Patrick couldn’t leave to find Elle until Kami was under protection. Christopher Lee had sent at least six men to kill her; she was still a threat to him. He would be angry, cornered, volatile. She was a witness. Just like Doreen had been a witness. Patrick had never met Christopher Lee, but he knew criminals like him didn’t leave witnesses alive.
A broad-shouldered black man entered the room. He was shorter than both Patrick and Jack, but his presence was immediately felt. He showed his badge to the cop at the door and said, “Special Agent Kyle Tucker, Immigration and Customs Enforcement. Sorry I’m late to the party, looks like ya’ll got to have fun without me.” Tucker had a slight Southern drawl, as if he was born and raised in the deep South but hadn’t been home in a while.
Jack’s lips twitched and he approached Tucker. At the same time, Tucker grinned and gave Jack a hug, then they did a complicated handshake. Patrick watched with curiosity. Jack wasn’t usually so warm.
“When JT told me you were coming, I knew we’d get this job done right.”
“Damn straight, Kincaid. Hooper in the fucking FBI—sorry, I heard you married one of them—briefed me on the way over. Hooper gets a pass, since he married one of mine, but damn, the Fibbies are like an octopus, getting their tentacles in every damn pie.”
“They are,” Jack concurred.
“When I saw Soldare’s name on the list, I took the job right off the ticker. The bitch is mine. I’ve been chasing her for two years. Sonia Hooper and I shut down Soldare’s Stockton operation last month, had her running, but she skipped the country. Or so we thought. When your brother—” Tucker looked around, then pinned his eyes on Patrick. “You’re Jack’s brother.”
“Good call,” Patrick said. He and Jack didn’t look much alike, since Jack looked Cuban and Patrick looked like their Irish dad.
Tucker slapped him on the back. “Damn, boy, you gave me a hard-on when I saw Soldare’s picture. She’s a fucking snake, can’t wait to cut off her head and watch her body wither and die.”
The local cops were staring at Tucker as if they’d just walked into a bizarre play.
Tucker continued. “Soldare is wanted for more than twenty thousand individual counts of trafficking in persons—and those are just the ones we know about. That she’s here makes me glow with excitement.”
Patrick said, “Did Hooper send you the tape?”
“Of course. You’re thinking that she’s already gone. She might be, but she won’t be getting out of the country if my people do their job right. Now, let me do my job so you boys can get out of here and catch some bad guys.”
He sauntered over to the assistant police chief, and Patrick leaned over to Jack and whispered, “I expected him to say, ‘I love the smell of napalm in the morning.’”
Jack cracked a rare grin. “I’m sure he does.”
The paramedics started moving Kami again, and Patrick stopped them at the door. “Don’t leave.”
“Sir, you need to step aside.”
“You can’t take her unless a police officer goes with her.”
Tucker looked over at them arguing and said, “Kincaid, what do you need?”
“She’s an eyewitness. Lee and Soldare sent those men to kill her. She needs twenty-four-hour police protection.”
“I agree.” Tucker turned to the assistant chief. “Your people or mine?”
The assistant chief motioned to two patrol officers, spoke to them, and they joined the paramedics. “We’ll stay on her,” one of them said. “One of us will ride in the ambulance.”
“Thank you,” Patrick said. “I’ll walk out with you.”
He glanced at Jack, who nodded. His brother would cover for him so he could find Elle.
Patrick trailed behind the paramedics until they reached the ambulance. As they loaded Kami inside, Patrick said, “You’ll be safe as long as you stay in the hospital. You have to promise me, Kami—stay put. I don’t want to worry about you while I’m looking for Elle.”
“You’ll find her, right?”
“I promise.”
“I’m sorry.”
“None of this is your fault. Got it?”
She nodded. He didn’t know if she believed him, but he squeezed her hand and turned to the officer who would be guarding her. “Protect her as if she were your daughter,” he said.
“Of course.”
Patrick handed Kami his backup phone. “For emergencies.”
“Call me when Elle is okay? Please?”
He nodded, then kissed her on the forehead. Kami was a brave kid. Kid? She’d been through hell and back, and not just in the last few days. She hadn’t had an easy life. Yet her character was stronger than that of many adults, than that of many privileged kids he’d grown up with. When it came down to it, she’d done the right thing. She’d tried to save her friend. She came to get help. Street instincts should have sent her deep into hiding; instead, she’d risked her life to give them information to stop Christopher Lee and save lives.
Now he understood why Elle risked so much for Kami. She saw Kami as she truly was, not how she appeared on the surface. And in Kami, Patrick also saw Elle. They both were reckless, but they both acted to help others, caring about what was right above what was safe or expedient.
As soon as the ambulance left, Patrick slipped past the police and then hightailed it to his car.
He didn’t know where Elle was, but he knew where to start looking.
* * *
After Tucker was done taking over the investigation from the San Francisco PD and pulling in a team of ICE agents to process the scene and interrogate the lone prisoner, Jack told him about Elle Santana’s sudden disappearance. “Patrick is looking for her.”
“Off the record, good. I don’t have the resources at my fingertips to run two operations, and right now the priority is the meatpacking warehouse. I have a team mobilizing as we speak, they’ll be ready in ten minutes for a location.”
“I got one. Kami Toland, the girl, gave us enough information about the structure to run through property records, and we are confident that the women are being held in an abandoned food processing plant between Dogpatch and Bayview.”
“Lay it out.” Tucker pushed debris and clutter off the kitchen counter, where it crashed to the floor.
Jack opened his laptop. He wasn’t a tech guy; in fact, he hated the overreliance on technology and gadgets, but information traveled faster.
Between RCK and the FBI, they’d compiled photos of the building and blueprints. “Kami said they were locked in cells in a basement marked ‘cold storage,’ and the original plans show that the cold storage room is here, on the east side of the building. There are three truck bays on the south side, entrances on the north and west.”
“They most likely moved the women after the girl escaped, but that takes time and manpower,” Tucker said. “Or they killed them.”
Both Jack and Tucker had seen situations where mass murder was a better solution than capture for criminals like Soldare and Lee.
“I’m voting that they moved them—Kami said that the girls were being prepped for transport, showered, given clean clothes—so my theory is that they had the means to move the girls.”
“Optimism from you, Kincaid? Marriage is good for you.” Tucker grinned. “So, manpower? What are we looking at here?”
“Unknown. According to Kami, she saw three men with guns at the facility, but one of those men was shot and killed here in the apartment.”
“None of the deceased, or the prisoner, are part of Soldare’s known crew.”
“We suspect they work for a local drug dealer who supplies runaways to Lee. An asshole named Richie Lorenzo.”
Tucker nodded. “Soldare uses locals extensively, keeps her own crew small but lethal. Her right hand is Jonny Wong, one of the four people your brother recorded last night. Not to be underestimated.”
“Are we hitting the facility, Tuck?”
“We have to start somewhere.” Tucker made a phone call. He looked at
the map Jack had on the computer, and said, “I have a potentially hot location, I’ll send you the target. I’m on my way. Let me know where you’re staged. We do this fast, boys, or not at all.” He hung up. “Let’s roll.”
“My gun?” Jack nodded over to where the assistant police chief was watching ICE process the evidence with rapid efficiency. He’d taken Jack’s weapon that had been used in the shooting; Jack had slipped Patrick his backup piece when he left with Kami.
Tucker reached behind his back and pulled out Jack’s Sig and Patrick’s Glock. “Sorry, almost forgot.”
Jack smiled. It was good to be working with an old friend.
“Now let’s go and nail these bastards,” Tucker said.
* * *
Patrick thanked Jaye for the information and parked in front of Clark Grayson’s condo in Russian Hill, a wealthy San Francisco community. Jaye had also told him that Grayson paid more than five thousand a month for the place, though his gross income was less than that. She couldn’t find either a family money connection or trust, but she did learn that he was also on the payroll of TK Clothing, where he brought in twice his salary for the city. That, coupled with any under-the-counter money he got from Lorenzo or Lee, would keep him in a nice, secure building like this.
There was no doorman, and the door was electronic and easy for Patrick to hack, though he didn’t have to. He held the door open for a mother pushing a bulky stroller, then slipped inside.
Grayson lived on the top floor of the nine-story building. Patrick knocked. There was no answer, no movement inside. Patrick slipped on gloves and picked the lock, then slipped in.
Grayson’s unit was in the corner, with two windows exposing an amazing view of the Bay and Golden Gate Bridge.
Patrick did a quick search and didn’t see anything out of place or that pointed to where Grayson might have taken Elle. Jack had the food processing plant covered, and if Elle was there, he’d find her. Would they get there in time? Or did Lee have a backup plan? Another location to move them?
It would take a lot of work—and time—to move that many young women, especially without being seen.
Patrick was worried and not thinking like a cop. He pushed aside the complex emotions the last twenty-four hours had stirred up, and focused on finding a fugitive with a hostage.
The desk was clean. There were cords for a laptop computer on top of the desk, but no computer. The bottom drawer was locked. It was easy to pop open with the right tool, and within a minute, Patrick was looking through files Grayson wanted to keep private. Banking records. Files on homeless kids—who was working for Lorenzo and other criminals in the city. It seemed that Grayson was the recruiter, he found the right kids for the right jobs.
Bastard. He was not only contributing to the problem, he was growing it.
But there was nothing in the drawer that would help him find Elle.
He slammed it shut. This was getting him nowhere. He searched Grayson’s bedroom, not taking any care to put things back where they belonged. In the day and age of modern technology, criminals didn’t leave directions lying around on little pads of paper—they kept the information on their phones and laptops.
He already had Jaye trying to trace Grayson’s phone, but either it was off or he had security protecting it from being tracked.
It all came down to Richie Lorenzo. Patrick had his mug shot, but didn’t know where to find him. But that kid would know where Grayson was—and possibly Christopher Lee. Patrick needed help. He knew exactly who to ask.
Patrick quickly took pictures of Grayson’s files and left the condo, heading toward the teen center to find the scrawny black kid who went by Jazz.
* * *
Jack had the same feeling Tucker did about the food processing plant.
“They’re not here,” he said.
“Guess you don’t want to take my bet then,” Tucker grumbled.
The parking lot was empty. No cars or big-rig trucks. The heat sensors showed no bodies inside, but the basement was harder to read because of the type of Sheetrock and metal used in construction. Tucker ordered the team to secure the building and be aware of potential booby traps.
“I lost two men in an operation near the border,” Tucker said. “Went into a coyote’s den and they had it rigged to explode.”
“That’s not like you, Tuck.”
“We all make mistakes, Kincaid, and it was a long time ago. I wasn’t using my head. Now focus.”
They split into three teams of three. One team, with two explosives-sniffing dogs, secured the bays. Two went in through the main entrance. The first team fanned out into the main warehouse to search, and Jack’s team went immediately to the basement.
He saw the sign that Kami had seen, COLD STORAGE.
He also smelled the feces, urine, blood, and death that rolled up the stairs in the icy air.
Jack had seen death up close: enemies, friends, innocents. There was no need for civilians to die.
Three girls, two naked and one clothed in a stained, torn cotton dress, had been shot on the floor of one of the cells. Another girl lay bloated in the corner. There didn’t appear to be any blood. She’d been dead longer than the others.
Tucker motioned for Jack and one of his people, Agent Young, to continue moving forward and search the remaining cells and the room in the far back. Everything was as Kami said. The cells, the showers, the storage room with sack dresses and paper shoes. No toilet facilities, no windows.
In the storage room Jack saw a slight movement in the corner. He motioned for Young to halt and gestured to the corner. Guns raised, they aimed their flashlights toward the movement.
Two Chinese girls were huddled in an impossibly small shelf, both naked.
Even victims could be a threat. Jack told Young to cover him, and he lowered his gun. He didn’t know more than a few words in Chinese, but he managed to get out, “We’re friends. Help. We’re help.”
He said into his mic, “Tuck, we have two survivors.”
Tuck came in and motioned for Young to guard the stairs. Tuck spoke to them in Chinese. It took a few moments, but then the girls responded and came out of their hiding spot. Jack handed them dresses that were on the table, and they put them on. Still clinging to each other, one of them spoke to Tuck. He asked questions; she responded, gaining strength as she spoke. Her arm was around the smaller girl. They weren’t older than fourteen.
Tuck led them out, Jack took the rear. Before they stepped outside, another team greeted them. Tuck snapped his fingers, pointed to the girls, and two men handed over their sunglasses. Tuck handed them to the victims and said something in Chinese. The girls put them on.
“Ambulance ETA is five minutes,” the other team leader said.
“Stay with them. They’re witnesses. If Soldare knows Lee left behind witnesses, she’ll come back for them.”
“Yes, sir.”
Tucker stepped outside with Jack. “They don’t know where Lee went, they don’t understand English. They said the girls that were shot were sick. One had died last night, and they didn’t want to transport any sick girls. When they were killed, there was chaos, and Min Su, the taller girl, took her little sister into hiding.”
“Any idea on the time? Two hours? Ten?”
“It’s a guess, but she said very soon after they brought back the white-haired girl.”
“Ashley,” Jack said.
“You know her?”
“Kami escaped with her, but she was injured.”
Jack mentally ran through the timeline based on what Kami had said. “Three hours,” Jack said. “They have a three-hour lead.”
“I have my people working on satellite footage and security cameras in the area. The FBI is canvassing, but so far no one saw or heard a big rig this morning in this neighborhood. My guess is that they moved them out in vans—there’s fresh oil in one of the docking bays—to a secondary facility. We need to find it.”
“They’re not going to wait until dark,�
� Jack guessed.
“I doubt it. They know we’re here.”
“I have a list of all Lee’s properties in a fifty-mile radius.”
“Let’s split up the list and I.D. possibles.” They walked back to the command truck, which was set up with computers and satellite equipment. “Those girls were eleven and twelve. Told me their orphanage sold them.” Tucker kicked a tire and went inside the truck. “I swear, Jack, I want blood.”
Jack knew exactly how his old friend felt.
CHAPTER 13
Patrick was sitting in his car outside the teen center watching the kids going in and out when Jack called him.
“Four dead, two survivors. The girls were moved about three hours ago, based on the witnesses and the timeline Kami gave us. About the same time we were being attacked at Santana’s apartment.”
“Gone? How the hell did they just disappear?” But Patrick had had a sick feeling in his gut that they’d be too late. He was out of options.
“We don’t think they’ve packed them for long-term shipping. There’s evidence that they moved them in vans, likely to a secondary spot until the trucks can get here. ICE is on top of it and we’re sorting through Lee’s holdings looking for a likely spot, as well as any street cams near the building.”
“I have an idea. I’ll let you know if it pans out.” Patrick hung up before Jack asked him what. He knew his plan was risky, and Jack would want to back him up. But it was better for Jack to be with ICE where they could find Ashley and the other girls.
Finally he spotted Jazz walking down the street with two of the guys from last night, toward the teen center. But they didn’t turn into the complex. Instead, they continued down the street. Patrick got out of his car and followed. Jazz immediately saw him and frowned. Patrick held back and nodded, then circled around and walked back to his car.
He hoped he was right about the kid. If not, he had no other ideas.
Five minutes later, Jazz slipped into the passenger seat of his car. “Drive,” he said, “or I’ll be jammed up.”
Patrick complied. “I need your help.”
“Figured that’s why you started following me. Don’t they teach you guys stealth?”
Cold Snap Page 12
