The Cartel (A Sarah Roberts Thriller Book 15)

by Jonas Saul

  The door was finally unlocked. One of the men swung it open while the other charged inside and dropped him in the middle of the cell.

  The men retreated, the door was slammed, and the external locks were applied.

  “I thought you’d never come back,” a man sounding like Aaron said.

  Casper shot his head up. “Is that you? Aaron?”

  “Who else would it be?”

  “But you’re dead!” Casper nearly shouted. “I saw you fall out of the helicopter.”

  “Yes, you did. But I’m not dead.”

  Casper got on his knees and crawled to Aaron where he touched his face, blew out a long sigh and then plopped down beside him.

  “What happened?” Casper said.

  “They planned it from the beginning.”

  “How? How did you know their plans?”

  “Those two men were killed for some infraction unrelated to us and our situation. They did it in front of us to show you how serious they are. Then the pilot flew away from where those bodies were dumped and hovered over their water reservoir.”

  “Reservoir?” Casper glanced up at Aaron.

  “When I jumped on the guy suspended from the safety line, I looked down. We were a high-diving board height away from a large rectangular reservoir. Spanish had two divers already in the water waiting for my inevitable fall. The sun glinted off one of their face masks. I knew when I hit the water that I’d be saved and brought back here.”

  Casper blew pent-up air out of his mouth. “I thought you died back there.”

  “That’s what they wanted you to think.”

  “The reservoir’s that big?”

  Aaron nodded, then ran a hand through his hair. “It’s at the back edge of the tree line.”

  Casper had a revelation. “I thought I saw the roof of the main house just before you leapt out of the chopper. We didn’t have far to fly back after you were gone.”

  “They need me alive for Sarah. I have to be their last resort. But I’m no good to them after they catch her.”

  Casper faced Aaron. “You’re that certain they’re going to catch Sarah?”

  Aaron nodded.

  Casper clapped his hands together. “We have to get you out of here. Once Sarah sees you’re safe, she’ll back off because if the Enzo Cartel gets their hands on Sarah, they’ll kill her before Vivian has anything to say about it. Vivian can’t stop bullets.”

  “How do you propose I escape this place?” Aaron asked.

  “You’re good with your hands, right?”

  “With my hand like this—” he held up the bandaged one that was missing a finger— “I only have one good hand.”

  “And your feet.”

  “True.”

  “I have a plan.”

  “Tell me.”

  Casper leaned in closer and explained his idea to Aaron.

  “If everything goes just right, I could see that working,” Aaron said.

  “Then let’s make sure everything goes just right.”

  After a minute, Casper witnessed one of the first genuine smiles on Aaron’s face he’d seen since arriving.

  Casper knew he would be dead this time tomorrow because of the escape idea, but at least Aaron liked the plan.

  There was that.

  Chapter 11

  The RV came to a complete stop. The engine cut off. Parkman breathed slowly, listening for movement at the front of the vehicle. The boys’ voices trailed off as they were led away from the RV.

  As much as he didn’t want to, Parkman had to move the duffel bag to gain access to more air. He’d pass out if he didn’t. Being discovered by the Mexican authorities wasn’t a problem for him. He was a kidnap victim. They would parade him in front of the media, showing the Americans that Mexican customs officers are on the job.

  The problem of discovery lie at Daniel, Benjamin and Alex’s doorstep. They would be charged with federal offenses as they snatched Parkman from an FBI safe house and tried to cross an international border with him. The three of them would be tied up in the court system long after the Sarah and Aaron issue was dealt with, and would spend time in prison even longer.

  But that was only if they discovered Parkman. No one knew Aaron’s teachers had taken him. If the RV was empty, then all the Mexican authorities had were three Canadian martial arts boys on an impromptu trip to Mexico for a tournament. Nothing wrong with that. Denied entry or not, they’d done nothing wrong if the RV was empty.

  Claiming to be a stowaway wouldn’t work. Once all the details were ironed out, they would know that Parkman had been taken. But it wasn’t against his will. He wanted to join the fight to save Aaron. He wanted to be in Mexico and not lingering in a safe house, watching TV and waiting on news of Sarah.

  So what now? Hope he didn’t get discovered or leave the RV?

  He listened for any telltale signs that someone was on board but heard nothing. A door opened and closed somewhere outside the RV. Sounds floated to him—traffic, a car engine backfired, someone laughed—but nothing seemed too close.

  Could he simply get up and walk away from the RV? Maybe hitch a ride somewhere? Weren’t they already on Mexican soil? Didn’t Mexican laws pertain to this area?

  Then someone stepped onto the RV. A loud bang resounded throughout the vehicle and he jumped. Being hidden under the bed kept his movement undetectable.

  The bathroom door opened. The drawers were rifled through. The door slammed. A closet was opened. The searcher spoke softly to himself. The tone was one of boredom, laziness. Something else banged.

  Parkman hadn’t pulled the duffel bag back in but now it was too late. Moving the bag now could prove dangerous.

  His nerves pinging, mouth wide open, eyes wide and feeling frantic, Parkman slid his right hand down his side until it bumped his weapon. Slowly, as the customs officer examined the RV near the bedroom, Parkman pulled the weapon and brought it up to aim where he would look under the bed.

  He waited.

  More bangs. More shudders. The RV rocked slightly.

  The duffel bag by Parkman’s face was kicked. The customs officer stopped moving.

  “Perfecto,” he whispered.

  The duffel bag was yanked out exposing Parkman’s face to bright sunshine.

  The officer wasn’t looking under the bed. He opened the bag and rifled through the clothes Daniel had brought along.

  Parkman was grateful the officer hadn’t pulled the other bag that held all their weapons. He moved the tip of the gun to aim at the officer’s lower leg and waited for him to finish, wondering why he hadn’t looked to his right yet.

  The officer had to be twenty years old. His face glistened with sweat and his hands shook. Why was he searching the RV alone?

  Then it all became clear.

  The customs officer produced a little baggie filled with white powder and dropped it inside the duffel bag. In that moment Parkman understood everything. They were framing the three boys. But for what? The RV? What could Daniel, Benjamin, and Alex have that the Mexican authorities wanted to arrest them on drug charges at the border?

  Unless they were made as Aaron’s teachers. That Mexican student Aaron had, with likely ties to the Enzo Cartel, could have supplied pictures of the teachers. The cartel would have a few customs guards in their pockets. Or they simply had Mexican authorities supply the photos to customs to watch for them. However it came to be, Aaron’s teachers were in a world of trouble and wouldn’t see the outside of a Mexican prison for many years.

  Unless Parkman could do something about it.

  The young officer zipped the bag closed with the drugs on the inside and was about to shove the bag back when Parkman cocked the weapon.

  The officer snapped his head in Parkman’s direction, eyes wider than any Parkman had ever seen.

  “Easy,” he said. “Move and I will blow a hole in your knee cap.”

  Chapter 12

  Sarah rode shotgun, literally. A large gun rested between her legs as Darwi
n raced through the streets of Tijuana like American soldiers speeding through the streets of Baghdad in their Humvees. They passed hundreds of faces, some devious, some offering cold stares, but none appearing hostile. At no point did they pass any Mexican police.

  “I’ll head south of Tijuana,” Darwin said. “Let’s see what’s down there.”

  “Good, because nothing’s happening here. I’m getting antsy sitting around, watching the buildings pass by.”

  “Is there anything else we could be doing?” Darwin asked.

  Sarah shrugged one shoulder. “I have no idea. We have no help from the authorities. Vivian’s quiet. We’re completely on our own and we have no idea where the Enzo Cartel is keeping Aaron. Darwin, I think I’m losing my mind.”

  She tapped her foot and bit into a thumb nail, trying to hold back the tears.

  Darwin turned onto the Via Rápida José Fimbres Moreno Highway and headed southbound. They rode in silence for five minutes before Darwin gripped the wheel with both hands.

  “I think we’re being followed,” he said.

  Sarah lowered in her seat and tried to locate the tail in the square Hummer mirror on her side. A black car stayed back about a hundred yards, pacing them.

  “I see two men in the front,” Sarah said.

  “Agreed.”

  “Is that an Impala?”

  “Looks like it.”

  “Feds?”

  “Doubt it.”

  “Then leave the highway and lead them to a secluded area and let me out when they lose sight of us briefly. Drive twenty yards and turn off the engine. I’ll do the rest.”

  Darwin turned her way. “You sure?”

  “Never more sure. Do it. They could lead us to Aaron.”

  Darwin reduced the Hummer’s speed and changed lanes to prepare to exit the highway.

  Chapter 13

  Diego studied the back of the Hummer like it would magically disappear if he looked away.

  “We’re going to be rich, man,” Diego said. “I can see it now.”

  Mateo drove well even with a few beers in him. It was Mateo’s car so Mateo drove, but Diego had tried to persuade him at the bar that maybe he should drive since he hadn’t drunk anything. But no, it was Mateo’s car.

  When they first saw the Hummer that Enzo’s people said needed to be located, Diego didn’t believe it. Like a gift, it pulled onto the highway right in front of them. Merged into traffic, pulled in front, and drove along like a lure to a waiting fish. The difference was this fish was a shark and the lure was easy prey. Mateo had called in to his contact immediately and was ordered to tail the Hummer until Enzo’s people could get in place.

  Diego slapped the dash above the glove box. “Damn, won’t those Enzo people make us rich now?”

  “Hey,” Mateo yelled. “Watch the fucking car. Don’t slap my shit.”

  “Take it easy, Homey.” Diego took his eyes off the Hummer for the time it took to look at Mateo. “When this is over, I’ll buy you a new car with the hundreds of thousands Enzo has put down for this stupid chocho.”

  Mateo’s face had broken out in a glistening sweat.

  “What’s wrong, cuate?” Diego asked as he turned back to watch the Hummer. “Scared to get your hands dirty?”

  “I gotta piss, man. Something fierce.”

  “You drank two beers. C’mon, you can hold it.” He playfully punched Mateo in the arm. “There’s no letting this Hummer out of our sight.”

  “Don’t fucking touch me.”

  “Hey, take it easy. Just playing around.”

  “Just don’t touch me or I’ll pull this car over and do some real hurting.”

  “Lose the tough act, Ese, and follow the Hummer. This ain’t no time to be fighting.”

  Diego rubbed his thighs and watched as the Hummer changed lanes. “Follow them, man.”

  “What do you think I’m doing?”

  The Hummer exited the highway at Boulevard Manuel J. Clothier and turned onto a residential street in the Castro Green area.

  “You know this area?” Diego asked.

  “Yeah, my cousin lived two blocks from here before going into the joint. I got this.”

  The Hummer turned a corner and disappeared for a moment. When they reacquired the target, it had sped up. Mateo called in the new location and dropped his phone between his legs.

  “You think they made us?” Diego asked, starting to sweat a little himself.

  “I got this, I said,” Mateo shouted. “I know how to follow people.”

  “Didn’t say that, shit for brains. Just asking is all.”

  “Call me that again,” Mateo shouted.

  “Take it easy,” Diego pleaded. “This is easy money. You want me to call that Enzo guy I know. Tell him where the Hummer is?”

  “No. I called it in, twice. You stay off the phone. We’ll deal with this. If they stop anywhere, we’ll knock the fuckers out and I’ll drive the Hummer to the Enzo Cartel, gift wrapped with its captives inside.”

  “Who’s gonna drive your Impala?” Diego asked, always wanting to drive the Impala, hoping he’d get that chance.

  “You, dumbass. But if you fuck it up, you pay for it twice out of your forty percent.”

  “Twice! No way—” he stopped talking. Then, “Hey, wait a sec. What forty percent? I saw the Hummer first. Fifty-fifty or fuck off.”

  “Ain’t no fifty-fifty,” Mateo growled. “It’s my car we followed them in. I’m gettin’ reimbursed for that shit.”

  “Ain’t no money for nobody you don’t focus on the job,” Diego said, pointing out the windshield. “They’re getting away.”

  The Hummer had turned another corner up ahead where the street narrowed and was lost to sight again. It would take Mateo a precious five seconds or more to get to the corner.

  He revved the engine as the Impala shot forward. He came around too fast at the corner, the back tires emitting a minor squeal.

  The Hummer had stopped by a grassy patch.

  Mateo jammed the brakes and slowed down to a crawl, then stopped twenty yards behind the Hummer.

  “What now?” Diego asked. He wiped sweat out of his eyes. “Can’t you turn up this air conditioning shit?”

  He switched a dial on the dash. Mateo slapped his hand away.

  “Don’t fucking touch the car. You’re only allowed to sit in it, pendejo.”

  “Fuck you,” Diego said. “I need air, then.” He rolled his window down.

  A cold piece of metal jammed against his cheek so far his head was pushed sideways, almost landing on Mateo’s shoulder.

  “Turn the car off or paint the interior red,” a girl said. “I don’t really care which.”

  The gun pressed painfully into his skin. His vision was tilted sideways but he was still able to see a man hop out of the Hummer with a gun in each hand.

  In public, Diego shouted inside his head.

  Mateo reached up slowly and turned off the car.

  “Pull the keys and toss them out your window.”

  Mateo obeyed.

  “Hands on the steering wheel,” the girl ordered. “You,” she poked Diego’s cheek harder. “Hands on the dash.”

  The man with a gun in each hand opened Mateo’s door and yanked him out so hard Mateo sprawled out on the cement. Then the guy kicked Mateo in the gut.

  The girl eased off.

  “Out of the car.”

  Diego hesitated. He had no play. His gun was beside him, but she would press her trigger the moment he took his hands off the dash to go for it.

  From the corner of his eye, the man was yanking Mateo to his feet. Tough Mateo. Stupid Mateo. Silent now that he’d been one-upped.

  But Diego wouldn’t be one-upped. No bruja was going to get the drop on him. Once he took her out, he’d hide behind the car until he shot the guy with the two guns. After piling their bodies in the back of the Hummer he’d deliver them to the Enzo people and collect his cash. All one hundred percent of it.

  Shit man, fucking
idiots just made things easy.

  “Okay, don’t shoot,” Diego said. “I’m going to take my hands off the dash as I turn to get out.”