Dead Heat (33 page)

Minutes later Nicole Rollins drove up in a government sedan. She had a file folder and ran over to where they stood outside one of the tactical trucks. “This is all we could find on the property. The analyst is trying to track down the last owners to see if they know more, but they’re no longer in business.”

Archer grabbed the folder, opened it, and spread out a handful of sheets. “This was an aerospace facility?”

“Long ago,” Nicole said. “Then auto parts, then leased when the county took over the property. Cops shut down a chop shop a while back, it’s been empty ever since. All these places are empty. But our McAllen office had the address on a watch list, and there was a major bust here last year. No connection to Sanchez or Trejo, but—”

“It’s Sanchez,” Brad said with conviction. “Controlled by Trejo.”

“If we’re right,” Archer said, “they’ve expanded exponentially over the last seven years. They used to be low-level scumbags—now they’re running an op this big?”

“You said it yourself, Sam, back when Trejo went under—he has the balls for this.”

Archer handed Nicole back the folder. “These plans are worthless. They could have done anything with the interior. Is there a second floor?”

“Yes,” Nicole said. “One of the McAllen agents who was involved in the bust last year said there are four car bays on the main floor, and a staircase was added to put three offices along the south wall above a self-contained storage room. Beyond that, we don’t know. I can contact the PD and ask to speak to someone who was part of the raid last year, see—”

Archer cut her off. “No. We don’t know who Sanchez and Trejo have in their pocket. The new police chief is solid, but we don’t know about every cop on the beat.” She glanced at Lucy. “Bet you didn’t know that your brother had a big hand in bringing down a corrupt cop here five years ago.”

Before Lucy could comment, Brad said, “Listen, Sam, we have two teams of six, plus you and Lucy manning tactical, and two undercovers now in the junkyard.”

“And we don’t know how many are inside, what kind of weapons they have, or whether the little girl is with them. We have to assume she is.”

“No one has seen Sanchez,” Brad said.

“He disappeared this morning. He could have been here all day.”

Tom’s voice came over the com. “We’re in position. We see a vehicle approaching. A van.”

“How many subjects?” Archer asked.

“At least two.”

“Can you identify the target?”

“Negative. Two males.”

“Do you have thermal?”

“We have four outside, but can’t get a reading inside yet. We’re calibrating. We might not be close enough. They may have reinforced the interior walls.”

“Don’t expose yourselves.”

“Two white or light-skinned Hispanic males have entered the building. Two guards still outside.”

“Either one of them Sanchez?”

“Negative.”

“Do you see any sort of security on the building? Cameras?”

“Affirmative. Two cameras, one in the northeast corner facing the street; one above the doorway.”

“Hold your position.” Archer turned to Brad. “We wait until they move. We can’t go on their turf without intel from the inside. Four subjects we know of. Could be more.”

More waiting, and they didn’t know where Bella was. Lucy shifted nervously on her feet.

Brad paced. “What about the neighboring buildings? Can we get in through one of them?”

“Not in a vehicle, they’ll see our approach.” Archer considered, then said to the agents in the junkyard, “Tom, verify the angles of the cameras and see if there is any way we can approach from the rear or from the adjoining warehouse, any angle.”

“Roger. Hold.”

Archer said, “Brad, listen. I know you want Sanchez. I want him, too. And I damn well want Trejo. But we’re going to do this right, and we’re not going in hot when we don’t know what they have.”

She glanced at Lucy. “You know, he could have bolted, left the information so we sit on our asses here while he slips out. It wouldn’t be the first time a top dog sacrifices his underlings in order to escape.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” Brad said. “But we have no other leads.
Nothing.
All we have is this. We’re close, I know we are. If he’s not here, if he’s putting these men up as a distraction, we can get them to talk.”

“If they know anything,” Nicole said. “They could be local hires, disconnected from his inner circle.”

There was mumbling on the com, then Tom said, “We may have been made. We found two cameras, camouflaged, aimed at the junkyard.”

“Get out of there!”

Gunfire erupted from the com and Archer shouted, “Agent needs assistance! Team one, take the yard; team two, with me. Nicole, stay here with Brian and man the com.”

Lucy jumped into the tactical van with Sam Archer, Ryan, and two other DEA agents, even though she wasn’t technically part of the team. The rest of their team followed behind, while team one, led by Brad, hightailed it to the junkyard entrance.

“Tom! Report!”

“Clark’s down. I have cover.” More gunfire, so loud it had to be coming from Tom.

“Shit, shit, shit!”

It only took two minutes for the tactical team to reach the warehouse. They watched four males swarm the edge of the junkyard. There was a hole in the fence, and the two agents were effectively trapped behind rusting, dismantled vehicles until they could get backup.

Gunfire burst out of a broken window on the second floor, aimed at their vans.

Archer was calling for immediate backup from both Hidalgo PD and the DEA, including air cover.

“Team one, status!”

Brad responded, “Shooters have Tom and Clark pinned down.”

“Tom, can you walk?”

“I’m not leaving Clark. He’s injured.”

“Team one, can you get to them?”

“We need cover.”

Tom said, “The shooters are closing in.”

Brad said, “We’re almost there.”

Lucy listened in horror as the firefight in the junkyard continued, and they backed out of the line of fire from the warehouse.

“The bastards aren’t getting out,” Archer said. “Quiroz, you and Regan get up on that roof and take care of the shooter upstairs. You’re cleared to take the first available shot.”

“Roger.”

Ryan looked at Lucy and said, “It’s going to be fine, kid.”

“Just get them,” she said.

Thunder vibrated across the sky, and fat drops of rain fell on the dry dirt. The four agents in the van behind them covered Ryan and Regan as they ran into the warehouse directly across from the target.

“Donnelly, status!”

“Hold,” Brad whispered.

There was silence, the only sound the rain that fell suddenly and thickly all around. Sam was staring at the communications console as if willing it to speak to her.

A single gunshot was heard, then Brad said, “One down.” Then, “Tom, hold tight, we’re coming.”

“Clark needs an ambulance. It’s bad.”

“It’s on its way,” Archer said.

Ryan’s voice came over. “We’re in position.”

“First clear shot,” Sam said.

“Roger.”

Sam muttered, “They’re not getting out of here. Is this a damn suicide hit? This makes no sense.”

“Psychologically, Sanchez could be trying to mess with you,” Lucy said.

“What the hell does that mean?”

“If you lose a man in an op, it doesn’t matter if we take down the four they have, it’s going to affect you.”

“It’ll make me go after them in force. They don’t want my wrath.”

“Or it’s a diversion. Sacrificing four men when your a-team is engaged here, and the real deal is miles away.”

Sam shot her a glare that was full of venom and Lucy realized she’d completely overstepped. She’d stated the obvious, and it sounded too much like an
I told you so.
Considering that Kane had warned that any intel they learned could have been a trap or a diversion, and it now most likely was, Sam didn’t need Lucy, the rookie, to make the observation.

Lucy looked away first.

There were five known shooters—four outside and one in the second story of the warehouse. They couldn’t survive against sixteen federal agents.

A spurt of gunfire in the junkyard jolted Lucy. Voices shouting on the com. Lucy couldn’t make out who was talking, but something big had happened.

A single rifle shot from the roof hit the second-story shooter. His rifle fell from the opening to the ground below. They couldn’t see anyone else coming in or out, and had lost visual on the attackers who were in the junkyard.

Tom’s voice said, “We’re out. Two down. One at large, but Clark and I made it to the van.”

“Where’s the team?”

“Everyone’s here, except Donnelly.”

“Donnelly, report!”

Silence.

Sam said, “Did he lose communication? Anyone have eyes on him?”

“No, ma’am.”

She pounded her fist on the dashboard. “Dammit, Donnelly! Answer me!”

“We have to get Clark out now. He’s critical.”

“Back to staging. The ambulance is on its way there.”

Lucy said, “I have medical training.”

“We’re not leaving without Donnelly. Regan!” she said into the com. “Do you have eyes on the junkyard?”

“Visibility is low, Director. I don’t see any movement, but I only have about forty yards’ sight.”

Sirens pierced the air. The police had arrived, and Sam ordered Ryan and Regan to hold their position while she ordered her driver to back up the van and meet up with the police at the industrial park entrance.

She issued orders for the police to block off the street and her team to clear the warehouse and start a search in the junkyard for Donnelly. “We have to assume he’s down and lost communication. There’s one subject known to be at large, but there could be more. We clear the warehouse first. Regan, can you cover?”

“You’re covered, Director.”

Sam turned to Lucy. “You’re cleared to go to the staging area. See if you can help Clark. Take the van.”

Lucy didn’t have to be told twice. She’d been listening to the transmissions, knew that Clark had been shot at least twice and was critical. She didn’t know if she could help, but she had to try.

She arrived at the same time as team one’s van. They unloaded Clark and put him on a blanket in the dirt. Nicole found an umbrella and held it over them.

Clark was unconscious but alive. Tom stayed while the others went back to the junkyard to look for Donnelly.

“What happened?” Nicole asked. “I heard on the com, where’s Brad?”

“They’re looking for him,” Lucy said. She didn’t have to tell Nicole that he might have been shot and unconscious. Or worse. She focused on Clark. “Brian,” she said to the agent who’d been manning the staging area with Nicole, “get the first-aid kit out of the tactical van.”

“Is there one?”

“If it’s like the FBI’s unit, it’s under the passenger seat or the—”

Tom interrupted. “It’s under the passenger seat.” He had stripped off his shirt and was applying pressure to Clark’s gut wound. There was a graze on Clark’s head and a serious wound in his upper thigh. He was losing too much blood.

“I need a tourniquet,” Lucy demanded. “Now!”

Brian rushed back with the first-aid kit. There was no tourniquet, so Lucy told him to grab Sam’s SWAT pack in the front seat.

Lucy took off her jacket, then her blouse and tied it tight around Clark’s right leg, above the wound. “Do you know what blood type he is?”

“A-positive.”

“Make sure the ambulance knows that. They’ll need to get him to the hospital ASAP and get some blood in him. He’s already lost too much.”

“I know. Fuck, it was an ambush. They were waiting for us.”

Brian came back with the SWAT kit and Lucy tore through it until she found the tourniquet. She tied it tight around his leg. He groaned and came to consciousness.

“Hey, buddy, you’re going to be fine,” Tom told his partner, still putting pressure on Clark’s stomach.

The ambulance pulled up and two paramedics came out. Lucy said, “He’s A-positive, he’s lost at least two pints, probably more. He needs a transfusion immediately. The head wound is superficial, I put a tourniquet on his leg, it’s slowed but not stopped the bleeding.”

“I’m going with him,” Tom said as the paramedics put Clark on the gurney.

Lucy watched as the paramedics got to work on Clark while they wheeled him into the ambulance. Speed would save him. She prayed they’d get him to the hospital in time.

The rain stopped as fast as it had started. Lucy found a towel and wiped as much blood off her hands as she could. Her tank top was covered with it, but there was nothing she could do. She turned to Nicole. “What have you heard?”

“The warehouse is empty. One suspect down.” That would have been Ryan and Regan. Lucy didn’t know who’d taken the shot.

“Have they found Brad?”

“Negative. They’re still looking.”

Lucy jumped back into the tactical van and put on the headphones. She listened, her heart sinking as each search team reported negative findings. Three more suspects were dead in the junkyard, and they were chasing the fourth.

Archer said in her ear, “Kincaid, report on Clark.”

“He’s en route to the hospital.”

“Prognosis?”

“I don’t know. Three GSWs. The most serious was to his upper right thigh. He regained consciousness temporarily.”

“That’s good, right?”

Lucy didn’t say anything. It was far too early to know.

A commotion on the com had Lucy hopeful. She listened as the agents apprehended the surviving suspect. He’d been shot, a superficial wound to his hand, and was now cuffed and in custody.

But Brad Donnelly was nowhere.

“Search the entire junkyard again!” Sam Archer ordered. “Every fucking inch, he couldn’t have disappeared into thin air.”

Then Sam said, “Shit.”

Lucy leaned forward and listened, her eyes closed. Something was very wrong.

Sam said, “There’s another damn tunnel. What are these guys, fucking gophers?”

There was some scrambling, then nothing, and Sam said, “I need a direct line to the director in DC. Donnelly’s been taken hostage. His captors have made demands.”

CHAPTER 28