by Diane Capri
Kim quickly scanned for the shooter. She squinted into the distance, panning from one of the three rock formations to another and back. The sun had set before the balloon landed and most of the twilight was gone now. Darkness fell fast in the desert. Her sight distance was too short in this light.
Where was he? How did he manage to pull this off? Why did he kill that woman? Her brain kept firing questions faster than she could answer them.
The shooter couldn’t have popped up from underground. There were no tunnels or underground systems out here.
He didn’t drop in from the air because that would have left him no means of escape.
Which meant he’d had some sort of transportation to this precise location. And presumably, that same transportation was intended to take him away afterward.
He must have arrived and settled into his hiding place before the balloon floated past him.
Which meant two things.
Someone inside the gondola might have seen him because the balloon would have been flying low enough to allow a clear view of people and vehicles on the ground.
And he’d already known where the balloon was expected to land.
Cheryl ran up to the fallen woman. Wide-eyed, nostrils flaring, tears running down her face. “Elena!” she cried, cradling the woman in her arms.
“Who is she?” Kim asked.
Through her sobs, Cheryl managed to say, “Elena’s one of our renters. She’s only been here a few weeks.”
“She lives at Glen Haven?”
“Yes. Elena Ochoa. She and her brother, Hector. He’ll be devastated.” Cheryl broke down again. Getting any more out of her was impossible.
Kim heard a helicopter in the distance headed toward the landing site. She kept her gaze on the three hiding spots, although falling darkness obscured her line of sight. She pulled Gaspar’s phone from her pocket.
“The helo is your guy Flint on the way?” she asked.
“Yeah. He’ll be on the ground in ten, latest. Leave the rental there. I’ll get someone to pick it up,” Gaspar replied. “More help on the way for the civilians.”
“Good.” She looked at the passengers, who were slowly finding the courage to get up and dust themselves off. Cheryl and the other crew members were making the rounds, checking each passenger. No one else seemed to be injured, but even the three children were subdued. Gone was the laughter and the horseplay now.
She heard sirens headed toward them. She asked Gaspar, “Is that your doing?”
“Indirectly. I called Finlay. He’ll run interference and take care of the rest.” Gaspar paused a moment before he asked, “How many casualties?”
“Only one,” she said, a slight tremor in her voice. “Her name is Elena Ochoa. Her brother is Hector. Probably both members of the Vigo cartel.”
“The shooter must have some kind of death wish. Vigo won’t be happy.” Before he disconnected, Gaspar added, “I’ll look into it.”
A few minutes later, the helo landed creating a dust cloud with its rotor wash. She recognized the pilot from the photo Gaspar had sent her a while back. Michael Flint. The only thing she really knew about the guy was that he was competent and Gaspar was a fan. Which was all she needed to know at the moment.
Flint pushed the passenger door open and she hopped inside.
“Hang on,” he shouted over the deafening noise as she fastened her harness and slipped the headset on.
The helo was already lifting when she heard him through the earpiece. “Your shooter escaped in a gray Toyota sedan. Saw him heading out as I approached. Want to go get him?”
Kim nodded. She liked the guy already. “Hell, yes. That’s exactly what I want to do.”
She cinched the four-point harness tighter and peered toward the ground. From the air, the sirens she’d heard in the distance were visible atop several vehicles.
A couple of standard government black SUVs led the way. Which probably meant Ross was driving one of them since the dead woman was most likely a member of the Vigo cartel. They were followed by four standard police cruisers, first responders, and even a fire truck.
She squinted to see oncoming vehicles in the glow of their headlights. Looking for a gray vehicle in the darkness was like searching for polar bears on a glacier. Difficult, but doable.
“You didn’t happen to get a license plate on that sedan, did you?” she asked Flint.
“Unfortunately, no.” He turned toward her and grinned. He tapped a small screen amid many small screens on the control panel. “But it’s a relatively new sedan and I located the signal for the GPS unit. We’re tracking it now. Looks like its headed south.”
Which made sense. Mexico. Vigo’s cartel was based there. Less than three hundred miles away. Might as well have been on another planet. If the shooter reached the border, he’d be lost forever.
“Can you see inside the car?” Kim asked. Some vehicles had webcams inside. If the Toyota had one, they’d be able to identify the driver.
He shook his head. “The vehicle is too old for that tech. And we haven’t had a chance to hack the camera on the phone he’s using. Gaspar’s working on it.”
The wind speed had picked up at nightfall and buffeted the helo as if a giant tossed it from hand to hand. Flint was an expert pilot, but holding the helo steady was not easy. Progress was slower than Kim wanted, but she didn’t want to fall out of the sky, either.
A couple of times, he hit bumpy air hard enough to lift and drop the helo like a child with a yoyo. Her stomach wanted to revolt, but she clamped her lips shut and forced herself to stay focused.
With the distraction of holding her queasy stomach steady, Kim lost visual contact with the sedan at busy intersections. She glanced at the screen where the GPS was still tracking the red dot as it turned west up ahead.
She peered through the helo’s windshield, but there were too many vehicles on the road and the streetlights were not sufficient from this distance above the road.
She couldn’t distinguish one sedan from another. Which became the least of her problems a moment later.
The GPS tracked the Toyota as it turned into a condo tower driveway and entered the multi-story parking garage.
“Got your running shoes on?” Flint said as he increased the helo’s air speed and headed toward the landing pad on the roof of the garage.
Kim scowled and picked up the cell phone to call Finlay. She needed eyes and bodies on the ground. Now.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Thursday, April 14
10:05 p.m.
Albuquerque, New Mexico
Vigo’s patience with O’Hare was easily exhausted. O’Hare was useless. Even under extreme pressure, he maintained he didn’t know the identity of the mole. Through his busted lip and rapidly swelling eyes, one arm hanging useless at his side after Hector snapped it like a sapling, he continued to deny all knowledge of the traitor until he passed out.
Vigo was inclined to believe him.
Which meant he was utterly expendable.
Vigo said, “Hector, carry him to the van. Put the canvas over his head. Move him out to the desert where you buried the others and kill him. Come back here.”
“Yes, boss,” Hector said, stooping to get a grip under O’Hare’s arms and drag him to the door.
When Hector left, Vigo said, “Freddie, come with me.”
They descended to the basement to deal with Lawton, Vigo leading the way.
Before he had a chance to begin the interrogation, a call came in on Vigo’s business cell. He picked up and waited for the bad news. Because calls to this phone were always bad news.
“Elena’s dead,” one of his lieutenants said.
Vigo’s belly tightened. He felt the rapid pulse pounding in his temple. Who would dare to kill Elena Ochoa? Hector and his sister were under Vigo’s protection. Touching either of them was the same as harming Vigo himself.
The penalty was death. Every soldier in Vigo’s army and every enemy on the planet knew that.
Elena’s killer was bold. Or stupid. Vigo cursed under his breath as he listened to the report.
His field lieutenant continued. “Long range rifle shot to the chest.”
“Where did this happen?” Vigo said through clenched teeth.
“That’s the crazy thing. She was at the landing site for one of the commune’s stupid balloon rides.”
Vigo frowned. “Why?”
“She was fascinated with them. She hung around the launch site whenever she had a chance and jumped into the basket when they had less than a full load. Guess she’s been doing it for a few weeks now.”
“Not a secret, then,” Vigo mused aloud. “Who knew about this?”
“The pilots. Flight crew. Not sure who else.”
Vigo stared at Lawton and lowered his voice. “Does Hector know?”
“Maybe not yet,” the field lieutenant said. “Cops are there now. Someone will tell him soon. No way to keep it from him forever.”
Vigo swallowed his growing anger. Before he disconnected, he said, “Keep me posted.”
Vigo quickly considered his options. He’d never meant to stay here at Glen Haven indefinitely. Which was why he hadn’t eliminated O’Hare before. To avoid the fallout.
Elena’s death changed everything.
It meant his crew was no longer well concealed here. Cops would be nosing around about Elena. The inquiry would spread to the feds. Then his enemies would get wind of his position, if they didn’t know already.
Maybe his enemies had a plan to pick off his closest confidants one by one until the crew was small enough to destroy completely.
That would be a solid plan. One Vigo would implement against his enemies, given the chance.
The last base Vigo had fled in Mexico was destroyed an hour after his crew bugged out. His enemies would attack. The trip from Mexico would take time to organize and execute, but not as much as twenty-four hours. If they had soldiers in the area already, the attack would come sooner.
Vigo had to go. The sooner the better.
His big shipment should arrive before eight o’clock in the morning. Briefly, he reconsidered his plan to wait until the product was in his hands. Should he go now?
No. The large shipment of drugs was more than he was prepared to walk away from. He’d easily turn his investment into fifty million and start over somewhere else. He’d done it before.
Waiting was risky. But life was risky. He nodded once, decisively. His plan was sound. He had much to accomplish before he left in the morning.
Near the top of his list was to destroy the mole.
He couldn’t leave the mole alive. He’d lose the fear from his men and his enemies. He needed that fear to control them. Which meant he needed the mole. To make an example of him. To ensure no one else turned against him.
He’d been too lazy about pursuing the mole’s identity. Perhaps Elena and Big Sela would still be alive if he’d been more diligent. That stopped now.
In the meantime, tie up loose ends. Destroy this place. Move on in the morning. It was time.
“Anything you need me to do, boss?” Freddie spoke from the shadows near the stairs where he’d been ordered to stand guard in case Lawton made any attempt to escape.
“Yeah. In a minute. We’ll deal with this first,” Vigo replied.
Lawton cocked his head to listen. He was handcuffed and tied to the chair. His feet were bound. He’d been in that position for hours. His muscles would be cramped and inflexible. He wasn’t likely to jump up and try to escape, even if he could remove his restraints.
Vigo approached, pistol drawn. “Tell me who the informant is. This is the last time I’ll ask.”
“I’ve told you before. I don’t know the answer to your question,” Lawton replied.
“And you wouldn’t tell me if you did know, would you?” Vigo said calmly.
Lawton’s lips lifted in a sardonic grin. “Probably not.”
“As you wish.” Vigo nodded. He itched to shoot the bastard now. But what was the point? He’d be dead soon enough. Let him sit here and worry about it for a while. “We know where we stand. Tomorrow at dawn, we’ll drive you out to the desert and shoot you. Leave your carcass for the vultures. Unless you change your mind.”
Vigo turned and walked away, toward the stairs. When he reached the first step, he said, “Let’s go, Freddie. We have things to do.”
At the top of the stairs, Freddie dead bolted the basement door again. Hector came in from outside where he’d secured O’Hare into the van. The three sat in chairs around the fire and Vigo told them his plans.
Hector and Freddie were Vigo’s oldest and closest friends. They’d grown up together in the same Mexican village. Their fathers had been members of the cartel when Vigo’s father was the boss. Both were loyal to Vigo. Neither would question his orders under normal circumstances.
But these circumstances were not normal. Elena had been murdered. Hector’s blood thirst for revenge was a wild card. He’d be uncontrollable if he knew his sister was dead. A luxury Vigo couldn’t afford now. Hector must remain under control until they were safely away from here.
Vigo said, “There were FBI agents in the saloon today. They’ll come here next. We need to move on.”
“What about our shipment?” Hector asked.
“We’ll wait for it. Be ready to get out as soon as it arrives. Take it with us. Use it for startup in our new location,” Vigo said. “We’ll leave a small crew here to clean up what we don’t get done in the next few hours before the shipment arrives. They should be here before dawn. We’ve got seven hours or less.”
Hector and Freddie nodded. It was a solid plan.
“Hector, before you head out to the desert with O’Hare, find Louis and Manny. Don’t tell them anything. I’ll brief them myself. The five of us can handle the inventory and get it out of here tomorrow.” Vigo paused. “Everyone else can follow when we’re set up.”
Hector said, “Okay, boss.”
“Freddie, get everyone else out of here tonight. Send them into Albuquerque. Get all the vehicles out except my truck. Tell them not to come back here, but don’t tell them why. Say we’ll contact them as soon as we can,” Vigo said.
Freddie nodded. Hector said, “Okay, boss.”
“Then come back here. We have work to do. We need to destroy this place. We don’t want any forensic evidence left behind to tie anything to us. Understand?” Vigo looked them both in the eye, waited for a nod of agreement.
Freddie shook his head slowly. “There’s plenty of propane on site in the barns. Because of the balloon rides and these crazy preppers. They think having their own fuel supply will sustain them when disaster strikes. They didn’t consider the disasters from within.”
Hector said, “Yeah, that will work. We can fill a few of the smaller tanks and put them inside the barracks. Then ignite the big storage tanks to get things started just before we leave. Safer that way. We don’t want to blow ourselves up.”
“Don’t blow ourselves up,” Freddie grinned. “Good plan.”
Hector frowned. He didn’t have much of a sense of humor. “Why don’t we put O’Hare in the basement with Lawton? They’ll both be found eventually and we won’t need to make a trip to the desert tonight. Which we don’t really have time for.”
Vigo pretended to think about the suggestion. But he wanted Hector out of the way until the preparations were made. The longer he could keep Hector ignorant of Elena’s death, the better. “We don’t want anybody coming around here looking for him. We’ve had a couple of snoops from the commune hanging around already. Go ahead and take him out to the burial site, Hector. One less thing to deal with tomorrow.”
Hector seemed like he might argue, but then he simply nodded and said, “Okay.”
Vigo needed Hector to keep his head on straight. He could grieve in his own way later and Vigo would help him get revenge for the death of his sister. When the time was right. When they were out of this place.
Vigo simply
said, “Meet back here at midnight.”
Hector and Freddie headed toward the door. As if it were an afterthought, Vigo ordered, “And no cell phones. At all. Assume the feds are monitoring everything now. Radio silence from here on out. Understood?”
They nodded. Hector replied, “Yes, boss.”
Freddie said nothing, but he wasn’t the one Vigo was worried about.
When they left and closed the door, Vigo put his feet up, rested the shotgun across his lap, and stared into the fire, running through his plans in his head.
Originally, he’d intended to leave Glen Haven intact. The commune had taken them in when they’d had no other place to go after the Mexico massacre that pushed his cartel out of its home base. He’d been grateful then.
He couldn’t afford to be blindsided by gratitude now.
The feds knew he was here. He felt it deep in his bones. Which made all the difference.
He knew how they worked. They’d been quietly, secretly building a case against him for their courts. After killing Big Sela at the saloon today, they’d find out she was a close associate. They would know he’d want vengeance. They’d step up their timeline.
Once they discovered the dead woman at the balloon’s landing site was Hector’s sister, they’d panic.
They’d be coming for Vigo and his crew. Probably tomorrow. The next day at the very latest.
Vigo had tried to intercept his big shipment with no success. Once more he came to the inescapable conclusion. He had two choices. He could wait here for the inventory to arrive in the morning. Or leave without it.
Either option was risky, but the payoff on the new inventory tipped the scales.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Thursday, April 14
10:25 p.m.
Albuquerque, New Mexico
The sedan’s GPS beeped as the car traveled inside the garage, across to the far side, and up the ramp. Apparently the up ramps for each floor were on opposite sides of the building because the sedan crossed the second floor and headed up to the third floor. Then it did the same thing again.
