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River Tenley
I leaned back against the car and took another drag from my smoke. Breaking news. All over. I scrolled and scrolled on my phone, headline after headline…
The world knew that something had happened to the Blancos. The world knew the cartel was as good as wiped out.
I exhaled some smoke and counted back… Almost forty-eight hours had passed since we’d left Ecuador. If the sun didn’t tell me a new day had begun, I wouldn’t have known. We slept a couple hours here and there, whether it was day or night, and we ate, we worked out, we went through surveillance footage, we twiddled our damn thumbs, we hashed and rehashed strategies.
Luiz Gajero was probably arriving in Spain today, and he’d find out about Colombia as soon as he came ashore—if he didn’t already know. No need to include any Italian freelancers.
I scratched my forehead.
Their plans might very well change. It was a good thing we had eyes on Carillo at all times, because otherwise, we’d be screwed. I mean, the news about the Blancos was bound to send most affiliates into hiding.
The door opened, and Shay stepped out with Reese.
“There you are.” Shay smiled. “We’re headed out for a run. You wanna join?”
“Maybe next time. I’m waiting for Mercier to wake up.” I really liked that guy. We’d talked for hours yesterday, from breakfast to way past lunch, about strategy and the scenarios we might face. His experience was giving me great insight.
“We’ll bring breakfast with us,” Reese said. “Everything okay?”
I nodded with a dip of my chin. “I just wanna be ready. I think we’ll see movement today.”
“Yeah, that’s what the guys are talking about in the kitchen too,” he replied. “Anyway. We have that errand later too.”
I hadn’t forgotten.
“What errand?” Shay wondered.
I smiled. He’d find out soon enough.
Those worthless pieces of shit who’d kidnapped him had stolen his ring, and Reese and I wanted to see a new one on our boy’s finger.
* * *
Elliott Jones
I scrubbed a hand over my jaw and clicked to the next screen. How Ortega and Darius had managed to install four surveillance cameras with direct view of Carillo’s safehouse was nothing short of impressive. The one with the best footage was only some twenty feet away from the house. Every time someone left, we knew about it. Clear view of the driveway as well, and that one was grand. Five cars.
Like our safehouse, theirs sat on the side of a steep mountainside with few entry points besides the driveway.
“You want me to get Ortega?” Darius asked, sitting down next to me on the couch. He handed me a cup of coffee.
“Thanks. Nah, let him sleep.” I’d heard him last night. He slept as restlessly as Joel did. “This is great work, Mr. I’m-sticking-to-low-risk-work-now.”
Darius chuckled into his mug. “No gunfire, no problems. We had Ryan in the trees too.”
That would be Joel soon as well. He and Ryan had been scouting the terrain surrounding Carillo’s place all day yesterday, even though we weren’t sure we’d actually attack here. Chances were we wouldn’t, to be honest. But each plan required several backups.
Joel and Ryan had headed out at first light today too. Recon combined with an early morning workout. Reese and Shay had left shortly thereafter, and River and Mercier were talking Blanco history in the kitchen while Gray prepared breakfast—
“That’s Ramirez.” Darius was checking his phone and answered a call. “Shoot, buddy.”
I flipped to another camera angle and took a sip of my coffee.
Today should be the day. The cargo ship was scheduled to arrive in Barcelona around noon; we just didn’t know if Gajero had disembarked earlier. Ports had increased their security heavily since the early nineties, and if he was coming through with hostages…
If my criminal network was big enough, if I had the right connections, I would’ve made sure a smaller boat met up with the freighter out at sea. But that required a higher degree of corruption; as in, the captain of the freighter would be aware of what was going on.
