Hunt Them Down(11)

“Vicente Garcia.”

Hunt nodded, happy to change the subject to one of his success stories. “What about him?”

“Seems like your friend Vicente was recently transferred to FDC Miami.”

Hunt sighed. Infiltrating the Garcia crime family had been his first and most important undercover stint and the real reason why Jasmine had left him. The assignment had lasted over two years and was recognized as one of the biggest DEA busts of the past decade. Thanks to Hunt’s work, they’d been able to arrest Vicente Garcia, the head of the crime syndicate. He was presently serving a life sentence in a maximum security prison—or at least he had been until recently. The federal detention center in downtown Miami was home to approximately fifteen hundred male and female inmates, but it wasn’t a maximum security prison. Hunt wondered whom Garcia had blackmailed to get transferred there.

“That makes no sense whatsoever,” Hunt said angrily. “Vicente’s sphere of influence is right here in Miami. Why would anyone agree to transfer him?”

“Because he agreed to tell us everything he knows about the Black Tosca,” McMaster said with a smile. “And once we have her in custody, he’ll testify against her.”

Hunt nearly fell off his chair. Valentina Mieles—a.k.a. the Black Tosca—was the most powerful woman in the drug world. She was originally from Colombia, but her influence reached way beyond Latin America. The Black Tosca was allegedly responsible for the kidnappings and murders of at least thirty Americans in the past year alone. Scott Miller’s murderer, Ramón Figueroa, had been her man in Chicago. Having someone like Vicente Garcia testify against her was a big deal. But it also raised questions.

“I wasn’t expecting this,” Hunt said, scratching his head. “What did you promise him? Vicente isn’t the kind of guy to betray his own.”

“We didn’t have to promise him anything. The Black Tosca is making a move on Garcia’s entire network.”

Since the DEA had put Vicente behind bars, his son, Tony, had taken over the reins. Under his leadership, the Garcia family had done very well and was raking in money like never before. Because of this, they had become a prime acquisition target for the Black Tosca.

“So this is a defensive move on his part,” Hunt said.

“Kind of. He wants us to do his dirty work for him.”

“And we’ll just go along with this?”

“For now,” McMaster said. “We need a win, Pierce. The DEA needs a win. Damn, the White House needs a win. People are looking at us and wondering what the DEA is doing to stop that fucking drug from coming into our country.”

Hunt nodded. This was a difficult subject for him; it always brought up memories of his brother.

McMaster continued, “Heroin is everywhere. People are able to get a huge high for less than ten dollars. Do you know who the new heroin addicts are?”

Hunt’s thoughts drifted back in time to the night he had discovered Jake dead in the basement of his family’s house, a moment that had forever altered the direction of his life. He knew very well who the new addicts were.

“Teenagers,” he answered.

“Heroin used to be confined to hard-core drug users, but not anymore,” McMaster said. “The use of heroin among teenagers has risen one hundred percent in the last five years. More than fifty-five thousand people died from overdoses last year, and over sixty percent of those deaths involved an opioid.”

Hunt was aware of that fact. More people were dying from drug overdoses than from guns and car accidents.

“We’ve been fighting this war for too long,” McMaster said. “And we’ve been on the losing side. As I said, we need a win.”

Hunt had heard this speech before, but the higher-ups always seemed to get cold feet when the time came to strike a huge blow.

“And, of course, a catch like the Black Tosca would look really good on your résumé,” Hunt said.

A flash of anger appeared in McMaster’s eyes, but it was quickly extinguished.

“It would look good on everybody’s résumé. You need a win too, Pierce.”

Hunt couldn’t fault the DEA for wanting to arrest and prosecute the Black Tosca. She was dangerous. She had ruined the lives of too many families by providing a dirt-cheap product that even kids working for minimum wages could afford to shoot up their arms.

“What’s my role?” Hunt asked.

“We want you in on Vicente Garcia’s interrogation. You know him, and he knows you. You’re almost family, right?”

Hunt shifted uncomfortably in his chair. He didn’t appreciate the jab. Anna Garcia—Vicente’s daughter—had been his way inside the Garcia crime family. The DEA had specifically targeted her, using Hunt as their weapon of choice. Truth was he had fallen hard for her, and she for him. It had been a mistake. A grave mistake that had cost Hunt his family. Still, it was true that Hunt and Vicente had, through Anna, shared a powerful bond for almost two years.

“He hates my guts. He won’t talk to me.” Which was also true. When Hunt had put the handcuffs around Vicente’s wrists, Vicente had promised to one day kill him. And it wouldn’t be for the arrest but for breaking his daughter’s heart.

“You won’t be handling the interrogation,” McMaster replied. “We just want you to listen in and steer our partners from Mexico in the right direction. You’ll know if Garcia lies.”