It wasn’t long before Jake turned off the road again, this time driving behind several cinderblock buildings. Liz had her driver turn down the road between the buildings and a gas station, and drive slowly past the road Jake had turned on.
She spotted her brother’s car parked along the back of the buildings.
“Stop,” she told her cabbie. She glanced back at the Pemex station. “¿Necesitas gas? I’ll pay.” She mimed giving him money.
“Sí. Gracias.”
He drove back to the gas station and pulled up to the pumps. While he filled the tank, she climbed out of the car and walked to the back of the lot so she could see behind the other buildings. The rental car was still parked at the side of the road, but unlike before, Jake and his friends were standing outside.
She wished she could hear what they were talking about, or, at the very least, knew the reasons for all these stops. They had to have something to do with Nate, but what?
After a few minutes, her brother, Orlando, and Daeng turned back to their car and climbed in. Liz ran back to the taxi. While the pump hose was no longer sticking into the gas tank, her driver was nowhere to be seen. She whipped around, looking everywhere for him, but she had no idea where he was.
She was going to lose her brother. She’d made it this far, but now she was going to lose him and that would be that.
Dammit!
Somewhere off to her right, a door swung open. She looked over and saw her driver exiting the toilet.
“Hurry,” she said, waving at him. “Hurry, please. ¡Vámonos!”
He began walking more quickly.
She pointed back at the highway. “Come on, come on. They’re going.” She climbed into the cab.
It was a full five minutes before they caught sight of Jake’s rental again.
It’s okay, she told herself, trying to relax. It’s all right.
Deep in the city, Jake parked his car, then he and his friends got out and started walking away. Liz decided to chance that they wouldn’t turn right back around and drive off, so she gave her driver another five hundred pesos, got out of the cab, and let him go, sure the man was happy to be rid of her.
Following on foot was nearly as tricky as it had been in the car, but she used her smarts and erred on the side of caution whenever necessary. Twice she lost them, but each time she caught sight of them again within a few blocks. They became very interested in an abandoned building, moving in and out several times alone or in pairs, sometimes bringing bags from stores back with them. Finally all three left so she followed again.
Several minutes later, they entered another building, this one not empty. As much as she wanted to follow inside, she didn’t, and instead waited in front of a small grocery shop just down the street. They were there for nearly twenty minutes. When they came back out, Daeng split off on his own, while Jake and Orlando headed in her direction.
Liz stepped quickly into the store, moving down one of the aisles to avoid being seen from the doorway. Pretending to browse, she kept flicking her gaze toward the entrance. It wasn’t long before she saw Jake and Orlando walk into view and then right back out again as they kept going.
Liz counted to ten, then headed out to the sidewalk. She was just in time to see her brother and his girlfriend turn down the next street. Judging by the direction they were going, she was almost positive they were headed back to the abandoned building.
Playing the hunch, she took a different route, running part of the way, and was able to get into the same hiding place she’d previously used half a minute before Jake and Orlando came into view.
They moved the loose board away from the window and entered. The street fell silent.
Liz figured Daeng would show up shortly, and she was right. What she hadn’t expected was that he’d bring a police officer with him.
Daeng was acting strangely, too, like he was in a hurry. When he reached the window, instead of moving the board to the side, he banged on it. When he hit it a second time, it slid out of the way. Orlando was standing just on the other side, something dark on part of her face and in her hair. Like Daeng, she seemed panicky. Soon she moved out of the way so the other two could enter, and the wood fell back into place.
What the hell is going on?
Liz hesitated for a moment, unsure what to do. Finally, she decided she had to take the chance, and moved quietly over to the board-covered window. She put her ear against the wood, heard distant footsteps, then nothing. Again, she hesitated. She could go back to where she’d been hiding and guess at what was going on, or actually find out.
Before she could talk herself out of it, she eased the board back just enough so she could peek inside.
At first she could see nothing, then her eyes adjusted to the lower light. Beyond the window was a large, gritty space littered with garbage. There was no one present.
You’re doing this for Nate, she told herself. She took a deep breath and slipped inside the building.
As soon as she had the board back in place, she paused and listened. She had been hoping to hear something that would tell her which way they’d gone, but it was quiet. Thankfully, there was dust on the floor that recorded footprints leading back and to the left.
The prints stopped at a shut door. She put her ear against it, and heard faint, muffled voices on the other side, but could make nothing out.
She circled off to the right but came to an impassible wall. She went back in the other direction, passing the closed door, and continuing on until she came to an extension of the same wall from the other side. Frustrated, she started back for the point where she’d begun, but then noticed a bundle of cloth at the base of the wall that surrounded the room. The material seemed to be stuck into the wall.
She knelt down and tugged at it. The cloth was so weatherworn that it tore off in her hands. More gently this time, she worked at the bundle until it came all the way out, revealing a hole on her side of the wall.
She looked through it. There was no corresponding hole on the other side, so she turned her head, hoping to hear what was going on.
“…manhunt.” Jake’s voice, distant but understandable. “What happened to the man you apprehended in Reynosa?”
Someone else spoke up, an accented voice that she guessed belonged to the cop. “We didn’t catch anyone. The manhunt failed.”
“Try again.”
“I’m telling you, we didn’t catch anyone.”
There was a loud bang. Liz jerked her head back, her ear ringing.
What in God’s name was that?
She lowered her head again, but her ear was temporarily useless, so she turned and tried the other one.
Her brother again. “But there was a man?”
“Yes.”
It was quiet for a moment. “Is this him?”
“Yes.”
Nate? Are they talking about Nate? They must be.
“Where did you fly him to?” her brother asked.
“Outside…outside Tampico.”
She continued to listen until the man stopped responding, then made her way quickly out of the building and all the way back to where her brother had parked his car.
Her mind was running a mile a minute. Not only had her worst fears been realized—no, not worst, but damn close—she’d also heard how ruthless her brother could be, the bang she’d heard undoubtedly a gunshot. She knew she should be horrified, but she didn’t feel that way.
She felt a sense of…satisfaction.
She focused her thoughts back on Nate. What could she do? How could she help him get free? Could she do anything at all?
Though deep down she feared the answer was no, she wasn’t willing to give up yet.
Her brother’s next, logical stop would have to be Tampico, wouldn’t it? Though Nate wasn’t there anymore, maybe there’d be something that would point to where he’d been taken.
She spotted a cab turning onto the street a block away. She stepped out into the middle of the road and waved he
r hand.
“Aeropuerto,” she said as she climbed in. “Rápido.”
When she arrived at the airport, she was able to get onto a flight that was leaving forty minutes later. The next flight out wasn’t for another two hours. She sat in her seat, her eyes glued to the door, expecting Jake and the others to come through it at any moment, but the doors closed without them boarding. She was going to beat them there.
For a moment, she felt relieved. But it didn’t last long.
What if they’re not going to Tampico at all?
CHAPTER 31
NATE BARELY PARTED his eyelids as the door to his cell opened.
Janus entered, carrying something. “I bring water for you.”
“Go away,” Nate whispered.
A laugh, deep and scornful.
There was a clacking sound Nate couldn’t place, followed by a moment of nothing, then pain, everywhere pain, as a bucketload of water splashed down on the exposed wounds across his back.
Arcing his whole body, Nate screamed. “You bastard!”
He wanted nothing more than to jump up and slam a fist into Janus’s face, but his legs refused to move off the bed.
More laughter as the pain echoed in waves, each as strong as the last. Nate cringed as he tried to force the pain away. He could feel another scream of agony growing in his belly, but he refused to release it.
“Get. Out!” he managed.
“You want more water, you let me know,” Janus said. “Oh, and even if you are tempted, I would not lie on my back if I were you.”
There was a final bout of laughter as the man left and the door closed.
Sleep. I just need to sleep, Nate thought, desperately clawing at oblivion.
But as soon as his mind started to relax, there was another scream from down the hall as Janus played his water trick on one of Nate’s cellmates.
Nate slowly moved his hand into his pants pocket and gripped the bolt, as if it were a talisman that could give him the power he needed. Surprisingly, doing so seemed to relieve a bit of the pain, and he finally felt sleep begin to sweep over him.
As it did, he thought he heard Liz’s voice again.
“Keep your head clear, and always be ready. It’s the only way you’ll make it.”
“I love you,” he mouthed soundlessly. “I love…”
CHAPTER 32
EASTERN MEXICO
THE NAMES ON the Post-its were once more nagging at Quinn. Maybe it was just being on a plane again, but he was sure there was something there.
Peter. Berkeley. And either himself or Nate.
He tried slotting in each of the other names, looking for a combination that might ring a bell.
No.
No.
No.
Nothing. No set of players that made any sense.
He finally gave up and looked over at Orlando. She had her laptop open, and, against airline regulations, connected to the Internet via an unused channel she’d hacked into through the plane’s own datalink system.
“Anything on the cargo plane?” he asked.
“Oh, yeah. Got that a while ago,” she said.
“And you weren’t going to tell me?”
“You were resting.”
“I was not resting.”
“Well, that’s what it looked like.”
He frowned. “So, the plane?”
“Byrd Cargo. Named after founder Norman Byrd. Established nineteen sixty-five. Based out of Tampa, Florida.”
“Anything on the specific aircraft?”
“On a long-term charter.”
“To who?”
“A company called Gene/Sea International. And before you ask, they don’t exist.”
“And Byrd Cargo knows this?”
“No. Gene/Sea’s got a pretty good front. Websites, bank accounts, PR releases. They claim to be a biochem company focused on the ocean. Even have a few research papers you can download. All very legit-looking.”
“But they’re not real.”
She looked over at him, her face blank. “Didn’t I already say that?”
“Yes, you did,” he conceded. “Who are they fronting for?”
She looked back at her screen. “That part, not so easy.”
“That’s what you’re trying to figure out now?”
“No. A little difficult from here. I have a friend looking into it.”
“So what’s that you’re working on?”
“I finally got some hits back on one of the bots I sent out.” Her bots were programs that wormed their way through the Internet, looking for whatever they’d been instructed to find.
“Concerning?”
“Senator Lopez.”
“And?
“And what my bot dug up might not mean anything,” she said. In a tone indicating Quinn should have already figured that out, she added, “Which is why I’m working on it.”
“What did it turn up?”
She took a deep breath, and turned to him again. “Sweetheart, let me figure out if this means anything, and if it does, you’ll be the first to know. Cool?”
Quinn held up his hands in surrender. “Cool.”
She looked unimpressed. “Can I get back to work now?”
“Be my guest.”
He leaned back in his chair, thinking he could get a couple minutes of shut-eye before they began their descent.
Just as he was drifting off, Orlando shook his arm and said, “Hey!”
He opened his eyes, sleep retreating as fast as it had come.
“What? Now you’re ready to talk?”
Her face scrunched up. “What are you talking about?”
“Lopez? I didn’t just dream all that, did I?”
“Don’t worry about Lopez right now.” She nodded her chin at her screen. “Just got an email from Crissy Franklin.”
Franklin was one of the people they’d contacted, trying to locate one of the ops on their potential-missing list.
“And?”
“She says Maurice Curson is unaccounted for.”
Quinn thought for a moment. “Curson? He wasn’t on our list.”
“We didn’t include him because he’s been out of the business for a few years.”
“Blackballed,” he said, remembering. Something had happened on one of Curson’s jobs that forced him out of the game.
“Apparently he’s been working private security since then,” Orlando said. “But Crissy says he recently got a gig, a real gig. He was supposed to be back a few days ago, but there’s been no sign of him.”
Quinn frowned. “The connection’s kind of iffy, don’t you think?”
“We should still put his name on our list.”
“If you think so,” Quinn said.
A bong sounded throughout the cabin. A flight attendant came on the intercom, telling them in Spanish that they were descending into Tampico, and that electrical devices needed to be turned off and stowed away.
As soon as they were on the ground, Quinn checked his phone. There was a message from Steve Howard asking him to call back via vid-chat ASAP. Unfortunately, there wasn’t any place private enough in the small terminal to see what he wanted, so they arranged for a car first, and made the call from inside the sedan.
Quinn held his phone out so that both Orlando and Daeng could see Howard’s face when it appeared.
“Sorry for the delay,” Quinn said. “What’s up?”
“I was finally able to get a look at the security footage from Peter’s building,” Howard said. “Unfortunately, there’s a chunk missing.”
“From when?”
“Seven days ago. Eleven p.m. to one a.m. I’ve checked all the days between that and when Misty came to the apartment, and also five days on the other side, but found nothing unusual.”
“So you think seven days ago is probably when he went missing?”
“It is when he went missing,” Howard said.
Quinn’s eyes narrowed. “Explain.”
“Peter’s
building isn’t the only one with security cameras. I checked the others in the area, and hit the jackpot on a building same side of the street and a few doors down. One of their cameras is aimed just wide enough to catch the front of Peter’s building. Here, let me show you.”
Howard’s face disappeared as he pointed his camera phone at a laptop sitting on a table next to him. On the screen was a nighttime image of a street. The camera that had shot it obviously had a low-light setting, because despite the hour it was taken, it was easy to make out details.
“This was shot at 11:57 p.m. You see that station wagon?” A finger moved into view and pointed at a car parked along the left edge of the screen. “That’s right in front of Peter’s building. That’s where you should pay attention.”
The finger pulled out of the picture, and the image began to move, jerking for a moment as Howard played it at an increased speed, then slowing to normal as a van pulled up next to the station wagon. Four men exited, and the van drove away. The men walked purposefully toward Peter’s building and were soon out of frame.
Quinn’s jaw tightened as the picture paused.
“There’s an eight-minute span when nothing happens,” Howard said. “I’ve cut that out.”
The security footage started playing again. The street remained quiet for a few more moments before the van returned, pulling to a stop in the same spot as last time. It sat idling for several seconds, then the men exited the building, only their number had increased by one. Peter was propped between two of the men, his head drooping forward.
As disturbing as that was, the thing that stuck out the most to Quinn was the image of one of the four men with Peter, the same man Quinn had keyed in on when the group originally climbed out of the van. A bald man, the same size and shape as the man who’d been in Bangkok, whom both Burke and Moreno had confirmed was their contact.
He glanced at Orlando and Daeng and saw they’d made the connection, too.
The image stopped again and Howard reappeared. “I ran the van’s plates. Stolen, and so far not recovered. I could keep hunting around, but I think we’ve pretty much run out of leads here.”
“No, it would be a waste of time,” Quinn agreed. “Can you stand by in DC in case something else comes up?”
The Collected Page 16
