Insertion, page 3
“Riddle me this, Batman, how and when exactly did you find out he was kidnapped?” Jack asked, standing behind the chair next to Janet. His anger was getting the better of him before he even showed up—he almost blew through two red light cameras just to get here.
David held up his hand once more and leaned back in his squeaky leather chair. “Janet, do you mind giving us a minute?”
Looking at them both, she nodded and stood. She reached out and adjusted David’s coffee cup so it lined up perfectly with the coaster. Jack scoffed. She shot him one last dirty look.
“If you need me, I’ll be in my office,” she said, pushing in her chair so it lined up with the front edge of David’s desk. The room fell silent. As she shut the door behind her, David pulled out a bottle of Eagle Rare from a drawer along with two glasses.
“You know, you never get used to her awkwardness,” David said.
Jack shook his head and watched his friend pour them each a drink, not even fathoming what was going through Ben’s head at the moment. Jack had so many questions of his own—mainly, why Ben? Ben wasn’t even one of the operators on the ground, he was flying at forty-thousand feet in the air. David slid a glass across the desk and took a sip from his own. “You know I’ve known you for over thirty years now and I have never seen you get so pissed that you might strangle someone.”
Jack humored him with a small chuckle and took a sip. Standing up and walking over to the bookcase to his left, Jack surveyed the collection of novels that never ceased to amaze him.
“You’re not smart enough to read, David,” Jack said, grabbing one of the thicker books on philosophy. David laughed. Flipping through the pages and placing it back on the shelf, Jack walked over to the massive window that ran behind David’s desk. The view was incredible and being the Director did have its perks.
“Most of those books were gifts, believe it or not. However, what I can read is the information that your lover over there pulled up for you guys.” Opening a drawer to his left, he pulled out a red file and tossed it over to Jack, who took his seat once more. David leaned back in his chair as he watched Jack skim through the information.
“Lover! God help any man who would want to get with that woman.”
Staying silent but swiveling his chair behind him to look out at the beautiful view of the compound with the trees in the distance that seemed to touch the horizon, David said, “Anyway, they were also able to run the plates of the SUV, which came back registered to a Mr. James Clark, reported stolen early that morning.”
“Of course it was, and I take it they ran his name?”
“Yep, it looks like he’s a white male who lives in Temecula, a county outside of San Diego. Mr. Clark, who has no priors, owns a tech business and has a wife and two kids. He checks out,” answered David, sipping on his bourbon.
“Do we know the names of the individuals yet? When I talked to her earlier, she didn’t have them,” Jack said, looking at the faces of the cartel members.
“Yes, since then the software recognized the faces and came back with three individuals, all part of Alejandro’s Bertrand Cartel.”
“Fuck,” Jack said, finishing his bourbon.
“Matias Sanchez, Santiago Juarez, and Pablo Estevez of your Saint Bertrand Cartel. You want to know the best part?”
“What’s that?”
“They’re not just some random soldiers in his cartel, they’re sicarios. The camera didn’t pick it up, but if you look at the mug shots we have on file courtesy of the Colombian Embassy, they all have the famous small saint tattoo behind their left ear.”
“Damn,” Jack said, holding one of the images in front of him, finally looking up from the file. “So they know what they’re doing. How did we even get this footage?”
“They kidnapped him early Thursday morning and after his girlfriend filed a missing person report with the police later that morning, she called Ben’s parents. When she was done with them, she posted something on social media around 10 a.m. our time and our department pulled in up within minutes. We would have found out regardless once the police put their report into the system, but her posting it definitely started the ball rolling.
“She’ll be alright though, she’s with her family back in Tennessee right now. Believe me, I wanted to call you, but Janet’s right on this one. I know you were against her getting promoted a year ago, but she has been nothing but extremely helpful to me in creating your task force and keeping it off the books. You realize the President of the United States doesn’t even know about you guys, right? The fucking President.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” Jack said, pouring some more bourbon into his glass.
David watched Jack lean back in his seat once more. They both had been through a lot. Entering the agency together and passing the FARM with flying colors, they were roommates and clicked since day one. Jack had been the best man at David’s wedding; he was like family. Jack even had his own key to David’s house to check on his family when he had to go away for business. There was no one he thought would be better suited to lead the off-the-books task force. Jack named the group based off his secret missions he conducted in Alaska for multiple months helping other agents spy on the Russians. It was there where he realized the Bering Sea was unforgiving in the winter, but in the summer was as smooth as glass—so what better name for a team that was cool, calm, and collected until they had to get their hands dirty?
“So what do you want us to do, man?” Jack responded, sliding the file back toward David, who immediately returned it.
“We have plenty of copies. You now have a copy of the SUV plates in the file as well. We have him tracked to a town in Nogales, Arizona.” David poured himself another glass.
“Why are they driving all the way to Arizona?”
“It’s what our intelligence has gathered from tracking the plates via satellite. Also, if you care for a little light reading later, Alejandro isn’t on the best of terms with the cartel working out of Baja, Mexico. Pushing further east and then heading down might work out better for him.”
“Interesting.”
David held his hand up to let him finish. “The club they were outside of is one of only two cowboy clubs in downtown San Diego. The local police report said the bartender vaguely remembers Ben, but she does remember two men whose hands and necks were covered with tattoos. Anyway, Nogales is near the border and has a history for harboring illegal aliens and other various criminal activity. Janet suggested we send the whole squad down there to figure it out, but I ruled against it.”
“That’s why she has no business in this business—”
“Enough. I get it you hate her. Now let me finish,” David said. “We have satellite imagery monitoring the house they stopped at. This will be your second assignment with the group and I’m sorry for the circumstances of it. I know I don’t have to micromanage you or your team, but Janet will be taking point on this. You have to give her the time of day Jack, she is your boss for Christ’s sake. Plus, I have a shit-storm of my own to deal with regarding all of this, but don’t get confused: if you need anything at all, you let me know.” David reached across the table to shake his friend’s hand.
After letting the last comment linger in the air for a bit as Jack sipped on his scotch once more, David asked, “Do you have a plan of attack for this?”
“Yea, I do,” he replied, stroking his grayish stubble. Jack was about to stand up, but David quickly motioned for him to sit back down.
“What is it?”
“One last thing.”
Jack could tell by his body language that whatever his best friend was about to say was weighing heavy on his mind. Spinning his chair around once more to the window, David said, “I want to bring him back from the field to integrate him with your team.”
“Bring who back?” Jack said.
“Fontaine.”
The room fell silent. The faint chattering of birds could be heard flying just outside the massive windows. Stroking his chin again, Jack thought carefully about the next words leaving his lips. “Are you sure you want the old squad back in business?” Both men laughed.
“You and I both know that neither one of us needs to be running and gunning out there on wild goose chases looking for bad guys in today’s world. Back when we were coming up, times were different, and to be frank I didn’t bring you in on this project so you could go out there with your team.
“You’re the best in the business as far as I’m concerned, your experience coupled with your longevity with the agency far surpasses anyone else. You and I both know you’ve seen more than anyone here and shoot, you’ve definitely accomplished a hell of a lot more in a shorter time span than most of these new operators we have in the field now.”
Jack couldn’t believe what he was hearing. On the one hand he greatly appreciated everything his friend was revealing to him, and he knew every word he was hearing was one hundred percent true, however on the other hand, one of the stipulations to the group was getting to select whom he wanted on the team.
“I love that kid, I just never thought we would get approval to be back together again.”
“I know, but look who your boss is,” he said, excitedly. “I literally can authorize anything I want or need.”
“Your mind is made up then, you want him with us? You said I get to hand select my team. I don’t want you calling me a month from now asking if we can draft some more people. This isn’t NFL draft day.”
“I get it,” David said. His face told Jack all he needed to know about his time being up in his office.
Downing the last bit of bourbon, Jack stood up a second time and didn’t receive the wave to sit back down. “I’ll give him a shout as soon as I leave, and see if I can’t twist his arm to get him to fly in.”
“No, I want you to fly down and recruit him in person.”
“Fly down? Where is he?” he asked.
Laughing, David said, “He’s in West Palm Beach.”
“Florida?! Great God almighty, I have never had assignments in Florida, especially this time of year. What the hell kind of work do you guys have him doing down there?” Jack asked, as most if not all of the work assigned to anyone was overseas and rarely ever domestic.
“He’s on vacay,” David replied.
“Of course.” Turning to leave his office, Jack thanked his friend for the drink. Reminiscing of the times with Max, the last thing he remembered was that they both got into a serious predicament when a little girl was killed inside of a country where they were not supposed to be. They were tasked with monitoring Khaled Ahmadi, a very dangerous terrorist who was selling a stolen list of every undercover agent for the CIA. Jack and Max were given a capture or kill order for Khaled before things went south.
Once Jack was back in his vehicle, he dialed Pete and told him who he wanted on a flight to Nogales. Deep down he knew David was right to recruit Max; he was very seldom wrong. But he never thought he was ever going to have the chance to work with his old partner. He would have to make sure this time around, everything was done right.
CHAPTER 5
Saint Bertrand, better known as Saint Louis Bertrand to those who worshipped him, was the first Saint to arrive in Colombia in the sixteenth century. Some said it was because of him that Colombia had such a gigantic Catholic culture, and although many saints visited Colombia, he was the absolute first, making him the go-to saint to be worshipped by Columbians.
The most important person to dedicate his life to the Catholic Saint of Saints was Alejandro Alvarez. Growing up in Cartagena, Colombia was a gift as far as he was concerned. Raised by his uncle because both his parents died in a car accident when he was only twelve, he was forced to grow up sooner than the children around him. His uncle, Juan Alvarez, was the leader of the Bertrand Cartel, which made him one of the most feared and revered men in all of Cartagena. Even the other cartels in the neighboring countries did not want to deal with Juan because of what they heard he did to people who did not deliver the promises requested on time.
Money and resources were never an issue for Alejandro because of his uncle. Juan wanted him to achieve what his parents would have wanted: a college education. Alejandro graduated high school in the top ten of his class and wanted to continue his college in Colombia, yet Juan persuaded him to apply for more challenging ones in North America. The acceptance letters arrived in droves, but the one that gained his attention—well, the beautiful women in the area, did—was Berkeley University where he graduated with an undergraduate degree in Business Administration. Catching the first plane back to his hometown after graduation, the only thing he wanted to do was help his uncle with new and more updated business ideas. Unfortunately, within the first year of returning home, Juan was diagnosed with stage four stomach cancer and died soon after. Being the last in the bloodline of the Alvarez family, who better to take his spot than Alejandro himself.
Sitting on his veranda overlooking the gorgeous countryside at his massive estate that he now inherited, he received a phone call from one of his sicarios. Putting the newspaper down on the glass table, he took one more sip of coffee and answered the call.
“Buenos Días, Pablo, cómo estás?”
“Bien, jefe. We might have a bit of a problem.”
Sighing, he said, “Well, what is it?”
“You remember our informant, la rubia?”
“Sí, I’m imagining you have some information for me otherwise you wouldn’t be making this call, am I correct?” Alejandro asked, who wanted more than anything to just get back to enjoying the sun’s rays.
“She said they have a team leaving to our location as we speak.”
With this new information, Alejandro stood up, stretched, and leaned over his balcony, eying one of his lovely girlfriends who was sunbathing by the pool below. The cartel drug lord took another sip of his coffee and responded, “How far are they out?”
“She didn’t say, jefe, just that there was going to be a team leaving to our location. My only question is, how did they find out where we are?”
Rubbing his eyes at the ignorance, he said, “The technique is quite simple. Law enforcement agencies track vehicles all the time. They use their traffic cameras to jump from one camera to the next when the license plate they’re looking for crosses in front of another camera. This allows them to accurately locate any vehicle in they need so long as it passes by one of the cameras. I told you idiots to get rid of the stolen car, pendejo!”
“Sorry, jefe. So what do you want to do?”
There was a long pause before Alejandro continued speaking.
“Stick with the original plan, and no more fuck-ups,” Alejandro said and ended the call. Shutting his eyes and running his fingers through his slicked-back hair, he squeezed the phone so hard he was certain it would snap. But then he relaxed. Panic attacks ran in his family, and he had learned over the years, with a few expensive therapy sessions, that a couple of deep breaths usually did the trick.
CHAPTER 6
The three Old Fashioned’s kept Jack occupied on the Gulfstream G550 into Opa Locka Executive Airport in Florida, allowing a small buzz to creep into his system. Looking at his watch, he knew the team would be landing in Phoenix within the next couple of hours. Upon landing, a small sedan was waiting for him inside of the hangar. After getting situated in the car, he reached underneath the passenger seat and stopped when he felt a small plastic case. Keeping him company on the drive North was a Glock 19 with an Omega 9k silencer. He could never be too careful in this business.
Cruising up the One, Jack overlooked some of the clearest water he had ever had the pleasure of swimming in. He reminisced on simpler times with his wife who had lost her battle with breast cancer five years prior, and wished that this was a vacation pitstop instead of business. Thinking of ways to convince his former partner to work with him again wouldn’t be too hard—at least he thought. Reaching over to the volume knob and twisting it to the left, the sounds of Yanni disappeared from his ears. The only sound now was the rumbling of the tires over the highway. Dialing Max’s phone for the third time, he was hopeful Max would answer, but it went to voicemail, again. He found the courage to leave a voicemail, giving Max a time and place to meet.
After checking in and cleaning up, Jack headed downstairs, out the front door, and straight over to the bars and restaurants that lined the strip where his hotel was sitting. This would be a very short trip so coming up with a plan of attack as to how he would pitch the idea was of the utmost importance.
Jack walked into one of the bars ignited with tiki torches giving off an island feel. Deciding to take a seat with a view admiring the ocean instead of the television at the bar, he took a deep breath and basked at the beautiful horizon as the last of the sun’s rays beat down on the ocean.
Finishing his meal and not seeing Max yet, he decided to order a drink. Five minutes later, as the waitress walked over to his table to bring his Mojito, his work phone rang. Waiting for the waitress to walk away first, he answered the call. It was Pete.
“What do you have?” Jack asked, leaning back in his chair.
“I take it Janet didn’t update you?”
“What do you mean?”
“We tracked the vehicle to a house in Nogales, no dice. The SUV was still in the driveway when we cleared the house too.”
“Jesus,” Jack said.
“Sweeping the house, we found a tunnel in the pantry, and I know I don’t need to tell you where I think it probably leads. We also found fresh cigarette ashes on the counter, so we figured we were right behind them.”
“I’m glad you didn’t venture down into the tunnel. No telling what kind of traps you guys just avoided.”
“Agreed,” Pete said. There was a long pause and Jack knew there was something Pete wasn’t telling him.
