Personal Target: An Elite Ops Novel (6 page)

He wasn’t ignoring Ernesto Vega’s order to find out what had happened to Carlita and Cesar Vega, but he wasn’t going to do that first. If he could find out where Jenny was, he could get her out before anyone even knew he’d been in Mexico.

Leland was still talking. “I chatted with my old boss, Ford Johnson, before I called. He said you might not remember him, but you two met when you first came on board at the CIA.”

Nick tried to focus, bringing up a hazy image of a fit, sixtyish-year-old man.

“Ford’s going to get back to me if he can find out anything from his end. I’ve got a confidential informant here who used to work for the Vegas down there. I’ll reach out to him, see if he knows anything.”

“Got it. Thanks.” Nick turned off LBJ onto the North Dallas Tollway. The traffic was heavier than he’d expected. Holiday shoppers probably had something to do with it.

“Tell me a little more about Jennifer Grayson,” said Leland.

Nick’s mind flashed on the lush figure in the sexy bra he’d seen in the picture. “I sent the proof of life picture to Gavin.”

“Right. Bombshell blonde. Unicorn tattoo.”

Something hard and unpleasant unfurled in Nick’s belly. That Leland had noticed, even though the man was happily settled with someone else, bothered him.

What was that?

“Yeah. She’s Dr. Jennifer Grayson now. PhD, not MD. Something to do with paleontology. Not sure of the specific area. She was studying dinosaurs when I knew her years ago. She’s about five-eight. It’s been a while since I saw her. The hair’s new. I almost didn’t recognize her.”
Until I saw the damn tattoo.
He heard the surliness in his own tone.

“’Kay. Let me clarify the question. What is she to you?” Leland’s voice was patient.

What was she to him?
God, Nick had no idea. Not anymore. He didn’t even want to acknowledge the thought. At one time he’d almost changed the course of his life for her, but that seemed crazy since he hadn’t spoken to her in over ten years.

Honesty was the best way to handle this. He knew that in his gut. But if he couldn’t be honest with himself, telling the men he worked with about his feelings for Jennifer was out of the question.

“A family friend from long ago.”

“You’re sticking with that story?” Leland’s disbelief was evident in his tone.

Gavin broke in before Nick answered. “I don’t want you going in by yourself. Marissa’s out of the country right now, but Bryan’s around. He should be at the office when you get there or shortly after.”

“Excellent. I’m leaving tonight. I can’t wait on anyone. It’s my fault she’s there. They took her thinking she was part of my family.”

“You realize that’s insane? You don’t even know where you’re going,” argued Gavin. “And this is not your fault.”

“But you two are going to find out where I need to go, right?” Nick ignored the discussion of whose fault it was and forced a levity into his tone to keep Gavin and Leland onboard with helping him. “Gavin, I was doing this for years before you hired me. Between your information and Leland’s CI, I can figure it out.”

Nick took the exit from the Tollway too fast, slowing down only when he approached the residential area where the AEGIS office was located. Cheery Christmas lights lit the night all around him in the upscale neighborhood.

“Give me a little time, man.” Leland’s voice sounded like a radio announcer’s over the car’s speakerphone. “An hour? Two max? I can get you more information. Let me talk to my contact.”

Nick took a deep breath. Both men were right. He knew they were. Then he thought of Jenny, drugged in a bordello somewhere in Tlaxcala. His stomach twisted.

The line was quiet as he went through security at the gated community that housed AEGIS’s unorthodox office space. Walnut Creek Residential Airpark had been his home since he’d left the CIA and had come to work for Gavin. The subdivision looked like any other North Dallas gated community, except alongside the garages and driveways there were also hangars and taxiways.

Bryan’s car was already there.
Good.
He grabbed Jennifer’s purse that he’d brought with him from Drew’s house. They were leaving for Mexico as soon as he could pack a bag.

“Look guys, I’m at the office. Bryan’s here, too. I understand your concerns, but I gotta go. Leland, I’d appreciate whatever intel you can send, but I won’t wait. Text or email me everything you got. I’m leaving as soon as I get packed. I’ll take any other information you gather once we land.”

It was obvious they weren’t going to talk him out of this. Gavin’s sigh was audible over the phone. “Dammit. You be careful. I don’t want to come pull your butt out of another Mexican hospital this month. You understand?”

“You know me, Gavin. I’m always careful.” Nick ended the call and headed inside to find Bryan Fisher—aka Hollywood, for a reason Nick wasn’t entirely clear on—waiting in the conference room. Bryan was already bringing up maps and pictures of Ernesto Vega along with information about the Vega cartel on the large computer screen in the AEGIS conference room.

Hollywood didn’t spend time asking questions like everyone else had. Instead, he simply went to work. It occurred to Nick that Bryan might know more about sex trafficking south of the border—and in Tlaxcala, specifically—than anyone else at AEGIS. He’d been working the Yarborough case in that area last month when he stopped to help get Leland and the Mercados out of Tomas Rivera’s compound.

Since Nick had been in the hospital recuperating after that misadventure, he’d never heard the debriefing on everything Bryan had found. Given that there’d been no more news of Elizabeth Yarborough, Nick just assumed it hadn’t been good news.

Still, he got the feeling Bryan had been looking for her on his own time for several months. Amid all the ensuing chaos with Rivera and his own detour last month, Nick had never gotten the full scoop on the connection—if there was one—between the kidnapped woman and Bryan.

Together, the men pulled supplies from one of the house’s bedrooms that had been turned into a storeroom. Those supplies included ammunition, multiple weapons, K-rations, a water filter, a first-aid kit, and a change of clothing for Jennifer.

He wasn’t sure what kind of shape she’d be in when they found her. Drugged, beaten, naked? Sadly, all three were commonplace with what they’d found on past jobs and a distinct possibility here.

Neither man spoke as they packed. Nick changed clothes, pulling on camouflage pants and a dark T-shirt with hiking boots. He took a couple more changes of clothes, having no idea what kind of cover he might have to use once they arrived.

He refused to let himself think about the odds of finding Jennifer without more information. Was he making a huge mistake, taking off with no specific knowledge of her location? They had three different landing sites picked out in Tlaxcala, depending on what information Leland could get them in the next hour. Otherwise, they’d hope for more intelligence once they landed and drive to wherever they needed to go.

Bryan closed the last duffel bag. Nick stuffed extra energy bars into his backpack. His phone buzzed as they walked downstairs to the hangar, carrying the supplies. It was Leland.

“Tell me something good,” Nick said with a tone significantly more optimistic than he felt.

Bryan opened the plane’s cargo door and loaded bags. He would be the pilot tonight.

“I heard from my CI,” said Leland. “Jennifer Grayson is in Tenancingo. Right now they still think her name is Angela Donovan. My informant is there, too. His name is Hosea Alvarez and he’s agreed to work with you. He knows where she is being held.”

“Isn’t it a bit of a coincidence that your guy just happens to be there?” asked Nick. Bryan started the pre-flight check as Nick strapped himself in.

“Don’t worry about my guy. Alvarez used to work for the Vegas before he got popped for possession with intent to sell and went up to Huntsville for a while. Hosea Alvarez and Ernesto Vega are still tight, but Alvarez refuses to run drugs for Vega anymore. Vega trusts him because Alvarez did the full sentence in Huntsville without rolling on him.”

“But why do
you
trust him?” asked Nick.

“Alvarez has been my CI for five years. Even though he’s in deep with Vega, he still works for me. Probably more for self-preservation than anything, but he always has good intel. He’s stuck his neck out for me when he didn’t have to. I trust him.”

“A CI that helps with sex trafficking?” asked Nick. The moral ambiguity did not fill him with confidence.

“Yeah, I understand why you’d question this. My guy isn’t a choirboy. I thought he had completely washed his hands of Ernesto Vega, but apparently he’s not above working for the cartel occasionally. And he’s not squeamish when it comes to prostitution or sex trafficking.”

Nick shook his head. The man wouldn’t run drugs, but he’d sell women into slavery. And Nick was supposed to trust him?

The irony of the situation struck him immediately. Nick was condemning Alvarez when he himself had committed murder on more than one occasion for the U.S. government. Yet clients now trusted Nick to keep them safe. It was kind of the same thing. If he thought about that for too long, his head would explode. So, no more judging Hosea Alvarez, whoever the hell he was.

“What did Alvarez tell you?” Nick asked.

“Your girl is in one of the ‘training houses’ in Tenancingo,” said Leland. “Ernesto hired Alvarez and a crew here to pick the woman up in Dallas and take her to Mexico. Tomas Rivera’s men run the place. They’ve been keeping her drugged, but she’s up and around.”

“What?!” Nick flashed on the picture he’d received of Jennifer: the fear in her eyes, the tears on her cheek, the blood on her lip. CI or not, similar situation or not, Nick would like to wrap his hands around Alvarez’s neck and not let go till the man was dead. “Your guy was one of the people who took her?”

“That’s how Alvarez got involved. He was in Dallas and normally doesn’t leave the area. He didn’t know it was a kidnapping until Ernesto offered him more money than he could refuse and not look suspicious.”

Jesus.
It shouldn’t surprise Nick but it did. What people could do to each other for money.

Shit.
He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment. “Can Alvarez get word to her that we’re coming?” he asked.

Leland cleared his throat. “He’ll try, but I won’t guarantee it. I don’t want Alvarez to blow his cover. The Vegas would take him apart if they knew he was giving me information.”

That was a certainty. Whoever this Alvarez was, he was walking a very thin line.

“The house is on
Calle Pino
. Pine Street. Alvarez says it’s impossible to miss. It looks like a Japanese temple with huge bushes out front shaped like dolphins, a tacky version of Disney World. He’s going to get you inside by having you pose as a customer.”

“They run the brothel out of the house where they are holding her?” Nick asked.

“Training brothel, remember? They bring young women there initially to convince them that prostitution is the way to make dreams of a better life come true. Some of the girls aren’t even teenagers yet. If the women refuse to cooperate, they’re gang raped or beaten, their families threatened. Later they take the girls to Mexico City or to U.S. cities to be sex workers.”

“Doesn’t the town know what’s going on?”

“There’s a lot of denial,” said Leland. “Tenancingo has a population of about ten thousand, but probably three thousand of those residents are involved in the business. There’s not much chance for escape. Who would help them?”

Damn.
The thought of women being treated like that nauseated him. Some people got sick over gore, for Nick it was witnessing the abuse and pain of those weaker than he was. That was how he’d known for certain that he had to leave the CIA. Being able to stay cool and unemotional in a crisis was one thing, but when he didn’t feel anything watching his niece fall out of that tree, he’d known it was time to find something else to do or risk losing a part of himself he’d never get back.

Was it possible to recover what he’d already lost?

“How is Alvarez going to get me in as a customer?” asked Nick.

“He has a plan he’s working on. You’ll be there for one of their ‘training’ sessions. He’ll have all the details by the time you land.”

Nick swallowed hard as Leland kept talking. “I’m sending Alvarez’s contact information now.”

Nick’s phone beeped with Leland’s incoming text. He ended the call and told Bryan the news. They had their location.

Hollywood stopped in the middle of the pre-flight check and pulled out the map again. “I can get us a truck. I know a guy in that area.” He reached for his phone.

“Of course you do,” muttered Nick. “Is he a pimp?”

“Nope. He’s a priest.”

Nick shook his head. Hollywood wasn’t joking. Moral ambiguity, indeed.

Bryan fired off a text and finished readying the plane for takeoff. Five minutes later he had a reply. “Truck will be there,” Bryan said.

“Excellent,” said Nick. “I just hope Jennifer is.”

Chapter Six

Saturday evening

Tlaxcala, Mexico

I
T WAS ALMOST
ten
PM
when they circled the deserted airstrip near Tenancingo. The night sky was clear and illuminated the retro-reflective lighting system perfectly. In the moonlight Nick could see a Jeep parked at the edge of the field as promised. The outbuildings were long gone, but according to Bryan’s priest, a water well dug years ago when the airport was used for legitimate business still worked.

Bryan rolled the plane to a stop beside the Jeep. “My guy says there are no drug deliveries slated for the next twenty-four hours, so we’re probably okay with leaving the plane here. I can cover it with camouflage netting if you’d rather.”

“How can your priest be so sure that there are no scheduled deliveries?” asked Nick.

“The guy’s brother works for the Riveras.”

Of course
, thought Nick, nodding his head.
Moral ambiguities. Nothing else would make sense, would it?
“Go ahead and cover the plane, just in case.”