Kidnap and Ransom

“Not well. Lived here for a while when I was a kid, though.”

Mark shook his head. “I’ve counted five guys so far. We’ve got to assume they’re all here, all the time, even if they might be working shifts. These aren’t some campesinas who couldn’t handle a .22, they know their shit and they’ll be expecting something like that. We can take one of them, but that leaves four to deal with and one weapon between us. Plus for all we know this whole sector is a Zeta nest. According to company intel they own entire barrios. So say we overwhelm them here, then we’ve got to get out of the building and into friendly territory. Bad odds.”

Decker was nodding in agreement. Sock reappeared in the doorway and leaned against the jamb. “So what, we sit here with our thumbs up our ass waiting for the cavalry? ’Cause I gotta tell you, I’ve been with this organization a long time. And they’re not coming for us unless someone’s willing to pay.”

“For all they know Calderon is with us,” Mark argued.

“Bullshit. They probably already sent in another team and got him stateside. And we’re written off as a loss.” Sock snorted.

Mark shook his head. “We’d already be dead.”

Sock looked away, but didn’t say anything.

“What’s the plan?” Decker asked.

Mark examined him. The former Marine had barely spoken a dozen words the entire time they’d been here, so he hadn’t gotten a read on him yet. According to his file he served two tours each in Iraq and Afghanistan, mid-forties, no family. A lifer, like him. “They’re going to have to move us at some point—that’s the weak link. Fewer guards in a contained space, transportation is covered. It’s our best shot.”

He looked at each in turn. Decker and Flores nodded.

“Sounds good,” Kaplan said. “I’d rather die in a van than this shithole, anyway.”

After a few beats, Sock shrugged. “Yeah, why not.”

Mark figured it was as close to an endorsement as he was going to get. “No more chatter until after dinner,” he said. “Then we’ll map it out.”

“Absolutely not,” Jake said.

“Why not?”

Kelly glared at him, jaw set. He avoided her eyes as he said, “The doctors haven’t even cleared you for desk duty yet. And we don’t know what we’re in for down there.”

“You don’t think I can do it.” Kelly crossed her arms over her chest.

“I didn’t say that—”

“No, but you were thinking it.”

Jake ran a hand across his face. This wasn’t going well. It seemed like lately, all they did was fight. “I’m thinking that I almost lost you seven months ago. And the last thing I’m going to do is pit you against a bunch of paramilitary goons in Mexico.”

“So you’re leaving me behind for selfish reasons, then.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” Jake moved past her and dropped onto the couch, exhausted. He’d been prepared for the fact that Kelly wasn’t going to take the news of his trip well. But the last thing he’d expected was that she’d ask to come along. “I mean, Jesus, Kelly. My brother is missing, and now I’ve got to fight with you?”

Her eyes softened. He held out his arms and she went to him, obviously trying to mask her limp. Kelly dropped into his lap and rested her head against his shoulder. “I feel so useless,” she said.

“You’re not useless.”

“I am. At least, everyone treats me like I am. I’m so sick of people feeling sorry for me, giving me that look.”

“Putting yourself in danger isn’t going to change that,” Jake said.

She stiffened. “You used to say that if you could have anyone watching your back, it would be me.”

“Yeah, I know.” Jake shifted. “But…”

“But what?” Kelly said. “Now that I’m a cripple, you don’t feel that way anymore?”

“You’re not a cripple.”

“As long as everyone else insists on treating me like one, that’s exactly what I am.”

She took his hands in hers and rubbed them, even though hers were the ones that felt cold. “I need this, Jake. Let me prove I can still do this.”

There was an intensity to her gaze that Jake hadn’t seen in a long time. He thought it over. If he said no, the way things were going it would be the death knell for their relationship. Plus if Kelly was this determined, she might follow them anyway. At least he’d be able to keep tabs on her if she was part of the unit.

“We leave in twenty minutes,” he said. “Pack light.”

Kelly’s face split in a grin. He hadn’t seen her this happy since before the bombing, Jake realized with a pang.

“You mean it?”

“Nineteen minutes and counting.”

Kelly popped off his lap and loped toward their bedroom. Jake winced internally at the thought of how Syd would react to this development. “Damn it, Mark,” he muttered under his breath. “Still nothing but trouble.”

“Anything?”

“Not yet, Mr. Smiley. But they cleared another sector.”

Linus Smiley snorted derisively and waved the assistant out. It had been four days since his team was snatched. He was having a hell of a time keeping the latest fiasco from the board of directors. The loss of an entire unit in addition to Calderon would send them into crisis mode, and that was the last thing he needed. Especially now. He had to hold them off for a few more days, long enough for the new team to clean up this mess…not that they’d made any progress so far. He’d sent in a double unit of men, the best of who he had left, and all they’d managed to do was figure out where the captives weren’t.

As it was, there had been too many delays. The board had insisted on waiting nearly six weeks before sending a team after Cesar, convinced that at some point the kidnappers would contact them with a ransom demand. But so far, nothing—and by the time he’d managed to mobilize a team, the trail had gone cold. They’d been fortunate to get that tip about the Zeta apartment—or at least, that’s what he’d thought at the time. Clearly someone had been setting them up. The question was, why? Cesar Calderon was worth a substantial amount, and not just in monetary terms. Smiley had lain awake the past few nights trying to figure out the end game here.

He sighed and dropped down in the chair behind his desk, tapping his fingers in a steady cadence. After a moment, he pressed a button on his phone. “Emerson, get back here.”

Emerson scuttled in, looking harried. “Yes, Mr. Smiley?”

“Who do we know high up in Mexican military command?”

Emerson shrugged. “I’m not sure, sir. Mr. Calderon always dealt with those contacts directly.”

“But you’ve worked with him for years, right?” Smiley emphasized each syllable.

“Yes, sir.” Emerson was visibly uncomfortable.

“So unless you’re completely incompetent, you should be able to find those names in his files.”

“That depends, sir.”