Chapter 3

A few months later ~

The FBI possessed enough evidence to build a criminal case against Senator Raimundo M. Ortiz, but it wasn’t over yet. The agency could strike an effective blow using the documents and photographs that Lela Cabelo had managed to obtain, but it was crucial for her to testify at trial.

The senator’s arrest had been a coup for law enforcement. Lela wouldn’t forget the stunned look on her boss’s face when the feds appeared with a warrant. The event had been dramatic, even satisfying. But when Ortiz posted bail and was released, the agency had taken steps to protect their star witness.

Lela couldn’t believe that she’d actually argued against going into protective custody. Her contacts weren’t about to reveal their source, but it was foolhardy to think that the senator wouldn’t figure it out. Or maybe he’d been tipped off, because incriminating evidence had been deleted from his computer before the feds confiscated it.

Clearly, the FBI had been aware that the situation was more dangerous than she’d cared to believe. And now, in the crowded Amtrak station, Lela’s life was in peril, along with the agents risking their lives to protect her. The train station hadn’t been that terrific of an idea after all.

Three gang members were about to snuff out any possibility of getting a conviction on the slimy Texas senator. And that pissed Lela off in a major way.

The thin guy who’d grabbed Lela had muscles of steel. His arm wrapped around her like a vise, muffling her screams. He tightened his hold until the air squeezed out of her lungs, and she could barely breathe. The death grip blocked out the stench of the gangster’s body odor, but also cut off her oxygen supply. If she didn’t act fast, she’d pass out.

Bedlam broke out, and in her daze, Lela saw crowds swarming around like a colony of ants in a panic. Screams and shouts drowned out any talking. Fully engaged in the battle, the FBI was in no position to control the situation. She couldn’t count on them to rescue her, either.

Out of the corner of her eye, Lela spotted several men in uniforms with badges on their chests. It was station security running toward the melee. That was bad. Security guards weren’t prepared for this type of engagement, and would be no match for a gang attack.

If Lela was kidnapped by the thugs, she wouldn’t stand a chance. She couldn’t allow them to capture her. Fast action was called for, with not a second to spare. She prayed the feds could effectively defend themselves…then made her move.

The thin man had made a tactical error: he’d grabbed Lela around the middle but left her arms free. In a flash, she drew one arm forward then slammed her elbow back into the man’s gut. He might be a tough guy, but she’d guessed he didn’t have the washboard abs to go with it.

When Lela’s elbow hit the man’s soft belly, he let out a grunt and loosened his grip. It was enough to allow her to move, so she spun around and poked her fingers in his eyes, hard. He wouldn’t be seeing much for a while.

The roar of the fight with the agents held the enemy’s attention. No one interfered with Lela. Still close to the gangster with his hands over his eyes, she kneed him in the groin. Incapacitated, he dropped to the ground. He wouldn’t be breathing for a few seconds either.

A throng of people pushed by, blocking Lela’s immediate escape. So she dove behind a crowd, landed on her stomach, and slid over the gleaming floor. A glance back told her that no one had followed yet. She scrambled to her feet and ran, dodging between people and around objects.

One gang member was down, but she didn’t know about the rest. The gunshots hadn’t answered that question, since she hadn’t seen if the agents hit their targets, or if it had been the other way around. The fight provided a distraction, offering her a handful of seconds to escape.

If her pursuers were alive, they would come after her with murder in their heart. It might have been their aim to capture her, but she’d defused their strength and maimed one of their own. Retribution would be swift and bloody.

The thugs had miscalculated. They hadn’t expected Lela to fight, and hadn’t known that she could. It wasn’t a skill that she bragged about, since having surprise on her side was an advantage. Even the senator hadn’t known, so had likely portrayed her as an easy target, claiming all that would be needed was to bump off her federal escorts, and she’d be theirs.

But her enemy had been wrong. They had encountered prey capable of fighting back. That victory was good for the morale. But Lela wasn’t in the clear yet. Her life still hung by a thread. This was no time to gloat.

Lela ran, heading down a long passageway that seemed to go on forever. She skidded to a stop at the end of it, plowing into a wall. She’d hoped to cover enough distance, fast enough, to be out of reach. Glancing back, she saw the two gangsters enter the hall.

It was the tall guy with bushy hair, and the squat guy with the wide face. She saw no sign of the thin man she’d tangled with, and was certain he’d be out of commission for a bit. Dammit. They saw her and sprinted down the hall.

That meant Simmons and Robertson were seriously injured or dead. Either way, Lela was on her own. She turned the corner, ducking out of sight, and took off at a fast clip. There were no obvious escape routes, but there were doors to different departure gates.

She could pick a gate and pray the tactic delayed the gangsters, while they went through various gates to search for her. But they might choose right the first time, and that would end it all. She had this one opportunity to escape, so she had to make it count.

Up ahead, she spotted a woman coming out of a door. A sign above it said: employee restroom. Normally, private facilities were locked. But the woman stepped out just as Lela reached the door. She plowed into the woman, shoving her back inside. The door slammed shut behind them.

The woman gasped, but Lela put her hand over her mouth to muffle any noise. “Don’t make a sound. Two gang members are chasing me, and they will kill you just for being with me.”

The woman’s eyes widened. When Lela removed her hand, there was silence. “I need your clothes.” There was no time to argue. “You have to get me out of here…or your life is in just as much danger as mine.”

While the woman removed her clothing, Lela peeled hers off, too. It was a stroke of luck that they wore about the same size. It appeared the woman worked in the cafeteria, because she had on baggy slacks and shirt underneath an oversized jacket. It was a sort of comfy kitchen uniform.

The best part was that the outfit included a kitchen worker’s cap that would hide Lela’s long hair. Like a quick-change artist, Lela donned her new garb. A look in the mirror affirmed that she looked completely different. She retrieved her sunglasses from her bag and put them on.

The woman was beginning to get dressed, but didn’t say much.

“I’m sorry about this,” Lela said. She picked up her bag and dug inside for some cash. “Here, buy a new uniform.” Then she hid the bag inside the roomy jacket and cracked the door open.

Passengers filtered by, but there was no sign of gang members. Lela slipped out of the restroom, then the door clicked shut behind her. Running would attract attention, so she walked in step with a small group headed toward the exit.

Lela’s heart pounded and her legs were wobbly, but she maintained as calm an outward appearance as she could. Behind the dark glasses, she glanced around. But no threat emerged. When she reached the exit, she strolled to the parking lot like an employee leaving work for the day.

If only this was the airport, with cabs and hotel shuttles lined up at the curb. But Lela’s options were few. The train station was close to the freeway, but she needed a vehicle. It would only be borrowing, long enough to get away. Walking would make her a target, since pedestrian access to the station was limited.

At the far side of the lot, Lela slowed and turned. She held her breath, but didn’t see anyone looking her way. She chose an older-model sedan and reached in her bag for an implement. It was her habit to be prepared, and it was about to pay off.

With the narrow metal strip, she swiftly opened the car door and got into the passenger seat. She prayed her skills weren’t too rusty. She reached under the steering column and hotwired the car. Newer models were difficult, but this well-used vehicle provided no challenge.

The engine firing was a welcome sound. Lela still wore the cap and her sunglasses, plus she’d be harder to recognize behind the wheel of the car. She pulled out of the parking spot and rolled down the aisle toward the exit.

Several other cars were moving in that direction. As she pulled in front of one, some motion at the station caught her eye. It was the two gang members, and even from a distance she could see their murderous expressions. Since it was unwise to look at them, she faced straight ahead and followed the car in front of her out of the lot.

When Lela pulled onto the street, she looked back. The gangsters were in the distance, milling about the lot as if looking for some sign of her. But she was gone. She headed toward the on-ramp, more than a little relieved. The bad guys had lost her scent—for now.

But there would be others. There would be repercussions for the gang members sent to grab her, since they’d botched the job. The cartel would send more artillery next time. Lela had tipped her hand; it was no longer a secret that she could fight.

It had all led to this. After sneaking into the senator’s office and copying his hard drive, Lela had reviewed the data she’d obtained. Added to what she’d already compiled, it could put the nail in his coffin. She’d kept up on news about corruption stemming from the drug culture.

The FBI had a task force in the Houston area to curb the broad range of corrupt practices. The illegal activities involved federal border officers, courthouses, and, much to her dismay, corrupt police units.

Now it seemed the cartel’s evil arm had reached dirty politicians. Senator Ortiz was a prime example. Lela had balked at turning over the evidence, but not for long. There was no way to avoid that coming forward with what she knew would affect her life.

Once she’d known about the crimes Ortiz had committed, there had been no way that Lela could look the other way. It was her duty to see him answer for his acts, and to do otherwise would dishonor her father. Besides, it was all so wrong, and she wouldn’t let him get away with it.

Lela had initiated talks with the task force. A series of secret meetings had ensued. When appropriate, she’d turned over enough documentation to nab the senator, which resulted in his arrest.

It wasn’t a simple matter to prosecute a politician. The senator had money and connections. He was out on bail before his jail cell had clanked shut. The FBI was adamant that Lela’s life was at risk.

It hardly seemed fair that she should suffer for doing the right thing, but she’d had to face reality. How silly she’d been to argue that she wanted to stay at the law firm to keep an eye on the senator. Clearly, she’d underestimated the man’s support from the underworld.

About a mile from the station, Lela ditched the car at Market Street Park. It would be returned to its rightful owner fairly quickly. Driving a stolen vehicle wouldn’t do, since she needed to stay out of sight. Once the car was reported missing, the police would be looking for it.

The park was a serene spot in the middle of downtown. Lela would have liked to stroll around, to let the peaceful surroundings calm her nerves. Her father had once taken her to a wrestling event held there. But this was not a moment to go all sentimental.

Lela needed a safe place, and downtown had a wide variety of hotels. Although it might take the gangsters a while to find her, that wasn’t true of the FBI. And for now, she intended to avoid both. Assessing her choices, Lela figured the Hotel ICON around the block on Congress was her best pick.

They’d assume that a woman on the run with little resources would get a cheap room, or find a friend to stay with for a night. Since using a credit card would make her easy to track, she’d have to pay cash, making an expensive hotel out of the question.

So that was precisely where she intended to stay. It wasn’t the first place that her pursuers would look. So by the time they discovered that she’d stayed at the ICON, she’d be long gone. What she shouldn’t do was stay out in the open and run the chance of being spotted.

At a brisk pace, Lela headed for the hotel. It was busy, so she could meld with the throng of guests. But one of the staff looked her over, which reminded her that she was dressed like a kitchen worker. That wouldn’t go over well in a fancy hotel, so she went directly to the lobby gift shop.

Lela selected vacation wear that suited her, plus a jacket and a hat. She paid for the items and went to the women’s restroom to change. Instead of tossing the old outfit in the trash, she rolled it up and carried it under her arm. If the woman reported that her clothes had been taken, the authorities would have another clue on how to find Lela. Ditching the garments would be like marking the trail, signaling that she’d been at the hotel.

Dressed like a tourist, Lela went to registration and paid for a room. She told a believable story about losing her wallet, but she had cash. That was acceptable, and since it was only an overnight stay, the clerk waived the necessity for a credit card.

Using the new identification supplied by the FBI would be foolhardy. The agency would track her if she used it. She needed to get rid of the photo ID and credit card, but that would have to wait. She took her room key and caught the elevator to her floor.

Lela found the room, went inside, then flipped the deadbolt. Light streamed through the windows, so she closed the drapes for privacy. After dumping her wad of clothes and her bag on the floor, she flopped onto the bed.

It was soft, and well it should be, for what she’d paid for the room. She put her arm across her forehead and closed her eyes. It wasn’t difficult to figure out how the thugs had recognized her at the train station. Ortiz would have gladly provided a photo of his errant paralegal, likely some dorky shot of her at an employee event.

Drugs were big business in the city, and the cartel’s tentacles reached into law enforcement. With police co-operation, the gangsters had a good chance of finding her. But what she found the most disheartening was that she couldn’t go to the FBI for help.

There had been a leak; that much was clear. Only a select few had known that Lela had been assigned to witness protection. And even fewer had known that she’d be at the train station.

That meant there was no one Lela could trust. She couldn’t use her real name or identification. And using the false ID was out of the question now. She was so screwed.

She was tired, disillusioned, and damned hungry. The last item she could do something about. If she ate at this hotel, her cash would go fast. But fancy rooms like hers had amenities. She slid off the bed and went to the built-in refrigerator.

She scored a mini bottle of wine plus two cans of soda, to go with bags of pretzels and peanuts. It would have to do. She hadn’t eaten all day, except for a piece of dry toast, so the snacks tasted better than they had a right to.

She’d been roughed up, chased by criminals, and come too close to getting bumped off. That sort of stuff worked up an appetite. But a decent meal would have to wait. Her top priority was to come up with a plan—any plan—because right then, she had no idea what to do.

After polishing off the last of the nuts, Lela sat in one of the padded armchairs. In the darkened room, she considered her future. Gangs were known for their brutal methods. So if she was caught and interrogated, her fate was gloomy.

One question came to mind. When the gang had first spotted her, why didn’t they kill her? One shot would have done it. It meant that the cartel had a smart lieutenant in the ranks, one who intended to find out all she knew before ending her life.

Sure, she’d handed over enough evidence to have the senator arrested. But there was a process before the criminal conviction. Her testimony played a key role, so ultimately the cartel would have to snuff her out. But not before questioning her, in a style uniquely theirs.

Lela shuddered. She couldn’t allow that to happen.

The scene at the train station guaranteed that her photo would be splattered all over news and social networking sites, if it wasn’t already. With the media involved, it would make hiding more difficult. And the FBI wouldn’t be able to stop the news release. The senator had connections, and could call in favors. Although he’d make sure the trail didn’t lead back to him. He’d ensure that all eyes were on Lela, so disappearing was impossible…or was it?