F-Stop (28 page)

Mike whistled. “Damn and double damn. Now we just have to find out which one it is.”

“No small task,” Mark said.

“Let’s get these people back and then I have an idea how we can figure it out. If we snatch the hostages from under Herrera’s nose, he’ll be all over
Señor
Rasgon like white on rice. Once the hostages are safe, we need to connect with the very hostile Agent Anthony Delaware and see if he’ll go along with our plan.”

“I don’t think he’ll have a choice if he wants to wrap this up. He can have all the credit. We just want to take down
Señor
Rasgon.” Dan stacked the photos together.

“Let’s go over this one more time. We don’t have a lot of margin for error.”

* * * * *

As soon as the Gulfstream had left the airfield, the mechanic called Nando to report to him. He called back when they returned.

“They filed a flight plan for Baja,” he said. “They weren’t gone long enough to go anyplace else.”

“Nothing for this area of Mexico?” Nando pushed.

“No, nothing at all. And I timed them carefully.”

Nando was silent a moment. “Still,” he said at last, “they could have been one of the planes flying over here this afternoon. But if they were, they were too high up and flew too fast to see anything. Keep an eye on both aircraft and let me know if they take either one out again.”

“Si, Nando.
I promise.”

But the mechanic had not counted on special orders from his boss, who at that moment came strolling across the tarmac from the terminal building.

“Problem?” the man asked, looking at the mechanic’s worried face.

“No, no. Just some family complications.”

“Hope it’s nothing serious. I need you to take a run up to Los Angeles.” The mechanic struggled to keep the dismay from showing on his face. “Los Angeles? Now? It’s after six o’clock. I was just getting ready to leave.” Now he wished he told the man the call was about a family emergency.

The manager shrugged. “I’ll pay you double for the overtime. Cisco is working on the Phelps plane and needs a part tonight. I can’t break him loose from the job to go get it because he’s in the middle of other maintenance work on the plane.” Francisco Antinor was the other mechanic who worked full-time at the airfield.

Javier cursed silently at the job that would take him away from the airfield.

“I can finish what he’s doing,” he told the manager, “if he wants to make the extra by going to L.A.”

His boss looked at him strangely. “Is there some reason you don’t want do to this?

Something you need to tell me?”

Javier swallowed the sick feeling creeping up his throat. “No, no. No problem. Give me the information and I’ll leave right away.”

He just prayed that neither of the Phoenix aircraft took off while he was gone.

* * * * *

“But we still don’t know which one of them to pinpoint,” Mark said, reading the email from Andy that he’d printed out. He was handing each sheet around as he finished with it.

“Well, we know each of them is a strong possibility,” Dan pointed out. “They’re all in trouble.”

“Andy dug out some offshore accounts that Pelley’s been siphoning money off to,” Mike told them, reading the sheet in his hand. “That must be how he’s covering his investment losses.”

“He’s covered it well,” Dan commented. “He’s got a whole structure of phony companies set up that on the surface look legit. He’s probably counting on the fact that Eli Wright trusts him so much he doesn’t look any further than the financials Pelley gives him. I have a strong hunch he’s also laundering drug money through there too, for a cut of the profits. I think somewhere he invested in something Herrera had his fingers in and he got hooked.”

“Ryan Post is in big trouble with his spas,” Mark told them, looking at what he’d printed out. “He’s borrowed money at a high rate of interest from some banks outside the federal banking system. If any of it came from Herrera, there’s your connection.

Also, the DEA suspects him of using the Mexico facility to process drugs into the States, which Herrera could be leveraging him to do.”

“Even Rand Prescott is not looking too good. He’s under investigation by the Securities and Exchange Commission for inflating the value of the stock in a couple of his development companies, one of which he’s in partnership with Eli Wright. And there’s a lot of curiosity about where the original capital actually came from.”

“So any of the three of them could be the one working with the cartel,” Faith mused, “or it could in fact be all of them, with one lead person directing the dance.

Herrera was in a position to get his hooks into all of them and they all had both access to and an axe to grind with Eli Wright. He could have forced them to act in concert, hoping to throw us off as to the real contact. We’re still no further ahead with something we can actually prove.”

“No.” Her husband shook his head. “Not true. Andy’s got the Dragon cranking away on
Señor
Rasgon. If anyone can find it, he can. Then we’ll have a starting point.”

“Still no word from the Feds?” Rick asked.

“Not even a whisper,” Mark said. “The couple of times I’ve called them they politely told me to mind my own business.”

“Even though Kat’s sister is one of the hostages? I’d think they’d be all over her, holding her hand, waiting to see if
she
was contacted.” Dan shook his head. “They know Mari wasn’t the main target, just collateral damage. And Kat wouldn’t have the financial resources to pay any ransom. They’re either hogtied and don’t want anyone to know it, or they have something going and think we’ll mess it up.”

“If they investigated Kat, wouldn’t they’d have discovered her remote viewing ability and asked her to help?”

“Not necessarily,” Dan said. “Even though the government continues to do its own experiments with psychic abilities, not everyone is willing to use them. Plus, I’m willing to bet they still don’t have the vaguest idea of who they’re dealing with, that a major cartel is behind this. And they’re trying to figure out how to finesse this because the crime crosses international borders. They don’t want us seeing them chase their tails.”

“We aren’t exactly their favorite people, anyway,” Rick reminded everyone.

“All right.” Dan tapped keys on the laptop, brought up the satellite photos of the specified area that Andy had sent and leaned back in his chair. “Enough. It’s dark at seven after nine. We should be at the airport, locked and loaded and ready for takeoff in the chopper by nine o’clock. We want the cover of full darkness to do this.”

“This is probably the best place for the drop.” Mark pointed to a spot on one of the photos. “Far enough away that unless they’ve got guards out in the marijuana fields we won’t run into trouble in the insertion.”

“But they’ll hear the sound of the bird coming in,” Troy pointed out. “What do we do about that?”

“Hopefully that far away it won’t draw too much attention to us. And Ed, you’ll pull away the minute the last of us drops and wait for us,” his finger hovered over the aerial shot, then landed on a spot, “here.”

“We’ll all be linked through the comm gear but if we need communication between the helo and us, Mark, we’re going to depend on you and Faith.” Kat realized they were talking about the ability the Hallorans had to communicate telepathically with each other. She hoped that between them, she and Faith had enough psychic abilities to help make this mission successful too.

“Kat and I need to do a little shopping,” Faith told them. She looked at Kat. “Black jeans and shirts,” she told her. “Nothing light that can be seen anywhere.” She turned back to her husband. “I spotted a place to shop when Mark and I were out. We won’t be more than a half hour. Meanwhile, you guys can go over this one more time.”

“All right,” Mark said, “but hurry.”

As the women entered the elevator, two men in dark suits exited and headed down the hallway.

“God,” Faith breathed. “I hope that’s not trouble coming.”

* * * * *

Rip was pacing his office, trying to keep himself as calm as possible. The news of the aborted ransom drop had everyone on edge and he knew they’d begin looking harder for a connection to the kidnappers. And trying to force a location from someone.

His own personal FBI barnacle was cutting him no slack.

He was tired, irritable, stressed out and wishing this whole disaster would finally come to an end. He desperately needed the cash he’d get from this but his bad feeling about the whole situation was getting worse by the minute. He knew the Feds had been checking his personal financial situation, just as they had the other two men, but thus far none of his secrets had emerged. Now, with the ransom catastrophe, they’d get out bigger shovels and dig deeper. Everything he’d worked so hard for could come crashing down around him.

Making sure he had the disposable phone in his pocket, he managed to slide into the restroom and lock the door. First he called the other two men and the message from both of them was the same.

“I’m trying to put this to bed as quickly as possible,” he told both of them.

“Otherwise we’re all in big trouble. Just keep the Feds at bay and we’ll get through this.”

Next, with a finger that shook slightly, he dialed the by now familiar number.

“What?” Nando snapped.

“Are you crazy asking for a bigger ransom?” Rip asked, pitching his voice low.

“We need to teach the gringos a lesson. Don’t mess with us or there will be consequences.”

“They’re pulling in more agents,” he protested. “And looking harder into everyone’s backgrounds. They’re determined to find out who the kidnapper is. If our…arrangement comes to light, there might not
be
any ransom.”

“Then you’d better make sure that doesn’t happen,” Nando told him in a tight voice. “Herrera won’t like it if your stupidity costs him all that money. He needs it quickly.”

“Why? What’s the hurry?”

“You know why. There’s a shipment of arms coming through and the dealer needs to be paid.”

“Damn it, no!” Rip exploded. “You can’t use the same shipping pipeline. There’s too many eyes watching.”

“Again I tell you, take care of it. Herrera gets very testy when his business is interrupted.”

“Then Herrera shouldn’t have kidnapped a high-profile hostage,” Pelley blurted out.

“Ah.” Nando’s voice sounded very sly. “Then you should not have gotten yourself in this situation. If we don’t get the money and are forced to kill the hostages, you could disappear right along with them.”

Rip tasted the bile rising in his throat. “Just set the next ransom drop quickly and release these people,” he said. “We’ve got to get this thing done. Don’t forget. The people from Phoenix are still out there operating on their own and doing god only knows what. Trust me. You don’t want them on your back.”

“We will take care of them. Your job is to
make sure nobody screws with us again.” Nando disconnected the call and Rip was once more left with dead air. He had no choice now. He just had to play the cards that were dealt the best he could.

When he opened the door and walked out of the bathroom, it was to be told the next call had come in on the cell phone he’d left on a table and the email had just arrived.

“
Same arrangements as before. Same time, same place. No tricks this time.”
Chapter Fourteen

“Your boys from Phoenix are busy,” Jason Malone said into the telephone to Anthony Delaware, launching into a brief rundown on their activities.

As the Special Agent in Charge of the FBI’s San Diego office, Malone had been kept in the loop from the beginning but he hadn’t yet been able to be much help. He’d questioned everyone at the airfield where the Wright International plane was still parked and at the restaurant where they’d eaten lunch. Someone had finally remembered the van that took off with the Wright party but no one had any information about it.

He’d put feelers out on the street too, trying to find the identity of the kidnapper.

He and Anthony Delaware had finally agreed that it was the work of a drug cartel.

Kidnappings by cartels had become so prevalent they were now almost daily occurrences. But pinning down the specific cartel was like chasing a butterfly.

He’d put his feelers out on the street, had the agents in his office work their snitches but there were still no results. People were afraid of the cartel leaders. They’d rather go to jail than face the wrath of any of them, a surefire road to death.

But the Phoenix Agency, that shadowy, mysterious agency that handled the blackest of operations and trained security for the most elite of corporate officers, had definitely been in evidence. By flashing his badge he’d coerced the manager of the airfield into telling him about the arrival of the Gulfstream, the conversation with the pilots and then—an event that made Malone’s blood chill—the arrival of the brand new Black Hawk helicopter.

“Have you talked to them?” Delaware asked.

“I paid them a visit at the hotel where they’re staying but I might as well have been talking to the wall.” He pulled out a desk drawer and braced his foot on it. “These guys are pros. All former Delta Force, SEALs, Rangers. If they weren’t intimidated by some of the people they’ve faced, nothing we say will have any effect on them.”

“Did they tell you anything at all?”

“Nope.” Malone raked his fingers through his hair. “They were very polite, told me they were in town on personal business and wouldn’t be staying long.”

“I’ll bet,” Delaware said, his voice edged with sarcasm. “Can you have someone keep an eye on them?”

“Yeah, sure but it’s just a waste of manpower. They’re better at evasive tactics than we ever thought of being. And if they take off in their brand spankin’ new Black Hawk, it will be impossible to follow them.”

“What about having the FAA track them?” the San Antonio agent asked.

“Good luck with that. Especially if they enter Mexican air space. And you know the Mexican government won’t even talk to us.”

“Not to mention the political firestorm we’ll set off if we tell them we’re accusing one of their citizens—one who undoubtedly gives that government financial support—