Sinclair Justice (Texas Rangers #2)(70)
He looked down at the message and read off for the others: “ ‘Ross and Abby, by the time you read this I’ll be in Mexico City. If I meet Arturo Cervantes or his son, I’m going to offer to ransom Yancy and Jennifer and will stall the negotiations as long as I can. Here’s the GPS tracker ID I brought.’ ” And she gave the coordinates to her device, signing it Mercy Magdalena Rothschild.
Ross slumped back in his seat next to Chad, never so relieved as he was at this moment. Nothing would stay a drug dealer’s murderous instincts better than an offer of a huge ransom from a Rothschild . . . As they taxied toward takeoff and Abby belted herself in, Chad leaned over to whisper in Ross’s ear, “Told you she was a good fit for you. Now she’s too valuable to kill. She’s one smart cookie.”
“And she could be added to the merchandise if things go sour.”
Chad agreed, “Exactly. But that’s what she wants, isn’t it? Maybe she’ll find the two women just in time for us to track them all and save the day.” When Ross nibbled at his lip, obviously still worried sick, Chad added, deadpan, “She’ll be okay. Or as someone said, ‘I do not believe in using women in combat. They’re too fierce.’”
Ross finally smiled, as Chad had hoped. “Patton? Omar Bradley?”
“Margaret Mead. I’ve been reading her so I can keep up with Jasmine, and I figure if anyone understands the species, it’s a female anthropologist.” Chad winked and went back to his own laptop.
Ross looked at Abby, knowing he didn’t have to say a thing, but he still held his breath as she opened her laptop and entered the coordinates. The rest of them relaxed just a bit as they took off. Despite his impatience, Ross gave it some time, knowing that even with the plane’s advanced satellite technology, the tracker software would take a moment to synch with Emm’s location.
But the second they reached cruising altitude and the pilot allowed them to unbelt, he whipped off his seat belt and knelt next to Abby’s seat. “Did you pick up the signal?”
Abby looked at the little blip on her screen, and her face was drawn again when she looked back at Ross. “Yes. It’s in the hills. Very near the compound and getting closer.”
Ross took a deep breath. “Great. Well, at least we have strong evidence of her whereabouts.” He went back to tell Chad.
While he talked to Chad, the other task force members discussed the new development. They’d already made contingency plans for a likely hostage situation, but now instead of two potential American citizens, they might be dealing with four . . . Still, there was a potential bright side: Maybe Arturo Cervantes would be distracted with the negotiations enough to give them time to get in place to storm the compound. Maybe this interfering woman all the others had been viewing as a liability would really be an asset.
As they walked inside the compound, Emm stayed true to her role and snapped a picture of the exterior of the building with the camera she’d purchased from a drugstore on the way. The suspicious older man who met them in the courtyard didn’t seem to recognize Curt. He snatched her camera away, growling at them. Three more men hovered over them with machine guns at the ready, but they relaxed a bit when Curt gave them his card.
Emm’s Spanish wasn’t as good as his, but she understood enough to realize Curt was citing a mutual acquaintance and explaining why they’d come. Emm heard her name, “Mercy Magdalena” only, and was relieved he hadn’t revealed her surname. The second they heard that, they’d know why she’d really come. For that reason she intended to give her card only to Cervantes senior.
After the underlings gave both Emm and Curt a quick, professional search, finding nothing in the way of weapons, the head guard unhooked the radio on his belt and said something into it in very rapid Spanish Emm couldn’t follow. A more measured response came back and, to her vast relief, they were escorted inside the soaring foyer. In other circumstances, Emm would have loved the gorgeous architecture, which was indeed a wonderful blend of European and Mexican elements, but then their two guards, still heavily armed, shoved them inside the study off the foyer.
Finally, Emm came face to face with the monster who’d been behind the kidnapping not just of her family but of so many innocent young girls. She wanted to spit and claw at him, but she instead took a deep, calming breath and waited, like an obedient female, looking around as if fascinated.
Cervantes spent a moment grilling Curt, and then her name arose. Curt nodded at the camera the guard held and said something more. Cervantes relaxed, but only marginally. He gave a commanding look at his guard, who indicated to Emm that she was to open her blouse. Her eyes widened as she became the focus of all the males in the room, including Curt. When she resisted, he said out of the side of his mouth, “We have to show them we’re not wired. Just open your blouse and turn around slowly.” The men took her jacket and his, turning them inside out and looking for anything electronic.
Curt lifted his shirt, even pulling his pants up to the knee. Emm’s fingers shook but she did as told, wanting to run when she saw all the intense dark eyes fixed on her as if she were prey. Which was all she was to men like these . . . She spun around, looking over the heads of each man as if she were alone, and then she pulled her blouse closed, buttoning it with shaky fingers.
Cervantes’s full mouth curved at her obvious unease. He said something to his men, which Emm caught as “bonita” and something less flattering. Emm shrank against Curt, as if afraid, which was not a difficult emotion to portray. Next, they demanded to search her purse. Emm had been afraid of that, and she’d done what she could to disguise the tiny tracking device. She handed her purse over. The guard fingered through it, including the envelope bulging with cash. Cervantes lifted an interested eyebrow, but when the guard held the envelope up hopefully, Cervantes shook his head. The disappointed guard put the money back, searching each cavity, finally unzipping the side pocket where Emm had hidden the device. She held her breath, carefully tucking her blouse back in her long skirt so they couldn’t see her tension, but the guard’s questing fingers moved away as if scalded when he brought up the two tampons she’d put on top of the device. He dropped them back in and handed the purse to the head guard. When Cervantes nodded, they gave the purse back to her.