Chapter Fifteen
After they’d packed everything up and just before they checked out of the hotel, Dan called the Wright pilots and asked them to hang on a little longer. Then he persuaded them to take part in a little charade at the airfield.
Just in case anyone was watching, they all put on a show. Mike and Ed engaged the manager in a loud conversation about winds and weather, asked him about traffic conditions heading east, and made sure anyone hanging around the terminal heard both of them announcing their intention to head back to San Antonio.
“You mean you’re leaving without finding out what happened to your friend?” one of the pilots asked. The two of them had arrived fifteen minutes earlier and were standing around drinking coffee.
“Sorry,” Mike said. “We’ve decided to leave it all to the FBI. They’re better equipped to handle this.”
“What about your friend?” the manager asked Mike. “Weren’t you looking for someone in particular?”
Mike pulled Kat close to him and hugged her. “We decided this way is best. But we’ll be in constant touch with the feds.”
Dan turned to one of the pilots. “You have our cell phone numbers. Let us hear the minute you find out anything.”
The man nodded.
They drove the SUV to the hangar where Mike and Ed had parked the plane and helo. Again they made a show of unloading their luggage and stowing it in the plane. Troy drove the SUV back to the terminal. Left the keys with the manager and jogged back to the hangar.
“Isn’t it dangerous doing this in daylight?” Kat asked.
“Yes, but we’ve done this before,” Dan reassured her. He gave her arm a friendly squeeze. “Don’t worry. We’ll get it done.”
Mark’s cell phone rang, and he walked away from the commotion to answer it. The conversation was short, and when he returned to the group, his face was grimmer than usual.
“Oh my God,” Kat said. “What’s wrong? Did something bad happen?”
“Bad for some people,” he told her, then looked at everyone. “Andy earned his keep today. He decided to run a credit card check on our three suspects and see what he came up with. He was looking for anything that would tell him who made the deal here. Prescott’s in big trouble with the SEC, which we knew, and he’s trying to hide it from Eli Wright because it involves the two companies they partnered in. Ryan Post’s spa chain is leaking red ink, and he’s had some interesting visitors to the one in Mexico. 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 one another 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 grab and run, 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. The rider grabbed it, increased the engine roar, and sped off.
Pelley gritted his teeth to keep from looking up to see whether 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 to say 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 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 distance 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 it is?”
“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, 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 Pelly, Post, and Prescott gave the appearance of have 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 the motorcycle on board, 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 reaction 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, but his boss and Bureau regulations had him hamstrung. However, 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 also, 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 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.
One guard, in view, in his sight.
Rick made an “okay” signal with thumb and forefinger. Dan held up his hand again with two fingers upraised.
Two minutes. Move now.
The others continued to move closer to the hut, crouching low. As soon as they reached it, Mark clicked his throat mic to signal they were in place. Only Dan, as he fired, heard the puff! of the silenced shot, but they saw the guard in back crumple to the ground, the back of his head blown away. As he fell Mark and Troy moved to the front, and in seconds the second guard was down. Troy clicked his mic twice, the signal they were entering the hut.
Troy lifted the heavy piece of wood holding the door shut and swung the door open. The four people inside scrambled to their feet, backing away toward the far wall. Mark held his fingers to his lips, then pulled back a Velcro flap on his sleeve to show the Phoenix Agency patch.
“No questions,” he whispered. “We’re getting you out of here, but we don’t have much time.”
Mike blessed the fact that no one asked any questions. They all looked as if they’d been through hell, but they followed him out of the hut, the others covering their rear. As they passed the guard at the back of the hut, they heard his radio crackling and a voice calling him to check in.
“Hustle,” Mike whispered into his comm unit. “We could have company any minute.”
They moved through the trees as fast as they could, the hostages hurrying to the best of their ability. They’d gone about three hundred yards when they heard the roar of an engine and the slam of car doors. Then heavy voices in Spanish, loud and angry.
Mark. Can you hear me?
Mark touched Rick’s arm and pointed to his head. Yes. What is it?
Ed’s at the pickup point. How’s it going?
We have the hostages, and we’re on our way.
Oh, thank God. I’ll tell Kat.
“Buy us some time,” Dan said, when Mark relayed the message to him. He was down from the tree now. “No need for silence anymore.”
Mike moved slightly to the side, brought his rifle up and laid down covering fire as Rick brought the grenade launcher into place. One whoosh! and a trail of fire blazed toward the men pursuing them. Screams of agony sounded, followed by the stuttering sound of a machine gun. Dan, Mark, and Troy had the hostages, literally dragging them along. Rick loaded another grenade while Mike laid down more fire, then another whoosh! And another trail of fire.
More screams as more men were caught in the inferno, but those not hurt kept coming. Ed had touched down in the helicopter but kept the rotors moving. The men literally threw the hostages into the Black Hawk and scrambled in after them as Ed lifted off. Rick straddled the opening, brought his rifle to his shoulder, as did Mark, and they fired at the pursuers, watching with satisfaction as some of them fell.
Then Ed lifted high, away from the guns firing below and the scene below them fell away.
Kat was hugging her sister, ignoring the tears running down her face. The Wrights clustered together, made as comfortable as possible by the Phoenix men. Dan, Troy, and Mark put their headsets on again, and Mark handed units to everyone in the Wright party so they had a way to communicate over the noise of the rotors.
Eli Wright was the first to speak. He held out a trembling hand to Dan. “I don’t know how to thank you. We thought for sure they were going to kill us. How did you even find us?”
Dan inclined his head toward Kat, who was still hugging her sister as if she’d never let her go. “Miss Culhane has a unique psychic ability. Without it, we’d never have located you, much less gotten you out of there.”
“Remote viewing,” Mike said, packing away his weapons and shrugging out of his vest. “We’ll explain all about it when we land.”
Troy got out the medical kit and began attending to the wounds. “I think you’re going to have a scar, unfortunately,” he told Sydney Wright as he cleaned and disinfected the cut, then put a bandage on it. “It should have had stitches, but it’s too late now. I’m sorry.”
“I’m just happy to be alive,” she said. “Besides, it will help to remind me that none of us are that far removed from the dangers out there today.”
He shook out two capsules in his hand and gave them to her with a bottle of water. “Antibiotics. You should be on them for the next few days. I’ve got enough for the next couple of days, then you can get a prescription from your doctor.”
“I don’t know how we’ll ever thank you,” she said for the tenth time.
Troy gave her a half smile. “It’s what we do.”
He turned from her to look at Mari, gently probing the bump on her head and checking out her vision.
“I’ll get you some ice for your head,” he told her. “I don’t think you have a concussion, but we’ll get it x-rayed when we land.”
He moved next to Eli, gently removed his shirt and probed his chest and stomach.
“I think you have a couple of cracked ribs,” he said after running his finger’s over the man’s chest. “You’re sore beneath this bruise, but that’s to be expected.” He reached for an elastic bandage in his kit. “I’ll wrap you for now, but we’ll get a better idea when we take you all to an emergency room in San Antonio.”
“We owe you a lot,” Wright said gratefully. “Dan Romeo has made a couple of efforts to talk to us about our security.” He looked at Dan. “You come to see me next week. I’m ready to do business.”
Lissa required little more than cleaning with sanitary wipes and a couple of aspirin. She curled up against her mother, clinging to her tightly. Sydney kissed the top of her head and stroked her hair.
“I knew you’d find us,” Mari said to her sister on a hiccupping sob. “I knew you’d find a way to ‘see’ us. I told everyone you and Phoenix would save us.” She hugged her again. “I’m so glad you’re my sister, Kat.”
She finally sat up, wiped her eyes, and looked around. “Where’s that handsome pilot you’ve been mooning about for two years?”
Kat laughed, pulling her sister tight again. “He’s in the cockpit, helping to get us home. You’ll have plenty of time to talk to him.”
“Then we all need to do some talking,” Dan said, over the noise of the helicopter. He looked at Eli. “I have information for you that isn’t going to make you too happy.”