Like Sam, Gabriel Montoya served in Mark’s Special Forces team before making Delta. But Gabriel’s father was a powerful San Matean official. Gabriel left the country years ago and joined the US Army. His father was currently in jail after challenging Ruiz.
“How’d the archangel take that?”
“He’s pissed, but he knows it’s the right call. He may still be involved.”
“Anything I should know?”
“I’m in standby mode.”
Mark nodded knowing Sam couldn’t say more. “I’m looking for Emilio Estrada.”
“Because…”
“One of his men is in trouble. And I’ve got some intel for both him and you.”
Sam tipped his head toward the darkened room beyond. “Shouldn’t you report to your agency boss?”
“You can do it,” Mark replied as casually as possible. “He likes you, wants you on his team.”
“Told him no twice.” Sam narrowed his eyes. “You about to get your ass in a sling again, Cap?”
Cap, what his men had called him in Afghanistan. After he was promoted from lieutenant to captain.
“Let’s say both he and I are better off if we don’t have direct communications right now.”
Sam shook his head and led him to the back. The lights were off, but Mark made out the shape of a man leaning against a wall, holding a pistol across his chest.
“Ah, your CIA friend, Mackenzie,” the man said to Sam. “Juan Marcos, we meet again.”
Mark recognized the voice. Emilio Estrada, San Mateo’s top intelligence officer.
“I have information,” Mark said.
“About?” Estrada replied in accented English.
“Victor Fuentes.” He quickly explained Fuentes’s situation.
“He will get new identification and be taken to a safe place.” Estrada shifted in the dark. “That is all?”
“Troop movements.” Mark recounted what he’d seen.
Sam flicked the overhead light on.
The San Matean intelligence officer looked ashen. A bandage wrapped around his chest, beneath his open shirt, explained the pallor. Bearded like Sam, but heavier, older, maybe mid-forties, he lowered a Beretta M9. “We had reports, but this confirms even more than we knew.” Estrada pulled out a chair, sat and placed the Beretta on top of a worn table cloth that covered a long rectangular table, and Mark suspected, hid more guns from view.
“Was another of your men with you when you saw this?” Estrada asked.
Mark didn’t answer.
“We cannot afford even a hint that the Americans, especially the CIA, are involved,” Estrada said.
“Yet you’re in this house.” Mark stated the obvious.
“There was a…complication.”
“No doctors on your side?” Mark asked, guessing that the complication involved Estrada’s wound.
“I cannot risk a doctor at this time.”
“Our medics are good,” Mark said. “What happened?”
“I failed to protect Arturo Herrera.”
“He’s dead?” Laura would be devastated. The opposition demoralized.
“No,” Sam said quickly. “They took him. Estrada took the bullet intended for him.”
“The sons of bitches were going to kill the Interior Minister?” Mark looked from Sam to Estrada.
“That would have been an enormous error, but Ruiz does not have the best or smartest of men,” Estrada said with a weak laugh. “Come Juan Marcos. Sit.” He pointed to a chair across from him at the table.
Mark sat, lifted the table cloth, and looked beneath to find several handguns and a Heckler & Koch G28, Sam’s Delta issued sniper rifle. Mark threw Sam a questioning look.
“No, neither your government nor mine has decided to assassinate anyone,” Estrada said. “Unless you have orders?”
Mark ignored Estrada’s question and asked Sam, “Are you alone?”
Sam laughed as he sat beside Mark.
No, he wouldn’t say. Couldn’t. Not in front of a foreign intelligence officer, maybe not in front of Mark. While Delta often worked with Langley, it didn’t mean that Joint Special Operations Command allowed operators to share orders. JSOC, like the agency, wouldn’t be happy about giving away the location of the safe house, even to a friendly agent, despite complications.
“Secrets, my friends, we all have them,” Estrada said with a smile. “You have told me about my man and made your report to your Delta friend. Is that all?”
“I’m looking for someone. A boy taken by Ruiz.”
“What does a boy have to do with Ruiz?”
“He’s Arturo Herrera’s grandson.”
Estrada’s expression tightened, his gaze steady on Mark.
“You know,” Mark said. “You knew.”
“His mother came to me.”
This was the friend Laura mentioned? “And you blew her off?”
Brows drawn, Estrada said nothing for a moment. “I am not always sure of American idioms. The one I know that has these words is vulgar and would not apply to the minister’s daughter.”
Hands clenched, Mark said, “You didn’t help her.”
“It was the only thing to do. She and the boy are American. Your government knows Ruiz wanted to use her and her son to capture her father.”
“The child hasn’t been returned.” Mark challenged.
“The boy will not be harmed.”
“Your say-so can’t be a guarantee of his safety.”
“There are never guarantees, Marcos.” Estrada tilted his head from side to side, stretching, as if in pain. “When has the CIA become involved in rescuing anyone? That is the job of Mackenzie.”
Mark decided not to say anything more about Laura or her son. While Sam might divulge some of his orders, at least enough that Mark didn’t walk into an ambush, Estrada was under no obligation to do so. His only concern was the survival of his government.
“I’ve been hired by Ruiz as a bodyguard,” Mark said.
Estrada raised a brow. “Inside or outside?”
“Inside.”
“If you are caught—”
“I won’t be caught.”
“Any plan to go into Ruiz’s compound is foolish,” Estrada said. “If you’re discovered, not only will you place yourself in danger, but your presence could present problems during this delicate time.”
“Delicate in what way?
Estrada shifted in his chair before speaking. “All will be resolved in three or four days. By Monday or Tuesday at the latest. The boy will be safe then.”
“It would be best if I don’t interfere with your plans by mistake.”
After a few moments of silence during which Estrada studied Mark, the agent said, “Herrera’s grandson is not in Ruiz’s compound. He was there briefly, but was taken away. Ruiz and his wife returned today. The boy is safe.”
“How do you know?”
“I know.” The agent didn’t blink.
Mark bit back frustration. “Where is he?”
Estrada clenched his hand on top of the table. Mark didn’t envy the man the decisions he had to make, not with a child in danger. He understood because he’d been in situations where he had only one purpose in mind. Anything that interfered with that purpose was ignored. But he’d never had to choose to ignore the plight of a small boy. Estrada was a hard ass. He had to be.
“Unless you want to risk having me compromise something you’ve set up,” Mark said, “you need to tell me what you know and what your plans are.”
A few tense seconds passed before Estrada spoke. “We have surveillance of the compound. Two men in neighboring houses. The boy is not there. Ruiz has many houses in the city. These houses are not listed as Ruiz’s. It is impossible to tell you where he is.” He paused, took a breath, and added, “Margarita will care for the boy.”
“How can you be sure?”
“I am sure,” he said simply.
What the hell did that mean? Before Mark could ask more questions,
Estrada continued.
“Arturo Herrera knows the boy has been taken. The child has the advantage of being an American citizen.”
Had Herrera asked the Americans for help?
“Are diplomats involved?” Mark asked Sam.
Estrada answered for Sam. “We are soldiers. We know nothing of diplomats.”
“Are you here to rescue the boy?” Mark asked Sam.
“Sorry, man. I told you. I’m awaiting orders,” Sam said.
Hell and damn. Either way, whether Delta was here for the boy or to work with Estrada, there would be huge risks. He trusted Sam, trusted Delta. But operations could go wrong. As Estrada said, there were never guarantees.
Chapter Twelve
Laura placed yet another wine goblet back in the china cabinet in the dining room. She’d spent the morning at Ruiz’s house, a compound that took up an entire city block in a wealthy part of the capital, making sure all was in order for the upcoming parties Rosa had said would take place. Ruiz probably planned to wine and dine more power players into his orbit, maybe his way of calming things down after moving so many troops.
“Laura,” Rosa said from kitchen doorway in an excited voice, “Doña Margarita says we will have many guests tomorrow night! At least fifty.”
Someone would recognize her for sure. Now that she knew Tony wasn’t in the house, there was no reason to stay, but she had to find where Ruiz was hiding him.
“This is not a dinner,” Rosa continued. “Only hors d’oeuvres and drinks. I have the names of the bakery and liquor store. You’re to go and verify that there will be enough and that it will arrive on time.”
“Does Doña Margarita have a wait staff?”
“The bakery will send two. That is all we need. You will manage them.”
“Of course, Señora Rosa.”
“Go now. We must be ready.” She handed Laura a slip of paper with names and addresses. “Do you know where these are?”
“I know the streets. I’ll find them.”
“Rosa,” Margarita Ruiz said entering the kitchen. “I’m leaving now. If Don Ernesto returns before me, please tell him I am with friends.”
“He will be—”
“He won’t miss me. Leave me to my pursuits.”
Rosa pursed her lips, but said nothing more.
“Laura,” Margarita turned to her, “come, help me get my packages into the car and I’ll take you to the bakery. It’s on my way.”
Laura followed Margarita Ruiz out of the kitchen, through the dining and living rooms. Whoever decorated this house had captured the flavor of San Matean high society, with its combination of European furnishing and touches of native culture.
“Do you like the house?” Margarita asked.
Surprised the lady of the manor would bother asking a servant, Laura replied honestly. “It’s beautiful. Very beautiful.”
“It is too big,” Margarita said softly.
“It’s grand.”
“The space, the furniture, they are grand.” She stopped as she reached the door to her office. “But...”
“It’s all beautiful, Doña Margarita. You should be pleased.”
Margarita Ruiz seemed to focus again, straightened and donned her usual imperious look. “Yes, I am.” She pushed open the door. “Come. Help me take these to the car and we’ll go.”
The small, tastefully feminine office lay strewn with shopping bags and gift wrapping paper.
“You are going to a party, Doña Margarita?”
“¿Qué?” Margarita picked up an envelope from the elegant antique desk.
“Are the gifts for a child’s party?” Laura asked.
“A party? No.” She put the envelope in her purse. “No party. Just things that will make someone happy.”
Laura bent to grab an oversize paper shopping bag from the floor next to the desk. A glance inside made her heart tighten. A large blue bucket full of Legos. Tony spent hours building airplanes and cars. She forced calm into her voice. “The child will like these.”
“That is what I am told. That little boys like these things.”
“They do,” she replied, touching the top of the bucket.
“I understood Rosa to say your children are babies.”
Startled from her thoughts of Tony, Laura jerked her head up. “They are.” She had to think of something to say. “My son will like something like this when he is older.”
But Margarita Ruiz was already picking up another shopping bag, this one with something bulky inside. “Bring that and the boxes from the desk.”
They hurried out, encumbered with the packages. One of the ever-present guards put them in the back seat and Margarita ordered Laura into the front passenger’s side.
“I am driving again today, Julián,” she said to the guard.
“Doña Margarita, Don Ernesto ordered me—”
“Don Ernesto is not here. I am ordering now. You will stay here. There is no danger.”
Julián frowned. He was probably scared of what Ruiz would do to him.
“Don Ernesto did not go alone. He had Felipe with him.”
“That is Don Ernesto’s choice. My choice is to go with my maid.” She held out her hand for the keys.
After a second’s pause, the guard gave them to her. “Be careful, por favor.”
“I’ll tell Don Ernesto of your concerns if he learns of this. Don’t worry.”
“Gracias, Doña Margarita,” Julián replied.
And again, Laura was surprised by Margarita’s manner in dealing with the help. Having lived in San Mateo most of her life, she knew how unfair people could be with servants.
As Margarita Ruiz drove through the gates of her enormous and elegant house, Laura heard the bags shift in the back seat. Turning, she grabbed at one bag, but it fell over and a soccer ball spilled out.
Her breath caught. The ball was signed by the starters of the San Matean national team. Just two months ago, one of her cousins had the team sign one for Tony, for his birthday. He loved that ball so much he’d wanted to bring it with them when they left the States.
First the Gummy Bears, now the Legos and the ball.
Por Dios, was it possible that Margarita Ruiz was on the way to where Tony was being held? Or was that a huge assumption? Was she getting ahead of herself because she so wanted it to be true? Most little boys in San Mateo loved soccer, fútbol, as it was called. Probably Legos and Gummy Bears, too.
A horn honked, jerking Laura back to the moment. She put the ball back in the bag, straightened, and faced forward.
Margarita drove like most natives of the city, switching lanes at will, dodging other cars and madly honking her horn.
“This is the bakery. The liquor store is around the corner,” Margarita said as she pulled her car to the curb.
“I can go with you and help.” If she was right and found Tony, Laura would have to pray he didn’t give her away until she could get him out of wherever he was being kept.
“No. That’s not possible. You will make sure the orders are correct and will arrive on time. Go, chica.” Margarita nodded toward the store.
With no choice but to do as she was told, Laura got out. But she could follow. She tried to flag down a taxi, but it didn’t stop. Her heart sank. She ran a few yards, but it was no use. Margarita’s car was gone. She so wanted to scream, to grab someone, anyone, to take her to her son.
But all she could do now was make sure she followed Margarita’s instructions and then go back to the house. She’d find a way to search the woman’s office. Search wherever she had to. There had to be something, some clue that might tell her if Tony was the child she’d gone to see.
***
Mark removed the detection device ear phones and placed them on Ruiz’s desk next to the electronic surveillance detector. He’d been given a white dress shirt, khaki pants and blue blazer to cover his holstered gun before being ushered into the office by Gonzalez who’d spit out orders like the world was ending.
�
��What have you found so far?” Gonzalez had been carefully watching him for the last few minutes.
“Every room in the house is clean,” Mark replied. He was seriously surprised he hadn’t found anything. Estrada either couldn’t get anyone inside to plant a bug, or he had some kind of electronic surveillance from a neighboring house along with the men he’d posted there. “I haven’t checked Doña Margarita’s office.”
“She left. Check her office now. It’s the last door on the left.”
“What do I do when I finish?”
“Await Don Ernesto’s return. There will be much for you to do. Report to me when you finish.”
Gonzalez left and Mark gathered the bug detector and ear phones. Estrada had said Ruiz had Tony in another of his houses. Mark hadn’t had a chance to search for papers about Ruiz’s local properties because Gonzalez had the annoying habit of coming in and out of the office.
As soon as Mark heard the man’s footsteps fade away, he turned toward the file cabinet against one wall. Nothing lay on top. A quick pull on each handle told him it was locked. Same with the desk drawers. He’d have to make sure Gonzalez was out of the house before he broke into them. The desk top held only a blank notepad and the telephone.
He carried the detection equipment down the hall to Margarita’s office and opened the door. Very feminine, with smaller, more decorative furniture than Ruiz’s, the floor was covered with empty shopping bags. A roll of blue wrapping paper had been left on a chair.
He liked to work toward the right, so, pulling on the scanning ear phones, he started. Systematically, he checked everything, then approached the desk. Most of the shopping bags lay around it, so he removed the ear phones, put them and the detector on the cluttered desk, and bent to pick up the bags.
A miniature cast iron toy car, a blue Corvette, had rolled under the antique desk. He squatted down and caught movement in the corner of his eye.
“You found something?” Gonzalez asked from the doorway.
“It’s nothing. Just a toy car,” Mark replied, before reaching for it.
That’s when he saw her.
Laura. Under the desk. Hell. Only her tennis shoes were visible from this angle.
He picked up the tiny blue ‘vette and held it out to show Gonzalez. “Must be something a child left here. A nephew maybe.”
Whatever it Takes (Shadow Heroes Book 4) Page 14
