A Touch of Regret (A Nick Bracco Thriller Book 8), page 16
“I can’t.”
“You can and you will. I put my reputation on the line for you and now you’re shitting all over me. Turn around right now, Jake. Don’t do this to me.”
Tears welled up in Jake’s eyes as he sped down I-10, passing cars like they were going backward. His mind fluttered with all sorts of ideas, but nothing made sense. How was he going to save Bruce? He was acting on instinct and guilt. He wasn’t paying attention to anything until he noticed a green and white Border Patrol car parked in the median facing his side of the road. When he glanced down at his dashboard, he was almost touching a hundred-miles-per-hour.
“Stevie,” Jake said. “Remember when I told you how I felt about Bruce?”
There was a pause. “No, I’m sorry.”
“That’s because I never told you,” Jake said, wiping his right eye with the back of his hand. “I love him. Very much. He means everything to me.”
The Explorer hopped over a piece of debris in the road and Jake managed to control the jolt.
“I understand what’s happening,” Stevie said through the speaker. “It’s pure guilt that’s doing this.”
“No, it’s more than that, it’s regret. I regret ever leaving that complex. I should never have abandoned him.”
There was a bang and a moment later the front end of the car began to wobble. Jake had to grip the steering wheel tight with both hands to keep it from veering off the road.
“Shit,” Jake said, seeing a sign stating that the Mexican border was just five miles away.
“What?” Stevie said.
“I just blew a tire.”
“Good. Where are you, I’ll send someone.”
The tire must’ve been completely shot because the car was barely able to maintain a straight path. Jake slowed the Explorer to a crawl and rolled it onto the shoulder. When the vehicle came to a stop, the adrenaline in Jake’s bloodstream began to wane. He sat there in deep thought wondering what to do next. He actually considered running the remaining distance, maybe eight miles at six-minute-per-mile pace. Forty-eight minutes.
“Jake?”
“I’m fine,” Jake said, putting his mind to work. “I’ll call you if I need help.” Then he disconnected the call and got out of the car.
Once around the front of the Explorer he saw the tire ripped to shreds. He knew how to replace the flat, but time was essential. He opened the hatch to get the spare tire and jack when a green and white SUV rolled up behind him on the shoulder. The Border Patrol vehicle.
Jake was ready to run. The driver’s door opened, and the agent came out casual, like he was there to help. He didn’t seem to recognize Jake.
“Flat tire?” the guy said.
“Yeah,” Jake said, matching the guy’s relaxed demeanor, and checking the agent’s name on his uniform. P. Cruz. He remembered hiding in a closet inside of Carlos Lopez’s RV while Cruz scanned the interior with his German shepherd. He also remembered Carlos telling him that Pedro was clean.
“Hey, are you the ex-soccer player? Pedro Cruz?”
“You mean futbol? Yes, that’s me. I had a bad accident and was never the same afterwards. Did you see me play?”
“I didn’t,” Jake said. “But...” he thought about the moment. He might’ve found the one law enforcement officer he could trust. It was a dangerous move, but he was already on the ledge and ready to jump. Jake clasped his hands together as if he was going to pray. “I’m an FBI agent. I don’t have my credentials because Caesar Gallardo took them from me when I was kidnapped a few days ago. I escaped, but he still has my friend. Gallardo has eyes and ears everywhere. You know this. If you can help me, I can offer you plenty of detailed information about Gallardo’s dark web service. We might even be able to knock it offline.”
Cruz pondered the situation. “Caesar Gallardo is the reason I can no longer play in the Mexican Football Federation.” He paused, then looked at Jake and his Explorer, probably noting the government plates. “How can I help?”
Chapter 27
The Gallardo Mausoleum was a well-crafted stucco building with red-tiled roof and brightly painted interior. The structure stood under a stand of trees, which provided protection from the sun and cover for his crew. The twenty-by-thirty-foot room had air conditioning and custom bookshelves lined with Caesar Gallardo’s family mementos: pictures of Caesar and his siblings playing on the beach, throwing a baseball, and graduating from high school and college. Education was a big thing to Juan Carlos Gallardo, the patron of the family.
Caesar sat on a cushioned bench with Iggy’s head on his shoulder for support while Gallardo’s men were outside guarding their perimeter. Caesar used these visits to ruminate about his father. The man sacrificed his entire life for his kids. Every move was made with them in mind. Caesar couldn’t remember if his dad ever took a vacation.
“He was just an avocado farmer,” Gallardo said. “He wanted more for us and made sure we got it. Even if he had to sleep with the cartels to acquire the funds for our education.”
“You are rationalizing,” Iggy said. “But I like it.”
“He never wanted me to be the boss. Never. He wanted me to be a computer programmer and create a safe family lifestyle for my kids, far away from this toxic environment.”
“So why do you stay?”
He turned. “Are you kidding? I have a crew of fifty-six people I’m responsible for. What would happen to them should I go?”
Iggy shrugged. “They could work for one of the other families.”
Gallardo was incredulous. “You must not understand how this whole family thing works. Once you are part of a family, every other family is your enemy.”
“You say that, but your pilot is now working for Morales. Plus, Daunte helped you find someone to take care of the FBI agent’s family. So maybe you are wrong about that. Maybe there’s opportunity for change.”
She had a point. Even as he considered the remark, Daunte called. He put the phone to his ear and used his cartel leader voice. “Yes.”
“You were right. Julie and Thomas Bracco took a flight to San Diego this morning.”
“Ah ha,” Gallardo said. “And where’s our friend now?”
“About to board a flight. He will be in San Diego in just over an hour.”
“Good.”
“She rented a car from Alamo,” Daunte continued. “He will find out the license plate of the car she rented and send it to me. Once I have it, I will give it to you so you can use those dark web powers to track her down. Can you do that?”
“Of course.”
“Good. I’ll have her car information in ninety minutes.”
Gallardo liked Daunte’s firm confidence.
“And Caesar,” Daunte added. “Understand, this value you bring keeps you in good standing with our community. As long as we get a favorable outcome with the Senate vote, you will remain that way.”
“Is that a threat?” Gallardo asked.
“If it walks like a duck...”
The line went dead. Gallardo put his phone away with a scowl. He didn’t like the tone he was getting, but he was still in command of his fate. There was little chance Senator Walker would risk his son’s life for such an insignificant bill.
Gallardo’s phone buzzed with a new text. It was part of a couple of messages he’d been receiving from someone on his payroll. He smiled at the last message.
“Jefe,” Arturo said, holding out the display on his cell phone. “A Border Patrol is heading this way.”
Caesar took the phone and examined the screen. He grinned, then handed the phone back to his number one. “That is Pedro.” He walked out of the air-conditioned mausoleum to where Bruce stood, his hands tied behind his back. “Finally, your friend is heading here to save you. Isn’t that good news?”
Bruce appeared perplexed. His face was sweaty and his body stiff from fear. “Who?” he murmured.
“Who?” Caesar said, disgusted. He looked at Arturo. “You see what idiots these Americans are raising? Who?”
# # #
The Border Patrol SUV bounced across the desert floor like a boat on choppy water. Pedro Cruz seemed fervent to capture Gallardo in a criminal act, and Jake was thrilled with the progress they were making.
“The mausoleum is five miles from here,” Pedro said. “Get Nick on the phone and give him our coordinates. He can meet us there and give us backup.”
Jake reached for his phone, then realized he’d left it back in the Explorer and he wasn’t about to turn back for it. “I left the phone in the car.”
Pedro handed Jake his cell. “Here. Call him.”
Jake held the phone and thought about it. “I don’t know his number. It’s in my contacts. I don’t remember it.”
Pedro swerved around a stand of palo verde and nodded. “Just call the Phoenix office and get us some cover.”
Jake stared at the phone. Who should he call? By now every FBI agent in the office knew he’d gone AWOL with Nick’s car, leaving the counterterrorism chief in the open desert with Matt. He was really struggling for a way to manage the situation without sounding like an idiot.
“What’s wrong?” Pedro asked.
“I, uh, I don’t know who to trust over there.”
“Well, shit, let me call some of my guys. They have my back.”
When Pedro reached for the phone, Jake snapped it back. “Don’t. Gallardo has moles inside your agency too. You’ll be tipping him off.”
“You want us to do this by ourselves?”
“We can use the element of surprise.”
“Yeah,” Pedro said. “Just like you’re doing to me right now.”
“You need to understand, Gallardo has this dark website and—”
“I’m well aware,” Pedro said, looking disgusted. “I finally have a reason to take him in and...”
Jake had him hooked on the line and now he was losing him like a squirming fish slipping away. “Look, we can keep our distance, observe, then follow them back to their residence. At least we’ll know where Bruce is.”
While yanking the steering wheel side to side to avoid the desert brush, Pedro glanced at Jake. “He must be a close friend, huh?”
“Bruce? Yes, very close.”
Pedro stared out the windshield with intent. “Okay, I have an idea.”
# # #
“He’s your friend,” Nick’s voice boomed over Stevie’s phone.
“I know,” Stevie said over the speaker. “He wouldn’t pick up my call either.”
Red was outside adjusting his sprinklers to hit the dry spot on his back lawn while Stevie was left dealing with Nick’s rage over the phone by himself.
“So, now what?” Nick said. “I don’t have my phone or my car.”
Stevie was already on his laptop navigating his way through his tracking program. “Hang on, I’ll have the location of your phone in a minute.”
Nick used Matt’s phone while waiting for Lloyd Thiel to pick them up and get them out of the desert. “Have you tried calling him again?” Nick asked.
“Only thirty times.”
“What about this drone? The laptop was in the car when Jake left. Can Matt download the program to his phone?”
Stevie was too preoccupied to answer right away.
“Stevie?”
“Yeah, yeah, but you’ll need Wi-Fi and it’ll take forty-five minutes. It’ll be quicker if we can find the car.”
“He’s your friend,” Nick repeated, softly this time, as if he were daydreaming about what his life would be like without Jake Marino in it.
“I know,” Stevie quietly responded, recognizing Lloyd Thiel’s voice speaking with Matt. The Phoenix SAC was there to rescue them from their abandonment. “Lloyd’s there?”
“Yes,” Nick said, somewhat out of breath from frustration and from maneuvering into Lloyd’s SUV.
“There,” Stevie said, finding what he was looking for. “I’ve got your phone tracked. It’s twelve miles from you. I can drop a pin to Matt’s phone.”
“Good.”
“Nick, take it easy on him, he’s been suffering from severe...” The connection dropped, and Stevie immediately knew that it wasn’t a dropped call. Nick had heard enough.
Chapter 28
“Two miles from that large saguaro,” Pedro Cruz said.
They were bouncing all over the uneven terrain, while Jake clutched onto the safety bar.
“Don’t charge in too fast,” Jake said. “We need to stay clandestine.”
“Agreed.”
A coyote scurried along the desert but froze when it saw the Border Patrol vehicle clamoring toward him. A convergence of dark clouds loomed overhead, coming their direction.
“How well do you know Nick?” Pedro asked.
“Not too well. I went to school with one of his close tech guys.”
“I see. Does he usually involve himself in border skirmishes like this?”
Jake thought that was a curious question. “Not normally, no.”
“Is he properly fearful of the Falcon?”
“You mean Gallardo?”
“Yeah,” Pedro said. “Gallardo.”
“Of course. Who wouldn’t be?”
Pedro nodded. “Yeah, who wouldn’t be?”
The conversation made Jake leery of the Border Patrol agent. It did seem awfully convenient that he was willing to help a perfect stranger charge into Mexico to go after Caesar Gallardo. He looked over at Pedro and the tattoo poking out from his shirtsleeve. It was a pair of bird talons. Jake knew immediately what type of bird was hidden under the remainder of his sleeve. He let out a breath, then rubbed a hand down over his eyes. When he looked back, Pedro was pointing a Glock at him.
“How’s that ornithology degree working out for you?” Pedro said.
“So, you work for the Falcon?”
“Guilty,” Pedro said, grinning wide with pride.
“And do all the Border Patrol agents with a falcon tattoo work Gallardo?”
“Not all of us, just the top ones. We run a tight ship.” Pedro slowed the vehicle.
“So now what?”
“You, my friend, are worth $50,000, dead or alive. However, Caesar would prefer to see you suffer for what you’ve done, so he’s offering me another ten thousand to bring you to him alive. Do you want to see your friend before you go?”
Jake nodded reluctantly. In a way he felt a sense of relief. He was finally going to pay for his cowardice. At least Bruce would know he tried to save him. That thought gave him solace.
Pedro made a wide turn around a stretch of palo verde and cruised to the top of a hill. The mausoleum came into view maybe a mile below them. Pedro slowed the vehicle to a crawl as he navigated the rocky landscape down the hill, all the while keeping his gun trained on Jake.
“I will put you down right here if you make me,” Pedro said.
Jake did not respond. He was ready and willing to pay the price for his indiscretions.
“How many are you?” Jake asked, curious now that he was near the end. He seemed to lose his inhibition.
“What do you mean?”
“I saw a lot on Caesar’s computer. There were several IP addresses involved with the Falcon’s orders. How many law enforcement officials do you own?”
Pedro kept switching his attention between Jake and the terrain. “No one you’d know besides Berto, who’s an idiot. Most of our team runs out of Mexico. Which, by the way, we just crossed into a few yards back.”
Jake’s vitals spiked as the mausoleum grew closer. He wondered if Bruce was down there. As he got closer to his goal, his will to live kicked in. He considered his options.
Pedro must have sensed his attitude change. “I will have no issue killing you right here. Just one move.”
“You know he’ll come after you,” Jake said.
“Who? Nick Bracco?”
Jake nodded.
Pedro gave a dismissive flick of his hand. “Mr. Goody-Two-Shoes will play by the book. He’s of no concern to us.”
Jake understood exactly what Pedro was saying and it was all true. Those thoughts whirled around in his head so hard, he almost didn’t see it coming over Pedro’s shoulder.
A hard-charging gray sedan rushed toward them. Jake braced himself for impact just as the sedan plunged into the back half of the SUV and spun them around like a Frisbee. The impact threw Jake up against an inflating airbag.
A moment later, he was dangling out of the open door, his seat belt the only thing keeping him attached to the car. His mind swirled along with the desert vegetation around him. It seemed like minutes, but probably five seconds later, the car stopped moving. Pedro’s head was limp against the busted driver’s side window.
The airbags quickly deflated, and Jake’s imagined a figure walking toward the vehicle through a haze of dust, like a cowboy in a Clint Eastwood movie. He had a purple toothpick in the side of his mouth and shook his head at Jake with a look of disgust.
Tommy Bracco.
# # #
“What do you see?” Gallardo asked Arturo, who was staring through his binoculars at the car crash in the desert. “Some car collided with Pedro’s vehicle. About a mile away.”
“Did you see what happened?” Gallardo asked.
“No,” Arturo said. “I saw it too late.”
“That gray car drove right into the back of Pedro’s SUV,” Iggy said. “It looked deliberate.”
Gallardo motioned for his men to take Bruce inside the mausoleum. The captive’s eyes frantically darted all around for hope.
Arturo, Gallardo, and Iggy watched the events intently, each coming to their own conclusions. The only one whose opinion mattered gestured to Arturo with anxious hands.
“Give me those,” Gallardo said, and Arturo handed his boss the binoculars.
A cloud of dust disintegrated above the two vehicles and Gallardo saw Pedro’s head drooped sideways through a broken driver’s seat window. There was movement on the other side of the SUV, but Gallardo couldn’t make out who it was.
“What is going on?” Gallardo said, a little anxiety in his voice.
“Pedro had that Jake guy with him,” Arturo said. “Someone knew about it.” There was an element of suspicion in his tone.
