Hunt Them Down(71)
“Let’s just say that there’s another, more personal reason too,” she said, almost shaking in anticipation.
“Will they be here soon?” the accountant asked, cleaning his glasses with a tissue.
“Oh, they’re already here.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
San Miguel de Allende, Mexico
The last leg of his flight had been uneventful, just like the first one. Upon landing, he cleared Mexican customs under the fictitious name of Terry Lewis—an alias the DEA had prepared for him in case he ever needed to be deployed to Mexico quickly. He exited the terminal and looked for someone holding a sign with his fake name on it. Two dozen taxi drivers were standing around with names on signs. He spotted a tall, dark man with a mustache and slender build holding a sign with the right name on it. The man fit the description Hunt had given him. Carter hoisted his only bag more securely on his shoulder and walked toward the man. They made eye contact, and Carter followed the man at a distance. The man walked silently but briskly through the terminal to the arrivals curb. He hopped into the passenger seat of a waiting late-model Toyota Land Cruiser. Carter climbed into the back seat, and the SUV rolled forward. The driver was an attractive Latina woman with long, dark brown hair that fell to her shoulders.
“Welcome to Mexico, Simon,” she said, her big green eyes looking at him in the rearview mirror. “I’m Abigail. This is my husband, Dante.”
“You guys are really married, or it’s a cover?” Never before had he met a pair of DEA special agents who were married and posted together outside the United States.
“Let’s just say that we work and sleep together.”
Carter chuckled. “Got it.”
“There’s a cooler behind your seat with a couple of sandwiches and a bottle of water,” Dante told him.
“Thanks,” Carter said, opening the cooler. “I appreciate you picking me up.”
“Our pleasure. Hunt told us what this is about. We’ll do our best to help.”
“How do you know Pierce?” Carter asked, grabbing a sandwich and the water bottle.
“I flew helicopters in Iraq,” Dante said. “We crossed paths a few times.”
“If he’s asking you to risk your career for him, I’m sure it was more than a few times.”
“No, not really. But I guess it’s what he did on one of those times that matters, isn’t it?”
“Pierce saved Dante’s life,” Abigail said. “That’s why we’re both willing to risk anything for him.”
Carter didn’t want to push for more information since it wasn’t his business, but Dante was quite forthcoming.
“My Black Hawk was shot down over Latifiya,” Dante explained. “It’s a small town south of Baghdad. It’s dominated by native Sunni Arabs and was one of the hottest spots for our troops between 2003 and 2007. The Iraqi army couldn’t get a grip on the insurgents, so Hunt and a bunch of Rangers were sent in to help them. I was bringing in fresh troops to the zone when my chopper was hit broadside. I did a controlled crash landing—”
“I didn’t know such a thing existed,” Carter said, biting into the ham-and-swiss sandwich.
“What?”
“A controlled crash landing.”
“You wanna know the story or not?” Dante asked, but he was smiling.
“I’m sorry. Please continue,” Carter said, twisting the cap off his water bottle.
“Hunt saw the chopper go down and, with six other Rangers, left his covered position and charged five hundred feet across open ground to provide suppressive fire.”
That sounds like Pierce, Carter thought. Crazy motherfucker.
“I’m glad you made it,” Carter said. “Pierce is a good man.”
“The best. I’m in his debt, and this little op of ours, it won’t even cover the interest.”
“I hear you,” Carter replied.
“It sucks what happened to his daughter. That’s not right, man. Will they really set his daughter on fire? On live video?”
“Not if I can help it.”
They drove the next fifteen minutes in silence, staring out their respective windows and considering what could happen to Leila if they failed.
“So what’s the plan?”
“Since this morning, Abigail and I are officially on leave. We don’t have to report our whereabouts for the next thirty-six hours.”
“One way or the other, this will all be over in less than twelve,” Carter told them.
“We got a two-bedroom apartment in Centro,” Abigail said. “We created an Airbnb account using one of our aliases. We booked it for a week.”
“Centro is the old town?”
“Yes, and a UNESCO World Heritage site. Narrow streets lined with homes in different shades of yellow, red, orange, and brown terra-cotta. All very pretty, but that isn’t why we put you there.”
“Because of the expats?”
“You got it,” Dante said. “About ten percent of the seventy thousand residents are expats. You’ll blend right in.”
“What about the list of items Pierce sent you?”
“That was a bit trickier, I’m afraid,” Dante admitted. “Since Pierce wanted to keep this black, we couldn’t access the armory. Nevertheless, in addition to our own personal firearms, we were able to secure three Glock 22s, and three silenced MP5s with enough ammunition to kill half the population of San Miguel.”