Karen Vail 01 - Velocity (28 page)

DeSantos turned to her and gave her a look.

Tough shit, Hector. I’m here. I’m going to ask questions.

Sammy tilted his head back, his aviator sunglasses reflecting the glary sky like a mirror. “It’s far-reaching. But bringing down a cartel’s one of the primary objectives.”

“Which cartel?” Vail asked.

Sammy’s mirrored glasses flicked over to Vail. It was evident he was not pleased with her intrusions. His gaze slid over to DeSantos. “Cortez.”

“Cortez—” Vail said, then stopped herself.
Holy shit. That’s the big leagues.

Sammy craned his head around, searching the immediate area. “I’ve said enough.”

DeSantos dipped his chin. “Appreciate it.”

“Wait,” Vail said. “That’s it? How does César Guevara fit into this?”

Sammy looked at DeSantos. His expression was as unreadable as stone. “See you around.”

He rose from the bench and turned in the direction of the gazebo. Vail started to get up, but DeSantos clamped down on her arm with vise-like strength.

“Let him go, Karen.”

She pul ed away—to no avail. “But he knows more than he told us.”

“If he does, he’l let me know. He said what he felt he could say in front of you.

Let’s run with what he gave us.”

DeSantos released his grip. Vail turned and watched Sammy dissolve into the moving mass of students. Vail put a hand to her forehead, then rose and began to pace. “This is worse than I thought, Hector. Carlos Cortez, Jesus Christ. Cortez is one of the most violent and aggressive cartels.”

DeSantos looked off and, for the first time, Vail saw a look of concern on his face.

49

H
e’s not coming,” Brix said.

Dixon twisted her wrist and consulted her watch for what felt like the fiftieth time.

Sitting and waiting, when so much was at stake, was a difficult skil to master. She stil hadn’t perfected it. Her knee was bouncing and she felt the need to scream—

anything—to burn off the excess adrenaline.

Brix stood up and brushed off his pants. “What do you want to do?”

Dixon got to her feet and looked up at the sky. It was bright and warm. It would be unseasonably hot today. “He’s not home and he’s not at work. Let’s poke around and see if anyone knows what’s going on. He has a secretary. It’s 9:00 AM, start of normal business hours. Why isn’t
she
here?”

Brix pul ed his phone. “You got the number for Superior Mobile Bottling?” Dixon gave it to him, and he dialed. A moment later, he closed his handset. “They’re closed for annual maintenance. What do you think, bul shit?”

“I don’t know. But let’s go talk with someone who might.”

DIXON’S LAST VISIT to Wedded Bliss Vineyards seemed like weeks ago—but it was only a few days. She led Brix up to the glass structure built into the face of a mountain. Brix marveled and made al the appropriate gaping movements with his mouth.

“Makes Silver Ridge look like a shack.”

“You should be proud of your winery, Redd. I wanted to own a winery once.”

“Yeah? What happened?”

“Money happened. It was expensive back ten years ago. Now it’s just plain ridiculous.”

“It’s business. Supply and demand. Napa’s a very valuable brand. That means the value of the finite amount of land goes up. We were lucky our family got in when land was cheap.” He tilted his chin up toward the glass roof, beyond which lay the soil and roots of the mountain that towered above them. “But even if I’m not actively involved, I am proud of it. It’s ours. And we turn out high-quality wine.” He gestured at the pristinely lit glass structure around them. “But then you see a place like this, it feels like a different league.”

“Up the stairs. Crystal’s waiting for us.”

They walked into Crystal Dahlia’s al -glass office and dispensed with the pleasantries. Crystal grinned. “And how’s your friend. Agent Vail?”

“Back in Virginia.”

“Did she enjoy her stay out west?”

Dixon and Brix shared a knowing look. Dixon said, “Not particularly.”

“Oh,” Crystal said, her smile fading. “I’m sorry.”

“Couldn’t be helped,” Dixon said. “Circumstances beyond our control.”

“So how is Silver Ridge, Lieutenant Brix?”

Brix threw out both hands, palms up. “Who can complain? The economy sucks, sales are down a bit. But the wine is great. I’m told this wil probably be a good year for the grapes if the weather goes as expected.”

“I’m told the same thing.”

“If you don’t mind,” Dixon said. “We’ve got some pressing business. No pun intended.” She waited a beat, then said, “Your board—the Georges Val ey AVA.”

“I told you, my presidency is almost over.”

“Yes,” Dixon said. “But we need some information about Superior Mobile Bottling. César Guevara, in particular.”

Crystal placed wel -manicured red nails on her desk. “Our contracts VP has dealt with him more than I have.”

“That’s Ian Wirth?”

“Good memory. If you wait a few minutes, Ian wil be here if you’d like to talk with him. I’m due to hand over my file as part of the transition to the new president.”

Dixon checked her watch yet again. “A few minutes?”

“Any minute now.” Crystal picked up her phone and dialed an extension. “When Mr. Wirth arrives, please send him up to my office . . . He has? Excel ent.” She placed the receiver back in its cradle. “Ian just came in the front doors.”

A moment later, Wirth was in Crystal’s office, taking a seat beside Dixon.

“Ian, good to see you,” Crystal said, eyeing him with a lingering gaze.

The look was not lost on Dixon, who recal ed that Crystal was Wirth’s ex-wife.

“Ms. Dixon, good to see you again,” Wirth said. He held out a hand to Brix. “Ian Wirth.”

“Redmond Brix.” He stood and shook firmly, then retook his seat. “Good that you’re here. We’ve got some questions and Crystal thought you might be able to help us out. We know you were your board’s primary negotiator in its dealings with Superior Mobile Bottling. But how much did you interact with César Guevara?”

Wirth smirked. “Quite a lot. I negotiated our last contract with him and had ongoing discussions with him about its potential renewal.”

“And was he aware that you were one of the three on the board who was against him getting this contract?”

Wirth leaned back in his seat. “If he was, he never let me know it. And I played my cards close to the vest. Besides, I was speaking and negotiating for the entire membership, not me, or Victoria, or Todd.”

“I know you’re aware that the two others who opposed this contract are dead.”

“Hold it a second.” This from Crystal, who was suddenly paying attention. “What are you saying?”

“Victoria Cameron and Isaac Jenkins were the victims of a serial kil er,” Brix said.

“I heard something on the news—”

Brix held up a hand to quash Crystal’s panic before it could work itself into a frazzle. “He’s been caught, and he’s no longer a threat.”

“Yes, that’s what they said.” Crystal’s gaze shot from Brix to Dixon, and back.

“But I thought Victoria had a stroke.”

“We didn’t want word getting out until we had things under control,” Brix said.

“The victims’ names stil haven’t been released, so I’d appreciate if you’d keep that to yourselves until we’ve had a chance to meet with the families.”

Dixon said to Wirth, “Did you ever have any indication that Superior was engaged in anything other than legal activities?”

Wirth’s chin jutted back. “No. Should I have? I mean, our business with him was strictly related to bottling, and nothing else.”

Dixon placed a hand on his forearm. “Ian, I don’t want you to get the wrong idea about this. We’re not accusing you of anything. Like I said at lunch, we’re stil investigating something that may or may not be related to John Mayfield.”

Wirth’s shoulders relaxed a bit. Brix asked, “Was there ever a time when Superior closed down for annual maintenance?”

“Annual maintenance. You mean on his rigs?”

“On anything,” Dixon said.

Wirth thought a moment. “Nothing I’m aware of. But our business with them is seasonal, so it’s conceivable he went off line. I’d have no idea.” Wirth sucked on his top lip. “But he did periodical y make trips out of the country. There were a couple times when our appointments got rescheduled because he had to leave unexpectedly for a week or ten days at a time.”

Dixon said, “So there may be a perfectly reasonable explanation for him being gone.”

“Maybe,” Brix said in a low voice. “I’m not so sure.”

A thought wormed its way into Dixon’s head, but she didn’t want to discuss it until she and Brix were in private.

“Is there anything else you can tel us about Guevara?” Brix asked.

Wirth did not hesitate. “He’s a shrewd businessman. He understands his product and what it saves his customers. At the same time, he does what it takes to get our business. And I have to admit, even though I was resisting the renewal of his contract, it wasn’t because they didn’t do a fine job. There were other forces at play.”

Dixon smirked. There were, indeed, other forces at play—more than Ian Wirth knew. “Has he ever been to your home, know where you live?”

“No, why?”

“So he wouldn’t have a need for your home address.”

Wirth eyed her cautiously. “No.”

Dixon slipped a hand inside her pocket and pul ed out Robby’s photo. “Ever seen this man?”

Wirth studied the picture, then shook his head. “Should I have?”

Dixon tucked away the photo. “I honestly don’t think so.” She rose and extended a hand to Crystal. “Once again, Ms. Dahlia, a pleasure. Thanks for al your help.

“Ian, thank you. We’l cal you if we have any other questions.”

She hurried out of the winery, anxious to share her thoughts with Brix.

AS SOON AS DIXON hit the front door, she said, “Add it up, Redd.”

Brix glanced back over his shoulder at the glass structure embedded in the mountainside. “Already have. Guevara’s involved with a drug cartel. He owns several rigs that can easily be attached to large trailers and used for long haul transport.”

“I think we’ve got enough for a search warrant.”

“If we get the right judge. Let’s work on it, see how far we can get. Whether Guevara’s there or not, it’l get us in the front door so we can take a closer look around.”

“If we’re going to find Robby, I don’t think that’l help us. We need Guevara. And we need to find him without going down the usual roads because I doubt they’l lead anywhere. APBs and subpoenas on his credit card transactions wil be useless.

He’s too sophisticated for that. But somehow we need to find out what he knows.”

Brix sighed. “You know what my brother would say?”

Dixon shrugged.

“He’d say, ‘Good luck with that.’”

“Yeah,” Dixon said. “But here’s the thing. Luck hasn’t once factored into this investigation. I don’t think it’s something we can count on.”

50

D
eSantos gunned the Corvette. Vail, once again, grabbed for something to hold onto. The repeated whiplash was starting to get to her.

Four minutes earlier, DeSantos had received a cal from ASAC Yardley tel ing him that Antonio Sebastiani de Medina had surfaced and was being debriefed at the DEA’s facility at Quantico.

Vail showed her creds and was admitted to the base. DeSantos zipped along the road past the FBI Academy and five minutes later pul ed into the parking lot of the DEA’s decade-old training academy complex.

Inside, after being informed that they were on the premises, Peter Yardley walked out into the hal way. “He showed up at the front gate. No ID, no money, and he hadn’t eaten in two days. Apparently he babbled enough credible information that the guard got me on the line.”

“Can we see him?” Vail asked.

“He’s had a rough go of it. Normal y, I’d say we should give him some time. But

—”

“We don’t have that luxury,” Vail said firmly.

Yardley frowned. “No, we don’t. Fol ow me.” He led Vail and DeSantos down a long corridor. The building stil had a new construction feel to it, even after a decade of use. Multicolored blue, red, and gray industrial carpet led up to glass administrative doors. “Undercover agents are not normal y debriefed at the Quantico facility,” Yardley said. “It’s used primarily for training, but he was in a bad way and I didn’t want to risk transporting him. The nurse has him hooked up to fluids and he’s perking up. But we haven’t gotten a whole lot out of him yet.” Yardley pushed through a wooden classroom door and held it open for them.

Inside, a trim-bearded man with an olive complexion sat at a table with an IV

snaking from his left hand.

Antonio Sebastiani de Medina.

“I’m Karen Vail,” she said. “This is Hector DeSantos.”

Sebastian’s gaze flicked between them. “You’re Robby’s girlfriend,” he said softly.

“Do you know what happened to Robby?”

Sebastian sucked in a healthy dose of air. “I know what happened, yeah. But—”

“Tel me.”

Sebastian’s gaze moved around the room, then came to rest on the ceiling, as if the answers were printed on high. “We were undercover. I’d gained the trust of César Guevara, a lieutenant in the Cortez cartel. Things were going good. Robby was a godsend because the agent I was working with had an accident and I was afraid that’d fuck up everything we’d worked for.” He looked at Vail. “But he took a liking to Robby right away. Robby’s a natural UC. He’s got a sixth sense for it.

Guevara’s not an easy mark.”

Vail scrunched her lips into a frown. “I noticed.”

“But the asshole bought it. Robby got him talking, and he started taking us inside his operation, how they operated. And I thought we were final y going to blow it al wide open.” He stared off at the table a moment. “Then it al went to hel . Somehow our cover got blown. I don’t know how,” he said with a shake of his head. “We were so careful.”