Velocity (Karen Vail #3)(100)

“And an abandoned house anywhere near the border is a haven for illicit drug trafficking,” DeSantos said.

“Exactly.” Jordan stepped up to the map. “And illegal human trafficking. The illegals are smuggled across the border for a fee, usually around a grand, paid by family members in the U.S. But when the illegal gets here, the price jumps to five grand or more, and their loved one is basically held for ransom. The cartels, looking to expand their business model, got into human smuggling several months ago. It’s been a real big problem.”

“How do the houses play into this?” Dixon asked. “They hold the relative there while waiting for the ransom to be paid?”

Turino stepped forward, shaking his head vigorously. “They bring dozens of people across and pack them into what we call ‘drop houses.’ They strip them down to their underwear and beat them, threaten them with pistols. It’s all about control.”

Vail nodded. Exactly.

Jordan said, “They either occupy abandoned homes or they rent ’em out on the cheap from distressed owners who’re happy to be getting something, rather than nothing. The owners have no idea how their house is being used. It’s been a huge issue in Phoenix, and now we’ve got it here.”

“If you know the location of these vacant houses, why don’t you just raid ’em?” Mann asked.

Jordan held up the sheaf of papers, as if that explained everything. “There are literally thousands.”

Vail knew no further explanation was needed for those in the room. Law enforcement was stretched to its limits as it was, and committing substantial resources to search thousands of homes was not feasible. Complicating the matter was that they could check a hundred houses, only to have a cartel move into one of the ones they had just cleared.

“There’s no way to monitor all the homes that go vacant,” Turino said. “And it’s too profitable, so the problem isn’t going away on its own. Some of the cartels have also taken to storing their drug caches in these houses. We’ve found entire marijuana grows and processing factories in several of them.”

Vail’s eyes found the Clover Creek map. A wave of impatience hit her like a blow to the back of her neck. She blurted, “Agent Jordan, you said you had something for us.”

“I do,” Jordan said. “I do. One somewhat effective way of combating this drop house problem is by using surveillance and phone traps. In some cases, judges have denied us, but we kept at it, and finally got one to sign off on a wiretap warrant.”

“You heard something,” Dixon said.

“Oh, yeah. They’ve got a house packed with illegals and one of them is from a family in Carlsbad that’s got some money. Once the cartel found out who they had, they went ape-shit. Lots of chatter starting yesterday afternoon. We picked up on it and dispatched a UC to do surveillance, then got a search warrant. This morning, they seemed to be talking about something else, something bigger. ‘A major asset.’”

DeSantos poked his glasses with a finger and again pushed them up the bridge of his nose. “How good is your undercover? These cartels, they’re wise to that shit.”

“No worries. Our guys are good. They’re out there doing survey work on the road down the block from the house. So we know which one it is. They’ve located two of the phone parties, one at the house and one a few miles away.”

“If it’s illegals, wouldn’t ICE be running the show?” Vail asked, referring to Immigration and Customs Enforcement. “Don’t you need illicit drugs to be involved?”

“We have reason to believe they’re using the garage as a marijuana processing plant,” Jordan said. “ICE has been notified, and they’ll be going in with us. Along with SWAT, who’s been doing their surveillance of the house: they’ve shot aerial photos, assembled a floor plan, sketched out an entry strategy. They’re ready to move. Given the possibility that this ‘major asset’ could be your TFO, I think we should move now, rather than later this evening, when it was planned.”

“I don’t know about this,” Turino said.

“Did I miss something?” DeSantos asked. “This is good shit. ‘A major asset’ could be Roberto Hernandez.”

“Not likely,” Turino said. “I know these cartels. They’re not holding Hernandez for ransom, I can guarantee you that much.”

“But,” DeSantos said, “even if it’s not Hernandez, there could be a cartel lieutenant in there who can be squeezed. Right now, we got nothing. If we rattle the bush . . . ”

“Fact is, there’s no direct evidence Hernandez is being held in that house,” Turino said. “I just don’t want you getting your hopes up.”

DeSantos pulled up a chair and sat down facing Mann, Dixon, and Vail. “Look. These cartels, they’re like the terrorists I track every day. They talk in code. There’s no way for us to be sure of anything. But this is what the DEA does. In the drug world, there are none better at putting two and two together. And right now Agent Jordan is telling us it’s adding up to four. No guarantees, but I think we’ve got something worth tracking down here.”

“I agree,” Jordan said.

Vail sat down beside DeSantos. “There’s something else. That map,” Vail said, indicating the rear projection screen. “We got a hit on a twenty where that photo was taken, the one we took from Cortez’s house. I asked Microsoft for help and their analysis located it nearby, about an hour from here. There are three Indian reservations: Mesa Grande, Los Coyotes, and—”