Prepper Jack Page 23

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  Friday, April 15

  5:50 a.m.

  Glen Haven, New Mexico

  Vigo sat at the table with his coffee, thumping his fingers along the surface absently while he quickly reviewed the logistics.

  The FBI had a warrant to search the premises and seize both evidence and contraband. Vigo’s informants said the feds planned to show up for the raid in full SWAT gear with plenty of manpower. All of which took some time to coordinate. They planned to attack at nine o’clock. Of course, they didn’t call it an assault, but that’s precisely what it was.

  Vigo’s options were to stay and fight or retreat before the FBI arrived. He understood the pitfalls. He’d employed both options in the past. From experience, he knew that leaving was the better choice. Too much collateral damage with any of the alternatives.

  He had sent Maria into the bedroom to get some sleep. He’d wake her up when he had the new inventory in hand.

  The driver’s estimated time of arrival was five minutes past six. Fifteen minutes away.

  The inventory was both more valuable and more lethal than the size of the packages suggested. Twenty kilograms of fentanyl weighed about forty-four pounds. The whole shipment would fit in a plastic storage container, twenty inches wide by thirty inches long by twelve inches deep.

  As soon as the driver pulled up, Louis and Manny would move the product into one of the SUVs. They’d finished setting up the propane accelerators. Then they had moved the heroin, methamphetamine, firearms, and cash inventory from the barracks into the same SUV for transport.

  Vigo, Maria, and Freddie were set to leave immediately.

  Louis and Manny would ignite the propane. The resulting fires would take care of Lawton and most of the evidence remaining at Glen Haven. Anything left behind would take weeks to process through the ashes.

  Vigo’s crew would be long gone before then.

  He ran the logistics through his head twice more.

  “Acceptable,” he murmured to himself.

  He still had to deal with the mole. His continued leadership of the cartel depended on dealing swiftly with informants. The punishment was death. There were no other options.

  The mole had caused several members of his crew to be arrested or killed. Not to mention thousands of dollars lost to seizures by local cops. The mole deserved the death sentence. No one would disagree.

  Early on, he’d realized the mole was one of the Glen Haven residents. But which one?

  A process of elimination, focused on opportunity and timing, had narrowed the potential names down to four solid suspects.

  All four had the opportunity to learn the information they’d passed on to the FBI and had done so within reasonable time frames.

  That was as far as the process of elimination had taken him.

  Neither Lawton nor O’Hare were the mole and both had proved to be ignorant of the mole’s true identity.

  Despite his best efforts, he hadn’t identified the specific informant.

  Which was why he planned to kill all four suspects, Lawton, O’Hare, and the rest of the residents with the fire. To be sure he destroyed the mole.

  And to be sure every member of his cartel as well as his enemies couldn’t possibly believe he’d let the mole live.

  As a solid deterrent for anyone else stupid enough to think they could do the same and live through the experience.

  Two hard raps on the front door was the code for friendly visitors. Vigo’s hand went to the shotgun across his lap.

  With luck, the visitor would prove to be the man he’d been seeking.

  “Come in,” he called, shotgun ready to fire beneath the table toward the doorway.

  The brothers, Gavin and Bruce Ray, stepped inside and closed the door behind them.

  Vigo relaxed slightly but kept his hand on the shotgun.

  “We’re sorry we didn’t get here sooner, Vigo. We came to pay our condolences to Hector,” Gavin said solemnly, hat in hand. “Elena was such a delightful woman. All of our Glen Haven family will miss her. Hector must be beside himself with grief.”

  Vigo gave both brothers a steely-eyed stare and said nothing. Bruce Ray lowered his gaze, as if he had something to feel guilty about. Which he probably did.

  They both should feel guilty.

  One of them was likely the mole. But even if they weren’t, they had housed and nurtured the mole. The mole was responsible for Big Sela’s murder and Elena’s murder as well.

  The brothers and everyone who lived at Glen Haven deserved what was coming to them. If he’d had the time, he’d have tortured them in front of his crew before he killed them, simply to sharpen the lesson.

  Gavin advanced into the barracks and approached Vigo at the table. “Got any coffee?”

  Vigo nodded. “Help yourself.”

  Gavin sat and Bruce filled two cups and joined him at the table. If they noticed the shotgun, they gave no indication.

  “The police were at Glen Haven yesterday, interviewing the ground crew after they finished with the other witnesses at the landing site where Elena died. They said they’d be back today to finish up,” Gavin said. “They may want to talk to Hector at some point, if they haven’t already.”

  Vigo nodded again. “They tell you who shot Elena?”

  Bruce shook his head. The port wine stain on his face seemed like a dark shadow in the lamplight. “They said they didn’t know yet. They didn’t find the spent bullet. They didn’t find the shooter. But they will, Vigo. Hector will have justice.”

  Gavin frowned and added, “Not that justice will make up for losing Elena.”

  Vigo nodded. Hector had no need for justice. He’d have vengeance, which was as it should be. Vigo would make certain of it.

  The three were silent for a few moments before Gavin cleared his throat and said, “That’s why we came, Vigo. To ask you to let the authorities deal with this. We can’t have any trouble here at Glen Haven. We’re sorry for Elena and for Hector, and for all of you. But Glen Haven isn’t the place for Hector to find justice. Elena’s death had nothing to do with us.”

  Vigo could feel his temperature rising along with his anger.

  Bruce jumped in. “We’ll help however we can. Tell us what to do, and we’ll do it.”

  “That’s right,” Gavin continued, nodding like a bobblehead doll. “But we don’t want any trouble here.”

  Vigo’s stare was the kind that had sent stronger men sniveling in terror. Gavin Ray might have been too stupid to understand it. Bruce was not. Sweat broke out on his brow and he wiped it away with his sleeve.

  “Hector will have his vengeance,” Vigo said quietly, watching Bruce sweat. “Nothing anyone can do about that. Not even me.”

  “Come on, Bruce.” Gavin said quietly as he pushed his chair back and stood. “We’ll go next door and talk to Hector. We should convey our condolences in person.”

  “Now is as good a time as any,” Vigo replied.

  It would have been simple enough to shoot them in the back as they departed. But the deafening gunshot would have ignited chaos before he was ready. Their time was coming. After his inventory was safely stowed in the SUV.

  He waited a bit until Gavin and Bruce were well outside before following them to the other barracks building with the shotgun.

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  Friday, April 15

  5:50 a.m.

  Glen Haven, New Mexico

  Kim had been gone too long. Flint and Lawton would be waiting. O’Hare said he could take care of himself. Which she didn’t believe for a moment, but she couldn’t force him to come with her, either.

  She retraced her steps, hurried through the main house, and back to O’Hare’s room, where she slipped outside through the sliding glass door.

  She let her eyes adjust to the darkness as she pulled the ski cap down over her face and replaced her night vision. The last thing she needed was to trip and fall out here.

  Briefly, she considered se
arching for more propane setups to dismantle and rejected the thought. No time. She kept moving.

  O’Hare was evacuating the residents and the FBI would arrive soon enough to deal with Vigo and his crew.

  Kim’s mission was to get Lawton and Flint out alive. No more, no less. Finlay could coordinate the rest.

  On her way across the open space, she noticed that two more of the propane setups she’d passed on the way into O’Hare’s room had been dismantled in the ten minutes since she’d seen them earlier.

  The Sterno cans were missing. So were the propane tanks themselves. Someone had taken the fuel from the setups.

  She might have been mistaken about the location of those two tanks, so she stopped to check. There were the depressions in the soil where each tank had been. There were no tracks suggesting a cart of any kind had been used to move them.

  Each tank probably weighed close to forty pounds. Maybe more. Carrying two tanks around on the uneven ground in the dark meant whoever had taken them was probably a strong man.

  Briefly, she wondered if Reacher had done it.

  “Get a grip, Otto,” she murmured to herself. Then she shook her head and kept moving.

  Reacher had done similar things before, and last time, he’d said he owed her for saving his nephew. Which he did.

  But she’d seen no evidence that he was around at all this time. He was too big to hide, even if he’d wanted to. Which he usually didn’t. He met physical challenges head-on and never lost a fight as far as she knew.

  Mrs. Otto’s daughter Kim lacked Reacher’s giant-like assets.

  She’d often wondered how her life might have been different if she’d been as physically imposing as Reacher. Now was not the time to think about it.

  Question was, what had happened to those propane tanks?

  She made it to the back of the barracks building where Lawton waited. The lights were still on inside. She rounded the far corner.

  Flint had moved the SUV. It was waiting in the shadows along the west side of the building, but he wasn’t there. He must have gone into the building for Lawton.

  Briefly, she wondered if Flint had been the one who moved those propane tanks. Had she been gone long enough for him to accomplish the task? No. He’d been busy with other things.

  As she was nearing the southwest corner, she heard footsteps on the gravel parking area approaching the building next door. She flattened her back against the building and extended her neck to see around the corner.

  Two men walked side-by-side toward the door. From this distance and wearing the night vision, Kim could not identify them. They didn’t appear to be carrying weapons. Nor did they carry themselves like cops.

  At first she thought they were probably the two guys Lawton had said were members of Vigo’s crew. Louis and Manny.

  But then, the taller one knocked on the door. Which suggested these two were visitors.

  After a moment, the man turned the knob and pushed the door open. Light spilled out of the open doorway for a moment before they went inside and closed it again.

  Kim waited to be sure they weren’t coming out again, and then she hurried to the door of Lawton’s barracks building. She put her ear against the door, listening for trouble. She didn’t hear any.

  She removed her night vision, turned the knob, ducked inside, and closed the door behind her. Lawton and Flint were waiting for her. Like her, Flint was still wearing his knit cap that covered his face.

  Freddy was on the floor near the fireplace where Flint had dropped him, but his eyes were open. Which meant he could probably hear them talking.

  “There’s activity next door,” she said. “The building seems dark from outside, but people are moving around. Two guys just arrived. I couldn’t see their faces. If we’re going to get out of here, we need to go now.”

  Flint said, “What about Freddy, here? Take him with us?”

  Kim definitely didn’t want to do that. When the FBI arrived, they could pick him up. She didn’t need to be accused of abducting one of Vigo’s gang. How the hell would she explain that one to the Boss?

  Lawton said, “Toss him in the basement and lock the door. If anyone comes in, they’ll think I’m still down there.”

  Kim said, “Okay. Let’s do that.”

  Lawton pointed the shotgun toward Freddie. “Don’t think I won’t shoot you.”

  Flint yanked Freddie up off the floor and patted him down while Lawton held the shotgun aimed toward Freddie’s head.

  From Freddie’s pockets, Flint removed a handgun, a wallet, a cell phone, and some cash. He tossed the cell phone to Kim. He dropped everything else on the floor and kicked it under the sofa.

  Flint said, “You can walk, or I can throw you down the stairs. Your choice.”

  Freddy nodded and grunted something behind the duct tape before he shuffled toward the basement. He walked through the opening and down the stairs while Flint replaced the door on its hinges. Flint closed the door and threw the dead bolt.

  Kim had fired up Freddie’s disposable cell phone and scrolled through the call log. Nothing but a list of numbers came up. The last call had come through half an hour ago. It lasted two minutes.

  In a nanosecond, she thought of five good reasons to leave the cell phone here and a dozen good reasons to take it. She dropped it into her pocket.

  When Flint finished stashing Freddie in the basement, he strode back toward the door.

  “Ready?” Kim asked Lawton. “We go outside. Turn right. The SUV is around the corner. You’ll have to walk fifteen feet. No more. Can you do it?”

  He nodded, but she knew the gesture was pure bravado.

  Flint helped him off the sofa and he tossed his arm over Flint’s shoulders again. Kim went first, headed toward the door. The two men followed.

  She flipped off the light. She and Flint adjusted their night vision. Then she opened the door and ducked her head outside for a quick look first.

  Just as she did, the door from the other barracks opened. Light illuminated the same two men she’d seen entering earlier. When they turned to walk toward her, she saw their faces.

  She ducked back into the room and closed the door. “Gavin and Bruce Ray are headed this way.”

  Lawton said, “The founders of Glen Haven? What the hell are they doing over there with Vigo?”

  Flint replied, “They’re probably not having a friendly game of poker.”

  There was no back exit to the barracks building. No means of escape.

  Two hard raps on the door and Gavin’s voice said, “Hector? Can we come in?”

  Kim pulled her gun. Flint did the same.

  “Are they armed?” Lawton asked as he leaned against the wall and hefted the shotgun.

  She heard three voices outside talking and then a firm pounding on the door. Another man must have joined the Ray brothers. “Freddie. It’s Vigo. Open up.”

  Then she heard a fourth voice call out, “Vigo!”

  She couldn’t make out the muffled conversation between Vigo and the newcomer, which seemed to have moved away from the door toward the gravel driveway.

  Gavin rapped on the door a couple more times, pausing between rounds. “Freddie! Wake up! It’s Gavin Ray!”

  Kim heard a vehicle engine coming up the driveway. It sounded like an old diesel pickup truck.

  Then Vigo came back to the door. “Step aside, Gavin. I’ve got a key.”

  Lawton and Flint positioned a chair in front of the door. Lawton sat in the chair. Flint and Kim stood behind the door in the shadows.

  Vigo inserted the key into the lock and turned it. Kim heard the deadbolt slide open.

  “Freddie, where are you?” Vigo said as he pushed the door open, stepped inside, reached over, and flipped the lights on.

  Gavin and Bruce Ray followed Vigo inside leaving the door open behind them.

  “Hands up. You’re under arrest,” Lawton said when all three men were inside. Gavin and Bruce complied. “Drop the shotgun, Vigo, and kick
it aside.”

  Vigo didn’t move. Lawton said, “I can’t possibly miss you from this distance. Want to test me?”

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  Friday, April 15

  6:30 a.m.

  Glen Haven, New Mexico

  “You could shoot me in cold blood, Lawton. But we both know you won’t. Because you’d go to prison for it.” Vigo continued to stand his ground inside the barracks, staring at Lawton.

  “Not likely.” Lawton shook his head and grinned. “Right after you rushed in here, waving your weapon around, you attacked me and I shot you first. Self-defense, plain and simple. You’re dead. I walk. Hell, they might even give me a medal.”

  Vigo didn’t believe a word of it. Too many witnesses in the room with a contrary story, for one thing. But Lawton was sitting there with a shotgun. So he stalled.

  Never breaking eye contact, Vigo lowered his shotgun’s butt and eased it to the floor. He pushed it along the hard wood with his foot, out of reach.

  “What’s going on?” Gavin Ray said from Vigo’s right, as if he had no clue. He was a better actor than Vigo would have guessed. He knew damn well who Vigo was and why hundreds of people might want to kill him.

  Gavin probably also knew Lawton was a federal agent, since Gavin was one of the four prime suspects Vigo believed could be the mole.

  In Vigo’s periphery, Bruce Ray stood in stony silence with his hands in the air like an idiot. He was another of the four suspects. And a more likely one. Bruce knew Lawton was in the basement and he’d known why.

  Lawton wasn’t as strong as he had been before Vigo’s interrogations. Even so, he could make good on his threat if he shot directly at Vigo from point blank range right now.

  What he needed was a momentary distraction.

  Louis and Manny must have finished unloading the inventory. He heard the diesel truck’s engine as it revved up in the gravel driveway and turned around to head back toward the main road.