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Those gathered—all brothers, some by blood, some not—knew better than to speak before the man who’d called the emergency meeting of Los Caballeros arrived. The secret society dating back to our grandfathers’ grandfathers only met when absolutely necessary.
“I’ve asked you here tonight because someone needs our help,” said Noah Ridge, the last to show up. “Seraphina Reeve’s younger sister, Luisa, is missing. She hasn’t been seen in four days, after she left the apartment she shared with her mother, Leah.”
I pulled out my tablet and made notes of everything Ridge said as he briefed the group on the details he’d learned earlier this evening from Seraphina.
Luisa was believed to have gone out with a boyfriend—Jorge, last name unknown—after an argument with her mother. Her cell phone, computer, social media, and bank accounts hadn’t shown any activity since. That was enough to make the disappearance seem suspicious. However, that the missing woman was in her final weeks as a summa cum laude graduate student in Cal Poly San Luis Obispo’s MBA program and hadn’t attended a single class in those four days made it even more so.
When Ridge called for questions, I cleared my throat. “You said Ms. Reeve only knows her sister’s boyfriend’s first name.”
“Correct,” he responded.
“Would it be possible for us to obtain a photograph of both him and the missing sister?”
Each member of Los Caballeros brought with him a specific skill set. Mine was with technology as it related to security and intelligence. Once I had a photo, I could make several things happen.
First, I’d run the man’s image through the facial recognition software I had access to. It was as powerful as the one used by the US government. Second, once I had a hit on who he was, I’d use the same software to track his movements not just in the last week, but the last several.
It was after midnight by the time Ridge adjourned our meeting. All those present had their marching orders, so to speak, for the following days.
What I discovered lessthan forty-eight hours later was worse than I could have imagined. Jorge, real name Manual Varilla, was a Mexican national on the FBI’s wanted list for human trafficking.
Rather than contacting Ridge with the news first, I placed a call to the senior member of Los Caballeros who’d taken on more of an advisory role in recent years, Tryst Avila.
“This may be beyond our capabilities,” Tryst said after I briefed him on what I’d learned. “I will see what support is available to us. Request thecaballerosmeet at Seahorse in an hour.”
The place he’d referred to was my oceanfront estate just south of Cambria on the Central Coast of California. While we typically gathered in the room where we’d been two nights ago, during daylight hours, it was more difficult to do so without being detected by vineyard staff. Since I’d outfitted my house with the same level of security as the Pentagon—truthfully, mine was probably harder to penetrate—it was often our second choice.
Once everyone had arrived, Tryst spoke to the group. First, he brought those in attendance up to speed on what I’d learned about the missing woman’s so-called boyfriend.
“Earlier, I was able to call in support from our friends at K19 Security Solutions,” he began. The organization, a private intelligence firm, was headed up by a local man, Kade “Doc” Butler. His father, Laird, aka Burns, had developed the technology I used to identify Varilla and to secure my home.
“Through their help, we’ve received intel suggesting Manual Varilla and his crew of human traffickers may be operating out of the port of Yavaros in Mexico.”
“That’s less than two hours from your place in Alamos,” said Ridge before I had the chance.
Tryst owned several thousand acres of property in the Mexican state of Sonora. A few years ago, when his wife became gravely ill, he’d made it his home full-time. He’d named the ranchEl Lugar de Curación, or in English, the Healing Place. Sadly, his wife’s health never improved and she passed away within a few months.
“You are correct,” said Tryst. “I’ve already engaged people there to begin surveillance in advance of our and K19’s arrival. They have been given authorization to immediately act if they see anyone matching Luisa Reeve’s description, along with any other individuals they deem to be in danger. K19 is assembling a team. I suggest we do the same and meet them in Alamos.”
I turned to my brother. “With Beau’s approval, I’d like to offer the use of our plane for transport.” We used the Cessna he and I owned jointly to travel back and forth from Napa Valley, where one of our family’s vineyard estates was located. Seahorse’s five-hundred-acre mile of shoreline served as an ideal landing strip. I’d also had a hangar built to store the plane on the property.
With the aircraft’s maximum travel speed of six hundred miles per hour, we could be at Tryst’s ranch in a little over ninety minutes.
“What is your recommendation as far as when we deploy?” asked Ridge, who’d requested Luisa’s sister attend the meeting with him.
“As soon as possible,” Tryst responded.
Ridge looked from him to me. “Would the two of you determine who should remain here and who should go to Alamos?”
“We will,” I assured him.
“May I speak?” asked Seraphina.
“Of course,” Ridge told her.
“First, please know I appreciate your help in finding my sister very much, so when I say this, it is solely out of concern for her.”
