Part 18 (1/2)
”That isn't fair.”
”We can't use our phones?”
”I don't want to risk it.”
”Jack and Lilly need to be picked up and taken someplace safe. Immediately. Can you make that happen?”
”Jack's in Arizona. Lilly's in Knoxville.”
”I know where they are! Can you make it happen? You're the one who put them in danger. Can you get our children to safety?”
I didn't respond to the comment about me putting the kids in danger. On one hand, I knew she was angry and frightened and didn't mean it. On the other, however, I knew she was right. Allowing my anger to overcome my sense of reason had always been a problem for me. I'd tried to control it, but like with Sarah and alcohol, there were times when I just couldn't. And now, as Caroline had just pointed out, I'd allowed my lack of self-control to put my children not to mention my wife and sister and niece directly in the cross-hairs. If Andres Pinzon was right, we were already the targets of a group of foreign killers, something I would never have dreamed possible.
As soon as we got in the cab, I told the driver to take us to the corner of Highway 36 and Boring Chapel Road.
”Why are we going there?” Caroline said.
”You remember I told you about seeing Leah Turner? She's Leah McCoy now. She and her husband are both FBI agents. If anybody can get to Jack and Lilly quickly, it's the FBI.”
It was midnight when we walked onto the McCoy's front porch, but there were a couple of lights on. I rang the bell and waited. A few seconds later, Leah was standing in the doorway in a pair of purple pajamas.
”What the heck are you doing here?” she said. ”I saw you pa.s.s out cold on the news. They said you're in the hospital.”
”Listen, Leah, I have a serious problem. Can we come in?”
As we were walking in, an extremely large man came walking down a set of steps that led to the second floor.
”What's going on?” he said in a deep baritone.
”Meet my husband,” Leah said. ”Mack McCoy, Joe and Caroline Dillard.”
We all said h.e.l.lo and Leah led us into the kitchen. She made coffee while I listened to a quick bio from her husband. He was one of those guys that ooze testosterone, a true man's man. He was at least six-feet, five-inches tall, broad-shouldered, barrel-chested, and his neck looked as thick as a Brahma bull's. He said he'd been a Navy SEAL for six years, an FBI sniper and SWAT team member who was involved in the tragic and infamous David Koresh incident at Waco, had worked in both Bolivia and Colombia on anti-cartel task forces, was an expert in weapons, explosives, surveillance and counter-surveillance, and had played an integral part in the largest cocaine bust in the history of the United States. His closely-clipped, dark brown hair was spa.r.s.e atop a chiseled face, and his blue eyes gleamed like they'd just been coated with polyurethane.
Mack said he'd been following the news about the murders of the girls and the witnesses, and I filled him in on all the details, including Pinzon's revelation that Lips...o...b..wanted my entire family dead. I told him about Jack and Lilly and he was on the phone immediately. When he hung up, he said, ”Done. They'll both be at a hotel with an FBI escort in less than an hour.”
”Thank you,” Caroline said. ”Thank you.”
”Anybody else?” Mack said.
”My sister and her daughter are at Caroline's mother's place.”
”We'll grab them up too, just to be safe.”
”What do you know about sicarios?” I asked.
”Vicious, efficient killers. A lot of them are trained by mercenaries, former British SAS guys. They're completely loyal to their employers and they don't give a tinker's d.a.m.n about collateral damage.”
”How would they get in the country?”
”From what you've told me, this Lips...o...b..is rich, right?”
”Filthy rich.”
”He can smuggle them in through Mexico pretty easily if the money's right, or he may just have them flown in on a private jet.”
”Just fly them in? n.o.body will stop them?”
”It's a big sky, my friend. There's no way to police every private aircraft and airstrip in the world. Smugglers get billions of dollars worth of dope into the country every year. They're not going to have a problem getting a few guys in. Did this Pinzon give you any names? We might be able to track them through Interpol or NAGDIS.”
”He said one of them is called El Maligno. He thinks his real name might be Santiago, but he isn't sure.”
”Needle in a haystack. Lots of Colombians named Santiago. We'll run the nickname, though. Maybe we'll get a hit.”
”So what should I do? Do you have any suggestions?”
”The first thing we need to do is sweep your house, find out if you're really being bugged, and if so, how sophisticated these guys are.”
”The sooner the better,” I said.
”Would now be soon enough? Hang on just a minute.”
He picked up his phone again and I listened while he convinced someone to come out in the middle of the night. He hung up and said, ”We're all set. One of the TTA's is a buddy of mine. He'll be here in half an hour and follow us to your place.”
”TTA?” I asked.
”Technically-trained agent. Electronics geek. His name is Bernie Cole.”
It was nearly one in the morning when we arrived at my house, just a couple of hours since Pinzon's visit to the hospital. Mack, Leah, Caroline and I rode with Mack while Bernie Cole, a light-skinned, black man who looked to be around thirty-five or so, followed in a green van. Just before we pulled into the driveway, Mack got a call on his cell.
”Everybody's safe, at least for now,” he said. ”None of them are too happy about it, but they're out of harm's way.” I reached over and hugged Caroline, but the phrase ”at least for now” echoed inside my head. When would we be safe again? When would this end? How would it end?
”Where are the cable and phone boxes?” Mack said as he climbed out of the car.
I pointed to the corner of the garage. ”Right behind that bush.”
”Is there an attic with outside access?” he said.
I shook my head.
”Crawl s.p.a.ce? Anyplace they could hide transmitters?”
”Yeah, I'll show you.”
Mack, Bernie and I walked through the dark to the side of the house and I pointed out a crawl s.p.a.ce beneath the garage.
”Wait here,” he said, and he and Bernie, flashlights blazing, disappeared.