she considered taking his call. Instead, she dismantled the burner and flushed it, too.

  She headed out, closing the door to the room behind her.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Thursday, April 14

  5:30 p.m.

  Albuquerque, New Mexico

  Mason sat across from Lawton, head in hands. He hurt all over, from his pounding head to his swollen eye and his tortured body. He’d never been a fighter. Never played contact sports, either. He’d never been a threat to anyone for any reason. He had no frame of reference for this level of pain.

  But the agony was nothing compared to the unrelenting fear that had become his constant companion. His entire body shook with it. Even his voice sounded weak and tentative and wobbly in his own ears.

  He was a mess.

  Only the certainty that Vigo would kill Cheryl and Micah, or do something even worse, kept him going. He knew that the only way out was to do whatever Vigo said and do it fast.

  Satisfying Vigo’s impossible demands was all he could think about. He needed to learn the identity of this mole and tell Vigo and then grab Cheryl and Micah and run like hell.

  If only Vigo would give him the chance.

  “We need to get out of here. Which means we need a plan. Let’s go over this again,” Lawton commanded, swiping his palm over his face as if Mason was trying his patience. Which he surely was, but he couldn’t help it. He simply didn’t know what to do or how to do it.

  Lawton said, “Start from the top. Exactly what is it that Vigo wants?”

  Mason was exhausted. He needed sleep. He tried to take a deep breath, but the pain in his ribcage wouldn’t allow it. Shallow wispy inhales were all he could manage. “He says there’s a mole in his organization feeding you information. He wants to know who it is. He sent me to get the name from you. He says he’ll let me go if I get the name.”

  “Because he couldn’t make me tell him since I have no idea what he’s talking about, so he brought you in to persuade me,” Lawton said, exasperated. “Did he say why he thinks there is a mole in the first place?”

  Mason shook his head and stopped abruptly. “No.”

  “Come on, Mason. Think. What did he say about the mole? Be precise. What were his exact words?”

  “I don’t know. He thinks someone told you he was here. He acted like that was a big problem. He doesn’t want to leave. He wants to stay here until he finishes his business
.”

  “What business?”

  Mason shrugged. “That’s not hard to guess. You said he’s running a criminal cartel. I told you I saw young women packaging drugs. I saw a few guns. Probably doing some money laundering. Who knows what else?”

  “Why does he think someone has revealed his location? Has he been served with a warrant? Has someone been arrested? What?”

  “He didn’t say. I don’t know.”

  “You haven’t heard any talk around Glen Haven about him or what he’s doing out here at all?”

  “No. We were told these people were another intentional community simply passing through. Looking for a quiet place to stay temporarily.”

  “If the police came to Glen Haven for any reason, you’d have known about it, wouldn’t you? So whatever it is that’s got Vigo worried, it must have happened somewhere else. Not here.”

  “I guess.”

  “Okay. Let’s move on,” Lawton said as he blew a long stream of exasperation through his lips. “Does he know you made that whistleblower complaint to the tip line?”

  Mason gasped. His eyes seemed to widen of their own volition. He couldn’t contain himself. Tears escaped and trickled down his doughy face. “You think he knows about that? How would he know?”

  “Calm down. If he knew, you’d be dead now.”

  Mason’s lip quivered and his heart pounded like a galloping stallion.

  Lawton said quietly, “Vigo could be right. There could be a mole in his organization. Wouldn’t be the first time. But I can’t help him with the identity. I have no idea who these people are. You’re the only one I know. You called the tip line. So if we’re going to get the hell out of here and keep him from doing whatever he’s threatening to do to Cheryl and Micah, you’ve got to hold it together and help me. Can you do that?”

  Mason nodded because it was all he could manage. He swiped the back of his hand across his runny nose.

  “Why would Vigo set up shop here in the first place?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “What is it about Glen Haven that would have led him to operate from here?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Lawton stood and paced the room like his last ounce of patience was evaporating fast. “Where is Glen Haven located? Exactly. Tell me about the area.”

  “We’re about twenty minutes south of Albuquerque. Well outside of town. There’s not much around here. We have a farm. You can’t have a farm in the middle of town. Not around here, anyway.”

  Lawton nodded. “How remote is it?”

  Mason shrugged.

  “Describe what I’d see if I walked out the front door of the main house.”

  “There’s a field across the road where we launch the balloons. Nothing much else. It’s five miles to our closest neighbor.”

  “So we can assume that one reason he picked this place is because it’s remote. More freedom of movement. You also have a lot of storage around here. He’d have room for his illegal inventory of all types.” Lawton nodded, thinking through the angles, probably.

  Mason waited for the next question.

  “Okay. So Vigo’s got some elbow room here. And he’s also got a place he could defend, if he got raided. So far so good,” Lawton said.

  “Raided? Defend?” Mason squeaked as the terror squeezed his vocal chords.

  Lawton ignored his fear. “Let’s make a list of possible suspects. Tell me who the residents are. Precisely. You said two brothers founded the place. They’re both married. They’ve got three kids between them, right?”

  Mason nodded, unable to speak.

  “There’s you and Cheryl and Micah. How many others live here?”

  This was a slightly safer question. Mason found his voice. “We have twenty-seven residents, total.”

  “Any singles?”

  “Yeah. Three couples and the rest are singles, so ten singles. Mostly men.”

  “Ages?”

  “Gavin Ray is the oldest person here. He’s about forty or so. Bruce is two years younger.” Mason cleared his throat. “Except for the three kids, nobody here is younger than thirty. We don’t take them in unless they are self-sufficient and can pull their weight.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Why? Are you seriously asking me that?” Mason pulled back angrily, as if Lawton was too clueless to solve anything. “To survive disaster. Everyone needs to take care of themselves.”

  Lawton cocked his head. “What kind of disasters are you expecting?”

  “Hard to say, really. Could be anything.” He shrugged and recited the list by rote. “Failure or poisoning of the water supply. Failure or sabotage of the electrical power grid. Earthquakes. Storms. Fires, accidents or arson. Attack by a foreign enemy. You name it. Gotta be ready. Plan for the worst if we want to survive and thrive.”

  “And who’s idea was that? Gavin Ray?” Lawton paused. “Or was it Bruce?”

  “What difference does that make? It’s all true. We’re not the only ones in the whole country who think so. There’s millions of preppers like us out there,” Mason said, sticking his chin out defiantly. “When the worst happens, you’d be smart to be prepared, too.”

  “Right. Okay.” Lawton waited for Mason’s annoyance to fade. “How can we get out of here? If we charge up those stairs and bust that door down, what will we find on the other side?”

  “At least two guys with guns waiting to kill us,” Mason said, wiping his nose with the back of his hand.

  “You mean Hector and Freddie?”

  Mason nodded. “Plus Vigo.”

  “Right. Is there another exit?”

  “No.”

  “Then the stairs it is,” Lawton said. “Once we get past the two guys with the guns, and Vigo, is there anyone else up there?”

  Mason shrugged. “I didn’t see anyone just now. But there are more people in the group. And I saw several in the other barracks. So it’s possible.”

  “How many exits upstairs?”

  Mason cocked his head to think. “Two doors, one at each end of the building. Several windows.”

  Lawton squatted on the floor. “Draw me a picture. Show me where the doors are. Show me the rest of the layout.”

  Mason complied without argument. When he’d finished his rudimentary drawing on the cement floor using a spit-dampened finger, he sat back on his heels and waited while Lawton studied the options.

  Lawton tapped his lower lip with his index finger. The crude sketch Mason had drawn on the floor dried, leaving a barely visible salty residue outline.

  “What if your plans don’t work? Then what?” Mason said, chin jutting forward.

  “We won’t fail.”

  “But what if we do?”

  Lawton swiped a hand through his hair and sighed. “Okay. If that happens, Vigo wants the name of the mole. So we’ll give it to him.”

  Mason widened his eyes as his fear grew stronger. “How will we do that? I have no idea who might be doing whatever it is Vigo thinks is happening.”

  Lawton dusted the concrete dust off his hands. “Just pick someone. One of the men. As long as we give Vigo a name, we’ll get a little breathing room. He won’t kill us until he can confirm.”

  “But he’ll kill an innocent person,” Mason shook his head wildly. “It’ll be like we murdered the guy ourselves. We can’t do that.”

  “You worry too much. All you need to do is follow the plan. I’ll handle the rest,” Lawton said, as if he’d run out of patience. “What time is it?”

  Mason shrugged. “It was still daylight when they tossed me down here. So maybe it’s six now. Six thirty. Something like that.”

  “We’ve got at least two hours to wait.” Lawton pushed himself up and walked over to one of the chairs. “We’ll need a vehicle to get away from here. Draw Vigo toward town. And we’ll need a way to communicate with the local FBI office.”

  “FBI? Why?” Mason’s panic was barely controllable now.

  “We can’t save all of these pe
ople ourselves. We need backup.” Lawton closed his eyes and kneaded them with one hand. “Tell me about the layout of this place again.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Thursday, April 14

  6:10 p.m.

  Albuquerque, New Mexico

  Kim picked up the vehicle keys and directions to the parking lot from the desk clerk and headed out. The sun was low in the sky. Maybe another ninety minutes or so before sunset. The wind was calm and the temperature about seventy, she guessed. A perfect afternoon for a hot air balloon ride.

  For a moment, she second-guessed her decision to destroy the Boss’s cell phone. But only a moment’s hesitation. With Gaspar’s help and Finlay already involved, she didn’t expect to need anything much from the Boss. And if he had anything constructive to offer, he’d send her another burner phone soon enough anyway.

  She walked around the building and grinned when she saw the red Chevy Traverse waiting exactly where he’d said it would be.

  She shook her head. The Chevy was such a Gaspar thing to do.

  She’d rented one exactly like it when her Reacher assignment started. The first time she’d met Gaspar at the Atlanta airport, she’d been waiting curbside, head bent to her work. He rapped on her window and startled her, which had taken about ten years off her life. Then he took the wheel over her objections and complained about the vehicle every chance he got.

  Sending her this red Traverse now was Gaspar’s way of saying he was with her all the way. Which made her feel a whole lot better about things, whether she should have or not.

  Before she entered the SUV, where Gaspar would be monitoring her every move and Finlay would find her soon enough, she pulled the last fresh burner from her pocket and fired it up.

  She sent a text to the number she’d memorized when she’d first met Jake Reacher. She needed a favor. The message was, “Ask Jack to call me ASAP.” She added the phone number.

  A few weeks ago, she’d discovered Jake. DNA confirmed that he was Jack Reacher’s nephew. Jack’s brother, Joe, was Jake’s biological father. Joe was dead, but Jack was not. Kim had saved the boy’s life, which Reacher duly noted. The last time Kim had heard from Reacher, he’d said, “I owe you one.”