“So if I’ve got this right, you’re investigating your aunt’s suspicious death. And her neighbor’s murder. You also have the disappearance of this kid Diego. There are two guys down here following you who are so well connected the Pentagon gets stonewalled. And some rich prick gets his Bentley blown sky-high. And I almost forgot the murders on the beach.”
“The two guys might not have been following me. They could have picked up my tail from when I visited my aunt.”
“Meaning their focus was her not you, which lends credence to the theory that she was murdered.”
“That’s how I see it,” said Puller.
“Which prompts the question of what the hell she was involved in that would get her that kind of attention. You sure she wasn’t some retired spy with a dark past?”
“If she was, she was damn good at keeping her cover. No, I think she found out something down here and that’s what got her killed. I wish she had been more specific in her letter, but she wasn’t.”
“You mentioned mileage on her car.”
“Right. Five miles out and five back. At least that’s my speculation. Jane Ryon said that five miles east seemed the best bet. But I’m not sure about her now, considering what happened to Cookie.”
“Have the police found her?”
“Don’t know. By now they should have, I guess.”
“She might be able to clear some things up if she is involved.”
“Maybe.”
“So what’s the next move?”
“You really sure about this, Julie? I mean, you don’t have to do this.”
“I’ve been covering enlisted men’s backs most of my career. It’s why I’m beloved by the rank and file. Besides, my last few vacations have followed similar patterns and have been pretty boring. And my J2 assignment, while necessary for my career path, is pretty damn uninteresting at times. I need some excitement.”
Puller looked across the table at her. “Well, I think you came to the right place. But keep in mind that at least four people have died so far.”
“I can take care of myself.”
“I thought the same thing about me, and I almost bought it. The punks I dealt with are nothing special. I just messed up but got lucky. I can’t count on being lucky again.”
She looked across at him, her amused features turning more serious. “So we treat this just like combat?”
“Just like combat,” he replied.
“So the next move?”
“The most obvious. We find out if the police have picked up Jane Ryon.”
“And if they haven’t?”
“Then we find her, before someone else does.”
“You really think she killed this Cookie person?”
“I have no idea. But if she did, she also might have killed my aunt.”
“And all the other stuff that’s been happening down here, you think it’s all connected?”
Puller thought about this for several long seconds while the sounds of traffic picked up out on the street as Paradise came to life.
“I don’t believe in coincidences.”
“Meaning what exactly?”
“Meaning exactly that I don’t believe in coincidences.”
CHAPTER 56
When they came out of the diner a police car was zipping past. It screeched to a stop and Cheryl Landry leaned her head out.
“You’re not going to believe this,” she began, before her gaze came to rest on Carson.
Puller noted this and said, “General Julie Carson, Officer Cheryl Landry.”
As Puller’s gaze swiveled between the two women he felt a pang of guilt. He had been out twice with Carson, though the first time was not a real date. However, he sensed the general was interested in something deeper than mere friendship. Landry clearly wanted a relationship with him. Thus having the two women together was deeply discomforting.
Carson nodded and said, “Nice to meet you, Officer Landry.”
“I’ve never met a general before.”
“Well, now you have, and we don’t look any different from anyone else,” said Carson.
“I won’t believe what?” said Puller.
“Two more murders. At the Plaza Hotel two blocks down. Two guys in a bedroom stabbed to death, it appears.”
“Two guys,” said Puller quickly.
Landry nodded. “I know what you’re thinking. I don’t know if it’s the same two who you think have been following you.”
“You want us to come?” asked Puller.
Landry glanced at Carson and then at Puller. Puller, sensing her indecision, said, “Make the offer to Bullock. He can make the call if he wants.”
“Thanks.”
“Did you pick up Jane Ryon?”
But Landry had already hit the gas and the car had sped off.
Puller looked at Carson. “Two more dead.” “Who knew Paradise could be so damn bloody,” said Carson. “And of course it can’t be a coincidence,” she added, raising her eyebrows at him.
“Don’t think so.”
“So we wait until we get the okay from this Bullock guy? And what about Ryon?”
“We can check her out. But while we’re here I want to find out something else.”
She followed him down the street and away from the beach. The sun seemed to be fighting its way to the top of the sky with astonishing speed. Carson wiped a bead of sweat off her brow and picked up her pace so she was walking next to Puller.
“What’s this place we’re heading to?” “Diego’s.”
They passed the Sierra and Puller arrived at the building with the blue awning. He marched up to the second story and knocked on the door. No one came.
He knocked again.
And then a third time.
He heard footsteps and relaxed slightly as Carson looked at him expectantly.
The door opened. Puller had thought it would be one of two people. Diego or Isabel. Well, maybe three if one counted little Mateo.
It was none of them.
The woman standing there was in her sixties, short and plump with brown hair streaked heavily with silver. Her face was thickly lined and a prominent mole had grown in the crevice between her cheek and nose. She was dressed in sweatpants, cheap sneakers, and a dark top. She looked curiously from Puller to Carson.
“Si?”
So this was the abuela, thought Puller, the grandmother.
“Habla inglés, senora?” asked Puller.
“Yes. Poquito”
“My name is John Puller. I know Diego and Isabel and Mateo. I helped them out the other day. They might have told you.”
“Yes, they tell me.” Then her face collapsed and her shoulders started to shake. Puller put a hand under her arm to keep the woman from
slumping to the floor.
“What’s wrong?” he asked her.
“Los nińos, they no here.”
“Where are they?” asked Puller.
“Donde estan los nińos?” amended Carson.
“No sé. Desaparecido.”
Puller looked at Carson. “They vanished?”
Carson nodded. “That’s what she said.”
Puller said, “Have you called the police? He llamado a la policía?”
She shook her head. “No policía. Nunca la policía.”
Carson said, “Doesn’t sound as though she likes the police very much.”
“She could be undocumented. And the kids too.”
“Right.”
Puller looked at the sobbing woman and said to Carson, “it could be the guys I beat up. But something feel me it’s not. But Diego did help me track down the two guys.”
“So the two guys made them disappear?”
“I guess that’s the most likely answer. Diego was following them. Maybe they spotted him and Isabel and Mateo were with him.” Puller felt sudden guilt for involving Diego in this.
“Unless the two guys are lying dead at the Plaza.”
“Still could have been them. Dieg
o and his cousins might have escaped from them.”
“After killing the two guys?” Carson said skeptically.
Puller looked at the woman again. “Lo siento. Podemos ayudar de alguna manera?”
The woman shook her head and told Puller that only God could help her now. She shut the door and Puller stood staring off over Carson’s shoulder.
“Should we report it?” she asked.
“We might do more harm than good if the kids are okay. They might end up getting deported.”
“Better than being dead, John.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“We can ask around. Maybe someone has seen them.”
“That’s a good idea. Diego has some friends around here. They might know something.”
It took them twenty minutes to locate two of Diego’s friends. The first had not seen Diego for two days. The second one had seen him yesterday.
“Was he with anyone?” asked Puller.
The boy held out his hand.
Puller put a five-dollar bill in it.
“Yes.”
“Who?” asked Carson.
The boy held out his hand again.
Carson put a dollar bill in it. The boy said nothing.
Puller said, “You tell us something useful there’ll be more. Otherwise, the ATM is shut down for the day.”
The boy looked around and said, “He is with the dueńos de la calle.”
“The street kings?” said Puller.
“Yes. The street kings.”
“What is he doing with them?”
The boy held out his hand and Carson put another dollar bill in it.
“I think he is trying to join. If he is, he is stupid. They are a very bad gang.”
“What about Isabel and Mateo?” Puller asked. The boy withdrew his hand and put the cash in his pocket. He shrugged. “I do not know about them.”
“Where do we find the street kings?” asked Puller.
“You do not want to find the street kings, sewor,” said the boy.
“Actually, yes, I do. Where?”
Puller held out a twenty. “Ahora!”
The boy gave them an address and then ran off.
Puller looked at Carson. “You don’t have to go with me.”
“The hell I don’t. This is just getting interesting.”
“You have any weapons?”
“You’re asking a one-star if she has any weapons? Other women might like shoes and nail polish. I grew up on Winchesters and Colts on a farm in Oklahoma. So I brought some goodies with me.”
“Okay. So we might want to gun up for this.” “Hell, John, I don’t think there’s any ‘might’
about it.”
CHAPTER 57
The small shack sat behind an abandoned- looking building ten blocks off the water. It was in an area that would be discreetly described as in a transitional stage, meaning don’t go there at night and also try to avoid it during the day. The place looked dead and wasted and nothing like Paradise and its emerald beaches relatively close by. It seemed that the town’s beauty was only skin deep. A few layers under the surface it became quite ugly.
Three young men were standing outside the building and taking turns tossing knives at tin cans set atop a Dumpster. They were good enough that each one consistently knocked the cans over from a distance of ten feet.
“Decent aim.”
The men whirled, their hands dipping to the guns in their waistbands.
And then they stopped reaching for their guns.
Puller stood there holding an MP5 set on two- shot bursts. Carson had not been kidding about weapons. And flying on military transport had allowed her to bring whatever guns she wanted.
“Wise decision,” said Puller, coming forward and lifting his gaze past them and to the windows of the shack. They were covered and he saw no one trying to peek through to get a sightline on him with a weapon.
“Got a question.”
The men looked at him warily. Puller could tell they were trying to think of some way to turn his tactical advantage into a disadvantage.
But he wasn’t worried because the MP5 at close quarters was a difficult nut to crack.
“His name is Diego. He has two cousins. Isabel and Mateo. Where are they?”
The men said nothing.
Puller moved closer. “Diego, Isabel, and Mateo, where are they?”
The men remained silent.
Puller moved a foot closer. With one sweep of the MP he could lay all three down for eternity.
He shifted the fire selector on the MP to full auto. “I’ll ask one more time and then I won’t ask again.”
“We don’t know where they are,” said one of the men, staring at the muzzle of the MP.
“But you did know, right?”
The three men looked at one another. The man who had spoken shrugged. “Hard to say.”
“No, it’s really not. You just have to say it.”
Puller moved another foot closer.
The men smiled.
Puller thought he knew why.
“I wouldn’t,” said Puller. “I’m not the only one here.”
The men stopped smiling.
It was in the comer of Puller’s eye. A fourth man.
He’d come around the building’s east side. He had a slim compact pistol aimed at Puller’s head.
“Check your chest,” said Puller.
The man flinched, looked nervous, but didn’t look down, obviously suspecting a trick.
The other men glanced over. The one who had spoken swore under his breath as he saw the red dot squarely over the man’s heart.
He said something in Spanish. The man with the gun looked down, saw the dot. He swore too, lowered his gun.
Puller pointed his MP at him. “Why don’t you lose the gun and join the discussion group.”
It wasn’t a question.
The man dropped his gun and walked over to the others, the red dot following him the whole way.
“Diego and his cousins,” said Puller. “They were here and now they’re not. So where did they go?”
The four men glanced nervously at one another.
“Glancing and not talking tends to make me very angry,” said Puller. “And when I get angry I do unpredictable things.”
He put the fire selector back on two-shot bursts and fired some rounds above their heads. They all instinctively dropped to the dirt.
Puller eased his finger off the trigger and said, “Where?”
The men rose on trembling legs. One of them said, “They took them.”
One of the other men glared at him and looked ready to punch his colleague.
The speaker sensed this but hurried on. “They were taken last night. The man paid one thousand dollars for them both.”
“Both? Which both?”
“Los niňios. Diego y Mateo.”
“Who paid one thousand dollars?” Puller said sharply.
“Like I said, un hombre.”
Two of the other men hissed, but the speaker looked defiantly back at them.
Puller said, “What was his name? What did he look like?”
Before the other man could answer there was a roaring sound. Puller looked to his left and saw the pickup trucks coming. In the truck beds were men standing and holding a lot of firepower and looking ominously in Puller’s direction.
In Puller’s earwig Carson’s voice crackled. “I think retreat is the order of the day,” she said.
Puller grabbed the man who had answered him and they ran off.
The trucks veered off to give chase, but several shots rang out and both trucks ground to a halt with flattened tires. Two men fell out of one truck bed as it screeched to a stop.
Puller turned the corner with the man in tow and saw the Tahoe up ahead. He double-timed it and saw Carson coming down from her high perch on another building carrying her scoped rifle. She jumped into the passenger seat. Puller threw the man into the rear seat and leapt into the driver
’s seat as he heard feet pounding down the road and men yelling in Spanish.
He hit the gas and the Tahoe sped off, turned a corner, and disappeared in the maze of streets.
Carson had her rifle pointed at the man in the backseat. She studied him calmly. “What man took the boys?”
Puller glanced at her.
She said, “I heard over your earwig.”
She looked at the man in the backseat. “We need some details.”
The man shook his head.
“You’ve come this far,” said Carson. “In for a dime, in for a dollar.”
The man looked at Puller. “You are big. Like the other guy.”
Puller glanced at him in the rearview. “What other guy?”
“The big guy. Bigger than you. He can fight.” “Is he staying at the Sierra?” asked Puller.
The man nodded. “He picked up one of our guys like he was nothing. Threw a knife twenty feet point-first into a wall. El Diablo.”
Puller glanced at Carson. “The same guy who saved my butt the other night.”
Carson looked at the man. “El Diablo have a real name?”
The man shrugged. “No sé.”
“Is he the one who took los niňos?”
“No.”
“Who did, then?”
“Nose.”
Carson moved her finger closer to the trigger of her rifle.
A smile crept across the man’s face. “You won’t shoot me.”
“Why?”
“Because you are military. A general.”
Carson looked down at the one-star ring she had on.
The man said, “I was in the military once. Not yours. From my country.”
“Sorry to see you’ve fallen so low,” snapped Carson.
Puller said, “We want to help Diego and Mateo. That’s all. Help us do that. They’re just kids.” “They are beyond help.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I know that. And I don’t care. They’re not my problem.”
Carson looked at Puller and shrugged. “Open the door,” she said.
The man said, “What?”
“Open your door and jump.”
“What?”
“Jump!”
She pointed her gun at his crotch. “General or not, you jump now or you’ll be missing some very vital parts.”
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