by KaLyn Cooper
He paused for a few seconds. “High school girls can be such bitches. There was one clique of older girls who were relentless. They would call her Hope-less and tell her she was fugly. Fucking kids.”
“You never said those horrible things to her, did you?” Tori couldn’t imagine Marcus picking on anyone.
“No. Even though Hope had become bitter when she wasn’t reclusive.” He pulled her in tighter as though he needed the human contact. “I actually thought things were getting better for her after a year so.”
Marcus worked his jaw. “I was wrong.”
It was a long time before he spoke again. “When she didn’t meet us at the bus stop one morning, I jogged back to her house. She’d usually tell us if she had a doctor’s appointment or another surgery. She hadn’t said anything the day before. When I turned the corner, I saw a police car sitting in front of her house, right behind the Coroner’s van. In school that morning, they made an announcement that Hope…” Marcus swallowed hard and worked his jaw. “Hope had killed herself.”
Tori leaned up and looked down until she was two inches from his face. “Those scars didn’t kill Hope. She killed herself. She gave up on her life. You said she was smart. That means she had a lot to offer this world, far beyond a pretty face. And even though I only went to a real high school a few short months, I’m well aware of how acidic, demeaning, demoralizing young girls can be to each other.”
She took a breath. “Hell, there are adults who still act that same way when someone is different. Learning to deal with people like that is part of life experiences that you gain in those teenage years. I can assure you that even if the accident hadn’t happened, she would still have been picked on in high school. Being pretty isn’t all that it’s cracked up to be. There are a lot of jealous people in this world who will tear you down if you let them.”
Taking his face in her hands to assure she had his attention, Tori wasn’t finished. “Hope believed the bullshit those bitches were spewing. She gave them the power to decide how she saw herself. Hope’s suicide wasn’t your fault.”
“I know.” He mirrored her position by placing his palms on her cheeks. “And I’m sorry you were picked on, too.” When he kissed her, all the tension that had built up inside her seemed to melt away.
“My beautiful jaguar, I have no intention of committing suicide.” He smiled up at her. “But I love the way you defended me.” He gave her another quick kiss. “Talking about Hope is hard for me because it’s so personal. She’s the reason I joined the ATF and I specialize in bombs. I never want any pretty little girl to be permanently injured by a bomber who doesn’t give a shit about collateral damage.”
Before she could say anything, he kissed her again “You and I are going to get up close and personal with tons of the most dangerous bombs on the whole fucking planet.”
His next kiss was fierce, holding nothing back. “I don’t want you to get hurt. If I had my way, I be doing this alone, backed up by the Delta team. But a young couple can be more believable. Hopefully, they’ll accept our story and we’ll slide right in, find the bombs, deal with them, and get the hell out of there.”
Marcus rolled and cupped her breast, circling her nipple. “And when we get back to D.C., we’ll figure out where the us you mentioned is going to go, besides to bed. In the meantime, we really need to sleep. I have no idea how we’re going to get to Santa Ana, or to this mysterious training camp, but I have complete confidence in all the people who are downstairs working on these problems.”
Tori couldn’t hold back a yawn. She was exhausted. Marcus was right, there were plenty of people working on the problems in developing an operational plan that they would have to put into action…whenever. As she threw her leg over his thighs once again, she took a deep breath and she was out.
At the pounding on her door, Tori came fully awake. She felt like she’d only just fallen asleep.
“Need you downstairs. Reports are in.” Nita’s voice faded down the hallway.
Chapter 17
“Is it always like this with your team?” Marcus steered to the left to stay on Route One between San Salvador and Santa Lucia on their way to Santa Ana. Although the road was paved, it could certainly use some work. He wondered how often a crew came through to fill the potholes.
Tori looked up from the file she’d been reading on her tablet. “What do you mean?”
“We had the briefing with the CIA, USSOCOM, and Homeland Security, got up from the table where we’d just finished supper ten minutes before the video conference, grabbed our go bags, and we were lifting off in that futuristic helicopter fifteen minutes later.” He glanced down at the GPS to assure he was on the correct road since there were multiple choices to take through the mountains.
He was good, so he continued, “We landed in the middle of fucking nowhere, were met by reprehensible-looking men who said not a single word, and simply handed us the keys to this practically new Land Rover.” To prove his point, he read the odometer, “It only has 1,298 kilometers on it.”
Out of the corner of his eyes he saw Tori shrug. “Yeah, this is pretty much standard operating procedure for us.” She returned her gaze to her tablet.
“Mind sharing those reports? I might not get a chance to read them depending on our reception when we arrive at the training camp.” He was getting a little nervous. Okay, he could be honest with himself and admit that he was a lot nervous.
Distractedly, she agreed. “Oh, yeah.” She looked over at him and gestured toward the tablet. “This shit reads like a pilot for TV series. Do you remember in one of our first briefings where they gave us the history of SV-16?”
“Of course. Some of the Vasquez family fled to California during the civil war here in El Salvador.” Marcus hoped he got this next part right. “They ran into already established gangs in the major cities. All they had were machetes, and proved themselves lethal, as well as brutal. Initially, they were simply defending their families. Over the last five decades, they’ve become like any other gang and spread nationwide. They’re into the usual gang shit, drug running, human trafficking, extortion.”
“That about sums up the past,” Tori agreed. “But there’s an interesting twist in the latest report from the FBI. It seems Osmin Vasquez, the oldest living original member, doesn’t like where the gang has gone. There’s a recorded conversation in here where he talks about how they weren’t really a gang, they were just men protecting their homes, their women, and their children from the evil that already existed. He’s referencing the other gangs who were well-established in Los Angeles.”
She shifted in her seat, turning her upper body toward him. “He sounds like a really sweet old man. He talks about how he wishes he could keep his grandchildren completely away from SV-16. He claims they came to America to get away from the gang-like mentality that existed in El Salvador during their civil war. He believes his family has blended into the United States, its values, and responsibilities. Every one of his grandchildren, who are old enough, are in college. One of them is in his second year at UCLA Law School studying immigration law. His intent is to help illegal aliens become U.S. citizens.”
“That’s noble,” Marcus commented. “It does nothing, though, to end the gang’s violence. Nor does it help us with this current situation.”
“True. Moving on.” Tori picked up the tablet and swiped through a few pages as though she were looking for something in particular. “In another report, this one from the CIA, Ademir Vasquez, the son of Osmin’s brother, Mario—so that would make him Osmin’s nephew—has popped back and forth between the United States and El Salvador since he was a child. His education is in both countries, he’s fluent in both English and Spanish, and he has a degree in political science from the University of Southern California.”
She was quiet for a few minutes while she read. “Oh. My. God. This fucker is such an egomaniac. According to his high school guidance counselor, which I’ll add at this point that he got suspended from
school on a regular basis, he showed, and I quote ‘narcissistic tendencies with a charismatic personality, but when challenged with reality often demonstrates typical narcissistic rage. Could possibly harm others, especially those in authority positions.’ What a piece of work.”
“And exactly why do I need to know about Ademir Vasquez?” He smoothly maneuvered the SUV up the curvy mountain road, thankful he wasn’t doing this in the dark.
“Because one of these men wants to be in charge of the new country formed by unifying El Salvador, Guatemala, and Honduras.” She giggled. “This boy has grandiose plans to say the least. Some of them, his Uncle Osmin should really like. He wants to get out of many of the gang related businesses…and get this…become a toll gate for the cartels and gangs who run everything from drugs to people up and down Central America. But, to the world as a whole, he would come across as a legitimate businessman by building deep water ports for the cruise ships that are going to come through the Nicaraguan canal. He’ll get them coming and going since the unification will give the new country ports on the Atlantic side in the Caribbean and the Pacific side. He wants to develop casinos, resorts, hotels, shopping centers, and pretty much anything else you can think of to fleece visitors.”
“Know what, that’s pretty damn smart,” Marcus agreed. “The new country, whatever they call themselves, would not be running the actual illegal activities. They would simply be collecting money from everyone who enters the country both legally and illegally. I’m sure there are hundreds of worldwide investors who would be more than happy to build hotels, casinos, and resorts, along the oceanside and pay a healthy tax. Money from cruise ships keeps the Caribbean alive.”
“Even when devastated by a hurricane, the ports where cruise ships stop get rebuilt very quickly.” Tori agreed. “Now are you ready to hear about his cousins?”
“You mean we don’t know which one of these men wants to become czar? Or will he call himself the emir? Maybe he’ll decide he’s suddenly royalty and declare himself king. King Vasquez. How does that sound? Or would he use his first name? Czar Ademir. I’m just not feeling it. Emir Ademir. I don’t think that one would work. It almost sounds like were trying to call a dog, ‘C’mere Ademir’.”
Tori sat in the seat next to him laughing so hard. He loved that sound coming from her. But they were getting close to their destination and he needed a rundown of all the players.
“Okay, who else do we have as possible dictator, emphasis on dick?” Marcus was rewarded with another outburst of laughter.
After wiping her eyes, Tori picked up the tablet. “Next in our lineup of possible ambitious Vasquez men is Stanley. Who knew that was a Spanish name? Anyway, Stanley is the son of brother number two, Javier, who was killed in an LA gang war when he was about twenty-five, leaving one son and three daughters. Latest tag on him puts him working construction in Los Angeles. Looks to be a family business. He has two sons, both work for him, and a daughter who runs the office.” A moment later she added, “He doesn’t feel right to me. He looks legit. Very Americanized.”
“Me neither,” Marcus agreed. “Who’s next?”
“Next possibility is Daylin, Ademir’s brother.” Tori was quiet for less than a minute. “Another douchebag. He runs the Los Angeles cell of SV-16 which is the largest. Since he doesn’t get his hands dirty, he’s never been arrested. He lives very well, though, in a mini fortress behind a twelve-foot wall with armed guards.”
She sniggered. “But ever since his father died five years ago, he’s been taking care of his mother. Isn’t he being the good son?” Tori’s sarcasm always got to him. “And his mother is a fashion diva albeit with a very Spanish flare. She lives inside the compound, too. If this report is to be believed, she and current wife, which would be number three, don’t get along. Speculation is because number three came from the gang, is only twenty-five years old and he has kids that age, and she has not provided any grandchildren, yet. Wives number one and two, who by the way still live inside the walls, have six kids between them, and regularly shop the upper end boutiques with their former mother-in-law. Now, isn’t that cozy?”
That reminded Marcus, “Jumping back to Ademir, does he have kids?”
“Checking on that,” she said as she flipped screens. “Yes, two sons from a wife in the United States, and two more sons from his wife in El Salvador.”
Marcus chuckled. “I doubt he’s Mormon, but I guess if they’re in different countries polygamy is okay. But would they still be considered sister wives?”
Giggles erupted next to him. “Don’t know. Don’t care. Moving along. Good old Mario didn’t exactly keep it in his pants either. Entering into the mix is Eduardo, who happens to be the oldest in that generation. Although he has a passport with a few U.S. stamps, he has lived in El Salvador his entire life. He was conscripted into the El Salvador Armed Forces at eighteen and is currently the equivalent of our highest enlisted rank.”
“That makes them quite powerful,” Marcus commented. “But wouldn’t he be too busy with the Army to be involved in SV-16?”
“I have no idea.” Tori’s admission didn’t comfort him. Then she added, “Military coups happen all the time especially in this part of the world. The new government of Nicaragua was established by a military coup, with a lot of help from the United States. Obviously, whoever is heading this up doesn’t want U.S. involvement. Unless they are considering their SV-16 brothers and sisters in the United States to help them garner additional funding.”
Her mouth dropped open. “If we don’t find all the nuclear material here, part of the warheads could still be in the United States in the hands of SV-16. They could be planning simultaneous attacks. Bombing something in the U.S. to divert attention away from what they’re doing in Central America. Fuck.” She pulled out her satellite phone and hooked it up to the tablet then quickly typed. She stared at the screen for several minutes before she typed again.
“Whew.” Tori let out a deep breath as she sat back in her seat. “USSOCOM had already run that scenario and sent teams with Geiger counters back every step of the route. It’s a possibility but they only give it a forty-two percent likelihood. The quicker we find and count the warheads, the sooner everybody stateside is going to breathe a sigh of relief. General Lyon wished us good hunting.”
“Let’s hope this mission is easier than I think it’s going to be. So, back to the possibilities of who is masterminding this. What about Eduardo’s offspring?” Marcus downshifted to make it up the mountain curves. He looked at the second shifter and wondered if he’d have to put it into four-wheel-drive to make it to the training camp.
“It doesn’t look as though Eduardo has the same propensity as his half-brothers. He’s never been married and there are no recorded children.” She was quiet for a moment then squealed. “Well I’ll be damned. It seems Osmin may not know his children as well as he thinks he does.”
“How many kids does he have?” Marcus was going to need her to diagram the family tree.
Gleefully she explained, “First, Osmin has three sons and a daughter. Daughter is the oldest and her oldest is in law school. Next comes Cesar with two sons and a daughter. Oldest boy and the girl are in college while the youngest boy is a senior in high school.
Next up is Kelvin, never married, no kids, a real techie. The FBI has labeled him a non-threat and calls him geeky and a loner. He has very good job writing code all day.” she smiled and turned her head his way. “Then we have Danny.”
“Is he the black sheep in Osmin’s family?” Marcus hoped this guy was the last of the players.
“Poor little Danny suffers from youngest child syndrome. He is the only one in that generation born in the United States. According to the IRS, at thirty-six, he has had sixteen different jobs including a few with his cousins. While we’re on the subject of cousins, he and Ademir have traveled together several times to El Salvador. Not only do they both have the SV-16 snake tattoo, but they were active in the local gang, which you re
member is run by Ademir’s brother, Daylin.”
She read for a few minutes then looked toward him. “Certain people within our government believe that SV-16 only wanted the nuclear warheads so they could be taken seriously as a world power.”
“Well, isn’t Mr. Vasquez, whichever one of the founders’ sons it turns out to be, going to be surprised when we take them away?” Marcus noted.
“It means he’s not going to be happy, that’s for damn sure.” She did not look happy when he chanced a glance her way.
“Do those reports have anything on the training facility?” Marcus became more nervous the closer they got to their destination.
“Actually, they’re processing data now. They’ve had a satellite over the general area snapping pictures since the first briefing this morning. The problem is, they are quite well hidden in the jungle. Even infrared isn’t showing much.”
“Why am I not surprised?” He looked at his GPS and slowed down. “Need your help, Tori.” They were just over a mile from Santa Ana and very close to where they were to turn. “Somewhere off to the left is a huge lake and we need to turn toward it, but the roads are like fingers pointed down. If we take the wrong turn, we have to come all the way back out and try the next road. I’d rather get it right the first time.”
Tori grabbed the GPS. “Not this road, but the next.”
It looked as though they were driving through a neighborhood rather than a road to a secret training camp. As they dropped down the mountain, huge trees lined the road, often blocking the setting sun.
“We continue down this road until we almost reach the lake, then hang a right.” Tori’s directions made Marcus feel so much better. He felt like they were in this together.
