Oath to Defend (18 page)

43

Saleem left Michael Abazzano’s villa at Wyler Ranch and drove to the Pronghorn resort to collect Marco Vazquez. It didn’t feel like it was going to be as warm a day as he was used to in San Diego, but temperatures in the mid-eighties were plenty warm by early afternoon in the high desert country of Central Oregon. The late morning air, however, was still crisp with the lingering coolness of the previous night.

Having watched the polo star lounging around the pool, Saleem thought of heading there first after he had parked the Escalade Barak had let him use while he was in Oregon. But as addicted as Vazquez was to tanning his lean body and strutting around in his Speedo swimsuit, Saleem couldn’t see him being out this early. More likely, he would find him in the Trailhead Grill where Barak had found him drinking his breakfast.

Sure enough, he spotted Vazquez sitting alone at a small table next to a window looking out over the pool. He was sucking down a Bloody Mary, ignoring the hamburger and fries he’d ordered, and looking like it had been a rough night for him. Saleem hoped that it had been. It would give him immense pleasure to ruin the day for the pampered celebrity whose rough night had probably consisted of having to decide which fawning young woman to invite to his room.

Saleem sat down across the table from Vazquez, reached over and took a French fry from his plate and ate it. “Greetings, Marco. Have you been a good boy lately?”

The polo player frowned and set his glass down. “Are you a reporter? Leave me alone or I’ll have you thrown out.”

“I doubt that. I asked you a question.”

“That I didn’t answer. Now please leave.”

“Have you talked with your father lately? He told you to be a good boy, didn’t he?”

Vazquez scooted his chair back and stared at the smiling person eating his fries. “Who are you?”

“Let’s just say that today I’m someone you do not want to anger. I will be your companion for the rest of your stay here. My duty is to make sure you do not disobey and get your family killed.” Saleem helped himself to more of the French fries. “That’s who I am.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you and I’m tired of being ordered around. I have done everything I have been asked to do. I have a match tomorrow. I do not have time to escort you around.”

“Marco, listen to me.” Saleem leaned across the table. “You are this close to getting the people you love killed. You know who we are, just as your father knows who we are. Now give me your phone and listen carefully.”

The two men sat without moving for a long minute until Vazquez slowly reached into the pocket of his silk shirt and handed over his iPhone.

Saleem dialed a number. “The Argentine needs to speak to you,” he said to Barak.

Vazquez took the phone and put it to his ear.

“What is it Marco? Have you forgotten me already?”

“Why are you doing this?” Vazquez asked, recognizing the cold fear he felt in his stomach.

“Because I can’t take any chances,” said the voice. “And neither can you. Go with Saleem and do what he says. You will be our guest at the ranch with your ponies until your match. Saleem will call and say you are ill and need to rest if you are to ride tomorrow. You won’t have to attend the dinner tonight. If you do as you are told, you will not see either of us ever again after your match tomorrow. And your family will be alive when you return to Argentina.”

“Will this be the end of it?”

“This will be the end of it. You have my word.”

Vazquez listened for the voice that made his stomach churn to speak again. After a minute, he realized the call had ended.

Saleem, sitting across the table with a cruel smile on his lips, held out his hand for the phone. “Go pack your bags and check out,” he said. “When you are finished, return here to me. I’m going to order lunch and put it on your tab. Tell the waiter on your way out that it’s okay.”

Vazquez stood up slowly and crossed the room to tell the waiter to take Saleem’s order. His slumped shoulders and bowed head told his new keeper their time together was going to be a pleasure. Saleem was already enjoying the pain and fear he saw in the young man’s eyes and began to think of ways he could increase the boy’s fear in the hours ahead. He wouldn’t be able to physically inflict pain on him, but Vazquez wouldn’t know that. Besides, he thought as he studied the menu, mental torture could sometimes be as much fun as the physical methods he preferred.

Saleem was finishing a ranch burger when Vazquez returned.

“My bags are in front of the hotel lobby,” he said in a sullen voice. “Where do you want me to put them?”

“Have the parking valet put them in my Escalade,” Saleem replied. “Here’s the key.”

Saleem finished the rest of his fries and followed his charge to his Escalade that was idling in front of the hotel. Without a word to the valet, he got in and motioned for Vazquez to join him.

As they drove off, he began taunting his passenger. “You may as well relax,” he said. “There’s nothing you can do or say that will change this. Your stupid father got you into this, and he’s not capable of helping you now, even if he wanted to.”

“What are you talking about? Of course my father wants to help me!”

Like a cobra launching itself at its prey, Saleem’s hand flashed across the center console and hit Vazquez in the mouth.

“You stupid fool! Your father’s the reason you’re leaving your precious resort with me right now. He’s been working with us for a long, long time just so he could keep his
estancia
and keep you playing polo. He’s one of us, just like you’re one of us now. He takes orders from us. You had better learn to do the same.”

As Vazquez wiped the blood from his split lip, Saleem laughed. Life is good when you’re in the driver’s seat.

44

After Drake and Liz left to find Vazquez at the Pronghorn Resort, Casey called his white-hat IT hacker to ask for a little off-the-books help in locating the Escalades that had been leased by Timothy O’Neil. Kevin McRoberts, said white-hat IT hacker, was only twenty-two years old, but he was recognized as a rising star among Information Technology security professionals. At age fourteen, he had been caught exploiting a vulnerability in Microsoft’s security shield, but instead of prosecuting him, Microsoft had offered to give him security training so he could work for them as a good guy, or white-hat IT hacker. After six years with Microsoft, McRoberts had let it be known that he wanted more excitement than the corporate world offered. That was when Casey’s IT division chief had suggested they hire the young man and use him to test the security shields of their growing list of corporate clients. McRoberts had jumped at the opportunity and settled into his new role like a boy at Christmas with a new video game he couldn’t wait to master.

His adaptation to life in Casey’s company had not, however, been without challenges. The majority of the company’s employees had military experience and were used to discipline and routine. Kevin, on the other hand, had been allowed by Microsoft to work whenever he wanted, any hours of the day or night, as long as he met the performance goals he had agreed on. So he worked at night or on weekends, from home or in his office, with his ever-present, noise-canceling iPod headphones in his ears. He had been granted the freedom Microsoft accorded a child genius.

Casey had had to work at developing a relationship with the kid. Kevin had made it a little easier dressing semi-appropriately, at least compared to the company’s other employees. Although Casey had expected to see the young hacker in a hoodie, cargo pants and flip-flops, Kevin adopted jeans and a long-sleeve white shirt and purple canvas skate shoes to appease the Huskie fans in the office. But Kevin lived alone in his head with his music and his computer. He seldom spoke and didn’t seem to share any of the interests his boss wanted to talk about, except food. Kevin loved to eat and when Casey took him to lunch at his favorite BBQ shack, where the sauce was served in buckets labeled “Hot,” “Hotter,” and “Hottest,” a friendship had developed over heaping stacks of baby back ribs. When Casey needed Kevin’s undivided attention, he took him to lunch.

Now he found the young hacker’s name on his iPhone contact list and called him.

“Kevin, it’s Mike. How are we doing on the Patterson project?”

“They’re not going to like what we have to tell them,” Kevin replied. “They’re completely exposed to modem mobile threats and cyber espionage. It was a piece of cake.”

“Great. Go ahead and schedule a meeting with them next week. In the meantime, I have a new project for you. I’m trying to locate two SUVs for a client here in Bend that were rented from Enterprise Car Rentals at the Sunriver airport. Both of the SUVs are Cadillac Escalades. I believe they have OnStar. Can you find out where those two vehicles are?”

“Sure, but I’ll need the vehicle VIN numbers for the two Escalades. OnStar collects the GPS location data on all the GMC vehicles. You want me to, um,
borrow
that information?”

“Get the VIN numbers for the two SUV’s from Enterprise,” Casey told him. “The rental agreements will be in the name of Timothy O’Neil. Then see what OnStar can tell us. This is semi-official for now, but untraceable would be best.”

“It’s what I do best! Are we going to do lunch anytime soon?”

“Soon as I get back. Call me as soon as you have something.”

Before Casey even had time to finish cleaning the mess he’d made in the kitchen fixing breakfast, Kevin called him back.

“One of the Escalades is on the road north of Bend. The other is at Sunriver near the airport.”

“Can you tell where at Sunriver?”

“From what I’m seeing, it’s stationary and approximately three hundred yards south of the airport terminal.”

“Thanks, Kevin. I’m on my way to check it out.” He walked out to the deck where Green was cleaning his handgun and talking with Gonzalez at the observation post at Wyler Ranch.

“We need to go, Larry,” Casey said. “In less than five minutes, Kevin located the two Escalades. One’s on the road, the other’s just south of the airport at Sunriver. Let’s go take a look.”

They picked up their black tactical responder equipment bags, into which they had stuffed two handguns each, loaded magazines, vests, binoculars, flashlights, and every other necessary item they could think of, and loaded them into the Yukon parked outside. Both men were also carrying their favorite concealed handguns.

“You got your camera bag?” he asked Green.

“In my room, I’ll be right back.”

While Green ran back inside to get his surveillance camera equipment, Casey called Drake.

“Good news,” he said, “I think we have the location of one of the Escalades.”

“Where is it?” Drake asked.

“Right under our noses. It’s just south of the Sunriver airport. It must be in one of the houses along the golf course or maybe in one of the hangar houses.”

“What’s a hangar house?”

“It’s a house with a garage big enough for an airplane. They build them near general aviation airports for civilian pilots who like to fly a lot.”

“So you think O’Neil is a pilot?”

“He might be. It would explain why he rented the Escalades if he and his party flew in and needed transportation.”

“Check it out,” Drake said. “We’re about twenty minutes away from the Pronghorn resort. I’ll call you as soon as Liz convinces Vazquez she’s someone he doesn’t want to mess with.”

Casey had to smile. “That should be worth the price of a ticket, seeing her in action.”

“I agree. Good luck at Sunriver.”

“Shallow men believe in luck, to quote Emerson,” Casey returned. “I believe in overwhelming firepower, which I just happen to have with me.”

“Shock and awe it is, then. But if you think for a moment that Barak is with O’Neil, I’d better be the one delivering the firepower.”

“Deal. I wouldn’t want you to miss the fun.”

As Casey waited for Green to return, he thought about what it would mean if Barak were with O’Neil at Sunriver. From what he knew about Barak and what he’d seen the terrorist’s men try to pull off when they went after Drake’s father-in-law and Secretary Rallings, there was going to be one hell of a fight. If Barak and Drake met, one of them would die. He just had to make sure it wasn’t his friend.

45

It took all of ten minutes for Casey to drive north to the Sunriver Resort and follow River Road around to the airport. Three hundred yards southwest of the small airport terminal, he saw a cluster of large homes identified on his resort map as the Lone Eagle Landing.

“This could be a problem, Mike,” Green said, looking up from the maps application on his iPhone. “The GPS coordinates Kevin gave you put the Escalade in a hangar house on the far side of this development.”

“Why is that a problem?”

“Drive on around and you’ll see.”

They drove past nine large resort homes until River Road swung around and turned north again behind the seven hangar homes with taxi access from the airport.

“It’s the second house. Drive on past unless you want him to know we’re looking for him. He can see us from any of the windows off the deck on the second floor,” he pointed to the windows. “If the Escalade is in the garage, we won’t be able to see it. If he has a plane around the other side in the hangar, we can’t see that either. All we know for sure is OnStar says the Escalade is here. O’Neil doesn’t have to be, though, and neither does Barak.”

Casey gave this some thought. “So let’s knock on the door and find out,” he finally said. “I’ll say I’m interested in renting the place. He’s supposed to return the Escalades the day after tomorrow, meaning his vacation’s over, so he might expect someone to be looking at the place.”

The former L.A. cop wasn’t so sure. “Mike, without knowing more about O’Neil and what he’s doing here, we could start a war if he’s involved with Barak and we walk in on him. This isn’t the way I was trained to handle a situation like this. We need more information. Especially if there is a nuke stashed around here.”

Casey had to agree. “You’re right,” he said. “I am rushing things. Drake and I used to watch targets for weeks. With the attempts on Drake and then Liz last night, though, we need to make something happen.”

“Let’s just think it through. That’s all I’m saying.” After they drove past O’Neil’s hangar house and back toward the airport terminal, Casey had another plan. “Let’s drive out to the parking apron where the Relentless is tied down,” he proposed. “We can see the back side of his house from there. I’ll act like I’m going through a pre-flight inspection while you use your binoculars. It’s all we can do for now.”

He drove on to the small terminal building, then out onto the asphalt parking apron, where he pulled up just south of his red and black Bell 525 and parked. Now Green had a clear view of the row of hangar houses three hundred yards away.

“I’ll do a walk around,” he said. “Then I’m going to ask the service attendant about fuel. Maybe someone knows if O’Neil is here with a plane. I won’t be gone long.”

He got out and slowly walked around the helicopter, carefully inspecting the doors and windows and running his hands along the seams of the panels. Although he didn’t take time to check fluid levels, he knelt down and looked for leaks, as was his habit. A pilot familiar with his own pre-flight routine would recognize the procedure. When he had walked all the way around and returned to the driver’s side of the Yukon, he pointed toward the service attendant and walked over to the Chevron fuel truck.

“Hi,” he said as he approached the attendant. He glanced at the man’s name tag. “Ramon, I need to refuel the Relentless sometime today. Have you refueled a helicopter?”

“Once. Don’t worry, though. I’ve been trained.”

“How long have you worked here?”

“A week. Guy that had this job had an accident. I transferred up here from California to take his place.” He looked past his potential customer at the helicopter. “That the new Bell Relentless? It’s a beauty.”

“Flies even better than it looks,” Casey bragged. “Okay, refuel it when you have time. By the way, those hangar houses down there…people live there year round?”

“A couple do. The others are rented out to vacationers who fly in.”

“You know if there’s one available now?”

“Guy down there just brought his Hawker 400 up for refueling. Said he was leaving tomorrow. Maybe his place will be available.”

“Thanks. Any chance you remember his name? In case I run into him?”

After flipping through the receipts on his clipboard, the service attendant said, “O’Neil. Timothy O’Neil.”

With a nod, Casey walked back and climbed into his Yukon, repeating to himself the tail number for O’Neil’s Hawker, which he’d glimpsed on the refueling receipt. With his hands on the top of the steering wheel, he turned to watch Green searching for signs of O’Neil.

“He’s here, Larry,” he said. “The refueling attendant just serviced his jet. He told the attendant he was leaving tomorrow.”

“What do you want to do?”

“Let’s go to Bend. With the GPS coordinates Kevin has for the two Escalades, we’ll know where they are. Drake can decide how he wants to handle this. He’s pretty good at putting things together, especially when he gets one of his hunches. I want to think he’s right this time and that O’Neil is working with Barak and Barak is involved with the missing nuke. Wrapping all that up in one neat package and sending it all to hell would make my day. Make my
year
.” He smiled. “It would also let Drake get on with his life.”

“How would it do that?” Green asked.

“He’s been having a tough time since his wife died a year ago. He was drinking too much and isolating himself out on his farm. Stopping Barak’s assassination attempt last month seems to have snapped him out of his funk. He won’t rest, though, until Barak’s dead. When that happens, he’ll be okay again.” Casey put the SUV in gear and drove down the row of parked airplanes toward the terminal and the road leading out of the Sunriver resort.