Guerrero took a deep breath. “They will be fine,” he said. “Soon they will be back safe with their families.”
Laura had claimed one of the sleeping bags for her own, placed it behind her, and sat down on the concrete floor, leaning back on the sleeping bag propped against the adobe wall. She didn’t know what was going to happen, but pacing back and forth nervously, the way Billie Sue and Aubrey were, wasn’t going to solve anything. Stacy followed Laura’s example and sat down beside her. After a while, Carmen did likewise. Shannon stood at the door, gripping the bars and peering out of the cell.
After a while, Stacy said quietly, “If they were going to just kill us, they would’ve done it already, wouldn’t they?”
“I think so,” Laura said, and Carmen nodded in agreement.
“So they’re keeping us alive for a reason.”
“I guess. Ransom is still the best bet.”
“My father can pay ransom,” Stacy said slowly, “as long as it’s not too much.”
“Mine can’t,” Carmen said. “I’m doomed.”
Laura said, “Not necessarily. Maybe they just plan to ask for ransom for the girls whose families can afford it.”
“And what will they do with the others?” Carmen asked bleakly. “Send us to some whorehouse to work for them?”
Laura frowned. She hadn’t thought about that. Like the others, she had a general fear of being raped, but it hadn’t occurred to her that their captors could turn them into ... prostitutes. Looking at the situation logically, though, it made sense. The girls were young, most of them were reasonably attractive, a few were even beautiful. And a good percentage of them were probably virgins, although Laura didn’t know that for sure about anybody except herself. Of course, some of them definitely weren’t virgins—hello, Shannon, Laura thought with a faint, grim smile—but still they would undoubtedly fetch a good price from the proprietor of some Mexican whorehouse.
Laura closed her eyes. It didn’t do any good to speculate about what was going to happen to them. They were prisoners, helpless captives stuck off God knows where, and nobody was coming to get them. The kidnapping had been carried out with ruthless military precision. Guerrero and his men weren’t careless. Laura was sure they would have covered their trail. By now all of Laredo would know that they were missing ... but no one would have the slightest idea where to find them.
“Hey!” Shannon suddenly said to someone outside the cell. “Hey, you, come here.”
Laura wanted to tell her to shut up. Drawing attention to themselves couldn’t be a good thing right now. And yet drawing attention to herself was what Shannon did. It was as natural to her as breathing.
One of the guards came over. He was fairly tall and not too old, somewhere between twenty and twenty-five, Laura guessed. Handsome, too, with his thick dark hair and olive skin. His black T-shirt was stretched over well-developed muscles. He had an automatic rifle slung over his left shoulder.
“What is it you want?” he asked in reasonably good English.
“What I want is to get the hell out of here,” Shannon said. “What I’ll settle for right now is something to eat and drink. We’ve been locked up in here for a long time, and you haven’t given us anything.”
That was true. Laura’s mouth was dry, and her stomach cramped occasionally from hunger.
“Someone will bring food and drink soon,” the guard said.
“You can’t go get something for us now?” Shannon asked.
The young man shook his head. “I must stay here, as ordered.”
Shannon leaned against the bars. “What’s your name?”
He hesitated, obviously unsure whether he should answer or not. Finally he said, “My name is Ricardo.”
“Like Ricky Ricardo on I Love Lucy?” Without waiting for him to answer, Shannon went on. “I’m gonna call you Ricky, okay? Ricky, I’m really hungry and thirsty, and if you were to help us out, I’d appreciate it so much. You just don’t know how grateful I’d be.”
Shannon was going to be disappointed, Laura thought. She wasn’t going to be able to manipulate this man with her patented blend of innocence and sexiness, the way she did with high school boys—
“I will see what I can do,” Ricardo said.
And as he hurried off, Shannon turned and grinned at Laura, as if she knew exactly what the other girl had been thinking.
Nine
Tom’s eyes narrowed angrily as he stared at Special Agent Morgan. “What do you know about Little Tucson?”
“I know you were right in the thick of that mess out there a while back. You were the one who started that so-called Patriot Project. It was illegal, you know.”
Tom shook his head. “That’s not what the courts said. Every lawsuit that was brought against us was thrown out. Anyway, what’s an FBI agent doing siding with the ACLU?”
“Who said I was siding with the ACLU?” Morgan snapped. “I just know that it’s not right for civilians to take the law into their own hands.”
“Tell that to the Founding Fathers.”
“People like you always bring up the Founding Fathers. That was a long time ago. The country was a lot different place then. You get a bunch of crackpot vigilantes running around now, all it’ll lead to is anarchy and mob violence ... just like what happened in Little Tucson.”
“There were no crackpots in the Patriot Project,” Tom said. People who preached tolerance the most usually had the least tolerance when it came to other folks’ opinions. We weeded out the troublemakers and we had as many Hispanic members as we did Anglos. And there was no mob violence.”
“Half the town was shot up, and dozens of people were killed.”
“Only because M-15 declared war on us, and we had to defend ourselves.”
“And don’t get me started on Hiram Stackhouse,” Morgan went on, ignoring him. “Congress should investigate him and his operation for antitrust violations, not to mention racketeering.”
Tom’s frown deepened. As a small-business owner, he had plenty of reasons to be less than happy with Stackhouse and SavMart, but the idea of the government cracking down on a business simply because it was successful, well, that just wasn’t right.
But then, the government punished success all the time, he reminded himself. All you had to do was take a good look at the income tax laws to see that.
None of which mattered a damn right now or had anything to do with Laura’s kidnapping. Tom forced himself to remain calm, and said, “Look, my wife and I came down here to help my sister-in-law get through this. That’s all.”
“Just keep your nose out of our investigation,” Morgan said.
Tom looked around and saw that Bonnie and Kelly were sitting on the sofa, Kelly talking in low tones. Not wanting to intrude, Tom moved over to the side of the room and sat down in an armchair. For now, he would just stay out of the way.
Morgan went back to talking to a small group of uniformed cops and other men in plainclothes. They might be FBI agents or detectives from the Laredo PD.
A man wearing a white shirt, dark jeans, a string tie, and a white Stetson came into the room. His alert gaze lit on Tom. Tom took note of the holstered automatic on the man’s hip and the badge fastened to his belt. The man pulled up another chair and sat down next to him. Politely, he asked, “Who might you be, sir?”
“Tom Brannon,” Tom introduced himself. He nodded toward the sofa. “My wife is Mrs. Simms’s sister. We flew in from Arizona to be with her.”
The man nodded and stuck out a hand. “Roy Rodgers, Texas Rangers.”
Tom couldn’t help but smile. The Ranger saw the reaction, chuckled tolerantly, and held up his other hand to forestall whatever Tom was about to say.
“King of the Cowboys, I know. In this case, Rodgers has a D in it.”
“Still seems appropriate somehow,” Tom said as he shook hands with the man.
“Brannon, Brannon ...” Rodger mused. “That name seems familiar, too.” His eyebrows rose as he obviously mad
e the connection. “You say you’re from Arizona?”
“That’s right.”
Rodgers let out a low whistle. “I don’t reckon there’s a lawman in the country who didn’t hear about all the trouble out there. You folks had your hands full.”
“Yes, but the illegal alien traffic in the area has fallen off dramatically, and the bad guys steer clear of Little Tucson most of the time.”
“Imagine that,” Rodger said with a grin he didn’t bother to conceal. “Honest citizens stand up for what’s right and defend themselves, and the bad guys start steering clear of them. I don’t reckon we need a five-year, fifteen-billion-dollar government study to figure that one out.”
Tom returned the grin, sensing a kindred spirit in the Ranger. He nodded toward Morgan and said, “The FBI lady over there didn’t seem to feel the same way.”
“Her head’s still stuck inside the Beltway. This is Texas.”
Those three words seemed to sum it up. Quietly, Tom asked, “Do you know any more about this kidnapping than what’s been talked about on the news?”
Rodgers hesitated, then said, “I’m not sure I could discuss it, even if I did, but as a matter of fact ... no. Everything we know has been leaked to the media already.”
“On purpose?”
“Not by the Texas Rangers,” Rodgers said sharply. “I don’t know where the leaks came from.”
“The Feds, more than likely.”
Rodgers shrugged.
“I didn’t mean any offense by that question, Ranger,” Tom said. “Can you tell me anything about the kidnappers?”
“Los Lobos de la Noche,” Rodgers said. “As big a bunch of bad-asses as you’ll find anywhere, Mr. Brannon. I don’t want to add to your worry about your niece, but those are some really dangerous men.”
“I’d say a dozen people killed is proof enough of that.”
“Tip of the iceberg. The Night Wolves have been responsible for hundreds of murders over the past five years. They work for one of the cartels trying to take over all the drug smuggling in the region.”
“So most of the time it’s bad guys killing other bad guys,” Tom guessed.
“Exactly. That’s not to say we’ve turned a blind eye to it. The Rangers, the DEA, the Border Patrol, local authorities ... we’ve all been trying to put a stop to the war, especially when it spills over onto American soil. Haven’t had much luck so far, though.”
Tom leaned forward in the chair and clasped his hands together. “This kidnapping—could it have anything to do with the war between the cartels?”
“Don’t see how. This strikes me as more of an independent operation by Guerrero and his men.”
“Guerrero?”
“Colonel Alfonso Guerrero. He’s the head honcho of the bunch.” Quickly, Rodgers sketched in the background of the Night Wolves and their leader. Tom listened intently, his amazement growing as the story unfolded. To think that such a vicious gang could have been trained in this country, by American military and law-enforcement personnel ... it boggled the mind how something with such a good purpose could have gone so bad.
Tom asked, “What if there’s a connection between one of the girls on that bus and a rival cartel?”
“We’ve thought about that,” Rodgers admitted. “We’re looking into the background of all the girls—that’s one reason we’re here now—but no link has surfaced yet.” He looked at Tom with added interest. “That’s the sort of question a cop would ask. What is it you do again, out there in Arizona?”
“I own an auto-parts store. Have for years. Never worked as a cop or anything like that, but my best friend for years was the sheriff of Sierrita County.”
Rodgers nodded. “I remember. He got hurt real bad in all that trouble, didn’t he?”
“Yeah,” Tom answered shortly. Buddy Gorman would never be the same again, that was for sure.
The Ranger said, “I’ve got a favor to ask of you, Mr. Brannon.”
“Sure. What is it?”
“When you talk to the media—and you will have to talk to the media before this is over, you can count on that—I’d appreciate it if you’d keep any speculation to yourself. We don’t want to tip off anybody on the other side to what we’re thinking.”
Tom said, “I’ll watch what I say.”
“Thanks. I’ve got a hunch that we’ll need all the help we can get.”
Tom looked at Special Agent Morgan across the room. “I don’t think everybody feels that way.”
Rodgers said, “Remember what I said about Texas.”
Tom frowned. He knew that Rodgers wasn’t telling him it was all right to take the law into his own hands. Even here in the Lone Star State, which was proud of its wild-and-woolly past, vigilantes weren’t encouraged.
But Rodgers wasn’t too proud to listen to what a civilian had to say, either, Tom sensed.
“Do you think the girls have been taken across the border?” Tom asked.
“Seems likely. Guerrero knows that we can’t follow him across the Rio Grande. That would create too much of a political stink, from Washington to Mexico City.” Rodgers sighed softly. “Was a time when the Rangers didn’t let something like an easily forded river stand between them and doing what was right.”
“What about the Mexican authorities? Can you count on them for any help?” Tom recalled that officials of the Mexican government had pitched a hissy fit about the Patriot Project, while sitting on their hands and refusing to do anything about the illegal immigration problem themselves.
“We can count on them to say they’re doing everything they can.” Rodgers’s meaning was clear—the Mexicans weren’t going to go after Guerrero.
“So I guess we wait.”
“Yeah.” The frustration was plain in the Ranger’s voice, which explained why he was talking so bluntly to this civilian. “We wait.”
“The kidnappers are bound to call sooner or later,” Tom said hopefully, gesturing toward the table on the other side of the room where an FBI technician with headphones on sat beside a laptop computer and several other pieces of audio and electronic equipment. When the kidnappers called with their ransom demand, everything that was said would be recorded, digitized, traced, and analyzed out the wazoo.
“We can hope that they call, but I’m not sure,” Rodgers said. “They work for a cartel that smuggles billions of dollars’ worth of drugs across the border every year. The amount of ransom they can collect from a job like this doesn’t amount to much compared to that.”
The more Tom thought about it, the more the same feeling had come over him. This wasn’t about the money.
There had been something—someone—on that school bus that the Night Wolves wanted.
Ten
Ricardo was true to his word. He came back to the cell about fifteen minutes later carrying a tray of sandwiches and a six-pack of bottled water. Two more guards were with him. They motioned the girls away from the bars. One of them unlocked the door and then stood back. He and the other man trained their automatic rifles on the girls while Ricardo opened the door. He stopped just inside the cell and placed the sandwiches and the water on the floor, then stepped out quickly and clanged the door shut.
“Thank you, Ricky,” Shannon said sweetly as she smiled at him. “If there’s ever anything I can do for you, you just let me know.”
The young man looked vaguely embarrassed. “Make the water last,” he advised. “There will be no more for you until morning.”
Then he and the other guards moved away down the corridor.
As Laura, Shannon, and the other girls tore hungrily into the sandwiches, they heard the doors of the other cells opening and closing. Obviously all the prisoners were getting their supper.
The sandwiches were just peanut butter and jelly, but they tasted wonderful after the long day with nothing to eat. The girls sat around on their sleeping bags and ate, and when they were finished, Carmen said, “Well, it wasn’t really a picnic, but I guess it’ll have to do.”
“And it wasn’t really what you’d call a hearty meal, so I guess we haven’t been condemned yet,” Stacy put in with a smile, surprising Laura. She didn’t think she had ever heard Stacy make a joke before.
Shannon took a sip of her water and said, “Don’t worry, they won’t let us starve. I’ll see to that.”
“What do you mean?” Aubrey asked.
“Didn’t you see how I’ve got that guy Ricky wrapped around my finger? He’ll do anything I want.”
“Yeah?” Carmen said. “Then tell him to let us out of here and take us home.”
“Well ... he’ll do anything I want within reason.”
“That’s what I thought.”
Shannon’s face flushed with anger. “Listen, bitch, I got us those sandwiches, didn’t I?”
“They were going to feed us anyway. Ricardo said so.”
“Yeah, well, you don’t know when they would have gotten around to it, do you? All I know is I smiled at him, and we had food and water.”
Carmen glared at her for a moment before muttering, “Don’t call me bitch.”
“Why not? How do you say it in Spanish? Puta?”
“No, that’s you, a whore.”
Both girls started to get up. Laura was between them. “Stop it, both of you!” she said. “We’re in enough trouble. We can’t afford to be fighting among ourselves.”
“Then tell her to keep her slutty mouth shut,” Carmen grumbled.
Shannon tossed her hair and said, “This slutty mouth of mine may be the only thing that keeps us alive.”
“Oh, I don’t doubt that your mouth will get a workout—”
“That’s enough!” Laura said. “Just stop it.”
Billie Sue said, “Who made the nerd the boss?”
“Don’t you know?” Laura shot back at her. “Nerds run the world. Ever heard of Bill Gates?”
“He’s got something to do with ... computers, right?”
Laura rolled her eyes.
“Don’t be a dumb-ass,” Aubrey said. “Bill Gates invented the Internet.”
Invasion Usa: Border War Page 6
