F-Stop (32 page)

And Ron Pelley…well, we know about him.”

“None of this is new,” Mike said impatiently.

“But this is. I had him text this to me so everyone could actually read it.” He held the phone so everyone could read the screen as he scrolled through the text message. They all stared at each as the last word disappeared.

Dan finally said it for them all. “Son of a bitch.”

* * * * *

The military helicopters began filling the air space as the convoy left Wright International Headquarters. Pelley tried not to keep looking up at them as he sat on the low stone wall in front of the Alamo. He clutched the package tightly as he watched for the motorcycle. The message had said same arrangements, so he was prepared for a snatch and grab, just like the day before.

When this is over I’m going someplace to hide and never show my face again. How did
things get so badly botched up? How did this mess happen? We’ll all be lucky to get out of it
with our skins in one piece.

He watched the traffic, ears tuned for the high whine of a motorcycle engine. It was there almost before he heard it, sleek and black, zooming along the inner road. He loosened his grip on the padded envelope and as the motorcycle slowed in front of him, held it out to the outstretched hand. The rider grabbed it, increased the engine roar and sped off.

Pelley gritted his teeth to keep from looking up to see if one of the helicopters had caught the action. He didn’t know whether to be upset or relieved. He only felt numb.

Now what?

He sat in place as instructed until one of the men from the conference room walked up to him and took his arm.

“Let’s go, Mr. Pelley. Time to get back to the office.”

All he could think as he let himself be led to a waiting car was,
God, I hope they don’t
kill the hostages.

* * * * *

Javier waited until the sleek Gulfstream and the massive Black Hawk had lifted off and headed east before hiding behind the hangar and pulling out his cell phone.

“They are gone,” he told Nando.

“What do you mean?”

“They left. That’s what I mean. They are all headed back to San Antonio.” Nando was silent for a moment. “Something doesn’t sound right here. Are you sure?”

“Positive,” Javier insisted. “I heard them myself and saw them leave. I watched until they were out of sight.”

“It doesn’t seem likely that people like them would just walk away from this. Not when they’re personally involved.”

“They said they were leaving it to the FBI,” Javier repeated.

“Now I really
am
suspicious,” Nando snorted. “The Phoenix Agency doesn’t hand off to anyone. There’s something wrong here.”

“I’m only telling you what I heard and saw.”

“Keep your eyes open. See what else happens. Call me the very minute anything new catches your eyes and ears.”

* * * * *

The phone in Rip’s pocket vibrated. He looked around the conference room where they were all gathered again, excused himself and headed for the bathroom.

“I can’t talk,” he whispered when he pressed the call back number. “They have everyone at this place and we’re surrounded by FBI agents.”

“My messenger called that he has the money and there were no tricks,” Nando said.

“That is good. Is everything all right there?”

Rip was tempted to tell him about the helicopters but he didn’t have the stomach to hear Nando’s ranting and raving. He also didn’t want to be responsible for four revenge killings. He felt sick enough as it was. Anyway, he trusted that Nando had foolproof arrangements.

“Fine, fine. When are you releasing the hostages?”

“As soon as the money gets here.” Nando’s malicious laugh echoed over the connection. “Not too much longer, since they didn’t try to delay our messenger.

Patience,
mi amigo.
”

“They damn well better be released soon.” Someone knocked on the door and called his name. “I have to go. Get those people back here. And be sure my money is transferred.”

The laugh again. “You might think you’ve grown a conscience but it’s still all about the money. I will call you when the hostages are on their way.”

“Mr. Pelley?” a voice shouted through the door. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine. I’m coming right now.”

* * * * *

They parked the Gulfstream in the hangar at an airfield owned by a friend of Mike’s. It was located about half an hour northeast of San Diego. They’d used enough crazy maneuvers that they hoped to fool anyone watching them, then slipped beneath the radar to make their landing.

As soon as the plane was locked down, they began their preparations on the Black Hawk. To Kat’s eye they were doing much the same things they’d done the night before, with one exception. Dan Romeo unzipped a canvas bag that looked like a rectangular computer case and flipped it open. Inside, precisely held in place, were pieces of what Kat knew had to be a very powerful gun. A rifle, not a handgun. Dan began removing the pieces and assembling the weapon with quiet efficiency. She watched him check each piece carefully, then assemble it with quick, practiced movements.

Pointing it toward the back of the cabin, away from everyone, finger off the trigger, he sighted through the scope on top. Apparently he sensed Kat looking at him because he turned his head, lowering the rifle. And grinned.

“One of my personal favorites,” he told her. “It’s a stealth optimized sniper rifle made by LaRue Tactical in Leander, Texas. A little town you can hardly find on the map. This,” he pointed to the case, “is the brand new covert rifle case they just came out with.” He moved the gun in his lap and pointed to a place high on the grip. “
The
Phoenix
. Mark LaRue etched it into the material for me.”

“I’m impressed,” she told him. Then she gave him a weak smile. “I think.”

“Dan was a sniper with the Marines,” Mike said into her ear. “And a damn good one.”

She looked at Dan again and realized his face was completely expressionless. “It’s a career that ages you fast,” was all he said.

“We’re going to need a sniper?” she asked Mike.

“If there are only the two guards you saw at the hut, Dan’s going to take them out and clear the way for us. Then we’ll be on the lookout for any others we need to deal with. The dog too.”

Rick opened the laptop he was holding and called up the aerial footage Andy had sent them. “Look here,” he told her.

She and Mike watched with him as the photos zoomed in closer and closer.

“There’s the hut,” he said, pointing with his finger, “and far enough away that we have some difference is the main house. The
estancia
. If we can take out the guards without alerting anyone we can get everyone out of the hut and be away before anyone’s the wiser.”

“What are those blinking lights?” she wanted to know.

Rick smiled. “Those, Kat, are the hostages. Alive and moving around. This time we know for sure they are there.”

He set the laptop aside, then picked up a backpack and removed three items from it.

“I don’t remember seeing you with that last time,” Kat told him.

“Didn’t use it,” he told her. “I didn’t think we’d need it but the parameters are different this time. We may need a little distraction.”

“What is it?”

“A grenade launcher that breaks down into three parts.” He grinned, despite the seriousness of the situation. He was like a little boy playing with toys. “Another one of LaRue Tactical’s nifty little items. We can use it to delay any pursuit if they send anyone up from the main house when they hear the helo.”

“Liftoff in five,” Mike told them and took his seat in the cockpit.

To Kat it seemed only seconds before she heard the familiar whine of the engine and the whapping of the rotors. They lifted off smoothly, each man concentrating on his own preparations. Kat sat beside Faith again, leaning back against the wall of the cabin.

She felt the vibrations of the huge helicopter rumbling through her body, reminding her this was far from a pleasure trip.

Leaning her head back and closing her eyes, she did the only thing she could do now.

She prayed.

* * * * *

Anthony Delaware closed his cell phone and looked at the people seated around the table. His agents looked tired yet alert, while Pelley, Post and Prescott gave the appearance of having been run over by a garbage truck. The executive image had long since disappeared. They all looked at him expectantly.

“We’ve finally got something to go on,” he told them. “The helicopters reported seeing the motorcycle head for a small, isolated private airfield outside the city. There was a plane waiting for him. It took both the driver and motorcycle onboard, then a few minutes later took off.”

“Any idea where it took off for?” one of the agents asked.

Delaware took his time answering, watching the reaction of each person. “It headed south,” he told them. “Probably into Mexican airspace. But we did get something out of it.”

“Well?” Pelley said. “Are you going to tell us what it is or not?”

“One of the helo pilots saw it through binoculars. A logo painted on the side of the plane. Mazatlan Textiles.”

“Have we traced the owner?” someone else asked.

Delaware nodded slowly. “We got lucky, because the owner is really a corporate shell. But we’ve got good techs at the Bureau. Mazatlan Textiles is owned by Victor Herrera, leader of the Sinaloa drug cartel. Probably the most vicious of all the drug lords. It’s a very good guess—no, not even a guess at this point—that he’s behind the kidnapping and he’s holding the hostages on his estate.” No one said a word as Delaware let his gaze travel from person to person, noting every change of expression, making a mental note of those whose reactions set up warning flags.

Finally Pelley asked, “Does this mean you can’t go after them? That you can’t cross the border to get the hostages?”

“At the moment, yes. Herrera surrounds himself with an army of guards and a firefight wouldn’t do anyone any good. Plus, he owns most of the
federales
so we won’t get any help from the government. It’s too dicey a situation. I’m sorry.” An agent at the other end of the table cleared his throat. “Don’t chop my head off for suggesting this, Anthony,” he began, “but maybe it’s not too late to bring in the Phoenix Agency.”

“I think that ship has already sailed,” Delaware snapped. “Sorry.”
Damn sorry.

“So we just sit here and wait?” Prescott spat at him. “And hope they release the hostages before killing them? What a stinking way to do business.” Delaware spread out his hands. He agreed, only he was hamstrung by his boss and Bureau regulations. But he had another angle to work on. He looked at the three men who’d received the messages.

“A heads-up, gentlemen. We’re going through all your financial records, personal and business, to see who might have a connection to the Sinaloa cartel. Even a fleeting one during the course of business. If there’s something there, we’ll find it.” He waited.

“You know I own a spa in Mexico,” Post blurted out. “But that doesn’t mean I’m involved with people like that.”

“We know about that, Mr. Post. If it’s a clean business deal, you have nothing to worry about.”

“So we just sit here and wait,” Pelley repeated what Rand Prescott had asked.

Delaware nodded. “I want all of you where I can see you until we get word the hostages are released. Pelley, is it possible to get some food sent up from your cafeteria?”

Pelley rose from his chair. “I’ll take care of it right now.”

“One of my agents will go with you. Just in case you have any questions about personal likes or dislikes.”

Pelley glared at him, then stormed from the room, an agent trailing behind him.

* * * * *

Mark had finished with his preparations and opened his laptop to check for any additional messages from Andy. No sooner was he online than the icon flashed and he clicked on it. Staring at the message, he realized they had the last piece of the puzzle in place. Not only did they have the evidence of who had planned this but if Agent Anthony Delaware would cooperate, they could even identify the main contact. The chairman of this little group from hell.

He nudged Rick who was sitting next to him and turned the screen so he could read it.

Rick stared at it. “Son of a bitch.”

Dan held out his hands for the computer and Mark reached across so he and Troy could share it.

“Damn,” Dan said.

“Double damn,” Troy echoed.

“Who the hell would have thought this?” Dan asked.

“Who would have thought this whole scheme was possible to begin with? It took Andy to connect all the dots.”

“So now what?” Mark wanted to know.

“Now,” Dan told him, “we get the Wrights and Mari Culhane out of there, get them back home and take down this abominable arrangement.”

* * * * *

They couldn’t do anything about the noise of the helicopter. They just had to take care of business as quickly as possible. Ed let them out far enough away from the main house that the sound wouldn’t be right over their heads, using the trees for cover and finding a clear space to hover. Just like they’d done the night before, the men fast-roped down to the ground.

Before moving to the open door, Mike leaned down and gave Kat a hard kiss on the lips. “I love you and we’ll bring them back.” Then he was gone, a muscular figure in camouflage loaded with weapons and equipment. He still felt the impression of her lips on his as the men began to move stealthily toward their target.

The trees grew very thick here, as opposed to the location of the other hut where the hostages had been held. About five hundred yards from their target they stopped and Dan found an appropriate tree to climb. As soon as he was high enough, he found one notch in the limbs to straddle and another to rest his sniper rifle on. Carefully he looked through the scope to focus on the view. In the Marines he’d worked with a spotter but for what they were doing today he didn’t need one.

After a long minute he looked down at Rick standing just beneath the tree, nodded and held up one finger.