“Damn it! Tell me when you’re braking!”
“We’re sliding backwards,” Quin said.
“That’s cuz I got the torque,” Jimmy said, and he nosed his cart to the back of theirs. “Go, I’ll push you.”
Impressed with the idea, Quin continued up the incline as Jimmy prevented them from sliding backwards. They were working as a team, ascending slowly as one subterranean vehicle. The path ahead was littered with more remnants of past journeys: a bandana, a teddy bear, a broken two-way radio, and they rode right over them like stones in a river.
The path finally leveled out and Quin accelerated away from Jimmy’s cart for fifty yards, where the path rose higher again. They continued their routine of Jimmy pushing as Quin drove. At least this portion will be a fast and easy descent on our return trip. He felt a change in air pressure, his ears popping as a gust of fresh air enveloped them.
“We made it!” Hawk said, calling back to his grandson.
They cheered as the ramp leveled again into a flat, sandy area. Quin spotted a three-foot opening in the metal door covering the mouth of the cave. He smelled cigarette smoke. “Lopez! Open the door!” he called out.
She stuck her head into the narrow opening. “Stay in your carts.”
“Why?”
“Look at the ground.”
The cave floor moved beneath them in swirls and s-curves. There had to be a hundred or more snakes slithering under their vehicles.
“Oh God!” Jimmy said, kicking one out of his cart.
“Can you walk the door back?” Quin said to Lopez.
“Trying, but it’s heavy.”
“Tell me this is a good sign, Hawk,” Quin said.
The old man lifted his boots up onto the dashboard. “I never liked snakes. The Hopi tribes might take this as a good sign, but it’s just spooky to me.”
As a native of Arizona, Quin wasn’t turned off by snakes. Non-venomous snakes outnumber venomous snakes three to one, so he knew his odds here were pretty good. If the tail came to a point, the snake was harmless. He illuminated the specimens, which were black and white common king snakes. Nothing to worry about.
He stepped out of the cart, lifted a snake out of the way with the toe of his boot, and helped Lopez tug and pull on the door. It opened gradually, as if the cave were waking from a long sleep, the cool night air rushing in like an inhalation. Hawk slid into the driver’s seat and drove straight out of the cave, with his grandson right behind him.
“How was it down there?” Lopez asked.
“Bats, snakes, and lots of trash,” Jimmy said.
“But no bodies,” Hawk said. “That we know of.”
Quin reached out to shake Lopez’s hand. “The return trip should go faster.”
She smiled, her cigarette balancing on her lower lip. “Let’s hope so.”
Lopez and Quin left Hawk and Jimmy at the tunnel entrance and drove to the two-lane highway that would lead them to Autumn. Lopez had driven only one and a half miles after she had turned off the highway to the warehouse-meth lab they’d visited a couple of days ago. She set the Suburban in park and turned off the engine and lights.
“Here it is,” Lopez said.
“It’s close to the tunnel.”
“I told you so,” she said.
He looked out the side window into the darkness at the warehouse, where he saw a glow through a skylight on the roof. “Somebody’s in there.”
“Could be anybody.”
“It’s her,” he said. He had a feeling. “And Marta’s there, too. It’s showtime.”
“What if we’re not ready?”
Quin turned to Lopez and saw the concern on her face. “Hawk and Jimmy are at the tunnel. You and I are here. Autumn and Marta are in there. How much more ready can we be?”
“What about Agent Kruse?” she said. “He wants to record it on the live feed.”
“Have you spoken to him recently?” he asked.
“He called because he couldn’t reach you.”
“What did you tell him?”
“We’re making a practice run tonight. Why? Is that bad?”
He took in a calming breath. “It’s all right, Lopez. This isn’t like chasing any old skip. I’m here to rescue my family. And while I appreciate Kruse’s help so far, I need to do this without him watching me.”
“Then this is it, huh?”
He felt his chest tightening, the hair on his forearms rising. Outside on the warehouse roof his ravens had landed, silently hopping across it with wings outstretched.
“What are you looking at?” Lopez asked.
He breathed as he meditated on the building. Dillan or Rachel could do it; they could simply see through these walls. Quin could only sense danger, get an impression, and react to it. He slid his phone out of his pocket and called Dillan. It rang and rang.
“Yeah?” Dillan said with a sluggish grumble.
“It’s me. You awake?”
“Hey, Quin. Sleepless as usual.”
“How you feeling these days?”
“Shitty. I had a marathon session with Kruse tonight.”
“Tell him you need time off. It’s not healthy to work non-stop.”
“He won’t let up until we find Autumn.”
Quin felt guilty about that. He wanted to help his team members even while he was in the field. “Dillan, there’s a reporter named Candace Johnson who’s agreed to research the long-term effects of RV. I want you to speak with her.”
“Cool, whatever.”
“If you’re up for it, I could use your help.”
“Sure, anything.”
“I need you to Remote View into a structure.”
“For real? You mean without Kruse?” The guy was in disbelief.
“I’m outside the building in Mexico.”
“Don’t front-load it. Just give me coordinates.”
Quin held the phone to his chest and said to Lopez, “Give me some random numbers.”
“What kind of numbers?”
“Doesn’t matter. What’s your date of birth?”
“October 12, 1975.”
Quin turned the speakerphone on and told Dillan, “One. Zero. One. Two. One. Nine. Seven. Five.”
Dillan repeated the number and Quin heard him rustling paper and scribbling. Five minutes later, he had the target. “This is easy, you’re at the warehouse.”
“Who’s inside of it?” Quin asked.
“Several people; a woman who must be Autumn, and a young girl.”
“Good,” Quin said. “As expected.”
Lopez stared at Quin in surprise, experiencing how RV worked in the field.
“Wait, there’s another person,” Dillan said. “A man.”
“Tell me about him.”
“He’s upset.”
“Angry, sad, or what?”
“Stop labeling it, Quin. I don’t know, he’s pacing. He’s conflicted.”
“Do they know we’re here?”
“No, he and Autumn are focused on each other, arguing.”
The odd thing was that Quin sensed and recognized Dillan’s presence here too.
“Dillan, were you viewing earlier tonight?”
“Like I said, Kruse had a late-night session with me and then Rachel.”
“What did you see?”
“You know we can’t talk about our sessions, but what the hell, I think I was off target, walking around a cave somewhere in the desert.”
“Did Kruse give Rachel the same target for her session?”
“Not sure.”
The presence that Quin had felt earlier in the evening at the tunnel entrance had to have been Rachel. Kruse was hedging his bets, using both Dillan and Rachel to follow Quin’s movements.
“Is she in a session with Kruse right now?”
“No, she left her session an hour ago, all crazy upset.”
“What else do you see inside the warehouse?”
“Ah, I lost it. Kruse and I don’t have conversations
like this during a session. Sorry, man.”
“No, that’s my bad,” Quin said. “I’ll check it out.”
“Quin, wait,” Dillan said. “The man with Autumn has a gun.”
Quin looked over at Lopez, who couldn’t believe the conversation she was hearing.
“Thanks, Dillan, and remember, you shouldn’t talk about your RV sessions. Let’s keep tonight’s viewing between you and me. Agreed?”
“Cool, good luck!”
He turned to Lopez. “It’s happening now. I’ll go in, and you stay outside here at the truck.”
“You sure you want to go in alone?”
“One hundred percent.”
Lopez reached across to the glove box and pulled out a Glock 17 and unholstered her Glock 23, showing them to Quin. “It’s up to you.”
“You’re possessive of that Glock 23,” he said.
“The 17 actually holds more ammo,” she said. “If you go in there alone, take it. I’ll back you up with the 23.”
He took her advice, stepped out of the truck, and ran to the warehouse with the 17 at his side. The door was locked. No surprise. He listened and heard voices inside. Dillan was right, Autumn and a man were in the midst of a heated conversation. He could try kicking in the door, but that would ruin the element of surprise. He knocked instead, and then waited as he heard the voices whispering and somebody coming to the door. At that point, it was anyone’s guess as to who was on the other side. He knocked again, louder this time. The ravens hopped to the edge of the roof above the door, agitated, making a ruckus that only he could hear.
“¿Quién es?” Who is it? a man said through the door.
Quin waited in silence, holding his breath. He knew Lopez was watching from the truck.
The door opened and the man leaned out with his pistol extended in front of him. Idiot move, thought Quin. In a burst of black and white flashes of light and shrieks from the ravens above, Quin kicked the gun upward with the toe of his boot. It spun out of the man’s hands and landed on the ground. It was an FN-57, or what’s known in the States as a “cop killer”; carried by all the drug thugs. More flashes: black on white and white on black. The man dove for it, another idiot move that Quin anticipated, kicking him in the ribs before he pressed the Glock to the back of his head.
He heard Lopez racing toward them, shouting, “Keep your ass on the ground!”
Quin pulled the man’s arms behind his back and cinched his wrists with a zip-tie.
“Buena noches,” Quin said to him.
“What’s your name? ¿Su nombre?” Lopez said between breaths.
Quin stepped off of him, recognizing the man. “He’s Jefe,” he said to Lopez, watching the man struggling on his stomach, cursing in Spanish.
“Quin!” Autumn shouted, running with Marta to Jefe’s side.
Quin lowered his gun and motioned to Lopez to do the same. They were a family, therefore, part of Quin’s family: a sister, an estranged brother-in-law, and a niece. And here he was, the impatient American, pushing them around and terrorizing them.
“I heard arguing,” he explained to Autumn, “and he had a gun.”
“We were discussing my leaving. Jefe, esto es Quin,” she said, introducing them.
Well, this is awkward, thought Quin. He reached down to his boot, removed his knife, and cut the zip-tie. His brother-in-law sat up in the dirt. Quin reached out a hand to help him up but Jefe refused assistance. He stood up on his own, wiping sand and dirt from his face.
“She’s the one you’re looking for?” Jefe said in pretty good English. “You’re her brother?”
“Yes.”
“I’ve heard about you,” he said.
Unfortunately, Quin couldn’t say the same about Jefe. He knew absolutely nothing about him or Marta, and very little about his own sister.
“I’m here for you and Marta,” he said to Autumn, nevertheless. “It’s time to go.”
“Now?” Autumn said in disbelief.
“I’m an American on Sinaloa land, so I suggest we move quickly,” he said. “I’ve got transportation waiting.”
“Come with us, Jefe,” she said, holding Marta’s hand and reaching for his.
Jefe was a gaunt man who looked younger than Autumn, in Quin’s opinion. He wondered how they’d met, and guessed he’d learn that at some point.
“You could start a new life,” she pleaded with him.
This was what the argument was about, whether Jefe would join them on their journey to the States. If they were splitting up, this could be a painful good-bye that might draw a lot of unwanted attention.
“Come with us to the border, Jefe. You can decide there,” Quin said.
His brother-in-law went along with the idea and they walked to the Chevy Suburban, where Quin rode in the back seat with his gun and Jefe’s, in case there was trouble. Marta, clutching a threadbare stuffed teddy bear, was sandwiched between her parents in the bench seat in front of Quin. He watched as Autumn and Jefe looked back at the warehouse for what could be the last time. They were leaving everything behind, fleeing in the middle of the night with nothing but the clothes on their backs. For Jefe, this must be a tougher decision; he was a local who had family here. For Autumn, it was a chance to return to a home she once knew and loved.
Lopez steered off the highway onto the uneven hard-packed clay and rock. In the moonlight the saguaros, the tallest cacti, stood like ancient desert gods, their arms stretched to the heavens. Hawk would certainly think it was a sign.
When they reached the outcrop of rock, Lopez stopped and parked the truck. “This is your stop.”
“Where?” Jefe asked, looking out the window.
“Up ahead,” Quin said, pointing to the hole in the rock where Jimmy and Hawk were seated in their golf carts, waiting. They were ghostly moon shadows in front of an outcrop of boulders.
“Underground?” Jefe said to Autumn.
Autumn nodded.
Jefe turned to Quin, asking, “Why underground?”
It was clear that Jefe had thought they would use the official border crossing in Nogales. There must be a reason that Autumn hadn’t told him about the tunnel until now. Maybe he was afraid of it, like Hawk.
“You got a passport?” Quin asked.
“No.”
“Autumn is a natural-born US citizen and she could have a child out of the country, such as Marta, who would ordinarily qualify as a citizen,” Quin said. “But a US citizen parent must have been physically present in the US for five years before the child’s birth, and at least two of those years must have been after age fourteen.”
“Marta isn’t a US citizen?” Autumn said.
“Not yet,” Quin said.
“Then I’m not leaving.”
“We can do this the hard way and cross through the tunnel, or we can do it the harder way, have you sit in immigration services for days, if not weeks, while it all gets sorted out,” he said.
“Come with us,” she said to Jefe.
“Incicio está aquí.” Home is here, he said proudly. He opened the truck door and as he stepped out, he grabbed Marta.
“Jefe, no!” Autumn shouted.
Quin jumped out of the back seat and followed Jefe. “Let her go.”
As Jefe quickened his pace Marta stumbled and looked back, calling, “Mama!”
Autumn gave chase, running past Quin in a maternal rage toward the father of her child. She began slapping him on the head, kicking his legs. This was spiraling into a domestic dispute and he knew it was always better to stay out of it, to let the couple blow off their steam before breaking it up.
But then Marta broke free, and to Quin’s surprise, she sprinted toward him. He knelt with his arms open and embraced her as she collapsed into his arms. He covered the girl’s eyes as he watched Autumn and Jefe pushing one another until Jefe shoved her to the ground and left her. Autumn pulled herself up, brushed the dirt and sand from her jeans and walked back, wiping tears from her eyes.
“Est
oy aquí.” I’m here, she said to Marta.
“You okay?” Quin asked, handing her daughter back.
“Yeah, that about sums up our marriage,” she said. “Let’s go.”
Quin escorted them up to the golf carts, where he introduced them to Jimmy and Hawk, who both smiled and put them at ease.
“Autumn, you and Marta will ride with me,” Quin said. “Hawk, you’ll ride with Jimmy and follow behind us. Agent Lopez will drive the truck through customs and meet us back at the house.”
Lopez stepped out of the cave and Quin helped her walk the metal door forward along its track. He waited for her to lock it and when he heard Lopez start up her truck, he returned to the golf cart and started the engine.
The headlights illuminated the walls of the tunnel, accenting shadows in the rock crevices. Quin drove forward slowly as they descended the steep ramp, the cart sliding even as he applied the brakes. Jimmy’s cart bumped Quin’s again, launching them down the ramp into an uncontrollable slide.
“Momma!” Marta said, tucking in closer and clutching her mother’s arm. Autumn comforted her, stroking Marta’s hair.
Quin accelerated to gain better control of the slide as the rock walls seemed to close in on them. He understood why his niece was afraid; it smelled musty in here and was cooler than up top. When he hit the flats, he continued faster, with Jimmy and Hawk trailing.
“How far do we have to go?” Autumn asked.
“Exact distance? Not sure. It took us forty minutes to get here.”
“We’ll be down here for forty minutes?”
“If all goes well. It’s the only way to get across the desert without the border patrol spotting us,” he said, steering over a rut. The cart scraped the wall on Autumn’s side.
“I hate this place,” she said. “You never forget the smell.”
“You’ve been here before, haven’t you?”
She was silent, clutching her daughter.
“Autumn, the night you disappeared, did they bring you through the tunnels?”
She nodded and wiped another tear. He drove with his eyes locked on the bouncing high beams, waiting for her to explain how and why she’d been kidnapped.
“What happened?” he asked.
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“The bureau will want to know. They’ve invested resources to find you. Hell, I need to know before you tell them. For years I’ve lived under a cloud of suspicion. Some people think I killed my parents and my sister.”
In The Company of Wolves_Follow The Raven Page 18
