The Lawless Kind (3 page)

‘Someone has kidnapped your granddaughter?’

He looked at me strangely. ‘I guess I didn’t make that last bit clear enough. No, not Kirstie,
her
child. My great-grandson, Benjamin.’

‘Aren’t the FBI usually the right people for this kind of job?’ I was surprised I hadn’t heard anything about such a story. But then again I could have missed it: television wasn’t something I bothered with as a rule, preferring a quiet room and a paperback novel during downtime.

‘Ordinarily? Yes, the FBI would be involved if it were a straight kidnapping, but not here. Seeing as the kidnapper is the boy’s father, it’s seen more as a child custody issue. Kirstie has tried that route, but there are inherent problems, including that the boy has been taken out of the country. In the eyes of the law both parents have equal claim on the boy.’

‘Aren’t there rules about transporting minors across borders?’

‘There are, but the boy has dual citizenship. He was born in the US but he also has citizenship in his father’s country.’

‘Hang on,’ I said, staring south. ‘That’s the real reason you dragged us here, isn’t it? The father is Mexican, right?’

‘You’re not as stupid as you look.’ His weak attempt at humour didn’t merit a response. He carried on, hardly missing a beat. ‘If this were simply a domestic dispute, then I’d have no reason to get involved, but . . .’

‘He’s into something, right?’

‘It’s awkward,’ he said. ‘The reason I needed to speak with you in private.’

‘Walt.’ I knew him too well to continue dancing in circles. He was so entrenched in the secretive world of espionage that he simply couldn’t help layering everything he said with large dollops of disinformation. ‘Just cut to the fucking chase, will you?’

‘I’m about to. It’s only . . . well, I’m not sure how you’re going to take the news.’

‘Try me.’

But still he wasn’t ready.

‘You know why I’m sharing this with you, son?’

‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘Because you can wrap me round your little finger.’

‘That’s not entirely true.’ He smirked. ‘It’s because I know I can trust you. I can’t take this problem to my colleagues in the Agency. Not all of my enemies are from foreign countries. I need someone whose loyalty is to me, not to furthering his career. If I show any interest in Benjamin’s disappearance then questions will be raised. His identity and relationship to me will not only place him and Kirstie in danger, it will also bring trouble to Annie’s door. I’ve worked too hard to keep them safe to allow their identities to be discovered now. I won’t be around to protect them forever, Joe. That’s why I need someone who’ll keep our relationship out of the picture.’

‘I get you, but that’s not what this is really about.’

‘No, it’s about the identity of the father,’ he confessed. ‘If it became public that he was the son of one of Mexico’s largest drug cartel bosses then it would effectively hog-tie my mission to destroy them. More than that, Kirstie’s involvement with a major criminal would throw real suspicion on my motives.’

It would certainly raise questions concerning corruption, causing a scandal of epic proportions for both Walter and the CIA. If he became embroiled in a witch-hunt then people would start digging into aspects of his life that should never see the light of day. No wonder he wanted to keep a lid on it. It might also bring those of us who’d been Walter’s assets under the magnifying glass too.

But I didn’t care about that.

What most concerned me was his real objective.

‘Tell me, Walt. What’s most important to you? Recovering the boy, or hurting the father?’

There was no hint of irony when he said, ‘Aren’t they both the same thing?’

Chapter 3

‘I can’t believe you’re allowing the devious bastard to yank our chains again, brother.’

Rink wasn’t one to mince words; he could see where my impetuous nature was leading and would rein me in before I jumped into a problem with both size tens. However, on this occasion, I’d sworn I wouldn’t reveal Walter’s relationship to Kirstie to anyone, and that included my best friend. I was unhappy that Walter had sworn me to silence: normally we shared everything. Though maybe it didn’t really matter, because Rink was astute enough to figure things out, and Walter hadn’t forbidden me from confirming the truth.

‘I’ve agreed to the job, Rink, and can’t back out now. I was hoping that you and Harve would help me out as usual.’

‘You know we will, Hunter, but after what just happened . . .’

‘Yeah,’ I agreed. ‘Executing that man in cold blood was a low thing to do, but this job is different.’

‘Really? Hasn’t Walter just demanded that Kirstie’s husband be hurt? You know what he means by that.’

‘All we have to do is extricate a kidnapped child. We won’t be forced into working with any of Walt’s spook squad again if that’s what you’re bothered about.’

‘Somehow I doubt that,’ Rink huffed.

‘In fact, Walter’s specific instructions are to have no interaction with the CIA.’

‘Suits me, but what are the odds?’

‘Let’s not worry about that; we’ve a kid to rescue, before the war we’ve just ignited here endangers his life.’

‘I’m not happy, brother.’

‘To be honest, neither am I. But we’re being well paid. You have to admit, the business could do with a cash infusion.’

Rink owned a PI firm based in Tampa, Florida. Due to the current economic downturn, prospective clients preferred to hold on to their cash rather than learn the truth about a wandering spouse or whatever other personal problem they had. The firm had been struggling – no less for the couple of pro bono cases we’d worked in the past few months – and it was in desperate need of a financial boost. Things had grown so bad that Rink had been forced to reduce the hours of his two investigators, Jim McTeer and Raul Velasquez, to the bare minimum. Both Rink and I had private incomes from pensions and savings stashed away after we retired from Arrowsake, but they wouldn’t last forever. He’d been good enough to offer me employment when I arrived in the US, and had been out of pocket ever since: I didn’t want to watch his business go under. I also hoped to see McTeer and Velasquez earning a wage they deserved and not having to rely on part-time mall security work.

‘The cash would be welcome, but not at the expense of our goddamn souls,’ he muttered.

I’d always railed at the notion of becoming a contract killer, and that was more or less what Walter was asking of me. The only way I could reconcile myself to the idea was to concentrate on the fact we’d be rescuing a little boy, and if anyone tried to stop us . . .

‘I promise you, Rink, things are different this time. Walt isn’t using us . . . well, not in the way he has in the past.’

‘He’s treating us like we’re his personal attack dogs, as usual.’

‘I prefer to think of us as rescuers.’

‘Let’s see about that,’ he grunted.

That was as good a blessing as I was going to receive, but it was enough. I knew that Harvey Lucas – an even more cautious man than Rink – would join us too. He didn’t share our history with Walter, and knew only part of how our old boss had used us over the years. He’d be up for working with us again through loyalty.

‘So,’ Rink said. ‘You gonna spill?’

‘Walter’s going to brief us as soon as he’s done coordinating the clean-up here,’ I said. I preferred any lies told to my friends not to come from my lips. One of Walter’s favourite phrases was ‘plausible denial’: maybe he would simply leave out some key details. That would rest easier with me.

Harvey had been absent for the past five minutes or so, having gone off to clean some of the battle dust from his face. He was fastidious that way. But when he came back lugging a Netbook I realised he’d been using the time for more than vanity.

‘The wonders of the Internet,’ he said, opening the Netbook and placing it on a ledge of rock. ‘Even out here in the wilderness you can keep up with the latest news.’

He did some magic with the computer and brought up YouTube, specifically a segment of news lifted directly from CNN. ‘Just thought it might be good to see who it is we’re up against.’

The news footage was a couple of years old and showed a middle-aged man pushing his way past reporters as he left a courthouse in Hermosillo, Mexico. Jorge Carrillo Molina had been acquitted on murder charges when the case against him collapsed amid allegations that police officers involved in his case were corrupt. He was dressed like a movie star, handsome and healthy, his full head of black hair slicked with oil, but he looked like a piece of shit to me. My opinion came from the sneer he cast over the murder victim’s family, and the way he mouthed a silent promise to them. A few seconds later Harvey brought up a second video file that showed the aftermath of a house fire, and the three charred bodies being carted away on gurneys. The victims were named as the father, mother and younger brother of the murdered man Molina had previously been investigated over.

Jorge Carrillo Molina was Kirstie’s ex, and suddenly I’d no qualms about putting a couple of rounds in the slimy bastard’s face.

Chapter 4

I arranged to meet Kirstie Long at a hotel within sight of the Desert Diamond Casino, as well as of the airplanes landing and taking off at the nearby Tucson International Airport. I arrived early. It was an old habit from my military days, when it was always important to get the lie of the land prior to a meeting: you never knew when you’d have to abort in a hurry and it was best to have an escape route in mind. Not that I feared I’d be running from Kirstie, but she’d made some dangerous enemies since falling out with Jorge Molina. You could never be too careful when dealing with their likes.

Compared with the Mexican drug cartels, the coyote gangs were small fry. Since the collapse of the Colombian cartels, the Mexicans had stepped up their game, and now eclipsed their predecessors in power, influence and brutality. They had grown so systematised, each organisation running to almost military exactness, that they now troubled the Mexican government with fears of a
coup d’état
. As many as fourteen hundred police officers, soldiers, politicians, journalists and civilians had recently been murdered by the cartels, and they threatened many more with a similar fate. They had around one hundred thousand footsoldiers, and, unlike most criminal gangs, these men were highly trained and determined killers. An eighth of their number were ex-soldiers or cops who’d deserted to the other side, taking with them military-grade weaponry and tactics.

I killed time eating stuffed tacos and drinking coffee.

When Kirstie’s flight was due, I made my way to the airport and recce’d the arrivals lounge for anyone suspicious, but no one got my hackles up. I settled in and waited for Kirstie to disembark. Passengers began appearing, lugging bags, hurried and sweating despite the A/C. I’d seen a photograph of Walter’s granddaughter, but even so I barely recognised Kirstie when she appeared, carting a suitcase, carry-on bag and purse. I should have offered to help, done the gentlemanly thing, but I was busy checking out those waiting at the exit, ensuring no one was over-alert to her presence. The problem was, Kirstie was so pretty that she attracted more than one lingering glance, and even a barbed squint of jealousy from one woman. When I was done surveilling, I took more than a lingering glance myself.

I’d pictured Kirstie as a feminine version of Walter, expecting her to be short, even a little dumpy, but she was tall and slim, her wavy auburn hair bouncing on her shoulders as she strode towards the exit. Her lips were pinched, but with determination rather than ill temper. High, chiselled cheekbones framed large eyes in which I recognised her grandfather’s grey colouring. But that was where the likeness ended, and I had to assume that she’d inherited her willowy build and good looks from her grandmother’s side of the family.

Outside she made directly for the line of taxicabs.

I continued my observations and waited until her cab pulled away before jogging across to the parking lot where I’d left my rental. Knowing where she was heading, I fell in a couple of hundred yards behind her cab, checking the vehicles that followed on to the highway. Minutes later she directed her driver to stop in front of the hotel and I pulled in at the side of the road to watch. She tipped the driver, and was greeted by a bellhop who took charge of her suitcase. Once Kirstie was inside the hotel, and I was happy that she hadn’t picked up a tail, I parked my rental in the lot and went inside too. Kirstie was standing by the check-in desk, leaning on the counter while she went through the routine with the receptionist. I drifted closer, catching a waft of expensive perfume pushed my way by a ceiling fan. It was tangy with a touch of citrus, and I liked it. I moved a couple of steps nearer. The receptionist glanced at me; I offered a smile. She looked away, and I allowed them to continue the procedure. Killing time, I again checked no new arrivals were taking interest in Kirstie. There were none.