Chapter 65
Chapter Sixty-Five
Peyton
They were two hours early for the meeting. Peyton worked on the assumption that someone was tracking Miranda Segura’s movements.
Most likely her father.
Meaning someone would be here before her, and likely tracking her, too. So they’d be even earlier and keep an eye out.
“Everyone in position?” Peyton asked.
“Yes, sir,” Alvarez replied.
“Can’t wait to get my ass back to the States,” Jake muttered. “I change hemispheres and I’m still speaking fucking Russian.”
Peyton snorted. “You’re almost home,” he said. “And technically, you’re only pretending to be a Russian. I might need to bring you back here, but we’ll all be on a plane to Seattle tonight. Then we’ll get you to Florida.”
They had two hotel rooms, one in the name of Ilya Baranov and one right across the hall registered as John Smith, positioned so they could see through the peephole if anyone approached the room. He’d Primed the clerks to allow people to know Ilya’s room number if asked.
Because if anyone asked, they would be a prime suspect for them to follow up with.
They were not occupying either room and had installed a camera on the inside of the peephole of John Smith’s room, with a motion detector.
And Alvarez was currently stationed in a hotel room on the other side of the plaza, with a clear view of the outside dining area and the other hotel’s lobby doors.
He had both video and still cameras with telephoto lenses, so they could figure out who followed her and hopefully use facial recognition to identify them.
They fully expected Jake to be followed upon leaving the meeting. He’d use a verbal signal to give Alvarez ten minutes to get into position to follow him.
Peyton would also leave ahead of Jake and station himself in the hotel, in the John Smith room, in case Jake was followed, so he could take the person down and question them.
“Jake, any movement in the hotel?” Peyton asked.
Right now, Jake sat in a dark corner in the hotel lobby’s bar, where he remotely monitored the John Smith room camera.
If someone investigated the room and then came back down, it meant the three of them would have a head start on who to watch. They could all access that feed.
“Not yet.”
“Okay,” Peyton said. “Stay sharp.”
Peyton was stationed inside the restaurant, at a table in the front window, with his laptop and some miscellaneous and meaningless papers that made him look like he was a generic business professional. He Primed and lavishly bribed the staff to keep his water glass filled and leave him alone.
From that window, he could see all of the tables outside, but due to the window coating and the bright afternoon, seeing him sitting there from outside would be difficult.
Ten minutes later, Jake broke the silence. “Movement triggered on the room camera.”
Peyton tensed, waiting.
“Man. Brown hair, mid-40s. Clean-shaven. Royal blue polo shirt, blue jeans. He stopped and is listening at the door.”
“Watch for him to come back down,” Peyton said.
About five minutes later, Jake said, “He’s heading toward the elevator.”
“Alvarez,” Peyton said. “You have eyes on the front lobby doors?”
“Roger,” he said.
“I’m repositioning,” Jake said. “Standby.”
Peyton tensed, wishing he could just grab the guy now, but they didn’t know if he was alone or not.
Or if anyone else was watching.
“Just stepped out of the elevator, heading to the front entrance. I got a good full-frontal pic of him.”
A moment later, Alvarez said, “I got him. He’s heading toward the restaurant.”
Peyton looked up. “I have eyes on him.”
The man kept walking past the restaurant, although he slowed, looking around, and then Peyton lost sight of him as he continued.
“He’s still moving,” Alvarez said. “Wait, he stopped at the end of the block, and he’s smoking.”
“Keep eyes on him,” Peyton said. “Jake, send me that picture.”
“Roger.”
It dropped into his phone a moment later. Peyton ran it through facial recognition software.
“Armando Beltran,” Peyton said. “Give me a moment.”
“He’s still smoking,” Alvarez said.
Peyton texted Badger to forward the information to Carl and Mateo and ask if they knew him.
Badger called him back in minutes. “They said he works fer Abundio. He’s his right-hand man. Abundio’s used him to follow Miranda plenty of times without her knowin’ it.”
“Well, fuck,” Peyton said. “I think it’s safe to say we know who dropped that software payload on her computer then, don’t we?”
“Yup,” Badger said.
Peyton relayed the information, and they settled in to wait. Over the next hour, they identified two more men who appeared too nonchalant in how they scoped out the area and positioned themselves.
When Miranda showed up, another man followed her and kept walking, then met up with Beltran down the block.
“I think it’s safe to say she’s clueless,” Alvarez said. “She thinks she’s not being followed. She looked around, but didn’t clock anyone, or get responses.”
“Yup,” Peyton said. “Jake, you ready?”
“As ready as I’m ever gonna be,” he said. “Let’s do this shit.”
Miranda Segura
Miranda sat at an outside table at the cafe in Tampico and read a local newspaper while she waited. Except she couldn’t tell a soul what she was reading. She was too distracted.
The man was supposed to arrive in ten minutes, and she knew it was dangerous to be seen talking with him.
Which was why she was in Tampico today and not doing this anywhere close to home.
She had to be here for business meetings tomorrow, and scheduled today’s meeting with that in mind, told her father she was coming early to visit a spa she enjoyed here.
She spotted the man almost immediately when he approached the cafe on foot. His clothes looked a little out of place, like he was trying too hard to dress the way he thought a local would.
He walked up and tipped his head toward her. “Ms. Segura, I presume?” he said in English with a very thick Russian accent.
“That’s me.”
He held out his hand. “Ilya.”
She folded her paper, shook with him, and indicated for him to take a seat at the table.
“Are you comfortable speaking in English?” he asked. “Because my Spanish is…” He fumbled for the word. “Shit,” he said.
She smiled. “Yes, I am fluent in English, Ilya.”
Once the waiter took Ilya’s drink order, Miranda leaned in and dropped her voice. “I wish to get right to the point. I understand that, among your particular business ventures, there are certain unusual… bio-engineering research interests.”
He slowly nodded. “That perhaps might be true.”
“I also understand that it has been difficult for you to obtain subjects.”
Another slow nod. “That might perhaps also be true.” He held up a finger. “I am sorry, but I was under the belief that we are here to discuss your uncle’s disappearance and the power vacuum in his particular… family business venture.”
“We are. And the two are, I believe, closely related.”
They waited until the server delivered Ilya’s coffee, took their food orders, and left again.
“Related how?” Ilya asked.
“I believe my uncle discovered that which you seek. But he was a foolish man. Dare I say stupid. Too enamored of his own abilities, and refused to believe his skills and success in his primary profession did not…laterally translate in this situation. I believe he ran afoul of a certain party, which led to his demise.”
The Russian scowled. “You have proof he is dead?”
“Only that if he were alive, he would have checked in long before now. Two of my father’s best security men disappeared with him, and their skills were exceptional, both former military.
So whatever the truth is regarding what we’re dealing with—and I do believe it’s something beyond current scientific knowledge—it is something very strong that could easily dispose of two highly trained and capable men. ”
“And dispose of your uncle?”
“He was neither strong nor capable. He was weak and, despite all odds, perpetually lucky. That luck finally ran out.”
Ilya sat back and re-evaluated her. “You did not think very highly of him, I take it?”
“You take it correctly.” She smirked. “The deal I propose is simple. I will help your organization take over my uncle’s…business. I will lead you through everything I know, make the introductions, and from that point forward, I want nothing else to do with those operations.”
“In exchange for what?” He chuckled. “Forgive me, but that sounds like a deal that is too good to be true.”
“For starters, $10 million, in US dollars, up front. And I want in on the biomedical research aspect. For every year there isn’t money made on the research, I want $2 million from the other proceeds.
If the research bears fruit, I can provide material assistance.
Shall we say… procuring specimens for further research?
In that case, I wish to be made a silent partner. ”
“How silent are we talking?”
“Five million per subject acquired, which means forgoing the cartel proceeds, obviously. If patents are secured, ten percent of the gross income for ten years. If the operation remains clandestine and relegated to extra-governmental trafficking, then I want an additional $10 million a year for the next five years and access to the product of said research for my personal use.”
He scoffed. “That is a lot of money with absolutely no guarantees.” He waved his hand in the air. “Why should I even entertain this…offer?” He looked around and dropped his voice. “And let us talk plainly, shall we? You are talking about your uncle’s cartel, yes?”
“Are you law enforcement?”
“If I were, I would not be here.” He smiled. “In my line of work, a cartel is, as they say, child’s play. And it is not my primary interest.” He arched an eyebrow at her. “The research is where my business interests lie.”