Contract to Kill (33 page)

“Forget it,” she said.

“So how’ve you been?” Nathan asked. “When are they going to promote you to Fresno’s ASAC?”

“I hope never; I like working with guns, not pencils.”

Nathan exchanged another glance with Harv.

She narrowed her eyes.

Harv nudged him.

“Thank you, Harv.”

“Hungry?” Nathan asked.

“Starving. I was going to grab a bite on the way, but figured I’d wait for you guys.”

“Glad you did, but we have to pick a place with a pay phone nearby.”

“Lansing?”

“Yep. We’ve been hot racking on Harv’s office couch in two-hour shifts.”

“Sounds serious. I’m assuming we’re going on a bug hunt?”

“Kinda sorta . . . we don’t have our marching orders yet.”

“Who are the bad guys?”

“Private military contractors from OEF. Two very bad
hombres
and one equally bad
mujer
. We’re waiting on a return call from your boss.”

“Why is it every time your name gets thrown around, the chain of command goes out the window? I’m supposed to get my assignments from my ASAC, not the big cheese.”

“Lansing called you directly again?”

“He said to drop everything and get on the road to your office. He also said he’d handle all the quote, paperwork, unquote. Not only that, I’m to tell no one I’m down here.”

“Outstanding,” Nathan said. “It’s pretty clear he thinks you’re the perfect agent for the job. Consider it a compliment.”

“Either that or he thinks I’m expendable.”

“He doesn’t think that.”

She didn’t respond.

“Trust me: he doesn’t.”

“So,” Grangeland said, taking Nathan’s arm as they walked, “how’s our new chief of staff doing? It’s quite a promotion for her.”

Nathan saw no reason to BS with Grangeland; she wouldn’t respect it. “I put her in a difficult position. I asked her to delay reporting our activity to Lansing. He told me not to worry about Holly and that his trust in her hasn’t been compromised. Still, I probably should’ve handled things differently.”

“Can you tell me what’s going on?”

“Yes.” Nathan took a moment to give Grangeland a quick summary of everything they knew to date. Grangeland was a good listener; he liked that about her.

“Are you two on the rocks?” she asked, returning to the subject of Holly.

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know? How can you not know?”

“Nate’s more worried than I am,” Harv said. “I’m certain Lansing told her to let things cool down a bit.”

“Let me guess: he doesn’t want his office smeared if things go south.”

“Partially, but it’s more than that,” Nathan said. “Something Lansing and I would never say to Holly.”

“Okay . . . ”

He looked at Harv, then back to Grangeland. “Physically, Holly’s not one hundred percent. She still walks with a slight limp. She’s riding a desk now.”

“Ouch.”

“I didn’t mean it like that. What I’m trying to say is, I’d never take her on a combat op against hardened OEF vets.”

“But you’re comfortable with me?”

“Absolutely, and Lansing is too. You’re here to help us get containment.”

“Containment . . . ”

“His word, not ours.”

“So it’s a dead-or-alive situation?”

Harv said, “He didn’t actually say it, but yeah, that’s the gist of it.”

“You guys don’t need me for that.”

“Not true, Grangeland,” Nathan said. “We’re thankful to have you. But to answer your question, Lansing assigned you to us.”

She stopped and faced them. “You guys didn’t ask for me?”

“We never got the chance. After Lansing said he insisted one of his people accompany us, we said there was only one agent we’d trust for this kind of thing. That’s when he told us you were already on the way.”

“He’d already chosen me.”

“Yes.”

“So I’m an FBI black-ops agent?”

“How do you feel about that?” Harv asked.

“I love it.”

Nathan smiled. He and Grangeland were kindred souls. “We’re in a holding pattern until we hear from him. All our tactical gear is packed up and ready to go, and our helicopter is sitting on the tarmac at Montgomery Field. We can be in the air within twenty minutes of getting the nod.”

“Let’s hope we don’t have a long flight. Spending several hours suspended above the ground inside a giant leaf blower isn’t my idea of fun.”

Harv half laughed. “A giant leaf blower?”

CHAPTER 32

Three hours into George Beaumont’s return flight to the West Coast, his first officer patched a phone call through to the cabin. Before leaving Ronald Reagan National, Beaumont had created a new voice mail recording with an emergency number to call if the situation was urgent. Well, Ramiro’s situation certainly qualified as urgent, and he wasn’t expecting a call from anyone else.

He picked up the phone and spoke two words. “Globular cluster.”

“Messier 22.”

Beaumont used the speaker feature so that he didn’t have to hold the handset. “Ramiro, we’ve got a real shitstorm up here.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t call sooner. I don’t have much time. I’m on a pizza run for the gang. What’s going on?”

“Mason’s gone rogue.”

Ramiro didn’t respond for a long moment. “What do you mean, ‘gone rogue’?”

“He betrayed his oath.” Beaumont gave Ramiro a quick summary.

“This is seriously fucked up. I just got off the phone with him.”

“How long ago?”

“Shit, five minutes. I told him Alisio doesn’t trust his lieutenant in San Diego. There’s a new deal going down with new players, and Alisio set up a phony delivery. I just found out about it.”

“What’s your source? Alisio’s second lieutenant again?”

“Yeah, I’m dating the guy’s niece, and he totally trusts me. He told me someone tried to raid the fake delivery; everyone’s talking about it. Are you saying it was Mason?”

“Yes. Tell me everything you told him.”

Ramiro filled him in on the early morning’s events at Shelter Island, then paused. “Sorry. I’m just thinking. This news about Mason has me rattled.”

“Me too.”

“Anyway, the real duffels have already been delivered in the Coronado Cays to Alisio’s private residence. There’s a dock there big enough to berth the ROK yacht.”

“So they’re using the
Yoonsuh
again for this newest delivery?”

“Yes.”

“Is it guns?”

“No, counterfeit pesos.”

“Counterfeit pesos? How much?”

“Three hundred million. The North Korean paper stock is so realistic with all the security features and anticounterfeiting safeguards, it’s virtually real money. It even passes the ultraviolet test. Alisio’s paying twenty-five cents on the dollar for the funny money, but he’s gonna resell it on the streets for twice that. It’ll be easy to launder down here because the cash economy’s so bad. The South Koreans sent a small sample ahead of time, and we took it to the Banamex branch downtown. The teller tested it with a marker, used a black light, and held it up to see the watermark and then deposited it. It’s really good stuff. If this deal goes through successfully, the next shipment will be five times as big.”

“How’s Alisio paying for it?”

“Like we suspected, it’s a combination of bullion, diamonds, and cash. Two million in Philharmonics, two million in round brilliants, and two million in US cash. A DPRK gemologist is going to examine the coins and diamonds for authenticity. It’s gonna take several hours because there’s four hundred diamonds to check and fifteen hundred gold coins.”

“Does Mason know everything you just told me?”

“Yes.”

“Where’s the exchange taking place?”

“Everyone’s tight-lipped, but my friend told me something about an abandoned borrow pit just north of Yuma. Everyone’s buzzing about it because Mr. A’s gonna be there.”

“In person? Are you sure?”

“That’s the scuttlebutt. He left yesterday; that’s why I’m able to call you like this. The exchange is going down right after sunset tonight. That’s all I could get without raising suspicion. I’m pretty sure I heard the word ‘reservoir’ a few times. Do you want me to press?”

“No, don’t risk it. I’ll follow up from here. Are you sure you’re not compromised? No one’s following you or acting strangely?”

“No. Everything’s normal.”

“I think Mason’s planning to ambush the exchange.”

“That’s crazy. Mr. A took a small army with him.”

“How many, best guess?”

“At least ten. His first and second LTs are with him.”

“Well, Mason’s on his own now. I’ve cut him off.”

“Will he blow my cover?”

Beaumont hesitated. “I don’t think he would normally. He respects you a lot. He told me you were his favorite graduate. Having said that, there’s still no telling what he’ll do. Especially if things go badly at the exchange. I’d feel better if you staged somewhere.”

“I can’t. I’m in charge until Mr. A gets back.”

“He may not be coming back.”

“Does that mean what I think it means?”

“Yes.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“You’re two hours ahead of Pacific time. Tonight at seven, Mexico City time, I want you to make some kind of excuse and get the hell out of there.”

“Forever?”

“I don’t know yet. It may not be safe at Alisio’s compound tonight. The place could be swarming with PFM agents. It’s better if you’re not there. Do you need anything, any arrangements?”

“No, I’m all set. I’ve been ready for this for months.”

“You’ve done a terrific job. I’m going to make sure you receive a healthy bonus. I’m giving you the money Mason, Hahn, and Lyons would’ve gotten this year. It’s the least I can do, given what you’ve risked.”

“Thank you, George. I appreciate it. I really miss my mom and dad. I haven’t seen them in two years.”

“Soon enough.”

“Man, I never saw this coming.”

“That makes both of us.”

“Is there anything I can do to help you between now and tonight?”

“Since Mason already knows about the real delivery, there’s nothing you can do. I’ll make this brief, but here’s what’s going to happen.” Ramiro didn’t interrupt while Beaumont laid out his plan.

“Who are these guys?” Ramiro asked.

“Retired Recons.”

“How many?”

“Two.”

“Two? You’re kidding.”

“They’ll have an FBI agent with them.”

“A SWAT guy?”

“Not exactly.”

Ramiro didn’t say anything, but Beaumont knew what his man was thinking—
it’s a suicide mission
.

“These guys aren’t your typical retired grunts.”

“For their sakes, let’s hope not. I don’t need to tell you what Mr. A will do to them if he takes them alive. I’m assuming they know about me?”

“Yes.” Beaumont knew Ramiro was worried about being given up under torture. “You’ve done great work down there. You’ve saved countless lives on both sides of the border.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“Stay sharp. Assume nothing. I want you out of there if anyone even looks at you funny.”

“No problem. I’m ready.”

“I’ll see you stateside in a few days. Make contact after you cross the border.”

George Beaumont hung up and looked at the passenger sitting across the aisle.

Neither of them spoke. It wasn’t needed.

They were both thinking the same thing.

CHAPTER 33

Nathan lifted off from Montgomery Field with Harv and Grangeland twenty minutes after receiving Lansing’s call. He’d half expected Beaumont or his father to participate on the call, but Lansing said he’d attempted to reach them and gotten thrown into voice mail.

Lansing had given them GPS coordinates, describing their destination as an abandoned rock quarry, or borrow pit as they were sometimes called. The quarry sat approximately fifteen miles north of Yuma, Arizona. Lansing had thoroughly checked the satellite photos, and only one location fit Ramiro’s description.

Harv’s preliminary flight planning indicated it was approximately 150 miles to their destination. If they pushed the Bell 407’s engine a little, they could make it in seventy-five minutes, plus or minus. Given the timing of Ramiro’s earlier conversation with Mason, Nathan believed they’d arrive at least an hour before Mason, Hahn, and Lyons could possibly get there.

Having a helicopter and the ability to pilot it was a huge speed advantage, but Nathan knew it still didn’t offer much of a margin. They had to land at a safe distance, conceal the ship, hump over to the pit on foot, and then find tactical locations to set up their shooting positions.

The weather remained a positive aspect. Conditions were perfect. The previous night’s rain had cleared the air, and bright sunshine dominated the entire southwest quadrant of the country. Nathan hadn’t flown in several weeks, and lifting off reminded him how much he enjoyed flying and the feeling of freedom it offered.

Though Harv had only been licensed for a few years, he’d become a skilled pilot. In some ways, he was better than Nathan. Harv had an instinctive feel for performing autorotations, a crucial procedure pilots had to master in the event of an engine failure or other mechanical problems. Fortunately, it rarely happened, but Nathan supposed all pilots, both fixed wing and rotary wing, felt the same underlying fear. Flying wasn’t like driving; you couldn’t just pull over to the curb when the engine stopped.

Despite her hesitation to travel in helicopters, Grangeland was a good passenger. If she felt any unease, she hid it well, and after an uneventful flight following the I-8 corridor, they reached an expanse of sand dunes on the outskirts of Yuma. Harv told Nathan to fly a course of zero-five-nine.

Harv studied the chart for a few seconds, then pointed. “Head for the second line of peaks. The borrow pit should be just north of them.”

Fifteen minutes later, Harv gave a course correction to the east.

Nathan slowed to fifty knots as he approached their target area. “I see the quarry. Eleven o’clock at two miles.”

“Got it,” Harv said. “We’ll need to turn south before we reach the river to avoid entering Yuma Proving Ground’s airspace. After you make the turn, stay west of the river. We’ll maintain that heading for a minute or two before turning around and retracing our path. I don’t think we should risk orbiting the area. Someone could be down there.”