Scarcity (Jack Randall #3), page 16
“The man’s company is worth millions. He only owns a part of it. The money is spread out in several different areas. There are investments and a board of directors to deal with. The money is in stocks, also, and they are not doing so well at the moment. You have to understand that he can’t just run down to the ATM and make a withdrawal. But you’re right, perhaps I am being unreasonable. I’ll raise the offer to four hundred thousand dollars. Will that help you?”
“Tajo . . . Tajo. You think I’m a fool? I know the money is there, I don’t care how he gets it as long as he does. This is going to take as long as it takes for you to get us what we want. If you want your package to you soon, you will find a way. But I am feeling generous today. I will lower my invoice to five million American dollars. No less.”
“You’re a skilled negotiator, Miguel, but I cannot meet such a high price. To do so would attract the attention of several people, and I know that is something neither one of us wishes.”
“You play the game well yourself. But I can assure you that the people I represent will never accept such a low bid. The family must do better. I don’t know how long they are willing to wait.”
“If they want their fee, they will wait as long as it takes. If we are to continue I will need to see further proof of life. Nothing can progress until we have it.”
“You already have it. You don’t require more.”
“Nevertheless, we require it. If that upsets you, I’ll remind you that you hate me already.”
“You crack jokes, Tajo, but I’m not laughing. I’ll call the men who safeguard the package. But they may just decide to send you part of it instead. Good-bye, Tajo.”
The connection broke.
Luis ignored the parents’ questions and searched the desk for the list of names he had out earlier. Finding it, he ran his finger down the rows until he found the name he wanted.
Miguel.
The father approached and looked over his shoulder.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Perez.”
The name was highlighted in red.
Luis smiled as the father turned away. It had gone very well.
Kidnapping and ransom on the rise
February 19, 2009—CNN
—SIXTEEN—
Lenny ignored the monuments and crowds of tourists clogging the streets as he made his way back across the District from one of its many suburbs. He divided his attention between the view in front of him and the one in his rearview mirror. Every trip to the safe house was preceded by a long drive around the city. Only when he was sure he was not being tailed did he enter that part of town.
He didn’t really mind the drives. Time in the car had always seemed to calm him. He had discovered long ago that his brain could take care of the mechanics of driving the car, and yet somehow still allow him to think about whatever case he was working on. He often had ideas that proved to be quite valuable while driving. So he had learned to make the most of travel time.
His thoughts were on Angel and what to do with him next. The interrogations had been going on for a few days now and Lenny and Jack had a team of people working at all hours processing the information. Judges across the country, as well as in Central and South America, the Caribbean, and parts of Europe and Asia, were signing warrants at a record pace. Police, SWAT teams, and federal agents were conducting raid after raid. It was the kind of action that Lenny had only dreamed of. He only hoped that they could complete the arrests before the entire network disappeared. It was rumored that Oscar’s brother had taken over in his absence. The file on the man was extensive. While he was known for his ruthless way of getting things done, he did not have his brother’s business sense. Lenny did not expect him to last long on the throne. No doubt a competitor, or someone within the cartel, was already considering a move to take over. But that all depended on Oscar. If he survived the transplant he faced prosecution for numerous offenses. But these men had proven difficult to convict. Like a Mafia head, he had the money and the means to threaten, intimidate, or bribe whoever it took. Lenny had no faith in American juries. They could never be counted on to convict such a man.
Despite all this, Angel was a very valuable man for both sides. The feds wished to keep him alive and talking, while the cartel wished him dead as soon as possible. The security arrangement was something Lenny had sweated over since they had brought Angel to the States. He had two options really. One was to hide him with minimal security as they had up till now, the other was to go with the brute force option and place him in the lockup at Quantico Marine base. He and Jack had decided to keep things as they were until the interrogations were over, and move Angel to the base after that. There would be no way to hide him safely once he was forced to travel to and from the courtroom. But if something did happen, they at least had the hours of tapes they had produced in the basement via the video feed. It was their only safety net.
Lenny fired up another cigarette at a stoplight and checked the rearview again—still nothing familiar behind him. Deciding he was clear, he took a right turn toward the row house. After a couple more turns he was on the right street and had to concentrate to make sure he didn’t pass it. The homes were all the same. Narrow two-story brick structures with wide front porches and driveways leading to a separate garage in the back. Roof color was the biggest difference, but he looked for a tall tree he had made a note of, and once past that, he slowed to a stop and turned into the driveway. Navigating past the two garbage cans, he pulled past the porch and parked on the side of the house. He looked up to see the curtain covering the window being pulled back an inch. He got out slowly and turned his face to the house so they could see him. The curtain fell back in place as he passed and he flicked the cigarette butt onto the pavement before cutting across the grass to the front steps. The door opened before he reached it, and Jake held it for him as he entered.
“Hey, Jake.”
Jake was busy looking out the small window in the door to see if Lenny had drawn anyone’s attention. He didn’t turn to reply.
“Hey, Lenny. Our boy’s napping in the back. Just finished another video speech.”
“Good for him.”
Lenny proceeded across the room and entered the kitchen were he found Charlie working on a donut and a cup of coffee.
“Morning, Charlie, still on that diet I see.”
Charlie stirred more sugar into his coffee and watched Lenny search for a cup for himself.
“Same one you’re on, from the looks of it.”
“You got it.” Lenny helped himself to a donut. “So how you holding up?”
“If it wasn’t for the information we’re getting, I’d have done the cartel a favor and killed him myself by now.”
Jake had entered during the remark. He bypassed the coffee and donuts and retrieved a Gatorade from the fridge. He laughed at Charlie’s remark.
“Angel and Charlie aren’t exactly getting along,” he quipped.
“Oh yeah?” Lenny raised an eyebrow at that.
“Guy’s a real ass. Have you been reading the transcripts? Sick bastard’s going to rot.”
Lenny dropped his donut on the table and sampled his coffee before replying. “I’ll agree he’s an asshole, but right now he’s our asshole. We’re making some serious busts just based on what he’s given us so far. Evidently Oscar’s brother didn’t take Angel’s capture as seriously as he should have. He didn’t move his assets quickly enough and we’ve been picking them up left and right. The Mexicans raided a house yesterday and found over three million in cash. Three million! They just had it stacked in a back bedroom like wood. They sent me a picture. It was about as high as this table and the room was ten by ten. There was maybe enough room to open the door and that was about it. All American bills.”
“All that cash was probably just payroll money, too,” Jake added.
“Yup, just operating expenses. The two they caught there were payroll clerks more or less. It was just them and a few guards. We managed to get a list of names and drop points. Some account numbers. The names are code names, so it may take awhile to match them up to actual people, but I’m a patient man. The Mexican president loved it. He’s sending more troops to the northern states to fight the drug gangs. Sort of a thank you, I guess.”
“That’s all great, but what I’d really like to know is when we can get out of this frickin’ row house?”
“Tired of babysitting? Can’t say I blame you. I just need you to hang on another couple of days. We may be moving him to another house, or just cut it short and go to the base with him.”
“Guantanamo?” Charlie asked jokingly.
Lenny had to laugh. “No, I think the brig at Quantico would do just fine.”
Charlie’s reply was cut off by the sound of Angel’s bedroom door opening. They waited silently until he emerged, rubbing his unshaven face.
“Well look who’s fucking here,” he observed. “Please tell me you’re here to take me out of this hole.”
“Not yet, Angel. I want to hear every verse of this song you’re singing. Till then, you stay here.”
“I’d say I’ve held up my end of the deal. I want the fuck out of here.”
“I decide when you’re done shithead. Not you. Better get that through your head real quick.”
Angel sneered and searched for a clean coffee cup.
“You making a big name for yourself, are you, Lenny? Gonna get a nice promotion or maybe a little plaque on the wall somewhere? A piece of ribbon with a gold trinket attached?” He turned to offer a shit-eating grin in Lenny’s direction. “You’re probably busy right now, huh, busting all the guys I’m giving you. Don’t you know that their replacements are already hard at work? In a few months, it’ll be like you and I never met.”
“Ah, but we did meet, didn’t we, Angel? You can push my buttons all you want, I don’t really care. Your ass belongs to me until I decide I’m done with you.”
“What, so I’m just your little slave? Is that it? Just a little puppet you can dangle on a string and make perform?”
“You have choices, Angel. You want to back out of our deal? Fine, I’ll give you back to the DEA guys and they can charge you with narcotics trafficking, organ smuggling, and a bunch of other stuff. We’ll put you up in one of our nice federal prisons where I’m sure you’ll know a few people. Gen-pop, of course, I mean you’re just another drug trafficker, right, why should you get special treatment? You’ll rot there for a year or so until we get around to the trial, just spending the days with all your friends out in the yard. Hell, I’ll even come to your funeral, just to see who else shows up.”
Angel sat down heavily and contemplated the box of donuts. Jake and Charlie had found their way out of the room but remained within earshot, enjoying Lenny’s verbal smack down of their guest.
“Fuck this, and fuck you, too, Lenny.”
“That’s what I thought. Don’t piss me off, Angel. I get the idea that you’re holding back, not telling us the truth, or playing games? I’ll end our little deal real quick, and all those things I just mentioned will come true. Don’t believe me? Go ahead and try it. I’ve read all the transcripts of you down in the basement here and I got to tell you, if you had a little accident? Nobody would cry for you, not one little bit.”
Angel’s eyes rose to meet his and Lenny saw that he’d hit the mark. He lowered his voice.
“What? You think you’re the only one who can make a phone call? I know people, too. I can do favors for people on the inside, favors that require one in return. You know how it works, right? Sure you do. Don’t fuck with me, Angel. I’m the guy picking out your nursing home.”
Lenny finished his coffee and grinned at Angel as he rose to leave. Angel followed him with his eyes, but wisely kept his mouth shut.
“When you coming back, Lenny?” Jake asked as he walked by.
“I don’t know yet. You’ll get a head’s up when it’s time to move, maybe tomorrow. Probably just be the three of us doing it.”
“Okay.”
“Try not to kill the witness, okay?”
“Gonna be tough.”
“Try real hard.”
“Will do.”
Lenny donned his sunglasses and took a good look around before walking down the steps and around the corner to his car. Backing up through the narrow gap between the trash cans and the fence, he made it out into the street without scratching the paint. The nearest approaching car was over a block away, so he paused to light up another cigarette before putting it in drive and pulling away. He headed toward the Hoover Building. He was having lunch with Jack.
• • •
“That’s him, right there”
“Slow down, I need to get some pictures. Remember the address.”
“Okay.”
It was Manuel’s turn in the driver’s seat. He and Jimmy had been following the signal from Lenny’s car for the last couple of hours. They had first visited a few spots Lenny had stopped at in the last few days. One turned out to be a hotel, but after a check of the registry and a quick walk through, they decided that Lenny had most likely just met someone for a lunch meeting. Jimmy couldn’t see them keeping a federal witness in a hotel barely a block from the Capitol Building. The other place had turned out to be a barber shop. About that time Lenny’s car had started moving so they had tailed him for awhile from several blocks back, and even caught a glimpse of him when he doubled back and crossed in front of them at a stoplight. The unusual driving activity had them both on edge. The man was obviously going somewhere he didn’t want any company. After he had stopped, Manuel had found a place to park and wait. After it appeared that Lenny was staying for awhile Jimmy had decided on a drive-by. They pulled up just in time to watch him pull out and drive away.
“Coming up.”
Jimmy thumbed the camera on and held it up against the glass. He silently cursed the bumpy road as they passed. Neither one of them looked at the house as it went by and Jimmy hit the button repeatedly getting about five unaimed shots. Manuel voiced the address out loud and Jimmy repeated it several times to himself. Soon they were at the corner where Lenny had turned.
“Follow him?”
“No, go straight for a while.”
“Okay.”
Jimmy flipped the laptop back open and watched the signal tracer from Lenny’s car move toward the Mall. He was probably headed to the Hoover Building, he decided.
“He’s going to the office, I think. Let’s go back to the hotel.”
“You’re the boss.”
Several minutes later they pulled back into the parking ramp of their hotel and made a hasty exit to their room. Jimmy walked to the balcony and opened the laptop again. They had a better signal out there.
“He’s parked a block down from the Hoover Building again. Why he doesn’t park there, I don’t understand.”
“Maybe security just takes too long?”
“Could be. Anyway, looks like he’s there for awhile. Get your laptop out, let’s do some recon.”
“Okay.”
Jimmy pulled the memory card from the camera and stuck it the computer. Soon he had five decent if somewhat blurry pictures of a small row house in suburban DC on the screen. They looked them over carefully several times.
“Looks like a house,” Manuel threw out.
“Garage is shut. Maybe a car in there, maybe not. Curtains are all pulled. Grass is a little long,” Jimmy added.
“Think that’s the place? I don’t see any security. No cameras.”
“Cameras are so damn small now I doubt we would. The only time you see the big surveillance cameras anymore is if they want you to know that they’re there. Let’s see what it used to look like.”
Manuel’s fingers flew over the keyboard and they soon had Google maps up. Typing in the address, he navigated the camera down the street until they had a view of the house. This one was two years old and not blurry. Manuel used the directional features to scan back and forth and see the house from all sides available.
“The door’s been changed. There’s a little window where there used to be a big one, looks like they added a deadbolt, too. The curtains are heavier. Those shrubs around the basement windows are new, too.”
“So what do you think?”
“I think we found our place. Save these pictures and get them printed off.”
Jimmy studied the pictures as Manuel’s fingers flew across the keyboard again.
“Any ideas?”
“Let’s look around the neighborhood a little.”
“Okay.”
Manuel navigated the computer camera up and down the street several times and they both took notes of things they saw on both sides of the street. Being how the images were two years old, it was difficult to say what it looked like now, but they got the general idea and a good picture in their heads of the lay of the land. Jimmy dug in his bag and pulled out a street map of DC and stuck it on the wall. He called out names to Manuel and he typed them in. They spent the afternoon learning the entire neighborhood without leaving the hotel. After a couple of hours Jimmy sat back and stared at the picture for a while. Manuel waited patiently.
“I think I’ve got an idea, but we’ll need some equipment.”
“What kind?”
Jimmy told him.
“And where do we get that?”
“From some friends.”
“What kind of friends do you have that would have that?”
“The Italian kind.” Jimmy grinned.
• • •
The plane screamed out of the clouds as the pilot took it into another sharp turn, spiraling them down out of the Afghanistan sky in a figure eight pattern to avoid any Taliban missiles that may come their way. The Global Express responded like a fighter and the pilot couldn’t help but crack a grin. It wasn’t an F-14 like he had flown years ago, but it was fun. The plane responded to every control input as if it was reading his mind. It was one of the few pleasures he could derive out of this job. Knowing that the medics in the back were strapped in as tight as the belts would allow and trying their best to hold down their lunch was even better. The plane came out of the turn right on the approach heading and he leveled the wings to line up with the runway.
