Jones considered their logic. Although he viewed it as a long shot, he liked the fact that Payne and Maria had agreed on something. In his mind, that was almost as important as finding a clue. ‘That’s fine with me. If you want to take a road trip, I’m willing to come along. Of course, we still need to pick a direction.’
She held up the map of the region. ‘I found this wedged next to the driver’s seat. Three Mayan sites are circled on it. If we’re lucky, maybe Hamilton visited them. If we’re really lucky, maybe he talked to some of the experts at the sites.’
Payne shrugged. ‘Couldn’t hurt to look — unless we’re talking about a ten-hour drive. My ass can’t handle that.’
‘No,’ she assured them, ‘all of them are close. Less than a hundred miles away.’
‘Works for me. Where are we headed first?’
She tapped on the circle to the south. ‘We’re going to Tulum.’
33
Initially, Tiffany had some doubts about her assignment. She thought too much blood would have to be spilled to achieve their objective. Not that she minded violence. She actually enjoyed it in a way that few women did. It was one of the traits that made her special. Her girl-next-door looks and taste for blood made her perfect for undercover work. She could get to places most men couldn’t. And once she got there, she could finish the job on her own.
Still, she was smart enough to realize that targeting Hector Garcia, one of the most powerful criminals in Mexico, was a dangerous game. The only way to survive was to make sure that nothing, absolutely nothing, could be traced back to her. She certainly couldn’t be caught, but she also needed to make sure she wasn’t seen by anyone in his organization. To pull that off, she brought in a crew of her own. Handpicked from previous missions, each of them had a specialty. If they did their jobs and did them well, there was no doubt in her mind that they could accomplish the impossible: they could make her disappear in the middle of an open plaza.
Her crew had been in town for nearly a week. They had scouted the city, handled the kidnapping and guarded the children in a local safe house, while she took care of Hamilton in Cancún. She wasn’t used to dealing with so many issues at once, but she viewed this as a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity she couldn’t pass up. If everything went according to plan, she would make more money in one job than she could ever make in a lifetime of regular jobs.
It was why she was taking so many risks.
To prepare the plaza for the ransom drop, members of her crew walked the periphery of the Zócalo. Every time they came across a garbage can — more than thirty were distributed throughout the square — they tossed in a plastic bottle filled with a special concoction. Controlled by a remote detonator and designed for maximum coverage in an urban environment, the bottles would ignite on cue. One of her men, an ex-soldier in the US military who specialized in explosives, had suggested the devices based on the flatness of the terrain and the atmospheric conditions in the city. Due to its location in a highland valley, cold air sinks down from the mountains, trapping smoke and pollution near the surface. As long as the wind didn’t pick up in the next hour or so, the entire plaza would be overwhelmed by the blasts.
Obviously, this would be a huge advantage for Tiffany’s crew. With the push of a single button, they would be able to neutralize Hector’s entire army. It didn’t matter if he brought in snipers, or mercenaries, or hired the entire police force to lock down the area during the ransom drop. If they were in the plaza when the devices went off, they would be rendered useless.
In the past sixty hours, Hector had fallen apart. He couldn’t eat. He couldn’t sleep. He couldn’t focus on anything except his children. Overwhelmed by guilt and rage, he went through stretches of depression followed by bursts of anger. If he wasn’t brooding or cursing, he was breaking mirrors and lamps while threatening to kill anyone who tried to stop him.
It got so bad that Angel, his second-in-command, ordered everyone from the house. That included Hector’s wife, Sofia. Fearing for her safety, she gladly left the scene for a few days of pampering at a local resort. Married for two years, she wanted to be there for Hector in his time of crisis, but not if it meant putting herself at risk. There was only so much she was willing to do for a life of luxury. As it was, she didn’t have a biological connection with the kids, so Angel thought it best if she disappeared for a while.
Neither Hector nor Sofia argued with the decision.
The kidnappers had been playing games with Hector for two and a half days. They had changed their demands more than once. At first, they had requested the medallion. Then it was the medallion plus a million dollars. Then it was the medallion and five million dollars. He figured that number would continue to climb higher and higher. After all, his organization raked in several million dollars a month. Anyone with the courage to abduct his children would have the guts to ask for more than five million dollars. Taking no chances, Hector and Angel pulled twenty million US dollars from their vaults and had it waiting at the mansion.
To some, this would seem a staggering amount.
To them, it was a few months’ revenue.
In the kidnapping and drug game, large pallets of cash were exchanged so often that the latest generation of criminal had started to refer to money in terms of weight rather than value. In the United States and Mexico, American hundred-dollar bills were the denomination of choice. Hector knew that 10,000 hundred-dollar bills equalled a million dollars. He also knew that a million dollars weighed nearly 22 lbs. Five million dollars weighed nearly 110 lbs. With that much money, it was far easier to weigh it than to count it, so modern-day criminals might request 110 lbs of cash to complete a deal. Just to be safe, Hector had nearly 440 lbs of cash on hand.
All of it in hundred-dollar bills.
One hundred bills per stack, wrapped in paper bands.
One hundred stacks per million, sealed in clear plastic.
Twenty sealed million-dollar blocks, ready to be delivered.
All he needed was a time, a place and an amount.
Hector’s private line rang shortly after his wife had left the mansion. Thinking it was Sofia, he was ready to curse her for tying up his phone when he noticed the caller ID. The screen said, ‘Daniela Garcia (mobile)’. The call had been placed from his daughter’s phone. He used the speakerphone to answer so Angel could listen in.
‘Hello?’ Hector said.
‘Papá!’ Daniela cried in Spanish.
‘Baby, is that you? Are you all right?’
‘Papá! Please get me!’
‘I’m trying, baby. I’m trying.’
Her mobile quickly changed hands. Suddenly her brother Antonio was on the line. It was the first time he’d been allowed to speak to Hector since the abduction.
‘Father!’ he wailed in Spanish. ‘Please pay them. Please!’
‘Antonio! My son! You’re alive!’
‘Yes, father. But please—’
Hector heard a slight struggle on the other end of the line. Then silence.
The next voice he heard was the kidnapper’s. It was digitally altered, as it had been in all the previous calls. Only this time he got straight to the point.
‘Both kids are alive. That’s your proof-of-life. There won’t be another until we make the exchange. I want the medallion and ten million dollars in cash. Do you have the money?’
‘Yes.’
‘You have thirty minutes to get to the site. For every minute you’re late, I cut off an appendage. Might be a finger, might be an ear. If you love your kids, you won’t be late.’