Hunt Them Down(52)

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

South Beach, Florida

Egan kept walking. He didn’t turn to watch where the Jeep was going. He had memorized the license plate and could get all the information he needed from it. With lights flashing and sirens blaring, two police cars sped past him and stopped in front of the condominium building. Car doors flung open, and the officers jumped out. It was futile to get any closer to the safe house. It was compromised.

Had Hunt left Pomar alive? If he had to bet on it, he’d say Pomar was dead. But with Hunt, you never knew. He was a man capable of great sympathy but also of extreme violence. If Pomar was alive, he wouldn’t talk to the police. He might have spilled his guts to Hunt, but the police would have to follow the rules. Egan retraced his steps back to his car and thought about his next move. Hunt was probably on his way to the second safe house. That was the only thing of value that Pomar could have shared with him.

Egan dialed Hector’s number.

“Hunt and Anna Garcia are on their way to you,” Egan said.

“What happened on your end?”

“Let’s just say that the South Beach safe house is no longer safe.”

“I’ll send a crew to torch it.”

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Egan cautioned. “There are at least half a dozen police officers on the scene.”

“I see. What about our man?”

“I don’t know.”

“Then please tell me what you do know,” Hector said, obviously irritated.

For $400,000, Egan would give Hector a little wiggle room, but he didn’t appreciate Hector’s tone.

“No doubt Hunt squeezed out of your man everything he knew about you and your team. All your safe houses are effectively compromised. And they’re driving a late-model red Cherokee SRT.”

“I’ll tell my men to get ready.”

Had Hector left a small contingent behind? That would be a grave mistake. “Tell your men to leave now,” Egan said. “I just told you Hunt’s on his way.”

“They’ll handle him,” Hector said.

Hadn’t he made it crystal clear that Hunt was dangerous? Hunt single-handedly slaughtered half a dozen men to find me, Egan thought. He won’t hesitate to kill twice that number to find his daughter.

“For Christ’s sake, Hector, pull them out.”

Egan didn’t really care what happened to the Black Tosca’s men, but he didn’t want to be the only one left standing at the end. The crazy bitch would blame him.

“I see no reason to. Pomar was alone. They aren’t. They’ll take him down.”

“I’ll tell you this one more time, Hector,” Egan said. “Hunt is the last man you want to cross. He’ll fucking kill anyone who is even remotely connected to the kidnapping of his daughter. Get out while you can. You understand, Hector? Hello? Hector?”

Hector had hung up on him.

Fuck!

Egan started the car and thought about his options. It was his job to take care of Hunt. He was under no illusions about what would happen to him—and his family—if he failed.





CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

Hallandale Beach, Florida

Hunt would give a year’s salary to have Simon Carter and the rest of his former RRT teammates with him right now. He needed guys he could count on to have his back. Arrest warrant or not, his men—his friends—would drop everything to come to his assistance. He’d do the same for them. But with the exception of Simon Carter, he hadn’t called upon them. Not yet anyway. There was no time. Every minute away from Leila was a minute she was spending with Hector Mieles and the rest of the Black Tosca’s crew.

And they were animals.

Over sixty thousand people had been killed since 2006 in relation to drug-trafficking organizations. Not all of them could be attributed to the Black Tosca’s network, but she was a big part of the problem. The Justice Department had estimated that the sale of heroin, marijuana, and cocaine added over $3 billion annually into the Black Tosca’s coffers. Illegal drugs, though, were only one of the products her cartel offered. Her revenue streams had become increasingly diversified over the past couple years and now included human trafficking and the shipment of illegal immigrants and sex workers. She had ordered the construction of an extensive network of skillfully constructed tunnels under the United States–Mexico border. Some experts Hunt knew thought she was getting ready to sell her services to terrorists. They would pay her dearly for the right to use her network to transport weapons and sleeper cells into the United States. And that scared the shit out of Hunt.

There wasn’t much traffic this time of night, and Hunt could see the headlights of oncoming cars from afar. That went for anyone trying to follow them too. Cole Egan’s face resurfaced in his mind. Was it purely a coincidence that Egan was a couple blocks away from Pomar’s condominium? He hadn’t seen the man for years, and now, on this night, here he was. Hunt’s gut told him that Egan’s sudden reappearance wasn’t a fluke. It was more than that. It meant trouble. The only link connecting Egan to this whole mess was McMaster. Was his new boss dirty? The thought had crossed his mind earlier, but he took advantage of the quiet drive to give it more consideration. McMaster was the one who had introduced him to Chief Inspector Zorita, the man who had tried to kill Vicente Garcia.