“Hello?”
Abundio was taken aback by his thick Australian accent.“Hello?I wish to speak to Ray Dorland, please.”
“Speakin’.Who’s this?”
“My name is Abundio Segura.I’m calling from Mexico.I am attempting to locate a man by the name of Jake Peterson.”
The man didn’t respond immediately.“Why you lookin’ for him?”
“His son, Carl, used to work for me.I’m attempting to locate Carl.I was hoping if I could locate Jake, he might be able to put me in touch with his son.”
Another long hesitation.“Don’t know why yer callin’ here, mate.How’d you even get my number?”
“My research led me to Carl’s mother being related to you, and I was hoping that?—”
“Nah.Can’t help ya.”He hung up.
Abundio’s rage simmered, but he immediately tried calling back.
And he couldn’t get through, his number now blocked.
Hmm.
A simple wrong number would be ignored, wouldn’t it?
Meaning there were likely deeper layers to this story.
Sure, he could keep trying to call him using different burner phones, but this was a brick wall he’d hit.
Meaning there was something extremely valuable hidden behind it.
And he would find outexactlywhat that was.
ChapterFifteen
Webster Kent
Web stoodbehind the counter of his store, working on putting together his next order from his supplier in Spokane.He didn’t pay much attention when the old Chevy two-door compact car pulled into a parking space and a driver got out, because the guy wore a uniform shirt for one of the smaller shipping carriers they frequently saw in this area.
He walked in with an electronic shipping scanner tablet in his hand.
“Can I help you?”Web asked.
“Yes, sir, I hope so.”The kid, because he couldn’t have been more than twenty, looked obviously confused.“I’m trying to find this address, but the GPS isn’t making any sense.”He showed Web his tablet.
Web immediately recognized the issue—it was Peyton’s home address, and only had BLEACKE listed as the name.“They don’t receive deliveries.They all get dropped here.I can sign for it, if you want.”Which was technically a lie.Since the Segura cartel’s attack, all packages and mail got dropped at the new postal center at the front gate, to be distributed throughout the compound by a packmate, but usually that address was listed with a box number.
The kid looked at his tablet and scowled.“No, sir.It says I need a signature from the addressee, sorry.Unless your last name’s Bleacke?”he asked hopefully.
“No, it’s not.You got a few minutes to hang out?I can get someone over here from the family.Why don’t you bring it inside?”
“Sure.”The kid headed out to do just that
Web dialed Badger’s cell number, because he’d been in the store just yesterday and said he was in town for a couple of weeks.The man answered almost immediately.“Aye?”
“I have a suspicious package being delivered.Clueless human carrier, the address is Peyton’s house, not the gatehouse, and it only says ‘Bleacke’ as the recipient.”
“Whassit?”
