“Never,” she said quietly, averting her eyes. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
“I would have spent whatever it took to get you back.” He picked up his fork and began to eat again. “You’ve embarrassed me, but for me to forgive you is the easiest thing I know how to do.” He paused for a drink of wine, setting down the glass. “By the way, I never got around to canceling our wedding, so… well, the plans are still set.”
“If I agree,” she said, “no more dealings with terrorists. I insist.”
“There is no need to insist. The surest way for me to end up dead at the hands of the CIA would be to resume with those affairs. I’ve already been to death’s door once. I have no intention of going back anytime soon.”
They ate in silence over the next couple of minutes.
“There’s something we’ve never spoken of.” He wiped his mouth. “During our time apart, I realized I would like for us to have a child. How do you feel about that?”
She swallowed, the notion slightly appealing. “I’ll consider it.”
During the limousine ride back to his house, he put his hand on her thigh and nuzzled her ear.
Though Lena realized she would never be truly in love with him, Sabastian had always treated her with affection, and she was a woman with needs like anyone else. She put her hand over his and rested her head against his. “Don’t cancel the reservations.”
He kissed her hand. “I’ve missed you.”
I’m sure you have, she thought to herself, heartbroken with the realization that her only chance for true happiness had crashed off a bridge in Hunan, China.
53
The neighborhood around Agent Mike Ortega’s house was mostly untouched by the earthquake, but the damage to the shopping plaza just a few blocks away had been considerable, and electrical power still hadn’t been restored to the area. Even cellular service remained spotty at best.
“You gotta be smooth,” Crosswhite warned Vaught, the two of them sitting in a car just across the street. “This woman won’t be a pushover. I’m sure Ortega’s told her how to keep an eye out for kidnappers.”
“I’ll be smooth enough.” Vaught got out of the car and shut the door, hating why he was there.
A few seconds later, he rang the bell to the Ortega house.
Nancy Ortega came out and stood inside the locked gate. She was tall, a Mexican American with short dark hair. “Can I help you?” she asked in Spanish.
Vaught offered his badge and identification to show he worked for the Diplomatic Security Service. “Mrs. Ortega,” he said in perfect English, “I’m agent Vaught with the DSS. I’m afraid there’s been an emergency involving your husband, Mike.”
She stepped forward and took his identification, examining it carefully. “What kind of emergency?”
“He’s been abducted. We’re not sure by who yet, but I and another agent are here to bring you to a safe location.”
She handed his credentials back to him and took her phone from her back pocket.
“Mrs. Ortega, before you do that—”
She looked up, her gaze fearful.
“It’s not likely you’ll get through to Mike, but if you do, keep in mind we don’t know who might answer his phone. The abduction hasn’t been made public, so you could jeopardize our chances of getting him back. Please take that into consideration.”
Nancy Ortega was in a quandary, holding a wrist to her forehead as she tried to decide the best course of action. “We’re not supposed to leave the house if there’s an emergency. We have security measures built in.”
“I’m aware of that,” he said easily. “But so are the police — and they’ll find a way in. Believe me.”
“The police?” She glanced around warily. “Are you saying he was taken by the police?”
“Nancy,” he said, deciding to make the conversation personal, “Mike was working with us to catch Alice Downly’s killer. We’ve discovered that corrupt police officials were involved — and, yes, that’s who we think took him, but we don’t know for sure. That’s why it’s imperative we get you and your children out of here as soon as possible.”
“But …” She glanced at her phone. There was no signal. “But we’re not supposed to leave if anything happens. We’re supposed to lock down the house, and …”
“And what?” he asked patiently.
“Wait for help from — from the government,” she said lamely.
“Nancy”—he pointed across the street to Crosswhite and then back to himself—“that’s who we are. I’m sorry we’re not the US Marines, but that kind of rescue would probably cause an international incident.”
She stood biting the inside of her cheek. “I can trust you?”
“Of course,” he said, feeling like shit. He and Crosswhite were taking on a huge responsibility using Ortega’s wife and children as pawns.
“Where will we go?”
“To a safe house in Toluca. It’s nothing fancy, but it’s out of the way. We’re working very closely with the police there.”
“And you trust them?”
“Ninety-nine percent.”
She allowed a thin smile. “I didn’t know any police in this country could be trusted to that degree of certainty.”
Vaught felt even more like shit. “We’ve been working with these men to fight the cartels. They’re very brave and very dedicated.”
“I need some time to get my children ready.”
“Ten minutes,” he said. “No more than that — please.”
“Okay.” She went inside.
Vaught went back over to the car. “She’s getting the kids ready.”
Crosswhite glanced at the rearview mirror. “So she bought it?”
“For now, but if she gets a signal on that phone, she’s gonna call Ortega. I saw it in her eyes.”
“Even after you told her it might get him killed?”
Vaught nodded. “She’s already breaking protocol by leaving with us, and she knows it.”
“Well, this way is better than going in there and taking them against their will.”
“Nothing happens to them,” Vaught said, pointing his finger. “You got that? Nothing!”
“Relax,” Crosswhite said. “They can stay with Paolina and Valencia. I’ll give Pao the same cover story you just gave Ortega’s old lady, and they’ll get along like peas in a pod. The kids can eat pizza and chase around after the puppy.”
“Shit!” Vaught hissed, having second thoughts. “After this, I’m a goddamn kidnapper; for the rest of my life I’m a goddamn kidnapper.”
“Hey, champ! Do you wanna let Serrano get away with having Downly and your whole fuckin’ team blown away? Get in the fuckin’ car, and let’s go.”
Vaught remembered seeing his men rocketed and shot apart before his eyes, and the anger of that day came back in a rush. True, the gringo sniper, the Ruvalcabas, and the crooked cops had all played their part — but the operation itself had been Serrano’s call.
“We’re gonna have to disable her phone,” he said quietly. “We’ve got cellular service in Toluca.”
“I’ll take care of her phone,” Crosswhite said. “Just get ’em in the car, so we can get back. The last thing we need is to run into a narcobloqueo after sundown.” A narcobloqueo was a common type of roadblock set up by narcotics traffickers to create civil panic and disrupt emergency services.
54
Mariana decided to meet with Clemson Fields in a public gymnasium, where a girls’ volleyball tournament was taking place on two separate courts. Lorena and Tanya, whom she had come to think of as “the twins,” were seated three rows behind her, wearing gaudy, sequin-studded LA ball caps pulled low over their eyes.