The 13: Fall (36 page)

Drawing closer still, he began to hear the statement that one of the men in uniform was giving. Given his age and the brass on his uniform, he deduced that this was the sheriff himself. The man was saying that the missing law enforcement officers had all been found. The bodies had all been hidden, and the men were all killed in the same way. The officers had been located via the GPS trackers attached to their cars. And upon arrival at each scene, it was noted that the men had been killed in the same manner. Each had been shot, execution style. Ballistics would confirm the exact type of weapon used, but they were pretty sure that they were looking at AK-47 rounds.

The thing most disturbing, the sheriff was saying, was that this was not an isolated incident. They now knew similar executions had occurred along most of the Texas border. He and the other sheriffs across the state were forming a joint task unit to investigate and bring whoever had done this to justice.

He finished his statement, and the array of questions began hurling at the man. Reporters shouted over one another and pushed and jockeyed for position, trying to get more information. Keene watched the scene unfold and began to get a sickening feeling in his gut. This was more than just a drug cartel declaring war against the border police. He was sure of it. He had a little over an hour until his meeting with the informant. In the meantime, he had to talk to that sheriff.

It was a little after 7:00 p.m., with the time change, when Taylor and Boz arrived in Mumbai. The initial plan had been to stop for the night, check in with Jennings and Keene, and then get started finding Marianne Levy in the morning. That had all changed now.

Taylor had been using the satellite feeds across the Atlantic to dig further on her laptop. She had spent most of the entire twelve-and-a-half hour flight bouncing from one secure site to another, hacking her way in at every turn. She had assured Jennings that no one would be able to trace her and that there would be no way it could come back to him or the agency. He hadn’t even batted an eye. “Do it,” he said, as he walked away from the tarmac.

The normal commercial flight time to Mumbai was anywhere from fourteen to sixteen hours, depending on stops and layovers. Jennings, however, had called back the Gulfstream-5 that had taken Keene to Texas, saving them the extra couple hours. The good news was they would get there faster. The bad news, they had less time to find the missing director.

Nevertheless, Taylor had lived up to her reputation. She worked under the assumption that Marianne would not be flying commercial, if she left again. So she got a list of every second- and third-tier airport within a two-hundred-mile radius of Mumbai. It took awhile, but seven hours into the flight, she had a hit. A private airstrip south of the city had acquired a charter. The plane was a Bombardier 300 luxury jet. She pulled the manifest for the charter and found that the flight was headed to Dubai. It had one passenger, a female, American. And no checked baggage.

As their own G-5 taxied in, they were notified that the flight crew would need a minimum of three hours to turn the aircraft around: systems checks, refueling, and a new crew. There was no telling how long this chase would go, and they were instructed by Jennings to make sure that they had fresh legs behind the controls. Taylor and Boz decided they would take the three hours to grab some dinner and check in.

A car was waiting for them when they deplaned. The driver introduced himself as the CIA liaison to the region and announced he would take them to a house where they could get cleaned up. The drive was short, and the house was typical for the area. Just another unassuming residence.

“Shower’s in there.” The man pointed as they entered the house. “There’s stuff in the fridge, though I can’t promise it’s still good.” He laughed. “Here are the keys to the car.” He threw them to Boz. “GPS has the airport plugged in already. When you’re ready to head back, just follow the little lady’s instructions.”

“You’re not staying?” Taylor asked.

“Sorry, ma’am,” he said. “No can do. I’m meeting a guy an hour from now.” He pulled the blinds back and looked out the window. “There’s my ride now.” He opened the door and stepped out. “There’s an area of town about a mile that way,” he pointed down the street, “has some eating places and shops and stuff. If you guys want something to eat, I’d go there. It’s pretty safe, but you two will stick out like a sore thumb, so just keep your eyes open.”

“I’m pretty familiar with the area,” Boz said, to Taylor’s surprise. She looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Really? How’s that, Boz?”

Boz just smiled at her.

“Okay then,” she said. “I’m going to shower. Be out in ten minutes.”

Boz laughed this time.

“What?” she said defensively.

“Nothing,” he said. “Just never met a woman that actually took a ten-minute shower. But, okay.”

“Just call Jennings and tell him what we’re doing,” she said smartly. “And find out what Jon’s doing. He should be meeting that guy any minute now.”

   CHAPTER 59   

K
eene stopped at the fork in the road. Up ahead, on the left, stood the house. He looked around outside the windows for any sign of danger, but there was nothing. He was the only one—no, the only thing—out here for miles. He reached for his phone and called Jennings.

“I’m here,” he said.

“See anything?”

“Just some abandoned house about four hundred yards up. This place is literally out in the middle of nowhere. Not to mention, I’m less than a quarter mile away from the border.”

“You recon the area?”

“No time. I had a chat with the sheriff down here about those missing cops.”

“Yeah? What’s that about?”

“They found them. All of them. More than a hundred border patrol agents, sheriff’s deputies, and local cops. All shot, execution style, with the same type of weapon.”

“Sounds like the drug cartels are ramping it up.”

“What if it’s not drug cartels?”

“That’s why you’re talking to Hector.”

“Hector’s a midlevel drug runner. We’re wasting time. He’s not going to know anything.”

“Just talk to him. Hector is curious, if nothing else. He’s got his nose in everything. If there’s anything going on down there, he’ll know. And he’s real jittery, I’m told. So watch your back.”

“You’re getting senile in your old age. You forget who you’re talking to here?”

“Listen to me,” Jennings said coldly. “This kid isn’t some ordinary street punk. He’s a killer. Don’t forget it. I’m not saying you can’t handle yourself. Just don’t be too cocky to think you’re the only one with skills.”

“Any word from Megan and Boz?”

“They just called in. They’re in Mumbai. But only for another couple hours.”

“What’d they find?”

“Small, expensive charter leaving a private terminal to Dubai. American woman. Fits the description.”

“It’s her,” he said between clenched teeth. “Should be me over there.”

“You just worry about Hector. I want to know what he wants.”

“I gotta go. If he is watching, then he’s watching me sitting here talking to you. I’ll call you when we’re done.” He paused for a few seconds then, “And for the record, I still think this is stupid. There’s a possible attack happening today, and I’m down here talking to a drug monkey.”

“Just find out what he wants. I’ll send a plane for you when you call back.”

The line went dead.

Keene put the car back in gear and drove toward the house.

True to her word, Taylor was out of the shower in just a few minutes.

“I stand corrected,” Boz said, bowing his head when she showed up. He was standing in the small kitchen area eating a sandwich. “I had to throw out some cheese, but other than that, the stuff in there is okay. Some lunch meat and bread. Want a sandwich?”

“I’ll fix it,” she said. “You go get cleaned up. Maybe we can get back early and put some pressure on them to move faster.”

“Maybe,” he shrugged.

She changed places with him and heard the door to the bathroom shut a moment later. She fixed herself a turkey sandwich with some mustard and found some chips in the cabinet. She sat down in the den and picked up the small remote control sitting on the table in front of her. She clicked it on and thumbed through the channels until she finally found an English-speaking news channel.

The anchor was saying something about the progress of the American president. That he wasn’t expected to recover anytime soon and newly installed President Walker had no answer for the American financial crisis that was taking place. Markets all across the globe, he said, were being affected, though with the American dollar having lost so much of its worth over the previous three years, it wasn’t as substantial as it could be. Images of footage from riots and protests across the country filled the screen, with the news anchor finally asking the question, “Can America bounce back? Or are we seeing the decline of the West?”

Megan heard the water shut off in the other room. She stood up and took her napkin and empty glass back to the kitchen. Boz would be ready in just a few minutes. She wanted to be ready to leave when he was. She got back to the den area and unzipped her bag. She pulled out some fresh socks and started to put her boots back on when the news anchor suddenly began to talk in a hurried voice. She looked up to see the panic in the man’s eyes. She reached for the remote and turned up the volume. The blood drained from her face as she watched in horror the scene unfolding before her. She gasped for breath but felt her chest tighten. All at once a flow of tears came. She couldn’t breathe. She choked down the sobs and dug down to find her voice.

“Boz, get in here. Now!” she screamed. “It’s happened!”

   CHAPTER 60