by Tom Fowler
“What? What’s going on?”
Zeke put his hands up. “Relax. Everything’s fine.”
Lexi grabbed her phone off the nightstand and glanced at it. “Why are you getting me up at seven-thirty, then? I don’t have a class until ten.”
“When was the last time you went to the range?”
“I don’t know.” Lexi rubbed sleep from her eyes. Her grandfather clearly wasn’t going to let her go back to bed. “Ten days, I guess.”
“Good,” he said. “We’re going today. Get dressed. I made toast and eggs.” He closed the door on his way out.
Even her father would’ve let her remain asleep. He might have gone shooting himself at this hour, but he’d never drag a sleeping student out of bed and make her tag along. “Dammit.” She tossed the covers back and stood. Lexi took some clothes to the second bathroom, freshened up, tied her hair back into a ponytail, and joined her grandfather at his table. He’d already poured her a mug of coffee, and the color indicated he added the right amount of milk. She forced a smile and took a sip.
“Gotta keep your shooting up,” he said. “I picked a pretty good unit here, but these cartel bastards might come, anyway.”
“Your place isn’t that big, Grandpa.” She spooned some scrambled eggs onto her plate next to the toast Zeke put there. They looked yellow and fluffy, and the smell made her realize how hungry she was. “I’m pretty sure I could hit someone from the end of the hallway.”
“Pretty sure ain’t the same as sure. Certainty keeps you alive.”
“Could it let me sleep another hour next time?”
Her grandfather looked over the top of his glasses at her. “Range isn’t crowded in the morning. We might also catch the cartel napping. We’ll leave when you finish your breakfast.”
Lexi wolfed down two pieces of toast and all the remaining scrambled eggs. She wanted a second mug of coffee, but she figured Zeke would try to put her over his shoulder and carry her downstairs if she made him wait any longer. “I’ll just get my pistol.” She fetched the Glock 19 from her bag. “Do I need a carrying case?”
“Normally, yes,” her grandfather said. “I know these guys, so they won’t hassle us.” He picked up a large duffel bag, and metal clanged inside as he carried it toward the door. “You drive.”
They took the elevator down to the lobby. Zeke insisted on walking out first, and he scanned the area in both directions when he did. Once he gave her a thumbs up, they walked to the Accord and got in. “I’ll keep an eye out for anyone following us,” Zeke said after he buckled up. Lexi guided the car out of the complex and listened to her grandfather’s directions. They took Route One north, drove across the Conowingo Dam, and entered Cecil County. Despite his vigilance, Zeke didn’t raise any alarms, so she presumed the coast was clear.
Trees and open spaces dominated the landscape. Lexi couldn’t tell the roads apart here. Her grandpa knew where he was going, however, and it turned out that what looked like another farm was actually a gun range. She parked the car, and they walked inside. The burly man behind the counter, who looked like he could fix a misfiring rifle by bending it with his bare hands, smiled when they entered. “Chief Tyler!”
“Barry, how are you?” The two men bumped fists. “Bringing my granddaughter here to get some shooting in.”
“She know what she’s doing?”
“She does, in fact,” Lexi said. She looked at some paper targets tacked to the wall. Very tight groupings. “I can do as well as anyone you’re displaying up there.”
Barry offered an appreciative nod. “All right, all right. Why don’t you two take stalls four and five. You need a box of ammo?”
“Yes.”
“You go ahead, Lexi,” Zeke said. “I’ll pay for the ammo and join you in a couple minutes.”
She took a set of ear protectors and the box of bullets to the fourth stall. A small stack of paper targets sat on the slapdash table. The range operators already set them up on the fifteen-yard and twenty-five-yard boards. She slipped the ear protectors on, racked the slide on her Glock, and took aim at the closer marker. Her finger slid inside the guard, and the pistol fired as fast as she pulled the trigger. When the slide locked back, Lexi looked at her target. A very tight grouping.
After prepping another magazine, she sighted the twenty-five-yard target. Her dad first took her shooting when she was twelve, but she didn’t tell her mother about it until she was sixteen. If someone kicked in the door to her grandfather’s place, she knew what to do. Nineteen more bullets screamed down the range. When she’d emptied the clip, Lexi looked at another cluster of holes around the bullseye.
Her grandfather took his spot in the next stall a moment later. In the past, she’d seen him bring large rifles. Today, his bag held a pistol, an AR-15, and several spare mags for each. They both blasted targets for another hour or so. Lexi’s box ran out, so she watched Zeke pepper a bullseye with the AR-15 from two hundred yards. He did better at close range, but every shot at the farther target would have been debilitative to a person. “Let the cartel come,” she said when they walked back across the parking lot.
“Don’t be bloodthirsty,” her grandpa said. “We’ll be ready for them.” As they put their stuff in the Accord and got in, Lexi noticed one of the range workers climbing onto a motorcycle. Zeke followed her gaze. “I told Barry a little about what was going on. He was an ensign when I first made it to chief.” The old man smiled at the memory. “Anyway, the guy on the bike is going to follow us back to my place and make sure we don’t have any issues.”
“You think we will?” she asked as she put the car in reverse and backed it out.
“If we do,” Zeke said, “I think the three of us will handle it.”
Lexi glanced over at her passenger and grinned. “Don’t be bloodthirsty, Grandpa.”
26
Rollins arrived early, a few minutes before seven. The coffee pot beeped its completion a moment before he knocked on the door. Each man sat with a mug in front of him when another knock came on the front door. Tyler moved to the entryway and peered through the peephole. A Hispanic man waited on the porch. “Name, rank, and serial number,” Tyler called after moving to the side.
“Lorenzo Aguilar,” the man answered. “Civilian. No serial number, SKU, or barcode.”
Tyler opened the door, and Aguilar entered. He was tall and lanky, probably six-three but only about a hundred seventy pounds. His short dark hair matched the fresh stubble on his face, and a few wrinkles and worry lines marked him as being in the neighborhood of forty. Tyler made the introductions, and Aguilar helped himself to a cup of java. “Today’s recon day?” he asked as he joined Tyler and Rollins at the small table. Three wasn’t a crowd, but four would have been.
“I’m going to sneak closer and get a better look,” Rollins said.
Aguilar nodded. “I brought something I think can help, too.”
Tyler poured the remaining coffee into a thermos, grabbed a few travel cups, and the three men walked outside. “We’ll take the SUV,” Tyler said. “It’s quiet.”
“A Tesla?” Aguilar said. “Someone’s fancy.”
“I didn’t buy it.” Tyler unlocked the doors. “I . . . acquired it from the original owner.”
Aguilar pulled up the gull-wing door and climbed into the back. “Did he die tragically?”
“I strangled him with my belt,” Tyler said. “No tragedy involved.”
“I hope there’s some backstory there.”
“You have no idea,” Rollins said from the passenger’s seat.
Tyler backed the Model X out of the driveway and guided it down the road. He remained vigilant for cartel hitmen. No one stood out to him. After a little traffic on the Baltimore Beltway, they picked up I-95 North and made good time to Bel Air. A few minutes later, Tyler turned off Route 543 into the swanky Talbot Lakes community. “Héctor’s house is at the end of this main road,” he said. “There are a few smaller streets farther down. A toady works in the mod
el house on the last side street.”
“You think we can be unobserved?” Aguilar said.
“Look around,” Tyler said. “Just about every car carries a luxury badge of some sort. The Tesla will blend in.” In short order, they passed a Cadillac Escalade, an Audi Q7, and a Jaguar sedan parked in various driveways. “I brought my car here the first time. It stuck out.”
“Good thing you murdered a rich guy and took his car,” Aguilar said.
“If we get any fancier,” Rollins said, “I got dibs on finding someone with a Bentley.”
Aguilar shook his head. “Rolls Royce all the way. One of you two can chauffeur me about.”
“Very good, sir,” Tyler said in a bad British accent.
The end of the road appeared as they rounded a bend. Tyler swung the Tesla around and curbed it a few houses from Héctor’s—facing out of the neighborhood in case they had to make a quick getaway. From this vantage point, they had eyes on Rodolfo’s and Héctor’s houses, and Rollins reported he could see the model home from the passenger’s side. They remained in the car, and each man watched a different part of the operation. After a half-hour, they’d seen no car or foot traffic. “I think it’s time to get a closer look,” Rollins said.
Tyler nodded. “Be careful. Keep a line open.”
“Roger that.” Rollins opened the car door, closed it with barely a sound, and padded off toward Héctor’s property. Tyler watched him in the rearview mirror. He walked down the sidewalk, hands in his pockets like he was just another person from the neighborhood. When he came to a large tree at the edge of the house, Rollins scampered behind it. From there, he looked around, kept low, and headed toward the fenceline. Tyler lost him in the other trees and foliage a moment later.
His phone buzzed, and Tyler put the call on speaker. “I’m at the fence,” Rollins said in a whisper. Looks like there’s a gate on the driveway side. Got a guard about ten yards away. I’ll see if he’s walking a patrol.”
“How many guys you think Héctor has here?” Aguilar asked from the back seat.
Tyler shrugged. “It’s a guess. We’ve taken out seven of them. I figure he’s gotten some replacements by now, but in terms of actual cartel soldiers, he can’t have more than eight to ten on hand.”
“What about the guy in the model home?”
“He’s in business with Héctor,” Tyler said. “But he’s an American toady, not a fighter.”
Aguilar grunted an affirmative. A moment later, Rollins spoke up again. “He’s moving around the back. I’m gonna hop the fence and see what’s going on.”
“Roger,” Tyler said.
“He a ninja or something?” Aguilar said.
“More or less. I’m not sure I’ve ever worked with someone who could make like a ghost quite the same as Rollins.”
“All well and good, but what if they happen to spot him?”
“He has a vest and a gun.” Tyler patted the steering wheel. “And this baby has a ton of instant torque.”
“I’m getting some pictures,” Rollins whispered. “Pretty standard house . . . just big. I definitely think things are happening in the basement. I’ve looked through a window and seen people go up and down stairs.”
“There a walkout anywhere?” Tyler said.
“Negative.” Rollins paused. “Not so far, at least. I haven’t made it to the gate side yet. Most houses put them in the back, though. My guess is Héctor made a deliberate choice not to have one.”
Aguilar dropped the other rear seat and reached into the cargo hold. “What I brought can help.” He opened a large duffel bag and slid a white and gray drone out. It had four blacked-out propellers and a small camera mounted on its underside.
“Rollins, come on back,” Tyler said. “We’re going to use Aguilar’s drone.”
“On my way.” Tyler kept an eye on the mirror. A couple minutes later, Rollins hopped over the fence, moved in a crouch to the tree, then straightened and walked back toward the Tesla. He climbed into the passenger’s seat. “I got some pictures. I’ll share them with you later.”
Tyler popped the lift gate. Aguilar used the remote to fly his small aircraft out of the SUV. He guided it over the trees and above Héctor’s house. “The video is live,” he said. “It goes to an app on my phone and gets backed up to the cloud almost in real time.” Aguilar glanced at his mobile. “I see the guard. He’s looping away from the gate now.” His thumb pushed the left joystick to the right. “Normal slider. Looks about five feet high and reinforced. I doubt you could ram it down with a civilian vehicle.”
“What about a basement exit?” Rollins said.
Aguilar shook his head. “Nothing. I think you were right. He didn’t want one.” Both his thumbs slid up. “I’m moving it higher and taking it around to the back.” Tyler half-turned in his seat, but it was difficult to make anything out on Aguilar’s small screen. “Bringing it down. I want to try and see inside the house.” A moment later, large windows came into focus on Aguilar’s phone.
“Can it zoom?” Tyler asked.
“About as ably as a phone camera,” Aguilar said. “It’s not a super advanced setup, but it works pretty well.” He paused. “Shit. I think someone spotted the drone.” He navigated it up. A shot rang out from somewhere on the property. Another soon followed, and the video feed cut out. Tyler fired up the Tesla and drove it away from the curb. Once they rounded the curve, he stomped on the gas, and the electric motors surged the SUV ahead. At the end of the road, he turned left on Route 543—away from the interstate—and pulled into the next development a half-mile up. He turned around in the cul-de-sac and left the Tesla pointing out. After a few minutes, it became clear no one was following.
“Can they trace anything back to you?” Tyler said.
Aguilar’s head wagged from side to side. “It’s all anonymous. The purchase, the wireless setup, the accounts . . . all of it.”
“Can we still access the footage?”
“Up until right before the drone took a bullet, yeah.”
“You want to call it a day?” Rollins asked.
Tyler grinned. “Not yet. They haven’t found us. Let’s go raise a little more hell.”
The three men watched the drone footage on Aguilar’s phone screen. Tyler wished there were a way to beam it to the Tesla’s much larger display. There might’ve been, but he didn’t know it, and he didn’t want to lose time searching in the event the cartel’s goons showed up. The footage showed a large house, but Tyler thought the grounds looked a little small. The forest the development butted up against limited Héctor’s backyard. Still, he owned the largest home in the community, and could boast of a gate and armed men to keep prying eyes at bay.
“I’m surprised there’s no walkout,” Rollins said as the camera zoomed in on the driveway. It continued past the gate, turned left past the rear wall of the house, and ended at the patio. “If someone’s delivering something, they have to take it into the house first. It would be more efficient to drop it off in the basement.”
“If cartel people can come in, so can the cops,” Tyler said. “I think Héctor’s trading efficiency for access control and an early warning. If law enforcement kicks the door in, whoever’s upstairs is going to raise hell. Plenty of time to conceal things in the basement.”
“Makes sense,” Aguilar said. “I know a lot of Americans like to paint foreigners as uneducated, but the cartels know what they’re doing.”
The rear of the house didn’t look like anything special. A large bay window allowed the camera to see inside. Past the dining room, people used a door in the hallway to enter and exit. It must have been the stairs to the lower level. The drone elevated suddenly, and the second story flew by in a blur before the feed cut out. “Sorry about your toy,” Tyler said.
Aguilar shrugged. “I’ll put it on your tab.”
Tyler looked at Rollins. “This is getting to be an expensive operation. No more picking up dinner.”
“On a serious note,” Aguilar
said, “I’d like to take a stroll around the neighborhood. You mentioned Héctor and his crew deal to some people who live nearby.” Tyler bobbed his head. “Good. They know who you are, so you can’t go. No one’s seen me before, and I have the benefit of looking like I might work for the cartel.”
“Keep a line open,” Tyler said. “Call if you think you’re made. We’ll come get you.”
“Roger.” Aguilar climbed out of the Tesla and jogged back to Route 543. A few minutes later, he dialed Tyler’s mobile. “I’m on the main drag. Not much activity.” A couple more minutes passed in silence. “Okay, I’m closer to Héctor’s. I can sort of see it around the bend.”
“Don’t give away your position,” Rollins said.
“I’m crouching in someone’s backyard,” Aguilar said. “They don’t appear to be home.” He paused for a moment. “Here comes a customer now. White guy in a track suit walking away. I’m gonna talk to him.”
A strange voice came through the speaker a short while later. “Who the hell are you?”
“No need to be alarmed, sir,” Aguilar said. Tyler thought he heard a bit more of an accent in his voice now. “I noticed you leaving Mister Espinoza’s house.”
“What?” the other man said. “No. No, I just . . . I thought it was my friend’s place.”
“You thought your friend lived in the biggest home on the street? Come on now. Just tell me what you were doing there.”
“You can’t search me. You’re not the cops!” The sound of shoes clapping against concrete filled the car.
“He’s running away,” Aguilar said.
“So we gathered,” Tyler said. “You going after him?”
“Negative. Trying not to stand out too much. I’ll go back to where I was before.”
Silence resumed. The minutes ticked by. Tyler and Rollins exchanged a few glances. Right when Tyler thought about packing it in, Aguilar came back on the line. “Got another one. They did this deal out of the back. Bigger guy. Looks like he might’ve played football in college.”
