Hunt kept his mouth shut but offered a slight nod.
Tasis turned around and headed back inside the house. It was time to call McMaster again. This time the DEA man answered right away.
“Is that you, Pierce?”
“I’m calling to check on the bystander I shot. Last time we talked, he was in surgery. Tell me he’s okay.”
“He’s okay. Last I heard, they were about to release him. He’ll be fine, but that doesn’t mean he won’t sue. And there’s the warrant.”
The innocent victim he’d hit with a bullet was safe, and that was all Hunt cared about. He’d deal with the potential lawsuit and warrant later. McMaster wasn’t about to rat him out to the local cops. He knew what was at stake.
“Thanks for letting me know, sir.”
McMaster changed the subject, and his voice grew cold—almost stern. “Is Cole with you?”
“He’s close by, yes.”
“What’s his role in this, Pierce?”
“I think it would be better if you—”
“He’s my daughter’s husband, damn it! He’s with the CIA, isn’t he?”
The CIA? Cole? That was ridiculous. The CIA wouldn’t touch Cole Egan with a ten-foot pole. Hunt was about to ask McMaster what kind of weed he smoked but thought better of it. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea to play the CIA card. Those guys were involved in a lot of shit overseas. If Egan wanted to keep his family—and stay out of jail—hinting that he was CIA wasn’t a bad idea, at least for the short term. He’d have a chat with Egan about it.
“As I suggested earlier, I really think you guys should have a serious man-to-man talk, you know?” Hunt replied, staying vague.
“I fucking knew it!” McMaster exclaimed. “I knew it. A goddamn spook! Did you know, Hunt, that he called me in the middle of the night to ask me to either relocate my daughter or, at the very least, to send a security team to her house?”
Of course I know. I was with him.
“I had no idea, sir.”
“Why can’t the CIA protect their own? You’d think they’d have special teams for that, wouldn’t you?”
“I don’t know their procedures.”
“Where are you headed next?”
“Not sure yet,” Hunt said, still keeping things vague.
“Well, let me know if you need anything,” McMaster replied, his tone indicating he understood Hunt’s reticence about sharing more information. “And, Pierce, please tell Cole I’ll make sure Katherine’s safe.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
San Miguel de Allende, Mexico
The Black Tosca’s close circle of advisors was once again reunited in her lavish dining room. The only senior member missing was her cousin Hector, so there were four instead of the usual five. The men seated around the dining room table were getting jumpy. It wasn’t a secret that Hector’s operation on American soil hadn’t been the complete success they were hoping for. The Black Tosca wanted to reassure them, to let them know that everything was under control. There was no reason to expect any blowback from the local authorities—most of them were in the cartel’s pocket—or the Mexican government. As for the United States government, it would never dare an incursion deep into Mexico, especially an urban area like San Miguel de Allende.
“Why didn’t Hector eliminate the girls in Miami? Is there really a need to go through all of this here?”
As a businesswoman, Valentina Mieles understood her advisor’s concerns. The man—a fifty-year-old accountant—was a math genius and an essential element of her organization. But he wasn’t a risk-taker. This was something she had long ago accepted, but what she couldn’t tolerate was his tone. Defiant. Insubordinate. She’d give him one chance to retract.
“What are you afraid of? Tell me. I’m curious.”
All eyes turned toward his end of the table. They all knew she didn’t care for subordinates questioning her judgment, and even less so in front of the group. He swallowed hard before he looked at her again, his face flushed. He had definitely caught her drift.
“With all due respect, Valentina, and I apologize if I sounded impertinent—believe me, it wasn’t my intention—what I wanted to say was that this end of the operation won’t generate any revenue for you and that, perhaps, this could have been dealt with differently.”
He was right, of course. It would have indeed been preferable if the whole operation could have been carried out in the United States, but a series of unfortunate events had forced Hector’s hand. She’d never heard of Pierce Hunt before, and, to be honest, she was surprised that one man could have caused Hector to change his plans. Even Mr. Granger had failed to check in with a progress report, something that had never happened before. Mr. Granger was a valuable asset; his access to Daniel McMaster was priceless. This access would become extremely helpful to her organization once Tony Garcia and his top lieutenants had been taken care of.
Mr. Granger better be alive, she thought. Nicolás was good, but he wasn’t Cole Egan.
Nevertheless, she wanted to see this through. For once, she wasn’t propelled by greed but by vengeance. Her taste for revenge wouldn’t be satiated until she heard the screams of agony from Tony Garcia’s daughter. Only then would her mind allow her to think of something else. She let the silence stretch out a few more seconds, taking pleasure in seeing her accountant sweat bullets. She considered different possibilities and options. That was why she was so good and the one standing at the head of the table. Her ability to seize an opportunity in a chaotic situation and to adapt quicker than anyone else to a changing environment was her key to remaining in power.
She narrowed her eyes on the accountant, but she spoke to everyone.
“I understand your concerns, gentlemen, but you know as well as I do that to succeed in our business, we need to constantly revise our business plan. Taking over the Garcia family’s distribution network will allow us to move a lot more product, and the cost associated with its distribution will drop significantly. I’ve been communicating very closely with our major trading partners, and I’ve assured them that we’ll be operational within the next thirty days.”
“What if Tony Garcia doesn’t surrender?” one of her deputies asked. “His men are very loyal to him.”
“I’m well aware of their loyalty to him,” she hissed, but she continued more calmly, “Tony Garcia’s world is crumbling around him. Within the last thirty-six hours, we killed his father and kidnapped his daughter. He also managed to get shot by one of our men on the ground.”
The Black Tosca gazed at the four stunned, silent faces around the table. They were all looking at her, wide-eyed, waiting for her to continue.
“He’s straddling the threshold between life and death, I’m told.”
A few smiles appeared on the men’s faces. One of them said, “So even if he doesn’t chop his head off, we’ll get him in prison.”
The Black Tosca nodded. “Inside the system, he won’t have the kind of protection he’s accustomed to on the outside. He’ll be an easy mark.”
“So why’s Hector bringing the girls here? I was under the impression that the kidnapping was to bring Tony Garcia to his knees.”
“Let’s just say that there’s another, more personal reason too,” she said, almost shaking in anticipation.
“Will they be here soon?” the accountant asked, cleaning his glasses with a tissue.
“Oh, they’re already here.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
San Miguel de Allende, Mexico
The last leg of his flight had been uneventful, just like the first one. Upon landing, he cleared Mexican customs under the fictitious name of Terry Lewis—an alias the DEA had prepared for him in case he ever needed to be deployed to Mexico quickly. He exited the terminal and looked for someone holding a sign with his fake name on it. Two dozen taxi drivers were standing around with names on signs. He spotted a tall, dark man with a mustache and slender build holding a sign with the right name on it. The man fit the descr
iption Hunt had given him. Carter hoisted his only bag more securely on his shoulder and walked toward the man. They made eye contact, and Carter followed the man at a distance. The man walked silently but briskly through the terminal to the arrivals curb. He hopped into the passenger seat of a waiting late-model Toyota Land Cruiser. Carter climbed into the back seat, and the SUV rolled forward. The driver was an attractive Latina woman with long, dark brown hair that fell to her shoulders.
“Welcome to Mexico, Simon,” she said, her big green eyes looking at him in the rearview mirror. “I’m Abigail. This is my husband, Dante.”
“You guys are really married, or it’s a cover?” Never before had he met a pair of DEA special agents who were married and posted together outside the United States.
“Let’s just say that we work and sleep together.”
Carter chuckled. “Got it.”
“There’s a cooler behind your seat with a couple of sandwiches and a bottle of water,” Dante told him.
“Thanks,” Carter said, opening the cooler. “I appreciate you picking me up.”
“Our pleasure. Hunt told us what this is about. We’ll do our best to help.”
“How do you know Pierce?” Carter asked, grabbing a sandwich and the water bottle.
“I flew helicopters in Iraq,” Dante said. “We crossed paths a few times.”
“If he’s asking you to risk your career for him, I’m sure it was more than a few times.”
“No, not really. But I guess it’s what he did on one of those times that matters, isn’t it?”
“Pierce saved Dante’s life,” Abigail said. “That’s why we’re both willing to risk anything for him.”
Carter didn’t want to push for more information since it wasn’t his business, but Dante was quite forthcoming.
“My Black Hawk was shot down over Latifiya,” Dante explained. “It’s a small town south of Baghdad. It’s dominated by native Sunni Arabs and was one of the hottest spots for our troops between 2003 and 2007. The Iraqi army couldn’t get a grip on the insurgents, so Hunt and a bunch of Rangers were sent in to help them. I was bringing in fresh troops to the zone when my chopper was hit broadside. I did a controlled crash landing—”
“I didn’t know such a thing existed,” Carter said, biting into the ham-and-swiss sandwich.
“What?”
“A controlled crash landing.”
“You wanna know the story or not?” Dante asked, but he was smiling.
“I’m sorry. Please continue,” Carter said, twisting the cap off his water bottle.
“Hunt saw the chopper go down and, with six other Rangers, left his covered position and charged five hundred feet across open ground to provide suppressive fire.”
That sounds like Pierce, Carter thought. Crazy motherfucker.
“I’m glad you made it,” Carter said. “Pierce is a good man.”
“The best. I’m in his debt, and this little op of ours, it won’t even cover the interest.”
“I hear you,” Carter replied.
“It sucks what happened to his daughter. That’s not right, man. Will they really set his daughter on fire? On live video?”
“Not if I can help it.”
They drove the next fifteen minutes in silence, staring out their respective windows and considering what could happen to Leila if they failed.
“So what’s the plan?”
“Since this morning, Abigail and I are officially on leave. We don’t have to report our whereabouts for the next thirty-six hours.”
“One way or the other, this will all be over in less than twelve,” Carter told them.
“We got a two-bedroom apartment in Centro,” Abigail said. “We created an Airbnb account using one of our aliases. We booked it for a week.”
“Centro is the old town?”
“Yes, and a UNESCO World Heritage site. Narrow streets lined with homes in different shades of yellow, red, orange, and brown terra-cotta. All very pretty, but that isn’t why we put you there.”
“Because of the expats?”
“You got it,” Dante said. “About ten percent of the seventy thousand residents are expats. You’ll blend right in.”
“What about the list of items Pierce sent you?”
“That was a bit trickier, I’m afraid,” Dante admitted. “Since Pierce wanted to keep this black, we couldn’t access the armory. Nevertheless, in addition to our own personal firearms, we were able to secure three Glock 22s, and three silenced MP5s with enough ammunition to kill half the population of San Miguel.”
“Body armor?”
“Yes, we got that too. Light body armor only, though. But we got the Ops-Core FAST helmets and NODs you asked for. We had to buy the Nikon, the binoculars, and all the other electronic items Pierce wanted.”
“Transportation?” Carter asked, taking notes.
“We rented a compact SUV through Hertz and used the same IDs we used to reserve the apartment on Airbnb. The Land Cruiser is ours to use too.”
“Do you have any info regarding the Black Tosca’s mansion?”
Abigail shook her head but kept her mouth shut. Dante ran his fingers through his hair.
“What is it?”
“We don’t know much,” Dante confessed. “A couple of agents tried to fly a drone over the mansion a few months ago, but it got shut down.”
“How the hell do you shut down a small drone?” Carter asked.
“There are devices that detect drones using radio frequency methodology. It’s effective up to about twenty-five hundred feet. And it’s quite difficult to circumvent. The most expensive systems—which I’m sure the Black Tosca has—automatically detect and disable incoming drones.”
“So where does that leave us?” Carter asked.
“We have a few shots that were taken by a satellite a few years back, but they won’t be of much value. Having said that, the Mexico City office arrested a midlevel member of the Black Tosca’s cartel three weeks ago.”
“I doubt he said anything of importance. These guys prefer to do time rather than talk to us.”
“You never worked in Mexico, did you?” Abigail asked.
Carter narrowed his eyes, wondering what she meant.
Dante jumped in and said, “We do things differently here, Simon. Our methods are, let’s say, a little more invasive than they’d be back in the States. You know what I mean?”
Carter knew what invasive meant. Whatever intelligence the DEA got from the cartel member, they wouldn’t be able to use it in a court of law.
“Okay, so he talked to you. Anything I should know?”
Dante handed Carter a file containing the satellite pictures and drawings of the perimeter surrounding the residence.
“He said that the grounds of the residence were patrolled twenty-four hours a day by half a dozen heavily armed guards, and that wasn’t counting the two at the guardhouse outside the main gate.”
Six guards. That wasn’t a good start. That was a lot of enemy personnel.
Dante continued, “He also said that security cameras were set up strategically around the property with infrared motion detectors.”
Shit! What did you expect, Simon? You knew Valentina Mieles would be a hard target to get to. That didn’t change the fact that it would be almost impossible to breach the perimeter during broad daylight.
“Tell him about Nicolás,” Abigail said.
“Who’s Nicolás?”
“Nicolás is her lead bodyguard.”
That was good to know. “What’s his background?”
“Since we don’t have a last name for him, we’re not sure.”
“But you did find something?”
“It’s only a guess—”
“Ah, c’mon, Dante, it’s more than a guess. He fits the physical description that was given to us.”
“Anyway,” Dante continued, ignoring his wife, “I wouldn’t put too much thought into this if I were you, but there’s a Nicolás Gomez born in 1981 who w
as dishonorably discharged from the Fuerzas Especiales for leaking intelligence to a known drug cartel associate.”
“The Mexican navy special forces?”
“Yes. Supposedly they’re a tier-one unit, but I doubt they really are.”
“Still, he’s someone we’ll need to be careful about.”
Carter ran his hands over his face. His three-day beard was beginning to itch. “How many road access points are there?”
“That’s the good news,” Abigail said, stopping the Land Cruiser to let an old woman cross the street with her dog. “There’s only one.”
Carter was still studying the satellite pictures when they reached the Airbnb rental twenty minutes later. The rental was a small but charming three-story house.
“We’ll drop you off here,” Abigail said. “You’ll find everything you need on the kitchen table. It’s apartment number one, and the code to unlock the door is four-nine-two-three-four.”
“You’re not coming in?”
“We each have our own place,” Dante said, tossing a mobile phone to Carter, “so if one of us gets caught, the whole thing won’t collapse.”
“Check your gear, take what you need, and we’ll link up in thirty minutes,” Abigail said, unlocking the doors. “Dante’s number is the first contact. I’m the second, and the Guadalajara DEA office is the third one.”
Carter climbed out of the Land Cruiser and watched the SUV as it smoothly accelerated away before coming to a stop at an intersection packed with shoppers, commuters, and tourists. Carter stretched and arched his back a few times to loosen up before he made his way to the rental unit. He punched in the five-digit code Abigail had given him, and the door unlocked. He opened it and slid inside.
The place wasn’t big, but it was clean. Carter used the toilet, washed his hands in the sink, and brushed his teeth before he headed to the tiny dining room, where he found a set of car keys and a handwritten note telling him where the vehicle was. He carried the keys with him to the bedroom. On the bed were three medium-size Pelican cases and two duffel bags.
Carter spent the next twenty minutes checking the equipment, loading the weapons, and making sure the NODs had new batteries. Exactly thirty minutes after he was dropped off, Carter called Dante.
Hunt Them Down (Pierce Hunt Book 1) Page 22
