Part 21 (1/2)
Leeds felt the sting of reproach in Chukov's voice. If they'd arrived a few hours earlier, not only would they have fulfilled their contract to kill Fisher, but they could have handed Flagg the keys to CLM's castle.
A light appeared to Leeds's left, drawing all of their rifles to the hallway entrance next to the computer monitor station.
”The other team is coming through,” said Chukov, pointing in the direction of the approaching light. ”They found six large rooms with bunk beds off that hallway. Four of the rooms were stripped bare. They left everything behind in the other two.”
”Let's clear the rest of these pa.s.sageways and start bagging up anything useful,” said Leeds.
”Like what? Empty coffee mugs?” said Chukov.
”Handwritten notes in clothing pockets. A secret journal about life in the CLM. A forgotten thumb drive. Dead phone,” said Leeds. ”People leave the oddest stuff behind when they're in a hurry. We need to treat this like a crime scene.”
”You want to go around sniffing panties? That's your own business,” said Chukov. ”We get paid to kill people.”
”Well, there's n.o.body here to kill.”
”Precisely. I'll give you five minutes. You're on your own after that.”
Leeds knew better than to push back right now. The Russian was seeing red. His payday had disappeared, possibly for good, and the blame fell squarely on Leeds's shoulders in his warped, killer-centric mind. Right or wrong didn't matter when you were trapped forty feet below the ground with eight professional murderers. Leeds moved swiftly across the room to grab Olmos before he ran his mouth. He sensed they were one snide remark away from a Mexicali burial.
CHAPTER 30.
The crisp digital satellite map of Mexicali blurred as Flagg's head drifted slowly toward the screen. His eyes bolted open, the image instantly crystallizing. He took a deep breath and rubbed his face before standing up. Falling asleep wasn't a luxury he could afford with two field teams on the verge of a breakthrough. He'd dig into the military-grade stimulants reserved for field operatives if he kept drifting off.
He examined the street map again, marveling at the audacity of the cartels. For years they had run an underground drug-packaging station within sight of the border. Probably drove the delivery vehicles right into the mechanic's shop, where they were loaded with drugs and sealed up for the short journey to a distribution shop across the border in Calexico. They probably ran a dozen more operations like this along the wall.
Flagg didn't care about the fifty-year war on drugs. A much more insidious group had taken residence in the former Sinaloa bunker, a faction of radicals far more dangerous to the country than a $200-billion-a-year drug habit. Chump change compared to the damage the California Liberation Movement could inflict on his client's bottom line. And the problem extended far beyond the financial interests represented by the One Nation Coalition. The entire system was at risk if California managed to break free of its federal chains. Even a limited secession would cause a catastrophic ripple effect of states' rights affirmations.
Of course, none of the big-picture impact truly bothered him, as long as he still had a place at Cerberus. A prospect in serious jeopardy unless he started to receive some better news tonight.
He considered calling Riggs. The guy had sent him one inane update after the other all f.u.c.king day-then went silent after breaking into the house across the street from Jon Fisher. Maybe he should ping Nissie Keane. She'd gone mysteriously quiet around the same time. He'd just reached for the keyboard when Nick Leeds's satellite phone started tracking on the digital map again. They had just emerged from the bunker. Please. Please let this be finished. A call appeared on his screen, which he readily accepted.
”What do we have?”
Leeds hesitated too long, which told him everything he needed to know. It wasn't over. ”Nothing,” Leeds said. ”Looks like they cleared out a few hours ago.”
A few hours? He wanted to scream.
”Nothing at all?”
”No electronics. No doc.u.ments. We bagged up what little they left behind.”
”Talamanco made it sound like they were running the s.p.a.ce program from that bunker. How could they have disappeared without a trace?”
”Probably slowly evacuated over the course of a few days. We found six dormitory-style bunk rooms. Two looked like they had been abandoned in a hurry. Sleeping bags, clothing, footwear, and other nonidentifying personal effects left behind. The other rooms looked empty, but we found signs of recent occupancy under a few of the bunks and in the usual nooks and crannies. I don't think Talamanco was exaggerating, but I do think his CLM clients have been slipping quietly away under his nose.”
”Where does that leave us,” Flagg said, ”other than five million dollars poorer?”
”I'd leverage Talamanco against the rest of the money. For that kind of payout, he can flex his muscle outside Mexicali.”
”There's only one problem with that.”
”Don't worry about it. I'll deliver the message personally,” said Leeds. ”I'm pretty sure Chukov won't mind helping me with that.”
Flagg laughed, more at his own predicament than anything else. ”That's not the problem,” he said.
”It can't be good if you're laughing.”
”Talamanco doesn't have any influence outside Mexicali. The jefes controlling territory along the California border don't command any respect from the rest of the Sinaloa. They don't make enough money to attend regular cartel meetings. They pay fees up the chain of command to continue operating their little fiefdoms, and that's about the extent of their connection to the cartel. They're more like franchises. I'll have to widen the net and engage my primary Sinaloa contact.”
”Sounds expensive.”
”It makes the five million I wasted on Talamanco sound like a bargain,” said Flagg. ”And my deal with the real Sinaloa isn't negotiable.”
”Does it guarantee results?”
”You know better than to ask that,” said Flagg. ”The only thing it guarantees is an extensive effort to accomplish our goal.”
”Extensive or expensive?”
”Both. They'll do whatever, wherever we ask, for a limited amount of time.”
”Very expensive,” said Leeds.
”I'm conjuring an extensive excuse to justify the transfer of funds as we speak. I'm probably going to charge this to One Nation and label it a onetime security guarantee from the cartel to stay out of our business in the Wastelands.”
”You think they'll buy that?”
”They don't have a choice. Everyone on that council had a hand in Congresswoman Almeda's a.s.sa.s.sination. We had the situation under control in California until they pulled that stunt, and I have no doubt Petrov put them up to it. He can iron out any concerns they have about the expenditure.”
”Good luck getting him to cooperate,” said Leeds. ”The Russians I'm dealing with seem to do what they please.”
”Chukov is a means to an end,” said Flagg. ”I can divert money to our new problem, but I can't divert manpower. People talk. As far as Cerberus knows, and will ever know, the heavy loss of personnel last night was necessary to ensure the results.”
”I understand,” said Leeds. ”Where do you want us?”
”With the Russians at the airport, on five-minute standby. No sense in guessing which direction they took. The Gulfstream can cover more miles in an hour than they can hope to drive in ten on the highway.”
”I'll break the good news to Chukov,” said Leeds.
”And watch their drinking,” said Flagg. ”This group has a bit of a reputation.”
”Oh, I've been watching them drink since they arrived. Hasn't affected their operational performance in the least from what I can tell.”
”They'll get the job done regardless. That's not what I'm worried about,” said Flagg. ”If they're not killing or sleeping, they're drinking and fighting. Keep your distance at the airport.”