Chapter Thirty-Two
“M ultiple serious felonies are being committed,” Agent Webster said, frowning. An experienced man in his mid-forties, he’d taken off his suit jacket, loosened his tie, and sat down at the kitchen table. He’d told Rio, Becca, Big Jim, and Sarah he’d been with the Bureau for twenty years. Ticking points off on his fingers, he said, “Unlawful possession of firearms, trafficking them across the border. Selling those firearms to neo-paramilitary criminal gangs in Mexico—”
“The Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives will be notified,” the second agent said. Agent Thompson, the other man and also in his forties added, “The ATF will be interested in the gun-running. The drugs. Meanwhile, there’ll be charges for kidnapping, particularly in which the victims are willfully transported in foreign commerce. Those crimes carry mandatory prison sentences. Usually long.”
Rio had shown them a video on the laptop computer of Tim moving the guns, and of the bound girls. “All right,” Rio said. “It’s in your hands now. You have all the information we know.”
“We’ll set up a broad sting, with our objective to nab all the perpetrators at once.” Agent Webster’s frown eased as he glanced at Sarah. “Ma’am, I’d sure love another piece of that wonderful pie.” When she got up, his gaze lingered on her.
Uninterested, she set a plate before him and moved to the sink. Becca figured she must receive more than her share of male attention. If she hadn’t felt so tense, she’d have smiled.
Then, Agent Thompson picked up his plate and met Sarah at the sink. “I’d like to help you wash these, ma’am,” he said hopefully.
Sarah plucked the plate from his hand. “No, thanks.”
Chastised, he walked back to the table.
Rio and Big Jim got to their feet. The two agents shook hands all around. “We’ll be in touch,” the first one said to Rio. “It would simplify matters for us if you and Miss De Monte stayed out of San Antonio until you hear from me.” With lingering glances at Sarah, they drove off.
Sarah didn’t even notice.
“We’ll stay here,” Rio told Becca after they left, “until it’s all finished. You’re safe at the ranch, and I won’t have to worry about you.”
Sarah set aside her kitchen towel. Addressing Rio, she said, “You need to lay low, too, and keep that wound healing properly. Those stitches have been in your side long enough. It’s time they came out.”
“Ah, no, not now.” He grimaced.
“Yep, now. They’re coming out. I’ll get my medical kit.” She pointed at a chair. “Sit.”
“Is Sarah a nurse?” Becca asked in wonder.
“Naw,” Rio said, defeated. “But on a ranch you learn how to stitch up small cuts, and how to take ’em out. Out here, we don’t run to the doctor for every little thing.” Resigned, he sank down.
“It’s going to hurt, isn’t it?” Becca bit her lip.
Big Jim grinned. “Don’t worry about Rio. He’ll live.”
As Sarah came back with a kit and a pair of tiny curved scissors, Becca admired her deft fingers. She wasn’t only beautiful, but able.
While Sarah worked, Becca had time to think.
The federal agents were now in charge of stopping the criminal acts that Tim and, unfortunately, her father were committing. She hated the idea of her dad’s involvement. It would mean the end of his political dreams, and likely the end of his freedom. The worst part was knowing he’d made such poor decisions. He’d done it to himself, and he would pay the price.
Also, unfortunately, he was hurting his two sons, and hurting Becca, too. Why hadn’t he considered his own children in all of this?
She didn’t know. There was nothing to do now but wait.
****
H arrison ran a hand over his bald pate and blew out a frustrated breath. It had been a long time since he’d done wet work himself, preferring these days to delegate that sort of thing to his operatives.
However, it had now become mandatory. The careless assholes he’d assigned to do the job in Mexico had blown it badly. Then, the man he’d sent to ambush both Rio and Becca at her condo had failed. At least he’d managed to plug Rio in the side. A wound like that would be painful and perhaps debilitating. It wouldn’t kill him, but should slow him down. At the proper time, it might help Harrison.
The situation had reached critical mass.
He took a fast turn around his spacious, penthouse office. This time, he’d have to do the job personally. He couldn’t afford to have anyone know about his ties to Daniel De Monte’s senate campaign. He was a behind-the-scenes guy. The one pulling the strings, not someone who got hung out to dry when things went south.
His wide net of underground sources had informed him that Rio had been contacting others to dig into areas he shouldn’t be. Familiar with Rio’s resourcefulness and persistence, Harrison knew that it was only a matter of time before the trail led straight back to himself. Not good. Besides, it was evident that Rio had already become suspicious of his motives.
Opening a desk drawer, he took out a Beretta M9 semi-automatic pistol. The weapon employed an open-slide, short-recoil delayed locking-block system, which yielded a faster cycle time and delivered exceptional accuracy and reliability. It was his favorite.
One by one, he fed 9mm rounds into an empty magazine. When it was loaded, he inserted the magazine into the weapon and tapped it home with the heel of his hand. Lastly, he placed a bullet into the chamber.
The gun was now hot.
While the Beretta M9 might not be as muscular or have the stopping power of a 45, Harrison preferred its lighter weight. He examined its sleek lines and admired the smooth black finish. It would do the job. Sighting down the barrel brought back memories of long ago days when he’d been a Green Beret. In the service and on wildly dangerous missions, he’d learned to fight. And he’d learned to kill. Although he’d aged, a man never forgot a skill like that.
It would not serve him well for Rio Lang to uncover his part in the moving of drugs, guns, and the stealing of young girls. The woman, Rebecca, would have to go, too. Of all the people working at De Monte Wheel Solutions, Becca was the only one with intimate knowledge of the shipping department, its deliveries, its transport. And by all accounts she was smart. It wouldn’t have taken her long to figure out the scam.
They were the only two outsiders who knew the truth, and the only ones who presented a threat to his plans. He must eliminate the threat.
The system he’d brilliantly set up using De Monte’s shop as a shipping hub was making them a lot of money, keeping the campaign machine running on the mother’s milk of cold hard cash.
So long as he didn’t have to personally see it happen, Daniel De Monte had agreed to it all, and Harrison enjoyed exploiting the other’s overweening need for political influence.
For a moment, he indulged in thinking about that. Having a sitting senator deeply beholden to him, and one so cozy with the President himself—now that was influence and authority. At the prospect of such a marvelous outcome, Harrison smiled. Finally, he’d be the one pulling the levers of power in Washington. He’d waited and schemed a long time and the opportunity was ripe. No one could stop him now.
He picked up the phone.
“Our trucks,” Tim said on the other end, “are being stopped, at least half of them, damn it! The authorities are confiscating the goods and setting the girls free. What the hell’s going on?”
“Calm down, Tim,” Harrison said, lighting a cigarette. He didn’t care if Tim took the fall, because if the worst happened and the operation blew up, he planned to take the money and just disappear. Perhaps to Rio de Janeiro. The idea made him smile again. Rio would have a good laugh at that one, not that he’d ever get to know. “So what if the police grab a couple trucks? Others will get through. At this point the authorities don’t know about the warehouse. The drivers won’t talk, not even if they’re convicted. They’re too well paid, and they know a wad of cash waits for them when they get out. If they talk, they’ll get a bullet. Trust me, they know that, too. Just keep doing what you’re doing.”
“Rebecca hasn’t come back from wherever she went,” Tim said. “Her brothers don’t know where she is. Tell me you didn’t have the cartel snatch her again. You said she wouldn’t be hurt.”
“Haven’t touched her. She must have run away for a while, scared. Can’t blame her. I’m sure she’s fine.”
“Yeah, well if she’s with that boyfriend of hers then I’ll worry. He’s a mean sonofabitch. He really roughed me up. Think he broke my nose.”
“Don’t worry about him,” Harrison said smoothly, hiding his disgust at the whining. Tim was weak, and he wasn’t too bright, either. “He’ll be out of the picture soon,” he assured the other man. “Just keep those deliveries rolling, hear me?” Fondly, he fingered the grips of his Beretta. “Everything’s working out great.”