Chapter 6
618 Words
Chapter SixIt had taken Hector six hours through the sweltering afternoon and until well past sunset to track Alejandra. He’d lost ten years off his life when someone had finally dared to tell him that she and her sister had been taken away—bound. That had cost him half the time, finding that first step.
No other Delta Force assets in the area, nor any that could be in place fast enough.
He got on the radio with the intel boys, but this wasn’t America—security cameras didn’t hover above every street corner. However, they had been tracking a pending shipment of women. The challenge was not only to rescue the shipment, but to nail Miguel Alvarado red-handed.
Hector’s plan had been to screw up the night’s logistics badly enough to force Miguel to take a personal and very visible hand. He was too well connected to turn him over to the Mexican authorities, but once across the border, there were other ways to deal with him. They needed him alive, at least long enough to reveal his whole network.
But now Alejandra was gone and the paths had all led here—the massive hacienda several miles out of town. He’d dumped his beater vehicle in a handy arroyo and run the last few miles overland. The adobe wall around the massive compound was topped with glass shard and razor wire. Miguel had always been a rich bastard, but clearly he’d reached new depths that he’d needed to turn his home into a fortress.
Hector slid into the compound, only having to leave two guards down for the count. No dogs, which was a mistake, though there were ways of dealing with them. Just made his job easier. Miguel used to keep pit bulls, until they’d mauled one of his sons.
Hard floodlights blinded guards and cast hard shadows.
The security cameras within Miguel’s compound weren’t well placed—there were plenty of blank spots where they could be avoided. But they acted as excellent signposts guiding him on which way to go—the more cameras, the more important the area was to Miguel.
Inside the garage, Hector found a trio of hot sports cars (all red)—including a Ferrari that looked like it would be an awesome ride. Further in were a half dozen heavy pickups and SUVs appropriate for transporting a personal militia, and a battered American school bus.
Even as he watched, he saw a line of women and children being led up to it from some underground cellar, but not onto it. Instead, hatches in the yellow sides were opened up and the women were made to crawl inside.
Everyone knew that school buses weren’t set up to carry luggage underneath like a Greyhound. To any but the most careful inspection, it would appear empty except for the driver who was bound to have some “legitimate” excuse for crossing the border.
They loaded the right side first. Just before she crawled into the rearmost compartment, he recognized Marina Martinez. The years had been far less kind to her than they had to her sister. There was still a beauty there, but now it looked hard and strained. She also looked terrified. He didn’t recognize anyone else.
When the guards finished and moved around to load the other side, he slipped up and unlocked the rear hatch.
“Where’s Alejandra?”
“Hector?”
He clasped a hand over her mouth to silence her, then repeated his question.
“Miguel took her,” she whispered carefully. “You have to save us. You must—”
“Shh. Too many guards here. I’ll come for you later.” Before she could protest, he lowered the hatch and relocked it.
And there wasn’t time to stop the shipment—he had another priority now.
A quick drop-and-roll beneath a black Chevy Suburban was all that saved him from discovery.
He had the beginnings of an idea and began putting it in place as he slipped deeper into the shadows.
- Writer
