Velocity (Karen Vail #3)(108)

“If Figueroa and several other cartel members are on-site, maybe we can grab one or more and sweat ’em. See what we get.”

“But,” Mann added, “you said these cartels are like terrorist groups; they operate in cells, where one group doesn’t know what the other’s doing. So sweating one or more of these guys may not get us anywhere.”

“Figueroa’s the real prize. He’s responsible for some of the cartel’s drug distribution agreements. He’s the one we really need to grab because he’s gonna know more than most.”

Mann slammed on the brakes and the SUV slid to a stop on the pot-holed, gravel-strewn road. Ahead, barely caught in the reaches of the headlights, were a group of animals crossing the street.

DeSantos leaned forward in his seat. “Dogs?”

“Wild dogs,” Mann said as his gaze followed them into the darkness.

“Common on reservations.” He waited for the last dog to pass, then accelerated to catch up with Thomson.

“Did you get Karen’s text?” Dixon asked DeSantos. “She and Turino missed Robby by minutes.”

DeSantos checked his phone, trying to navigate the joystick despite the car’s rocking and lurching jerks. “What the f—” he muttered beneath his breath. “So Cortez no longer has him.”

“Probably not,” Mann said.

DeSantos bit his lower lip, then dropped his head back onto the seat cushion.

Ten minutes later, Thomson tapped his brakes and cut his headlights. Mann reached for his controls and likewise went dark. “I think we’re getting close.”

Everyone sat up tall in their seats and instinctively pulled their pistols.



AFTER LEAVING THE REMAINING two DEA agents on-site to monitor the drop house, Turino and Vail climbed into their SUV and headed back to the DEA field division office.

“You mentioned intercartel conflicts,” Vail said. “What were you talking about?”

“There are a lot of turf battles, power struggles between the cartels. You’ve got traffickers snatching up members of rival cartels and demanding ransom or using hit men to kill enemy lieutenants to settle debts. Messages are being sent—violent ones. Lots of collateral damage to civilians and uninvolved parties. It only used to happen in Mexico, but now it’s going on in the U.S.”

“How does this tie in to Robby?”

“I think I know what happened back there,” Turino said as he navigated a turn.

Vail looked around. She did not recognize the area. “And that was?”

“Cortez is a brazen SOB. He’s gotten where he’s gotten by being excessively violent and aggressive. He’s killed a lot of his competitors. Those who are left are tough in their own right, and either they’ve agreed to leave each other’s turf alone, or for some other reason he’s let them be. But there’s an unspoken rule—since the Kiki Camarena murder, the cartels don’t kill federal agents.”

Vail was familiar with the Enrique Camarena incident—all federal agents were. Her memory didn’t need refreshing by the field division’s wall of remembrance. Back in 1985, a decorated DEA undercover, “Kiki” Camarena, had successfully infiltrated and brought down a number of drug trafficking organizations. But when his cover was blown, he was tortured and then bludgeoned to death. A physician who worked for the cartel repeatedly prolonged his life so the torture could continue. In response, the DEA effectively closed down the border and halted all drug shipments. The cartels realized the price they paid by murdering a federal agent was far too great. They weren’t going to make that mistake again.

“So let’s say for a minute,” Vail said, “that Cortez has decided he lives and dies by his own rules and he has intentions of killing Robby after he extracts information from him. Maybe he’s gotten wind of Velocity and he wants to know when it’s going to go down. And maybe he thinks Robby knows that answer.”

Turino considered that, then slowly nodded. “Cortez has a big ego—they all do—but his is particularly large.”

“I’ve had some experience with narcissists,” Vail said. “They think they make their own rules, that the laws of the land don’t apply to them. Or it could be his way of saying to everyone else, ‘I’ve got a big set of balls, and I’m going to prove it to you.’ If that’s what we’re dealing with here, it’s very possible Cortez gave orders to kill Robby.

“Another problem is that they probably discovered Robby’s a state detective. Even though he was given task force officer status, they may not know, or even understand, what that means. Bottom line is, they probably don’t consider him a federal agent. So in their mind, killing him—”

“Would have no consequences.” Turino turned and a Montgomery Field placard whipped past them. He slowed and brought the SUV to a stop at a light. “If the rival cartel knows he’s a TFO, they’re well aware of the heat it’ll bring if they let Cortez kill Hernandez. They’re not willing to give up their business because of Cortez’s reckless behavior. So they find out where Hernandez is being held and snatch him up.”

“So what is this rival cartel?” Vail asked as her BlackBerry began ringing.

“I can probably narrow it down to a precious few,” Turino said. “Soon as we get back to the office, I’ll show you what we’ve got.”