Kidnap and Ransom (22 page)

He half raised a hand in a wave.

The cab edged back into traffic. They’d gone less than five feet when someone banged on the trunk. The passenger-side door was flung open, and Rodriguez clambered inside.

“I’m going to regret this,” he grumbled.

“I said you didn’t have to come.” Kelly had to fight to repress a grin. Despite her bravado, she hadn’t been optimistic about tracking down Stefan without assistance.

“I’ve heard your Spanish, Jones. You couldn’t get help finding the bathroom.”

“Thanks.” She settled back into the seat and gazed at the orange moon hovering over the volcano on the city’s edge. For the first time that day, she had a good feeling.

Jake nearly fell again. They’d had an easier time making their way back through the jungle, maybe because this time they knew where they were headed. It was less damp than before, too, making it less slippery. Still, his boots were already soaked through.

It felt good to be on the move doing something, however. Syd and Mark had been exchanging terse radio communications all afternoon. Apparently Isabela’s tip about the rival cartel raid had panned out, confirmed by some guy the Tyr group was holding prisoner. Jake had decided that the less he knew about that, the better. After this experience in the field, working the office side of the K&R business was suddenly vastly more appealing.

Syd and Mark figured that the ensuing confusion would be their best shot at springing Calderon and Flores. Apparently there hadn’t been enough time to track down Isabela’s father, or the Tyr spy simply hadn’t bothered. Her jaw had tightened at the news, but Mark assured her that he’d personally go in after him. It had been tough to convince Isabela to remain at the motel, but on that point Syd refused to budge. Jake couldn’t blame her for that. He wasn’t as innately suspicious as she was, but something about Isabela’s story was a little too convenient.

Jake wasn’t holding out much hope that they’d be able to save any of the prisoners. Still, the plan had evolved from a suicidmission to one where it was only extremely likely they’d all be killed. So things were looking up.

He hadn’t been able to get in touch with Kelly. She should already be back in New York. It worried him that she wasn’t answering either their home phone or her cell. With any luck they’d be across the border by sunrise, and he’d arrive home tomorrow afternoon. Jake hadn’t decided yet what to tell her about the incident with Syd. In reality, his cheating unearthed a much larger problem in their relationship. And the time had probably come for both of them to face it.

Of course, there was a good chance he wouldn’t survive long enough to have to deal with it. It was an oddly comforting thought.

Jake pushed it out of his mind. Right now, he had to focus on the task at hand—getting through this jungle maze without being shot. He was following Fribush’s wide back. Syd was ahead of him, with Jagerson bringing up the rear. The strap of an AK-47 chafed his shoulder. Under the Kevlar vest, sweat pooled down his back.

Kane and Maltz were still in Mexico City scrounging up supplies. Hopefully they’d make it back in time for the raid. Their plan required a few dozen well-trained men—at the moment, they had twenty. And after their earlier experience with the Tyr team, Jake wasn’t ruling out the possibility of friendly fire.

Fribush suddenly stopped and dropped to one knee. Jake did the same, breath catching in his chest. The bushes ahead of them parted.

“Don’t shoot,” a voice called out. Mark materialized, Decker at his heels. He looked exhausted, Jake noted, but had that familiar glimmer in his eyes, as if they were about to light the wick of a cherry bomb. He saw Jake and smiled. “Glad you came,” he said. “Brown’s unit is back this way.”

Jake fell in step behind him. The fact that for the first time Mark seemed happy to see him raised a lump in his throat. He reminded himself why he was angry with him, but for some reason none of that seemed to matter anymore. They were partnered up again for the first time since they were kids. He had to admit, it felt good. The truth was, he’d missed him.

They followed Mark a quarter mile into deeper undergrowth. Branches tore at Jake’s face and hands as he pushed through them.

Suddenly they emerged in a small clearing packed with men checking weapons. They all stopped to examine the newcomers. Judging by their expressions, many weren’t thrilled with the new partnership arrangement.

Jake recognized Ellis Brown from their earlier confrontation. He was standing over a guy tied to a tree. The guy’s head hung forward, face covered in blood. At the sight of them Brown broke into a smile and approached, arms held wide.

“So the Littlehorn group is here.”

“Longhorn,” Jake corrected him.

“He’s messing with us, Jake,” Syd said. “Enemy of my enemy is my friend, right, Brown?”

“I’ll take what I can get out here.” He gestured to their rifles. “I figured you were the ones who bought up every AK-47 in town.”

“You know me…I’ve never been a girl to pass up a good sale.” She tucked a s blond hair behind her ear.

“Any more where those came from?”

“I might be able to spare a few,” she said coyly.

In fact, Fribush had a duffel bag filled with them slung over his back. They had decided as a unit to hold on to the weapons until they were certain Tyr wasn’t planning some sort of bait and switch.

Syd jerked her head toward the prisoner. “So he confirms the cartel raid rumor?”

“Yup. And a couple of my guys scouted the far side of the camp. A few clicks southeast they spotted at least a hundred men hanging around waiting for something. And I doubt it’s a Shakira concert.”

“Any idea what time they’re moving in?”

“This guy doesn’t have any idea—believe me, if he knew he would have told us. Riley says the shift change happens around midnight, so that would be my guess. But we thought there might be an easier way to find out for sure.” Brown’s eyes drifted over to Jake.

“What?” Jake asked. The way Brown was regarding him induced a distinctly bad feeling.

“Apparently the Zetas snatched Cesar because they want to strike a deal with him,” Brown said. “My guy didn’t have time to get the details. But we were thinking that you could approach the Sinaloa cartel, offer them something similar.”

“You want me to make a deal with a drug cartel? For what?”

“Clients,” Mark replied. “Tell them you’ll offer inside information on who they should target.”

“That’s insane. I’d never do that.”

“Neither would Cesar, that’s why he’s rotting down there,” Brown growled.

Jake’s head reeled. “You want me to approach a group of armed soldiers who are about to raid their rival’s prison camp and offer them a deal? They’ll shoot me on sight.”

“I doubt it,” Brown said. “They’ll be curious enough to hear you out first. Probably. And we’ll have a few snipers in the bushes covering you. Truth be told, the Sinaloans don’t strike me as the A-Team. I’m kind of doubting they’ll manage to take the camp.”

“So why contact them at all?” Jake asked.

“It’s a good idea, actually,” Syd said. “Makes it less likely they’ll shoot at us. And we’ll be approaching from the other side. Having us on board actually improves their chances. If the bosses over there are savvy, they’ll understand that.”

“No way,” Jake said. “I’m not making a deal with those guys.”

He caught Mark looking at him with disapproval and felt a flare of rage. All the good feelings he’d had a second earlier dissipated. He wondered if Mark had even blinked when Brown suggested Jake risk his life.

“I’ll go,” Syd said.

Jake shook his head. “Not this time, Syd. Longhorn bongs to both of us. We’re not going to compromise it.”

“What about Calderon and Flores?” Mark demanded. “They don’t deserve to be shot in a pen in the middle of the jungle. Isabela’s father, too.”

“Sorry, but there’s no way. It’s a bad idea.”

“Jake—” Syd laid a hand on his arm.

He shrugged it off. “I’m not letting you talk me into it. You want to take part in this raid, fine. But not like this.”

Jake could see her looking for an angle that would convince him. “Okay,” she finally said. “We’ll do it your way. But it’s a hell of a lot more dangerous.”

“So be it.” Jake turned to Brown. “I’m guessing you’ve still got men watching the other cartel?”

Brown looked at Syd as if asking approval, then slowly nodded. “They’ll radio in as soon as the Sinaloans start to move.”

“All right, then. And you know where Calderon and…what’s his name?”

“Flores,” Mark said heavily.

“Right, Flores. So you know where they are. The minute we find out the raid is on, we head in. If we’re lucky, we’ll be able to free them during the initial confusion. We’ve got two more men coming with heavier artillery, hopefully they’ll get here in time.”

“If that’s how you want to play it,” Brown said. “I still think—”

“I don’t care what you think,” Jake interrupted. “You want to use my people and our resources, those are the terms.”

“Agreed,” an unfamiliar voice chimed in. A small, weaselly man emerged from behind a tree. He walked forward, hand extended. “Linus Smiley, vice president of the Tyr Group.”

Jake eyed the extended hand, then ignored it. “So are we all on the same page?”

Smiley started to reply, but Brown interrupted. “Yeah, why not.”

“All right, then.”

A soldier trotted up to Brown and said something in a low voice. Brown’s face darkened, and he swore.

“Now what?” Syd asked.

“Wysocki got away,” he said to Mark.

“Who the hell is Wysocki?” Jake asked.

“No time for that.” Mark slung his LMT back over his shoulder, face grim. “We can’t let him get down to camp to warn them.”

Twenty-Five

Sock was hauling ass down the mountain, half sliding on his back to get to the bottom before they shot him.

Ging away had been easier than expected. When Brown showed up in camp again, Sock knew he was in for it. Brown had already been treating him like a mole, not even allotting him a radio. Now that Riley and Decker had materialized, the jig was up. Brown assigned two guys to watch him at all times, even when he took a piss. Once everything settled down, Sock knew he was in for the beating of his life, or worse. Riley probably blamed him for the whole operation going tits up. And hey, he’d be right.

In the past Sock had worked a couple of jobs with the two goons watching him, Hayward and Figuarello. They weren’t the best Tyr had to offer—he knew it and they knew it. The fact they hadn’t bothered tying him up confirmed their incompetence. When the new group showed up in camp, it provided enough of a distraction for him to bolt.

Luckily Sock had heard enough about their plans to give the general a reason to save his ass. Initially he’d intended to sit this one out. Gente had gotten squirrelly lately, claiming Sock didn’t have enough power in the organization to prove helpful anymore. And they both knew what that meant—once Sock wasn’t valuable, he’d better hightail it stateside or there’d be an extra hole in his head to spit out of. And he hadn’t been paid nearly enough to deal with that.

Still, this was fresh intel. A rival cartel raid—that was something he could take to the bank. He just had to make it down there without getting shot.

Sock slid another few feet before regaining his footing, grabbing branches to slow his descent. The camp was less than a hundred feet away. He felt a surge of adrenaline. After all the bullshit of the past week, being forced to hunker down and play victim with the rest of his pathetic unit, having to go back in when Gente decided he still needed ears on Tyr…now it was all going to pay off. He’d collect enough greenbacks to set himself up nicely somewhere new. He already had his eye on beachfront property in Honduras. Just a little bit farther and all his money troubles would be behind him.

Kelly shifted uncomfortably, trying not to let the smell get to her. They were hunkered down inside one of the tiny shanties in the dump. Rodriguez was murmuring in Spanish with a tiny, wizened woman. She looked sixty but it was hard to tell; under all those layers of filth might lurk a thirty-year-old woman. The absence of teeth caved in her lower jaw and Kelly could tell it took some effort for her to form words. To his credit, Rodriguez leaned in to listen, despite the stench emanating from the woman’s rags. The walls shifted with shadows from the light of the single candle she’d lit, making them appear alive.

This woman was the third person who had agreed to speak with them. Initially every pepenador they approached had scampered away. One had become enraged, waving his arms and berating them with what even Kelly could tell was a stream of epithets. After that encounter Rodriguez had wisely led them back to civilization for what he called, “critical supplies.” When they returned armed with bottled water, gum and snack food, doors were suddenly flung open. But most of the pepenadores claimed to be oblivious to the fact that a giant white man was killing children in their midst. A few had scrutinized Kelly, recognition in their gaze.

Then this woman had waved them into her shanty. After greedily accepting a bottle of water and an energy bar, she launched into a monologue that Rodriguez interrupted with occasional questioninally he stood and bowed his head. “Muchas gracias, señora.”

Kelly followed him back outside. The moon had climbed in the night sky, casting their surroundings in an orange glow. If anything the smell was even worse out here; the open air did little to dissipate it.

“Christ, no wonder you reeked.” Rodriguez held a handkerchief to his nose. “Couldn’t you stumble across a killer who was holed up at the Hilton?”

“What did she say?” Kelly asked impatiently.

“She confirmed that a man they call the White Devil showed up about a year ago. Right around that time, kids started disappearing.”

“And they didn’t do anything about it?” Kelly asked.

Rodriguez shrugged. “Most of the kids here are on their own. Runaways, orphans. You gotta understand, Jones, these people are in survival mode. Pepenador literally means garbage person or scavenger. They don’t have time to worry about anyone but themselves. And they figured there was a chance the kids either returned to families if they had them, or found another way to survive.”