“Hey, Linc!” Rowena smiled and walked over, unaware of the latest drama.
“Hey, Row, nice to see you.”
“Carly’s in her office. I’ll tell her you’re here.” While Rowena went in to get Carly, Linc went outside to speak to Frank.
The bodyguard knew nothing about El Jefe’s expected call or the modifications they had made to the truck. The fewer people who knew, the less chance for a leak. As soon as Carly got a text or phone call with instructions where to pick up the load, Linc would take the truck out and Frank could take Carly back to the ranch, where she would be safe.
“Carly may be working late,” Linc said to him. “Why don’t you take a break?”
“Sounds good. I could use a soft drink.” Frank headed for the truckers’ lounge, and Linc walked back inside just as Carly came out of her office.
“We’re done for the day,” she said. “Everything okay?”
“Ross Townsend’s on his way here from Dallas. I’ll give you the answer to that after I talk to him. Anything happening on your end?”
Carly glanced over at Rowena, who was busy talking to one of the drivers. “Nothing yet.”
“As soon as everyone’s gone, I’ll take a look at the truck.” He held up the sheaf of papers he’d brought with him. “I’ve got detailed instructions on how all that surveillance gear operates. Let’s just hope I can make sense of it.”
“I hope so, too, and I hope it’s hidden well enough that it can’t be spotted.”
For the price he had paid, it had damned well better be.
As soon as the employees were gone for the day, including Rowena, Linc went outside and located the truck they would be using that night. By the time he’d satisfied himself the surveillance equipment would work the way it was supposed to, Ross Townsend was pulling into the yard.
Linc followed him inside the office. “What’s going on?”
“I’m not exactly sure, which is the reason I’m here. I’ve got something I need to show you.”
“We can use my office.” Carly led them in that direction.
Walking over to the table in the corner, Ross opened the manila folder he’d brought with him. “Remember that DNA sample we got off the manifest at the crime scene?”
“What about it?” Linc asked.
“If you recall I had it run through CODIS and came up with zip.”
“So?”
“Well, I got to thinking . . . if the guy’s smuggling drugs, they would probably be coming in from Mexico or South America. Maybe he’s an international criminal. I called in a favor, had it run through Interpol’s DNA database, and bingo, we got a hit.”
“So Zapata is wanted . . . where? In Mexico?”
“No. It wasn’t Zapata’s blood.” Ross moved one of the sheets of paper aside and pointed to a photo. “The DNA belongs to this man—Hassan Mohammed Al-Razi.”
“What the hell?”
“Exactly. Al-Razi was born in Saudi Arabia. His father was an assistant to the Saudi ambassador to Mexico. Hassan moved to Mexico with his family when he was a teenager, lived there for several years before his dad moved back to Saudi Arabia. Five years ago, Al-Razi disappeared. No one knew where he went until you found that drop of blood. How he got to Texas, I have no idea, but he’s a known terrorist, Linc. He’s wanted in connection with everything from a truck bombing that killed twenty people in a Pakistani market to explosions at a bus station in Baghdadthat killed sixty-five. He’s on the Interpol terrorist list and he’s wanted big time.”
“I can’t believe this.” Carly sank down in one of the chairs.
Linc fought to stay calm. “What the hell is Raul Zapata doing with a terrorist?”
“That’s what we need to find out,” Ross said.
“We have to call the FBI, Linc,” Carly said. “We don’t have any choice. Zapata might be smuggling terrorists into the country. That might be what he wants Drake to haul. He has to be stopped before that happens. We can’t afford to risk other people’s lives.”
Linc clenched his jaw to keep from swearing because it was true. Along with the September eleventh attacks and the Boston Marathon, there had been major terror attacks in London, Madrid, Paris, and Brussels. Hell, all over the world.
