Kidnap and Ransom

“Why not?” Decker’s brow furrowed.

“Because there’s a leak. The mission went south because someone set us up. Until we know who, I don’t trust the organization.”

“Then how the hell do we get out of here?” Decker asked dubiously.

“We call my brother,” Mark said. “He’s got his own K&R firm, he can help.” He didn’t add that they hadn’t spoken in years. Jake could be a jerk sometimes, but in a situation like this he’d put his personal feelings aside. At least, Mark was hoping he would.

“All right.” Decker handed him the phone. He jerked his head toward Isabela. “What do we do with her?”

“We wish her the best and send her home.”

He started to dial, but was interrupted by Isabela. Arms crossed over her chest, she said, “You’re here for Cesar Calderon, aren’t you?”

The room erupted in smoke and blinding lights. Flores squeezed his eyes shut. His ears rang, which he took as a good sign. A real grenade would have separated them from his head. A flashbang, then. Thank God for small favors.

Shouts all around him. Flores squinted to see through the tears streaming down his face. Latino men in a motley assortment of camouflage streamed through the door, bandannas tied over their mouths. They were brandishing automatic weapons. He groaned—déjà vu all over again.

Sock was facing the wall. He’d dropped the gun and crossed his hands behind his head. One of the guys kicked his knees in from behind, then leaned over and whispered something in his ear. Sock replied in a low voice. The man glanced up, saw Flores watching. He walked over, swinging his gun back as if it were a bat.

A thousand stars exploded in Flores’s head as the butt of it made contact with his skull.

“What now?” Jake asked.

They’d emerged on the outskirts of Iztapalapa, in a neighborhood labeled San Miguel Teotongo on the map. The blood trail they’d been following had petered out on the other side of the tree line. Either Mark’s team had made more of an effort to cover their tracks, or somehow they’d managed to stem the bleeding. There was a third option, that whoever had been spilling so much blood was abandoned, but knowing his brother Jake doubted it. One thing Mark had always taken seriously was the precept to leave no man behind. Syd had someone in her network checking local hospitals just in case.

They were back to square one.

“Maybe they already made contact with Tyr,” Jake said. “We could call them directly and ask.”

“I doubt they’d tell us anything,” Syd snorted. “Besides, my guy there said he’d call if anything changed. And I haven’t heard from him yet.”

“We could canvass the area,” Fribush said.

“And what, ask if anyone saw a bunch of injured Americans stumbling around?” Syd shook her head. “We stay out here, we risk running into the Zetas looking for them. We need to regroup.”

“If one of them is bleeding, they’d start by trying to patch him up,” Jake said thoughtfully. “We could scope out the pharmacies.”

“Good.” Syd spun on her heels. “Let’s get back to the cars.”

Maltz had reported their position via radio a few minutes before. Syd led the four of them through a dusty lot and around an adobe building that was in the process of melting back into the earth. She stopped short, and Jake nearly crashed into her.

“Christ, Syd,” he grumbled. Then he saw what had stopped her. Kelly and Maltz were next to one of their cars, hands on their heads. They were surrounded by more than a dozen men bearing automatic weapons.

Syd reacted before he did, an H&K materializing in her hands. She shoved Jake back, ducking down beside the building. Kane, Fribush and Jagerson followed her lead, guns ready. Jake fumbled with the Glock tucked in his ankle holster.

“You think they saw us?” he asked.

As if in response, a spray of bullets sent chunks of masonry jumping off the building a few feet away. Jake scrambled back. Kelly yelled something, and his jaw clenched. If they were hurting her…

“Zetas?” Syd asked.

“Couldn’t tell.” Jake grunted.

“Kane, you and Jagerson circle around. Fribush, see if you can get up high, find a nest to snipe from.”

“This is nuts, Syd. There are at least a dozen of them,” Jake protested.

The other men exchanged glances. Kane shrugged, then the three of them trotted toward the rear of the building.

“They’ll kill Kelly and Maltz,” Jake said. “You’re setting us up for a bloodbath.”

“We don’t have a lot of other options.”

“We have one.” Jake dropped his gun. Before Syd could stop him, he stood and rounded the corner, hands held high.

“No dispare!” he called out, hoping that was the polite way to ask them not to shoot.

Two of them kept their guns trained on Maltz and Kelly, the rest swiveled, aiming for his chest. Jake stopped ten feet away. “Soy Jake Riley,” he said. “Americano.”

A tall black man stepped forward. He lowered his gun slightly, but kept his finger on the trigger. “Good for you,” he said. “Now maybe you can explain what the hell you’re doing here.”

“What about Cesar Calderon?” Decker raised the LMT, pointing it at Isabela’s chest.

She looked back at him defiantly. “Everyone knows he was kidnapped. Los Zetas have him.”

“Lady, we don’t know what you’re talking about,” Mark said. “Now why don’t you—”

“They have my father, too,” she said. “That’s what the cocaine was for. I was trying to raise the ransom money.”

“Sorry to hear about your dad,” Mark said. “But we’ve got to get back to our friend.”

“They’ll kill him now, because of you.” Her chin quivered. “They’ll know I helped you. You’ve ruined everything.”

“Tell you what,” Mark said. “I’m going to call my brother, and he might be able to help.”

“The way you helped Calderon?” she spat.

“That’s not very nice,” Decker commented.

“I heard what you said…you don’t trust your own organization.”

“Yeah, well, my brother’s part of a different one,” Mark said. “And him I trust. Tell us where we can reach you, and we’ll make sure someone helps your father.”

“I know where they are keeping Calderon,” Isabela said. “Take me with you, and I will tell you.”

“Lady—”

“It’s not safe for me here now,” she argued. “I cannot go home, they will be waiting there.”