Authors: Michelle Gagnon
“Sal!” Brown called out. “Y no lo matamos.”
After a minute, a Mexican in army fatigues crawled out the hole where the windshield had been. Shakily he stood, arms high.
“I hurt!” he called in a thick accent. “Hospital.”
Brown walked forward and grabbed him by the collar. “Trust me, my friend, you’ll hurt a hell of a lot more when we’re done with you.”
Eleven
Kelly stood next to Jake, watching the Tyr team mobilize. They were organizing in almost complete silence, as if the assignments were being transmitted telepathically. She had to admit they looked impressive. Matching uniforms, even. Two of them stood guard over the guy who had climbed out of the van.
“They’re taking him?”
“Looks like it,” Jake said.
“What are we going to do about it?”
“I’m still working on that,” Jake said. His cell phone rang. He fumbled with it, frowning at the caller ID.
“Who is it?” Kelly asked.
“Work.”
“What, now?”
He shrugged. “Must be important. They’re not supposed to bother me unless something directly related to the case comes in.”
Jake stepped away to answer it. While he was speaking, Syd joined her. They watched as the survivor’s hands were zip tied behind his back. “How’d Tyr get the jump on you two?” she asked without looking at Kelly.
“They came up from behind while we were waiting for you.”
“Huh,” Syd said. “I gotta have a chat with Maltz about that.”
“He didn’t do anything wrong,” Kelly said defensively. “There were too many of them. Anyway, we were handling it before you
“Sure you were,” Syd said. “You had everything under control.”
Kelly was about to retort but Syd had already turned away, eyes narrowed.
The Tyr team was melting back into the spaces between buildings. Two of them cradled the injured team member in their arms. Two others escorted the new captive away. The rest were gathered around Brown. Syd marched over to him. Warily, Kelly followed.
“Going somewhere?” Syd asked, arms crossed.
“Even in this neighborhood, the federales will show up at some point,” Brown said without bothering to look at her. “Time to move out.”
“Bullshit,” Syd said. “You’re sharing him.”
“Or what, your team will take us out?” He smirked. “I think that ship sailed, Clement.”
“This is ridiculous,” Kelly said. “If we pool resources, we all get what we want.”
“Who’s your friend?” Brown asked, finally making eye contact.
“FBI,” Syd said dismissively.
“That explains it,” Brown said. “Didn’t realize they were making them cuter.”
“She’s engaged.” Syd jerked her head toward Jake. “To him.”
“Yeah?” Brown eyed Kelly. “I don’t see it.”
“I know, right?”
“Excuse me?” Kelly interrupted. “Can we finish discussing what we’re going to do here?”
“Nothing to discuss, lady,” Brown said. “We’ll drop you a line when we recover our hostages. Have a nice flight home.”
Jake reappeared, slipping an arm around her waist. Kelly could tell by his expression that something had happened, but it was hard to say if it was good or bad.
“Let’s go,” Jake said to Syd.
Her hackles rose. “Screw that. I’m not letting them—”
“We don’t need them,” Jake said. He rubbed Kelly’s back reassuringly.
“This is bullshit, Jake.”
“Seriously, Syd. Let it go.” He stepped away from Kelly and grabbed Syd’s elbow, steering her toward their sole remaining rental car.
“What’s going on?” Brown asked.
“None of your concern, apparently,” Kelly said.
She followed Jake and Syd, sensing the weight of Brown’s eyes on her back.
Syd continued protesting as Jake propelled her into the passenger seat. “Radio Jagerson, Fribush and Kane, tell them to meet us at the corner of Maria Eugenia and De Los Angeles. It’s about a click away.”
“This is crap, Riley,” s. “We could have taken them.”
Despite that, she picked up the radio and relayed the instructions.
Jake held the rear door open for Kelly and she climbed in. Maltz slid in the other side. He glanced at her, and she shrugged. Jake climbed into the driver’s seat and pulled away. Brown remained stock-still in the middle of the street, watching them leave. As they turned the corner, Jake said, “I told you, we don’t need them.”
“Are you kidding? They’ve got someone to interrogate. That guy might tell them where your brother is.”
“That’s what I’m saying, Syd.” A grin split Jake’s face as he said, “I don’t need anyone to tell me. I already know.”
“What?”
“We’re on our way to meet Mark now. Then we can get out of this shithole,” Jake said, “and Brown can do whatever the hell he wants.”
Twelve
“I know who you are,” Flores said. “I actually work for you.”
“Really?” Calderon’s eyebrows shot up. “In what capacity?”
“Special Ops.”
Calderon laughed sharply. “Let me guess,” he said. “You’re here to rescue me.”
“It’s a long story,” Flores replied uncomfortably. The irony of the situation wasn’t lost on him. As far as he knew, Kaplan was dead, Riley and Decker were captured or killed, and Sock…who the hell knew where Sock was? What he’d witnessed earlier didn’t bode well for the guy’s innocence. And the fact that Sock wasn’t here rendered him all the more guilty in Flores’s eyes. If there was another Tyr unit in the country, they were probably still scouring Mexico City for them. All in all, he had no good news to offer.
“I’ll get us out of here,” Flores finally replied. With a sinking feeling, he realized that encountering Calderon complicated his escape plan a thousandfold. Alone, he’d easily survive a few weeks in the jungle. But Calderon had to be in his late fifties, and the weeks he’d already spent in captivity had clearly taken a toll. He was gaunt, emaciated. He’d only slow Flores down. He flashed back on Maryanne’s face again.
“That’s all right, son.” Calderon patted his shoulder awkwardly. “We’ve had lots of practice getting people back from places like this. I’m sure Linus Smiley is on top of it.”
“I’m sure he is, sir,” Flores said. He debated how much to tell him about his suspicions. Calderon was already in bad shape, he decided. No need to worry him, especially when there wasn’t a damn thing they could do about the situation.
“I’m surprised they haven’t come for proof of life, though,” Calderon mused. “I have to say, if I was on the other side of this, I’d be wondering what the hell is going on. I’m guessing the board isn’t taking it well.”
“I wouldn’t know, sir,” Flores said.
“No, of course you wouldn’t.” Calderon smiled wanly. “Well, at least now I have someone to pass the time with. Do you play chess?”
Flores shook his head.
“Then this is the perfect opportunity to learn.” Calderon went to the rear of the pen. After scrounging around for a minute, he produced a rolled up piece of felt. Carrying it back, he carefully unfurled it. Squares had been drawn on in chalk. Some of the pieces were recognizable, others were just chips of wood.
“I haven’t had time to carve the entire set,” Calderon said apologetically. “And part of me is hoping I won’t get the chance to finish. You should see the one I have at home. Mahogany, with—”
“They gave you a knife?” Flores interrupted, his mind immediately clicking through the possibilities.
“I traded for some cigarettes. It’s not very sharp,” he said. “Some of the guards are better than others. If you need anything, I can discreetly ask around.”
“Thanks,” Flores said.
“Not a problem. Now, let me show you how to set up the board. Chess takes a minute to learn and a lifetime to master…”
Flores tuned out Calderon’s chatter as he watched him fastidiously arrange the motley pieces on the felt. There was something off about the guy. Maybe it just stemmed from spending weeks in this hellhole, but still—this was a man who had developed a reputation as the master of K&R work worldwide. Flores would never have guessed that he’d spend his confinement patiently awaiting a rescue—playing chess, no less. Wouldn’t he want to seize the opportunity to help plan an escape? What the hell was going on here? Flores’s mind shifted back to their failed raid. Maybe Sock had sold them out on orders from above. Maybe the entire thing was a setup. But why?
“Your move,” Calderon said with a grin.
Syd leaned against the wall nearest the door observing the reunion. It was far from warm, despite the circumstances. Of course, if she ran into a family member out in the field, it would probably go down the same way.
They were in a dingy motel room at the intersection of Maria Eugenia and De Los Angeles. The neighborhood hadn’t improved much from where they spent the morning, and this motel was no exception. In comparison, the place they stayed in yesterday was practically a Four Seasons. Cement flooring peeked through worn patches in the brown rug. The bed sloped distinctly to the right and sported a comforter that didn’t appear to have been laundered since the Kennedy administration. Music blared from a battered clock radio that Jake had set to something tinny to cover their discussion. Mark winced when he turned it on, but didn’t say anything. There was a funky smell, too—funny how cheap motel rooms all shared the same tang of cigarette smoke, stale food, body odor and something else she couldn’t quite pin down.
Eight of them packed into the space made it all the more comical. Maltz, Jagerson, Fribush and Kane had finally excused themselves,hey’d keep an eye out for hostiles. Syd suspected they just needed some air.
The Feeb sat on the bed rubbing her leg, looking even more agitated than usual. Syd watched her fidget. What could possibly be eating her now? They’d accomplished what they’d set out to do and emerged unscathed. In her book, that counted as a win.
Mark Riley was better looking than Syd had expected. About an inch taller than Jake, with more muscle packed on a similar frame. Same blue eyes, hair almost completely gray, but otherwise they could have passed for twins. Right now they even shared the same pissed-off look. Ah, family, she thought with a sigh. Always a drag.
“You’re not hearing me,” Mark growled.
“I heard you just fine,” Jake retorted. “Your men weren’t there when you got back, so you’re assuming the Zetas caught up with them. But maybe they had to move because their location was compromised, and they had no way of letting you know. Maybe they managed to get in touch with Tyr, and they’re already on a plane home. You’re making a lot of assumptions here.”
“Kaplan was there,” Mark argued. “Still warm. And the room stank from a flash bang.”
“Fine.” Jake rubbed his eyes wearily. “So the Zetas got them again. Or someone else did. What the hell can you do about it?”
“I’m not leaving them here,” Mark said.
“They have my father, too,” the girl chimed in. “I know where they’ve probably taken them.”
Syd eyed her. Pretty thing, a little mousy but with good bone structure. Somehow she’d already managed to wrap Mark Riley around her little finger, that was clear.
“What was your name again?” Jake asked.
“Isabela,” she said, drawing herself up. Syd smirked at the gesture. It was impossible to look imposing when you were five-four, but she gave her credit for trying.
“No offense, Isabela, but I came to get my brother back. Mission accomplished. Now I just want to get the hell out of here.” Jake plunked down on the bed beside Kelly.
“Well, I’m staying.” Mark glanced at the other surviving member of his team, who nodded. “Decker, too. If you could loan us some weapons—”
“Jesus Christ.” Jake exhaled deeply. “These guys beat you before, and that was when you had a full team. Two of you going after them like this is suicide, it won’t matter if we give you bazookas.”
“I’ll take a bazooka,” Decker interjected. “You got any?”
“No, but we can lend you a few AKs,” Syd said.
“That’ll work,” Decker said. “Much appreciated.”
Jake shot a glare at her. “You’re not helping.”
She shrugged. “They’re going whether you want them to or not.”
“At least tell me you’ll join up with the rest of your guys. Brown had two units with him,” Jake said. Decker and Mark exchanged a look. “What?”
“Not sure we can trust Tyr,” Mark finally responded. “That’s why I called you.”
Jake examined a bare patch of floor by his feet. “Where do you think they’re being held?” he finally asked, raising his eyes.
“Jake,” Kelly said warningly.
“They have a prison camp in the Veracruz mountains. It’s about two hundred miles northeast of here,” Isabela said. “I know they have my father there.”
“How do you know?” Syd asked.
Isabela turned, appraising her. “A friend with information on Los Zetas told me.”
Huh, Syd thought. Despite her mousy appearance, the girl had a certain look about her that Syd recognized. And it wasn’t that of a scared novice in way over her head. She wondered why the hell Isabela was so gung ho for them to raid this camp.
“A prison camp,” Jake said. “So we’re talking dozens of guards, at least.”
Isabela glanced at Mark before replying. “Probably more,” she said. “It’s inside one of their main bases.”
“Fantastic,” Jake said. “How the hell are you gonna grab your guys and get out without a dozen bullets in your back?”
“We’ll come up with something. I’ve done it before,” Mark reminded Jake. “Hell, I was doing this sort of thing when you were still in high school.”
“Yeah, and look how well that worked out for you,” Jake said.
Mark didn’t reply, but his hands clenched into fists. Syd wondered again what the hell they’d been fighting about all these years. Whatever it was must be juicy.
“There’s nothing I can say to stop you?” Jake sounded bone-weary.
“Nope.”
“You should go with him,” Kelly said. “Or at least let them have Kane and Jagerson.”
“I’ll go.” Syd jumped in. Jake threw her a look. “What? I’ve got nothing better to do.”
“Did you hear the part about this being a suicide mission? They’re not even sure their guys are there,” Jake argued.
“Yeah, well. I love to travel, and I’ve never seen that part of the country before.”
“I can’t commit any of my people to this,” Jake said. “If they go, it’s voluntarily.”