A Touch of Regret (A Nick Bracco Thriller Book 8), page 8
“Hey,” Gallardo added. “Tell him to hurry.”
Arturo nodded, then received another glare from Iggy as she came outside to hand Gallardo his drink.
“What is it with you two?” Gallardo asked. “You know he respects you.”
“It’s not respect that I want,” Iggy said, watching Arturo leave. “I need him to fear me.”
Gallardo gave her an amused grin. “I think it’s working because you are beginning to scare me.”
# # #
“I’m supposed to be on vacation in two days,” Nick said while driving to the airport to pick up Tommy. He’d already dropped off Matt and Jake at the safehouse and had Stevie next to him, tapping the keys on his laptop from the passenger seat.
“Where are you going?’ Stevie asked while staring at his computer screen.
“Nowhere. Just spending time with the family at home.”
“That’s not really a vacation then, is it?”
“Believe me, any time away from the field is quality time.”
Nick drove the Ford Explorer along a stretch of winding road that skirted the Catalina Mountains on the north side of Tucson. Normally a pretty drive if you didn’t have someone following you.
“You know,” Stevie said, “Jake was one of the best agents we ever had in our department at one point.”
“At one point.”
“You ever wonder what happened to him?”
“Yeah, he crawled his way into the bottom of a bottle and never came out.”
“Did you know he had a twin?”
Nick shifted his eyes away from the rearview mirror to glance at Stevie. “No, I didn’t.”
“Yeah, he was the stud quarterback on their high school football team. Led them to a state championship two years in a row.”
“I don’t know anything about this.”
“That’s because he died in a car accident fifteen years ago. Jake was driving them back from a skiing trip when the roads in upstate New York developed some black ice and their Jeep flipped into a ditch along a curve.”
“Geesh.”
“Yeah. His dad did not take it well.”
“What’s that mean?”
“Well, Jake was always the better student, but played baseball instead of football, which was their dad’s favorite sport. Their dad went to every football game, but barely went to see Jake play baseball at all. It was obvious Jake’s brother was the more appreciated twin. So a few years after the accident, Jake’s father was in hospice, on his last legs, when Jake decided he wanted to get something off his chest. He came out to his dad, letting him know he’d been keeping his sexual preference a secret for too long and desperately wanted his dad’s blessing. He figured his father was in a place where he might accept his son’s lifestyle.”
“But he didn’t.”
“Nope. As a matter of fact, he let Jake know that the wrong twin died in that car accident.”
“Are you serious?”
“Deadly.” Stevie paused to look at Nick. “This is confidential, but Jake tried to commit suicide not long after that. Alcoholism was merely his second choice.”
“Crap.”
“Yeah, so maybe you could cut him a little slack, okay? Bruce is the closest relationship he’s had in years. If Bruce dies, I’m not sure Jake will ever recover.”
Nick nodded, gaining some perspective. He kept his eye on the rearview mirror however, tracking the dirty Toyota Camry which stayed at exactly the same speed as Nick for the past several miles. There was an art to tailing someone. A professional would change speeds and lanes to keep from being noticed. This car, however, was matching Nick’s tempo and letting him know he was not dealing with a pro.
“Do me a favor,” Nick said. “I need you to send Tommy a text.”
# # #
Emilio Lopez had seen the Ford Explorer at the gas station filling up on the other side of the pump. He double-checked the updated notice on Caesar Gallardo’s dark web post to verify the license plate. There was a $50,000 reward for finding anything that would lead to the recovery of some guy named Jake Marino, and that car was important somehow.
When the Explorer left the station, Emilio had followed it down Sunrise, trying to stay far enough away to be discreet. He didn’t know who was in the vehicle. Maybe Jake Marino was actually inside?
Emilio had been in some rough patches lately, so he kept a Browning.22 in the glove box for emergencies and with fifty grand at stake, it might just come in handy. He’d taken advantage of reward money in the past from the Dark Wallet site, but nothing like this. He once received a hundred-dollar reward for texting the location of a particular sheriff’s car. He didn’t know why it had value, he just knew his bank account had a hundred dollars more than it did before he stumbled upon the car.
This time, however, lots of people would be scouring the state for this guy, so he needed to lock onto that car and make his move at just the right time. He’d come up on them by surprise and pull out the Browning to let them know he meant business. And he did. Shit, for fifty thousand, he’d roll over on his mother. His world would change dramatically with that kind of cash. Emilio watched the Explorer, just a couple of cars ahead, like it was a lottery ticket riding the wind above the hot asphalt.
Be smart. Be discreet. Don’t move too soon. Once they parked, Emilio would figure it out. No sense planning attacks when you don’t even know where you might end up. He was confident in his fighting abilities, moving from the barrio in east LA to Tucson as a teenager.
The Explorer turned left, heading south. It wasn’t too long before the car took the airport exit. Shit, what if they’re leaving? Flying to some other state. Would Emilio get on the plane? No, he would simply jot down the airline and the flight number. Cha-ching. That’s got to be enough. You want the guy, just have someone at the arriving airport waiting for him.
But now he could see the Explorer turning toward the arrival curb. They weren’t leaving, they were picking someone up. The car parked by the main exit where passengers pulled their luggage through an automated sliding glass door and trudged toward the curb, where shuttles and ride-hailing cars waited for their clients.
Emilio parked along the curb behind the Explorer, with three cars between them. Maybe he should message the website and let them know where the car was? Would that assure him fifty grand? He wasn’t sure how it worked. No, he would wait until they picked up the passenger, then follow the car wherever it went. Maybe Jake Marino was the passenger? That would be ideal.
A car between them drove away and gave Emilio a better view of the Explorer, the same two people were in the front seats waiting for someone. While he was glued to the Explorer, his back door sprung open and a complete stranger threw his bag of luggage into the back seat, then sat down and pulled the door shut. He wore a black T-shirt and Baltimore Orioles baseball cap.
With a purple toothpick dangling in the corner of his mouth, the guy said, “Glad you made it so quick.”
Emilio was about to go for his Browning but realized this guy was not threatening him. He just looked at Emilio expectantly.
“Aren’t you my Uber driver?” the guy asked. “I’m Tommy.”
“No,” Emilio said, relieved. “You have the wrong car.”
This didn’t dissuade the guy. He simply pulled out his wallet and said, “Well, I’m kind of in a hurry so how about I give you forty bucks and you take me to the airport Sheraton. It’s right there.”
“Please, get out,” Emilio said. “I am waiting for...”
“Who? Who are you waiting for? This is quick cash. Okay, I’ll make it sixty bucks but that’s my last offer.”
“No, you must get out of my vehicle. Now.”
“Dude, what’s your problem? Why don’t you chill?”
While completely turned toward the guy in the back seat, Emilio’s driver’s side door was yanked open and a man stood there with a pistol pointed directly at him.
“You looking for someone?” the man said.
Emilio froze. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said innocently, wondering what was going on.
“Give me your phone,” the guy snapped, holding out his free hand.
What choice did Emilio have? The guy held the gun as if he’d fired it a thousand times before. Emilio handed his phone to the guy, who then tossed it to another guy with glasses standing across the hood of his car.
“Now get out,” the guy said.
Emilio looked at the Explorer and realized these were same the guys he was following. He said the only thing he could think of. “Who are you?”
The guy in the back seat grabbed his luggage and Emilio thought he said the word, “Putz.”
Chapter 13
Iggy stood at the counter, cutting up a peanut butter sandwich into squares for their prisoner. Bruce sat at the kitchen table, still groggy from his extensive stay inside the shed with no water, while Gallardo sat across from him. Bruce was still shirtless, but he wasn’t bound by any tape. Arturo sat in the corner of the room with his assault rifle in his lap, just to monitor the proceedings.
“Here,” Iggy said, placing the plate in front of Bruce. “You need protein for your strength.”
Bruce eyed the plate warily. Unsure why the change of attitude.
“Go ahead,” Gallardo assured him.
When Bruce took another long drink of his water, Gallardo grabbed a random slice of the peanut butter sandwich and took a bite.
“See,” he said. “It is safe.”
Bruce took a piece of the sandwich and began to eat.
Iggy sliced up an apple and laid it on the plate as well.
“You want to know why we are treating you so well, huh?” Gallardo asked.
Bruce didn’t speak.
“I need to have some questions answered and you need to be coherent for me to get the proper response.”
Bruce chewed his meal and listened.
The doorbell rang and Arturo went to answer it. There was a brief greeting, then Benito Rodriguez came into the kitchen and gave Iggy a big hug. He nodded to Gallardo then sat down between Bruce and Gallardo.
“So, this is the computer hacker, eh?” Benito said.
Bruce momentarily squinted.
Benito held out his hand. “My name is Benito.”
Bruce seemed to draw up the energy to cautiously shake his hand.
“Does your tongue work?” Gallardo snapped.
“Yes,” Bruce croaked, then cleared his dry throat and drank more water.
Benito was a local poker player who was a regular at Gallardo’s games. His talent was being able to tell when someone was bluffing. He could read a player better than any lie detector. That’s why Gallardo invited him.
“So, your name is Bruce?” Benito asked.
“Yes,” Bruce said.
“And you were at Jake Marino’s home when you were brought here, correct?”
Bruce glanced at Gallardo to decide exactly how he should respond.
“It does not matter what he asks you,” Gallardo said. “All I want you to do is tell the truth.”
“Yes,” Bruce said. “That’s where I was.”
“And how do you know Jake?”
“I’m his AA sponsor.”
Benito looked at Gallardo with a confused expression.
“Jake is an alcoholic and this guy helps him stay sober,” Gallardo explained.
“Ah, why didn’t you just say that?” Benito asked.
“I will next time.”
“So, you are friends?”
“Yes.”
“And tell me what you do for a living.”
“I’m a chef.”
“Really? Where?”
“Mariachi’s.”
“Are you kidding? I love that place. Do you make the huevos rancheros?”
Bruce almost smiled. “Every one.”
“I love the way you make them with just the right amount of salsa. Tell me, how come you guys aren’t open for dinner?”
“The owner wants to spend dinnertime with his family, so he closes at three. The employees like that as well.”
“I understand,” Benito said. “Tell me, how did you learn to be a computer hacker?”
Bruce looked at Gallardo again, maybe trying to remember what he’d said while under duress and trying not to perjure himself. “Um, I don’t know how to hack into computers.” He instinctively flinched as soon as the words came out, recalling the punches he received the last time he answered that way.
“Look at me,” Benito insisted. “This is just you and me. Two guys talking.”
Bruce nodded, then took a long drink of water. When he put the glass down, Iggy filled it again from a cold pitcher.
“So, you are telling me you did not hack into the Gallardo computer system?”
“No, I did not.”
“Do you know what spoofing is?”
“I don’t.”
“Do you know what rootkit is?”
Bruce shook his head.
“Use your words.”
“No, I don’t know what rootkit is.”
The guy’s eyes tried to remain on Benito, but inevitably they always returned to the man who’d caused him the most pain.
Benito watched his every move. His every furtive glance. His every tick.
“Are you telling me the truth?” he asked.
“Yes.”
Again Benito waited. As if there was an expiration date on lies. Something Bruce was doing caused Benito to make his assessment.
“So, what you’re telling me,” Benito said, “is that your friend Jake was the one who hacked into the Gallardo computer system and not you.”
Bruce suddenly became interested in his peanut butter sandwich. “No, that’s not what I said.”
“But it is a fact that Mr. Gallardo’s computer was hacked by someone in that house. So if it wasn’t you, it had to be this Jake guy, right? Do you see the logic?”
Bruce seemed about to question the premise, but decided otherwise. “It seems logical, yes.”
Iggy pulled out her pistol and placed the tip of the barrel against Bruce’s temple. “Tell him the truth. Now!”
Bruce lurched backward, almost falling out of his chair. “I’m telling the truth. I didn’t hack into anyone’s computer. Maybe Jake did. I honestly don’t know.”
Iggy put her gun down and stepped back into the kitchen, getting something out of the fridge as if nothing happened.
Benito stared at Gallardo, who gave him a half-shrug. In the background, Arturo slowly shook his head.
Bruce was palpitating, leaning over and taking deep breaths, trying to recover.
Benito reached over and rubbed the guy’s back. “It’s okay. Just keep telling the truth. It will set you free.”
After a minute of consoling Bruce, he went over to the hallway and gestured for Gallardo to follow. Once inside Gallardo’s large office, Benito closed the door behind them.
“He is telling the truth,” Benito said flatly.
“How sure are you?”
Benito tilted his head. “I would say 95 percent. I give myself a little wiggle room. You had him softened up enough to be exposed. He’s no one’s hero.”
Gallardo knew the answer all along, but was hoping somehow he had the hacker in custody. Now he needed to find Jake and pull out some of his internal organs while asking him questions at the same time.
Gallardo patted Benito on the shoulder and said, “Thank you for coming so quickly. That’s all I wanted to know.”
“Of course,” Benito said, opening the door and heading toward the foyer.
Gallardo showed him out, then returned to the kitchen. When he sat down, Bruce was staring at him like a defendant awaiting the jury’s verdict.
Gallardo’s phone chirped and he looked at the text message, which read: “FBI car was assigned to Nick Bracco.” He slapped his phone on the table and looked at Bruce who appeared to be hyperventilating.
“Relax,” Gallardo told him. “You are most certainly going to die. Just not yet.”
Chapter 14
“You won’t believe the shit we’ve got on our plate,” Nick said.
After Tommy greeted Matt and Jake, Nick explained everything.
“Gallardo knows what vehicle we’re driving,” Nick informed Matt and Jake. “It’s already spreading across Dark Wallet.”
They all sat around the kitchen table of an FBI safehouse, eating their food while Emilio sat in bewilderment, probably wondering exactly what his fate was. Matt stared at the guy as if just his glare could acquire information.
Stevie was still working with Emilio’s cell phone in between bites.
“He gets all these people to contribute their information,” Stevie said, glued to the phone display. “He knows about Jake being at Kennedy’s this morning and he knows the car and license plate, so that means he probably knows...” He looked up at Nick.
“Of course,” Nick said, shaking his head. “They know it’s assigned to me. So they know we have Jake.”
“Question is, does Lloyd know he’s with us?” Matt asked.
Lloyd Theil was the Special Agent in Charge of the Phoenix branch of the FBI. It was the largest office in the state, Nick and Matt’s home base. Lloyd was a straight shooter and a company guy. It was hard for Nick to imagine Lloyd being involved with a cartel boss for any amount of money.
Nick made eye contact with his partner.
Matt shook his head. “No way. Lloyd’s as solid as they come.”
Stevie reached for a french fry from Tommy’s bag, and Tommy slapped his hand.
Nick and Matt discussed strategy and how to close in on Gallardo’s location.
Tommy pointed to Jake, “You said your sister might be in danger?”
Jake glanced at Nick. “Well, I told her to stay at a friend’s cabin in Flagstaff for a week to stay away from trouble.”
“Smart.”
“Be nice if we could protect her family, but there’s no one I trust right now,” Jake said.
“Yeah?” Tommy looked around the table. “Is there something going on I should know about?”
“We know of at least one border agent who’s working for Gallardo,” Matt said. “We’re just leery, that’s all.”
