“The government still says it was a chemical explosion.”
“You don’t believe it?” Cade lifted an eyebrow in query. Selene didn’t miss much. If she was wary or cautious about the intel she was finding online—there was a reason.
“It’s not that I don’t believe it was a chemical explosion,” Selene flicked some lint off her top. “It’s more I don’t believe it was the accident they say it was.
Cade straightened in his chair, “There’s chatter?”
“Nobody has claimed it yet if that’s what you are asking.” She shrugged, “If there is something to be found, I’ll find it.” She wrinkled up her nose, as if something stank. “What is that smell?”
Cade sniffed the air. Damn, he really had spent too long in locker rooms and living with a bunch of men that the stink of smelly socks from the bag that had contained Rio’s clothes hadn’t even registered in his brain. “Sorry,” he picked up the socks and tossed them in the trash.
“Do not leave them there,” Selene turned to leave, “They will stink out the entire room. If they do, you are covering my shift.”
Shit, she was right. Cade picked them out of the trash again and stuffed them back in the bag. Now that he had the printout from FRED, he could take this stuff back to his room and look at them there. When he looked up, Selene had disappeared. The other analysts worked quietly at their stations. “I’m heading out.” he called loud enough to be heard over the hum of the computers and the muffled sounds of the lowered tv stations. “Call me if anything comes up.”
“Yes, Sir.”
After making sure he had his beeper, and his cell was switched to loud, he gathered everything, climbed the stairs, and walked along the catwalk. At least in his quarters, he would have the privacy to go through everything. And maybe kick himself in the ass a few times while he was at it. Remind himself why he shouldn’t be doing this. But eh, he never claimed to be smart when it came to doing shit he shouldn’t.
Dropping the bag on the breakfast nook that served as a dining space in the kitchen area of his quarters, he grabbed a beer from the fridge, popped the tab on the can, and took a swig. With the remote he hit play on his entertainment system, restarting the playlist he’d had on earlier. When his brain was trying to figure stuff out, he had found that playing the same list of songs over and over again helped. Something about the repetitiveness and predictability of what was coming next soothed him enough that he could focus. Adam Levine’s version of Purple Rain soon filled the room. Seriously, this version was totally better than the original. He didn’t give a shit what Grif’s friend, Jonah, said. It totally rocked.
“Let’s see what we got.” He dumped the contents of the bag on the table for the second time that night and went through them. Other than the smelly socks, the suit, the bloody shirt, and the cell phone, he didn’t find anything else. Taking another sip of his beer, he grabbed FRED’s analysis of the cell and headed for the couch. He grabbed a highlighter from the glass that doubled as a pen holder and settled himself on the couch, letting the music give him the concentration needed to double check the numbers in the cell against the messages in the printout. He didn’t know what he was looking for. Wasn’t sure what it would achieve, but maybe if he did this he would prove to himself that Rio was not just a double agent within one of the biggest terrorist groups in the world and he could tell himself all the reasons he should not be considering another trip to Brazil. “You’re an idiot.” Yup, he knew he was. Didn’t matter though.
Propping himself against the arm of the couch, his legs stretched across the cushions and he got to work. Crossing out each number he had cross-referenced with the report.
The play list of thirty songs had cycled through twice before Cade turned the final page. Yet again, FRED gave his analysis to the threat offered by Rio.
Name: Felipe Oseguera González aka Rio
Risk Level—Low to None.
Location: 20.735832, -103.253599, Jalisco Province, Mexico.
What the hell?He read the information three times. The words didn’t change. Scrubbing his eyes with his fists, Cade looked again. Nope, still the same. The first thing that sank in, Felipe was now using Rio as an alias. And the second was the one that sent a blast of excitement through him. Rio was in Mexico. He tapped the coordinates into the maps program on his cell. Holy fucking shit, Rio was right freaking down the road.
Stall the ball there, hotshot,his inner voice attempted to caution him.You can’t just run half-cocked. You need to plan.
“Plan my ass,” Cade looked at the file, checking the address. Yup, it was just off Barranca de Huentitán National Park. Using his two fingers, he manipulated the screen, enlarging it until he could just about make out the house. What the hell was he doing here?Call Rock and tell him. Or G.Nah, maybe he would just check it out first. Tomorrow was his day off and more importantly it was a Saturday, which meant the park would be quiet. During the week, it had an abundance of hikers. Many people went there for a brisk walk. The park offered great exercise, but the path was rocky, and not recommended for anyone that was out of shape or had difficulty walking for any other reason. The national park had an awesome suspension bridge that Cade had been meaning to take a hike to. Two birds, one stone. Decision made, it was time for a fast shower and some sleep. He wanted his ass on the road early.
* * *
A grand total of six hours later and Cade paused to study his compass before turning off the main path. All the intel he had gathered on the national park was correct. He had only met one other hiker this morning, which was surprising as the trip advisor and other google search engines were not usually on the ball about stuff like this. But he’d take it. Based on the plan he had worked out, he figured he had maybe an hour’s strenuous hiking before he made it to the top of the ridge overlooking the GPS coordinates where Rio was holed up.
Damn, maybe he should do this hiking thing for fun more often. Usually when he was moving through undergrowth in this part of the world, it was for work. Then, he carried full battle rattle of at least fifty pounds, along with weapons and a hell of a lot of coms gear. He rarely, if ever, had time to enjoy the sounds of the wildlife or the streams. “Fucking beautiful.”
He was in such deep thought, contemplating what he would say to Rio, that he barely noticed the two men lurking at the fork in the almost nonexistent path. In fact, he might have ignored them completely, even if he had clocked the suspicious bulges at their waists.
The sawed-off shotgun one of the men pulled from where it had dangled over his shoulder was difficult to ignore, though.
“What is this about?” Cade ran through the possibilities in his head. If he ran, he had plenty of cover, but he had to make it through the tree line at the side of the track first. Could he outrun a bullet and make it? On the field of war, his ass would already be moving. But then he had the security of Kevlar to help cover his six. Out here today, he had nothing but a knife in his boot and a Glock in a holster strapped to his back.Fuck!
“You will come with us, señor,” the nearest man ordered. His English was heavily accented, but no worse than the average transplant he heard in the States. “You will be silent and behave, or your family will never hear from you again.”
Family? Oh boy, you do not want to meet my family. Meeting them will haunt you until the day you die.Come to think of it, the day this man would die was probably fast approaching. Cade snorted out loud before he could help himself.
He recognized one of the men from some of the background material in FRED’s report. There was no mistaking the large scar that ran down the man’s left cheek. His name was Juan Lopez, one of the drug runners associated with both Rio’s father and with the drug lord who ran this area of Mexico.
“Take my wallet.” Thinking on his feet, Cade decided playing dumb was the best way to go—for now. “It’s yours.”
