Kidnap and Ransom

“They’ve spent the past week combing through Iztapalapa block by block. They came under fire a few times, thought they might be close.”

“What about the AFI?” Kelly asked.

“Who?” Maltz said.

“The Agencia Federal de Investigación. They’re kind of our—” Kelly caught herself. “The FBI’s counterpart in Mexico City. Is Tyr coordinating the search with them?”

“I doubt it, since a quarter of their agents work for the Sinaloa Cartel,” Syd snorted.

“But I thought—”

“This isn’t the United States, Jones. The police don’t help you here. In fact, they’re usually the first to put a bullet in your head.”

Kelly started to say something, then abruptly shut her mouth. Jake considered interceding, but unfortunately Syd was right. With every K&R job they had done in Mexico, their main goal was to avoid the authorities as much as possible, paying the right ones to look the other way. Tyr probably functioned on the same model. The neighborhoods they were talking about were basically war zones. If a Mexican cop wanted to last more than a week on the job, he avoided them at all costs. The Zetas were an occupying army in those territories. And considering that, some C4 might actually come in handy.

He could see Kelly trying to reconcile that, and felt for her. This was way past anything she had ever been involved with. With any luck she was already considering booking a flight home.

She surprised him by saying, “So we’re avoiding the Tyr team, too.”

“Naturally,” Syd said.

“Where do we start?” Maltz asked.

Syd pointed to a spot in the upper right section of the map. “Tyr is here now, and moving north. I say we start above them and move south. There’s a rumor that some Americans are being held in a building in the northeast quadrant. Zetas are known for moving captives around, but we might get lucky. We’ll ask around, see what stones we can overturn.”

“Where did you hear the rumor?” Kelly asked dubiously.

“Sorry, hon. That’s classified,” Syd said smugly.

“Syd has a lot of friends who owe her favors,” Jake explained. He didn’t add that he referred to them as her “shadow network.” He’d long ago learned better than to doubt her information. In his experience, those rumors were always right on the money.

“Why do you think anyone will talk to us, if the Zetas control everything?” Kelly pressed.

Syd dug into one of the duffels and withdrew a handful of cash. “Because we’ll be paying them. And if cash doesn’t work, we’ll try something else.”

Kelly abruptly stood and went to the bathroom. Jake followed her. She stood in front of the mirror staring down at the floor. He could hear the rest of the team suiting up in the bedroom.

“You don’t have to stay,” Jake said gently. “We both know this isn’t your kind of thing.”

“Is it yours?” she asked, raising her head to meet his eyes.

“My brother is out there,” he said, although that rang hollow even to his own ears. The truth was, aside from The Longhorn Group’s first case, Jake hadn’t done much work in the field. He usually left this sort of thing to Syd and her cohorts. He never questioned how any specific job had been accomplished, probably because in the end he didn’t want to know. As long as the hostage ended up safe and sound, he figured they’d done their job. But now that he was here, facing the reality of paying off criminals—or worse—the reality of what they were about to do struck home. Maybe he should book them both on a flight, and leave the rescuing to Syd.

Jake shook his head, dismissing the thought. He couldn’t expect others to risk their lives for his brother if he wasn’t willing to do the same. But getting Kelly to understand that… “I don’t like it any more than you do,” he said. “But—”

A loud rap on the door interrupted him.

“We’re moving out,” Syd said, voice tinged with impatience. “You kids coming along?”

Kelly replied, “We’ll be right there.”

Mark opened his eyes. The van was filled with dense, acrid smoke. He coughed to clear his lungs, struggling to see.

He was lying on his back with a body sprawled across his legs. The van had come to rest on the passenger side. The driver’s head split the windshield, glass shards fragmenting the night sky into a dark constellation. It didn’t look like he’d be coming around anytime soon. Or probably ever again.

A muffled groan as the figure by his feet shifted: Decker.

Mark turned his head. No sign of the guy who had triggered the explosion. He looked for the LMT, couldn’t find it. Shit.

Mark struggled up to sitting and nudged Decker’s shoulder. “You okay?”

“Yeah, think so.” Decker said blearily.

“We gotta go,” Mark said.

“Right.” Decker awkwardly pushed off his legs and climbed stiffly into the rear of the van. Mark followed him.

There was an enormous hole in the middle of what had been the van’s floor. So the bomb hadn’t been wired to kill everyone, just them, Mark thought. Flores and Kaplan were crumpled on top of one another. Scarface, or what was left of him, was scattered across the interior. He must have been directly above the bomb when it blew, absorbing most of the blast. Thank God for small favors.

“Where’s Sock?” Decker asked. There was no sign of him. The rear door was open; through it Mark could see dirt and scrub brush. He heard a car passing by, not too far away. The van had rolled a few times, but they were probably still close to the highway. Mark went to check Flores and Kaplan.

They were both covered in blood, though it was impossible to tell how much of it had come from Scarface. He eased Flores off Kaplan. Flores started in response.

“Wha—”

“You okay, man?” Mark asked.

Flores raised a hand to his face. It came away bloody. “This mine?” he asked.

“I don’t know. Anything hurt?”

“Shit, everything hurts.” Flores slowly moved his arms and legs. “But I don’t think I’m bleeding.”

Decker was bent over Kaplan. “He’s hurt,” he said. “Pretty bad.”

Mark joined him. Kaplan was still unconscious, his face so pale it glowed in the dark interior. Carefully they turned him over. A bloodstain the size of a quarter marked the exit wound.

“At least it passed through,” Decker said.

“You have EMT training, right?” Mark asked. Decker nodded.

“All right.” Mark checked the interior again, hoping to find some sort of weapon, but there was nothing useful. “We’ve got to move out. Chances are hostiles will be here soon. Do what you can to stop the bleeding. We’ll take shifts carrying him.”

“What about Sock?”

“What about him?” A voice boomed from outside. Sock suddenly appeared in the doorway.

“What happened to you?” Decker asked.