Taken ec-13

by Robert Crais

  “Does he live here? Have family?”

  “Maybe Haddad can tell you.”

  Stone checked the time. He wanted to call Pike.

  “Good luck, Stendahl. I gotta go.”

  “Ghazi al-Diri has Elvis Cole. He has my nephew. We both want someone he has, so we should work together on this.”

  “Uh-uh. Won’t happen your way.”

  “Jack is the closest thing I have to a child. He is my only living blood relative. You expect me to kick back, hoping someone else finds him?”

  “Work your case. You might find him before us.”

  She put herself directly in front of him, and jabbed Stone in the chest.

  “He’s my blood. I promised my sister I’d find him. I swore at her grave I’d keep him safe.”

  “You’re a sworn officer. It won’t happen your way.”

  “Help me find him, goddamnit.”

  She jabbed him harder, and Stone stepped away.

  “Listen-”

  Stone looked at the silver-blue moon, then shook his head.

  “When we find these people, if Cole’s dead, they aren’t walking out. There will be no court of law. No judge and jury. You’re an Assistant Deputy Director of the ATF. This will not go down in any way you can live with.”

  “You don’t have to do it like that.”

  Stone checked his watch. Tempus fugit.

  “Gotta go. Wherever Jack is, you want him somewhere else. I have to go.”

  She looked like she was going to say something more, and she did, but only the one thing.

  “Good luck.”

  Jon watched her cross the lot to a midsize sedan, then climbed into the Jeep and started the engine. He booted the sat phone and GPS. It took a moment for the phone to load and lock on a good satellite, but a light flashed green, and Jon was in business.

  A message instantly loaded.

  Jon hit the playback, and heard Pike’s voice.

  “Call.”

  Pike answered on the first ring, and Jon reported his status.

  “I’m clear. You good?”

  “I have Ghazi al-Diri’s sister.”

  Stone laughed. He laughed so hard his eyes burned. Pike was a riot. Absolutely the best.

  “I love it. That is so perfect, bro. What are you thinking, a head-up trade, the sister for Cole?”

  “No trade. We offer a trade, we’ll put al-Diri’s focus on Cole, and he’ll be harder to reach.”

  “Does she know where they are?”

  “A date farm outside Coachella. I’m looking at it.”

  Pike described the farm and the intel he learned from the sister. Al-Diri had pulled three crews and three groups of pollos to a date farm when he learned Haddad and the two turds Stone and Pike dropped in the desert were missing. The farm amounted to a fortress crowded with the Syrian’s soldiers.

  “Is Elvis there?”

  “Won’t know until we get inside.”

  Stone considered the farm as Pike had described it. Delta was all about hostage rescue and snatching bad guys. Jon knew this stuff inside out.

  “Fifteen to eighteen gunned-up guards jammed up with a hundred fifty-plus friendlies is asking for collateral damage. It also ups our time on target.”

  Time on target meant the time it would take to locate Cole and the kids once they entered the buildings, and get themselves out. The longer the time on target, the greater the risk. If you hung around long enough, you became part of the scenery.

  Pike said, “How would you play it, no trade for Cole?”

  “Trade for someone else. We have the sister, we use her. Give her to Sang Ki Park.”

  “When?”

  “Now. Drive the play. Push it so fast this prick doesn’t have time to think.”

  “I’m listening.”

  Jon Stone wheeled away, loving his plan so much he grinned from ear to ear. He was the best shit-hot troop at this stuff to ever grace the earth; none finer, none more deadly, ever! A man among men.

  Nancie Stendahl

  Stendahl sat in her rental until Jon Stone drove away, then walked briskly to the SRT van. She entered a world of muted red light through the rear door, and made her way past hanging gear to the electronics bay.

  Mo Heedles said, “Hey, boss. Good work. We’re looking good.”

  Mo was a large woman with short red hair, who hunched over a laptop computer. The computer was wired to the van’s onboard cell booster to ensure a strong signal.

  Stendahl stood behind her to see the laptop’s screen, and watched a flashing black dot move away from the Sheriff’s Station on a street map.

  “What’s our range on this?”

  “Infinite? We bounce off cell towers. We can follow your boy no matter where he goes.”

  Nancie Stendahl took out her cell, and phoned Tony Nakamura in Washington. Late there, but he was used to it.

  “Tone, Nancie. I need two SRT teams and a helicopter staged by oh-seven-hundred tomorrow. Anywhere in the Palm Springs-Coachella area.”

  “Got it.”

  “I’ll advise when and where as I know.”

  “Rog.”

  Nancie put away her phone and watched the black dot. She didn’t care where it was going; only that she was present when it arrived.

  45

  Sang Ki Park

  Wayward Palms Motel

  Sang Ki Park followed the blond mercenary’s directions that morning, and found himself at a faded roadside motel between Indio and Coachella. The two-and-a-half-hour drive went quickly, and was ripe with the promise of salvation and vengeance. A successful recovery of their kidnapped workers would go far in restoring his uncle’s confidence. The recovery of the old man’s grandson would ensure his redemption.

  The mercenary’s room was drab and dingy, but the surrounding desert was crisp with a lingering chill, and beautiful with a first kiss from the morning sun. Sang Ki Park felt honored to share in this moment. Especially with such a beautiful woman at his mercy.

  “Are you comfortable?”

  Megan Orlato said nothing until the blond man spoke Arabic.

  “I’m fine, for Christ’s sake. Let’s get this the fuck over with.”

  The mouth of a whore. She was sister, wife, and participant with the men who had stolen, tortured, and murdered Park’s workers.

  Park, the woman, the crazy blond mercenary, and two Double Dragon soldiers were in the room. An additional twelve Double Dragon soldiers waited nearby in their cars. Park’s uncle, Young Min Park, who was Kwan Min Park’s grandfather, was driving out now, but would likely not arrive until after Kwan was recovered. This was as it should be. As the revered leader of Ssang Yong Pa, Young Min Park must be shielded from physical danger and legal prosecution. But the old man, like all old men, was weak in his feelings and hungry for the sight of his grandson.

  The blond man with the spiky hair checked his watch.

  “You good to go?”

  Park kept his eyes on the woman, seated in a tattered chair with his men near at hand. The two mercenaries who worked with Mr. Cole had captured the bajadore ’s sister, and now wished to trade her for Park’s stolen workers. The blond mercenary had explained this plan earlier that morning.

  “Yes. I am good.”

  “You remember what to say, or you want to go over it again?”

  “I am good.”

  “No negotiations. No delays.”

  “I am good.”

  The blond man turned to the woman, and spoke Arabic until she interrupted.

  “Speak English. Jesus.”

  “I don’t care what you say, but you have to say something. If you clam up, I’ll make you.”

  “Fuck you.”

  The blond man dialed the phone. It was her cell taken from her home and delivered by Mr. Pike. It contained her brother’s direct number, stored in the memory under “Bobby.” Using this phone was important, for Ghazi al-Diri would only answer if he recognized her incoming number.

  The blond man listened f
or the ring, then passed the phone to the woman.

  She closed her eyes as if steeling herself, then spoke.

  “It’s me. I’m sorry, baby, they got me. No, this Korean dude. Some guy pulled me out of the house last night and gave me to this Korean. They killed Dennis. Dennis is dead-”

  The blond man twisted the phone from her hand, and passed it to Park.

  “Your sister is the property of Ssang Yong Pa. You have twenty-six of our people. We will have them back in this way.”

  Park told Ghazi al-Diri where the trade would take place, when, and how it would happen, exactly as the mercenary instructed. There was no room for discussion.

  “Say yes, she will live. Say no, you will hear her die now on this phone. You will then kill my people, but this is a loss we can accept. We will hunt you forever.”

  Park listened for several moments, then repeated the instructions.

  “You must say yes now.”

  He listened a moment longer.

  “Very well. You must reimburse ten thousand American dollars for each of the three dead. Do not deviate from these instructions. Do not be late.”

  Park pressed the power button to terminate the call, and returned the phone to the mercenary.

  “He has agreed.”

  The woman closed her eyes when she heard this and wilted in relief.

  The mercenary went to the door.

  “Do you need anything else?”

  “No.”

  “If they don’t show, don’t kill her. We might have to use her again.”

  “They will come. I could hear much love in his voice.”

  The mercenary stared for a moment, then laughed very big as he left.

  Sang Ki Park thought his joke funny, too, but masked his joy with a scowl. The mercenary had insisted Park carry out the plan as instructed, but the mercenary served his own goals, and Park served the goals of Ssang Yong Pa.

  The plan would change as Ssang Yong Pa required.

  46

  Joe Pike

  Pike met Jon Stone to hand off Megan Orlato and swap vehicles. They circled the date farm once on foot to fine-tune their plan, then parted. The Koreans had reached Banning Pass by then, and Jon had to meet them.

  Pike drove to a feed store that opened at four A.M. He used their restroom, bought a bottle of water, two bags of trail mix, and a bag of dried mango, then returned to the farm. He parked behind an abandoned irrigation truck in a field across from the mouth of the gravel drive, and ate the food as the sky slowly brightened.

  He thought about Elvis Cole, and their friendship, and hoped Cole was inside and alive. He told himself Cole was alive. Pike took the Jiminy Cricket from his pocket. He looked at it. A toy cricket. Pike put it back in his pocket.

  If Cole was dead, there would be hell to pay.

  The day grew full-on light. Nothing stirred at the farm.

  Pike’s phone rang at 9:32 A.M. on a beautiful day in the desert.

  Stone said, “He agreed. Go.”

  Pike left the Jeep, ran hard for the date farm, and disappeared into the trees.

  Ghazi al-Diri

  Ghazi al-Diri’s life ended with the Korean’s call. He was in the commissary when his phone buzzed, letting his coffee steep in a French press he brought from Sao Paulo. Now, he slipped the phone into his pocket, and poured the coffee. Several of his men were near, eating burritos of eggs and beans they had made for themselves. Ghazi moved away from them to think. He was angry, but might yet survive if he remained calm.

  Maysan changed everything. The Korean gangsters had somehow learned she was his sister, and now held her like a pollo. Ghazi had no choice but to assume the gangsters now knew everything Maysan knew-his phone numbers, his home in Ensenada, how he had operated north of the border these past two years, and even his current location. This frightened him the most as they might even now be watching the farm.

  Ghazi acted quickly. The trade for his sister required the box truck and many men, but much more needed to be done if he was to survive, and these things were unpleasant.

  “Rojas! Where is Medina?”

  “With the pollos. You want him?”

  “Yes, both of you. In the garage.”

  Ghazi had more of the coffee as Rojas hurried away, then strolled to the garage. Ghazi had agreed to the exchange, but he would not make the trip. He would do everything possible to save his sister, and prayed the Korean gangster was good at his word, but Ghazi al-Diri did not believe he would see her again, and felt certain the exchange was a death sentence.

  Rojas and Medina appeared almost at once. He straightened like the commander he was, and faced them.

  “We are returning the Koreans. We need eight guards for the move, two for the big truck and the rest in the smaller trucks. They should be armed. Rojas, I want you on the big truck. You will be in charge.”

  Rojas looked surprised, but made no objection. They had been together a long time. Ghazi would hate to lose Rojas, but Samuel was the smarter and more capable. If recovering Maysan was possible, Rojas was more likely to succeed.

  Rojas said, “Someone has bought them?”

  “The gangsters have my sister. You will be exchanging the pollos for her. I have made the arrangments.”

  Al-Diri quickly outlined where and how the exchange would take place, told Rojas to pick his men, and move out as quickly as possible.

  Rojas and Medina turned to leave, but al-Diri called after Medina.

  “Medina, stay. I have something else.”

  Medina turned back and waited. Al-Diri took a moment to be clear his thinking was right. He was not losing only the Koreans. He had decided to abandon the date farm, and without his sister’s access to properties, he had no place to keep them. He could not let them walk away, as they were witness to heinous crimes, so something had to be done.

  Ghazi al-Diri was clear. He had made the only right and true decision.

  “We will need another big truck. When Rojas is gone, we will leave this place. We have to get rid of the pollos.”

  Medina studied him for several seconds, then shrugged.

  “There are always more pollos.”

  Vasco Medina was the right man for this job.

  “You sure you don’t want to wait for Rojas? It will save us the cost of a truck.”

  “We have no time to wait. We will meet Rojas elsewhere.”

  Medina grunted thoughtfully, then slowly smiled to show the ruined crocodile teeth. Medina understood. They would not wait for Rojas because Rojas and the truck would probably not return.

  “Okay. I can get us a truck, no problem. Bigger, maybe. We’re gonna have what, a hundred twenty, a hundred thirty?”

  “Yes, something like that.”

  Medina grunted again.

  “We could leave them here. That would be fastest.”

  Ghazi had considered this, but immediately discounted it. The date farm was connected to Maysan. Were so many bodies found here, the resulting investigation would eventually link her to Ghazi, and lead to his eventual identification.

  “No, we cannot leave them.”

  “Okay. I know a place we can reach with the truck. I’ll take care of it.”

  He started away, but stopped.

  “What about the rich boy? Him, too?”

  Ghazi had soured on the uncertain chance a widowed mother would pay. Rich people could be trouble, so al-Diri wanted to get rid of the boy with the others.

  “Him, too. We have no time to waste.”

  “What about the asshole who’s in with the Sinaloas? I hate that fuckin’ asshole.”

  “Everyone. Get the truck and get them loaded. I want to get out of here.”

  “Can I take care of this how I want?”

  Ghazi al-Diri cringed. Medina meant the killing. He was a man who would enjoy the killing. In Mexico, they did it with hammers.

  “However you want, but not here. Wait till you get wherever you are going. Then you don’t have to carry them.”

&n
bsp; Medina made the crocodile smile again, and Ghazi wondered why the man never fixed his teeth.

  Ghazi al-Diri watched Medina walk away, then went to his car. He was driving a charcoal gray Lexus SUV Pinetta got cheap from one of his thieves. Pinetta would be difficult to replace; far more difficult than Ghazi’s brother-in-law, whose only talent had been Maysan’s love.

  Ghazi lifted a short, black shotgun from behind the front seat. He did not trust these gangsters, and felt sure they would attack. He could feel them. Someone was hunting him.

  Ghazi made sure the shotgun was loaded, then followed Medina inside. There was still much to be done before the killing began.

  Kwan Min Park

  Kwan was seated with Jack and Krista when Samuel Rojas and the other guards entered and went to his people. One of the guards lashed a man with his club to clear a path, and Rojas went to a girl named Sun Hee. Rojas used her as a translator because she spoke the best English.

  Sun Hee jumped to her feet, listened to her master, then translated his words. Had she been male, Kwan would have hated her for cooperating and likely broken her neck. As a submissive female, he expected no less than her humiliating subservient behavior, but had sought to use it. He had instructed her to offer her sex to the guards so that she might steal a weapon, but so far she had failed.

  As she spoke, the group traded glances, some smiling, and rose to their feet.

  Jack said, “What’s going on?”

  Kwan looked at his friend.

  “Not know. How you?”

  Jack Berman closed his eyes and touched the back of his neck.

  “Hurts like a sonofabitch. You know headache? I have a monster headache.”

  Kwan wasn’t certain what “monster” meant, but knew it must be bad.

  “You better. See good. Talk.”

  Krista smiled.

  “Much better.”

  Sun Hee interrupted. She begged Kwan’s forgiveness for daring to speak, and quickly explained as he watched his group straggle to the door. Kwan was surprised, but such a thing was expected.

  Krista spoke as soon as Sun Hee hurried away.

  Krista said, “Where are they going?”

  “We go. Ssang Yong Pa make us free.”