Part 26 (2/2)
His gaze switched back and forth between the road ahead and the mirror, but the other car drove past the road and didn't make the turn behind them. Maybe it was just a local who'd happened to be going in the same direction. Maybe. His cautious mind wasn't willing to go one hundred percent there just yet.
”That's got to be it, right?” Daeng asked.
He was leaning forward between the two front seats, looking at a building about a quarter mile away on the left.
”Should be,” Orlando said.
A ten-foot high chain-link fence surrounded the property. Here and there, signs hung on it, warning people to stay away.
Quinn parked in front of the gate and they all climbed out. Standing near the fence, he examined the building. It was about the size of an average apartment building back in Los Angeles. Two stories, made of concrete. It looked like it had been built to last centuries. An old office building, perhaps, or manufacturing facility.
”Up and over or through?” Daeng asked.
The fence was topped by two strands of barbed wire. Not exactly inviting. As for the gate, it was held shut by a chain secured with a heavy padlock. It would have been easy enough to unlock if they'd had a set of picks.
”Up and over,” he said.
They found a point where the top barbed-wire strand drooped, no longer taut. They climbed over one by one, all avoiding getting snagged, and headed toward the building.
It was set back a good hundred yards from the fence, with wild gra.s.s and weeds covering the wide expanse between the two. To the far side of the structure they could see part of a long, flat road to nowhere that could only be a runway.
As they neared, Daeng stopped and crouched down, looking at the ground. ”Look,” he said.
In the dirt was an imprint, several feet long but only a few inches wide.
”Helicopter,” Orlando said.
Daeng nodded, and pointed at a less obvious, parallel imprint. ”If Moreno was telling the truth, this must be where he landed.”
”At least we're at the right place,” Quinn said. ”Let's have a look inside.”
There were two doors along the side of the building facing them, each made of metal that had seen better days. Quinn was about to head toward the one on the right when the other one opened, and a man in a uniform stepped out, holding a gun.
”Esta es propiedad privada. No pueden entrar aqui,” he said, telling them they shouldn't be there. He motioned back toward the fence. ”Regresense a su coche. No pueden estar aqui.”
”Buenos dias,” Quinn said, and continued in Spanish, ”Captain Moreno told us we'd find you here.”
”I don't care who sent you. You can't be here.”
”Captain Moreno from Monterrey? I'm sure you remember him. He was here a few days ago.”
Caution crept into the man's eyes. ”Who are you?”
”Duncan. DEA.” Quinn held his hand out. The man didn't take it, so Quinn shrugged and said, ”These are my colleagues, Travers and Song. We've been running a joint investigation with the Federal Police in Monterrey.”
The man's expression remained the same. ”No drugs here.”
”We realize that,” Quinn said. ”We're here about the prisoner transfer.”
”Prisoner transfer?”
”Yes, the man who Moreno escorted here and handed over to the other agents. Were you not here? He said you were here. Are you...um...um...” Quinn turned back to Orlando, as if looking for help remembering.
”Diaz?” the man offered.
”Yes, Diaz.”
”That's me.”
”And weren't you here?”
Diaz looked at them one by one. ”I need to see your IDs.”
”Really?” Quinn huffed, exasperated. ”Moreno was supposed to have set this up. I get the impression you didn't know we were coming.”
”No.”
”That's just great.” He looked at Orlando. ”Get him on the phone.”
She pulled out her phone and pretended to dial.
”No,” Quinn said. ”Don't call Moreno. Call Grayson in DC. Have him get ahold of Director Arroyo at CISEN.” Centro de Investigacion y Seguridad Nacional was Mexico's chief intelligence agency. ”Let him deal with his screwup.”
Orlando nodded and walked several feet away, her phone to her ear.
Diaz eyed her nervously.
”Don't worry,” Quinn said. ”I'm sure you'll get a call in just a minute to straighten all this out. Wouldn't want to be in Moreno's shoes right now. Though I guess he might not be the only one who hears the wrath.”
The man licked his lips, looked at Orlando again, and said, ”It's okay. No problem. What is it I can do for you?”
”That's very cooperative of you. I appreciate that.” Quinn glanced over at Orlando. ”Never mind. We're good.”
She said something into her phone, acted like she was disconnecting the call, and slipped it into her pocket.
Quinn looked back at the guard. ”So, were you here during the prisoner exchange?”
”Yes. I was here,” Diaz said. He quickly added, ”But I stayed out of the way. Only unlocked the doors they wanted.”
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