Velocity (Karen Vail #3)(68)

“I’m about to ask you a favor, and it’s going to jeopardize your careers. But I’ve got nowhere else to go.”

There was a moment’s hesitation, then Dixon said, “Go on.”

“Brix, have you been briefed—”

“I’m up to speed.”

“Okay. Listen to me. César Guevara was the target of a DEA operation. Robby was brought in by his friend Antonio Sebastiani de Medina—Sebastian—to work the case with him. He was only supposed to handle one transaction, but Robby’s meet with Guevara went well, and his role expanded.”

“I thought Robby was a detective with some small town in Virginia,” Brix said. “Venice?”

“Vienna. Long story, and it’s unimportant. He got this gig with DEA, hoping it’d lead to a permanent position. So now we have the connection between Robby and Guevara. That’d explain Ian Wirth’s address in Guevara’s house, in Robby’s handwriting. Robby was probably helping Guevara at that point. Maybe it was a test. I don’t know—I don’t know if we’ll ever know. But you’ve got to find Guevara. Before it’s too late.”

“I’m turning the car around right now. We’ll check Superior first.”

“There’s still not enough for a warrant, so you’re going to need to grab him up and take him somewhere.” Vail realized she was on an open cell connection—but there was no time. Robby’s life was of paramount concern. If she lost her career but saved him, it’d be worth it. Then again, if she lost her career and he turned up dead—no, I can’t think that way. He’s alive. He’s alive.

“I’m texting Mann,” Brix said. “Get him over to Guevara’s house. Just in case.”

“One thing you should know,” Vail said. “Robby and Sebastian missed their last three check-ins with their DEA case agent. And Guevara left a voice mail for me a little while ago that said Robby was dead. He made it sound like he wasn’t responsible, but that he knew who was.”

“Don’t believe that scumbag,” Dixon said. “If he’s got information, we’ll get it.”

“Thanks, guys.”

“Hang in there,” Brix said. “We’ll be in touch.”

Vail looked up. DeSantos was ending his call. “C’mon. We’ve got a meet with a guy who’s gonna get some info for us.”

“Who is he?”

“Don’t ask, don’t tell. Best that way.”

Vail pulled herself up from the steps. “If he’s got the info we need, I couldn’t give a shit who he is.”





47


Dixon took the turn too fast, and the car dovetailed. Brix grabbed the dashboard with his right hand but couldn’t keep his shoulder from pushing up against the door.

“Sorry,” Dixon said. “Make sure your seat belt’s fastened because I don’t intend on going the speed limit.”

“How hard do you want to push this?”

“I intend on coming away with answers, Redd. Simple as that. This guy’s wrapped up in this. He might’ve had something to do with the Lugo kidnapping. He may’ve had something to do with aiding John Mayfield. And he apparently has something to do with Robby’s disappearance. I don’t plan on giving him a Coke and a slice of lime and treating him like he’s at a spa.”

But Dixon was well aware that Brix had recently given her and Vail a hard time about entering César Guevara’s home without a warrant. Now she was expecting Brix to join her in leaping off the career-ending legal precipice with her.

“Once we cross this line,” he said, “there’s no going back.”

Dixon took a quick glance in Brix’s direction. Their eyes locked. A silent answer.

They pulled onto the street where Superior Mobile Bottling was located. “It’s 7:00 AM,” Brix said. “I doubt he’s here.”

“He gets to his office every morning at 7:15,” Dixon said, pulling into the adjacent parking lot. She slid the car into a slot behind the building, hidden from the street. “Up ahead, by that brick wall,” she said, pointing. “We’ll have a view of the front entrance and the side driveway. We’ll be able to see him when he arrives, but he won’t see us.”

Brix nodded and then followed Dixon on foot to their perch. The air was crisp and the sky was brightening to their left, in the east.

The time ticked by without activity. Finally, at 7:40 AM, Dixon sat down on the ground, her back against the brick wall.

“What do you think?” Brix asked.

“I don’t know. My source only knew what time he came in each day. I don’t know how prompt he usually is.” Dixon pulled her phone, called Austin Mann. “Anything?”

“House is dark. By now I’d think someone’d be awake and moving around. I’ve got the front, Gordon’s got the back, and I’ve got two other guys from NSIB placed at various other points of interest. Nobody’s seen anything.”

“Guevara’s usually at his office by 7:15,” Dixon said. “It’s possible he’s out of town. If he is, that’d be very convenient timing.”

“You want us to go up and knock?” Mann asked.

Dixon thought about that. “No, let’s give it a little longer. Maybe he’s running late. I’d rather take him at his office. There isn’t a whole lot around here. But in a residential neighborhood . . . lots of potential eyes and ears.”