Hunt Them Down(40)

When Tony didn’t immediately react, Hunt clapped his hands to get his attention. “Wake up, Tony! Sophia needs you. Play the damn video again.”

That did the trick. Tony came out of his trance and punched a key to restart the video.

“Now,” Hunt said to Anna and Tony. “I know watching it over and over again is going to be difficult, but we need to pay attention and dissect the details in case they give us clues as to where they took our girls.”

“This was done by professionals,” Tony said.

Hunt concurred. He was glad Tony had regained his self-control.

“Let’s watch it a couple of times, and then we’ll compare notes, all right?” Hunt suggested.

And that’s exactly what they did for the next fifteen minutes. Once Hunt was convinced he had learned everything there was to learn from the video, he looked at the two pages of notes he’d written.

“So?” Anna asked him, her voice still a bit shaky. “Anything you’d like to share?”

Before he could answer, his burner phone rang.

It was Simon Carter.





CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

Hallandale Beach, Florida

Hector Mieles wasn’t one to slack off when it came to operational security. With the exception of what Mr. Granger had told him over the phone and what he had been able to find online, and also the couple of minutes they had spent shooting at each other, Hector didn’t know much about Pierce Hunt. One thing was certain, though: the guy was bad news.

There was little doubt that Hunt was looking for them. Not only was the man dangerous, but he was a DEA agent too—and a former rapid response team leader at that. Hector didn’t fear the DEA, but he respected their tenacity and how ruthless they were outside the United States. Friends who had fought in Afghanistan had told him about the DEA Foreign Advisory and Support Team—FAST. They were hardworking, dedicated, and also merciless toward Taliban kingpins and drug facilitators. He had no reason to believe Pierce Hunt would act differently with his team if he managed to pick up their trail. If this were Mexico, Hunt would never find them. Hector would leave a trail that would be impossible for Hunt to untangle. Here in the United States, they were in the lion’s den. Treading carefully in this hostile environment was a necessity, not an option.

With that in mind, it only made sense to change location. The four vehicles his team had used to conduct the abductions of the two teenagers were inside the garage. Three more Mercedes SUVs were parked in front of the house. There were two additional safe houses available to him outside Miami. One was in Orlando, and the other one was in Hypoluxo. The one in Orlando was larger and had a significantly bigger weapons cache, but the distance was too far. The house in Hypoluxo was located in the Mediterranean-style gated community of the Hypoluxo Yacht Club. Although smaller in size, the three-bedroom, three-bath town house had two things going for it. First, a thirty-second walk from the house was the marina, where a Hydra-Sports 4200 Siesta, powered with quad Yamaha 350 engines, was fueled up and ready to go. With the Boynton Inlet a little less than half a mile away, and the Siesta’s top speed of over sixty-five miles an hour, it would be difficult for the police or the Coast Guard to catch them if they had to flee by water. The boat couldn’t outrace a helicopter, but they had a couple of RPG launchers on board for such an eventuality.

The second benefit of the Hypoluxo safe house was the proximity of the Palm Beach County Park Airport. It was a mere five minutes’ drive away. The two pilots for the King Air 350 Hector had chartered were standing by at a nearby hotel.

A voice crackled in his earpiece.

“Hector, it’s Antonio. Do you copy?”

Antonio was the leader of one of the two-man teams he had sent to do a recon of the safe house.

“You’re five by five,” Hector said.

“I-95 is light traffic only up to Boca Raton,” Antonio said.

That was good to know. The other team was taking Highway 1. Both teams were to report to him every ten minutes with traffic updates, or sooner if they noticed anything unusual, like a police speed trap. Hector wanted to be gone within the hour. The only thing he had left to decide was how to proceed with the girls. Should he drug them? It would be the safest way to travel with them. So far they were cooperating with him and his men. Hector guessed they were too terrified to do otherwise. They were so young.

In Hector’s mind, they were lucky he was the one in charge. He knew men—none of them on his team—who would have raped the girls by now, just to show them who was in charge. Hector had read about the history and evolution of human torture, and even though he never fully embraced its explicit usage, he also had no problem with it—or murder for that matter—when the situation called for it. But rape was another matter. It was wrong.

He made his way to the basement, where Emilio was faithfully babysitting the teenagers.

“Take a break,” Hector said. “Go pack your gear. We’re leaving soon.”

Emilio stood up and stretched. “You want something to eat?”

Hector declined. “I just ate a protein bar.”

“What will you do with them?” Emilio asked, his finger moving back and forth between Leila’s and Sophia’s doors.

Hector showed Emilio two syringes. “I’ll put them to sleep.”



Leila had an unsettled feeling in her chest, like a hard fist squeezed around her heart. She sensed that something bad was about to happen. She’d assumed that all of this was about a ransom. But what if it wasn’t?