They found Orlando standing in the doorway to Hector’s office.
“No one unusual,” she said.
“Not even the police?”
“Nope.”
Hector accompanied them back outside.
“Gracias,” Quinn said as he shook the man’s hand. “Muchas gracias.”
Back on the road, they followed the route Burke had told them Nate had taken, stopping briefly near the point they guessed Nate had done his lights-off-turn-around maneuver, but instead of going back toward Monterrey, they continued on to where the cops had been waiting. There they stopped and climbed out. Dozens of tire tracks covered the ground, some less eroded than others, but they could have belonged to anyone. Down the canyon, they found the hole Nate had dug in the ground, untouched and waiting for its body.
Back on the highway, they drove toward Monterrey, looking for where Nate had dumped his van. Burke had said they’d driven behind a row of buildings near a gas station. It wasn’t the most exact description ever, but when Quinn spotted the Pemex sign, he had a feeling it was the one Burke meant. He turned down the road between the station and a row of shops that faced the highway, and again down the road behind the buildings.
Two thirds of the way down, he knew for sure they had found the right place. Though Nate’s van was no longer there, there were scorch marks and soot on the cinderblock wall. Not a lot, but enough to indicate a fire that was started but not allowed to reach its full potential.
“And from here, he ran,” Orlando said as they stood in front of the wall.
“Apparently not far enough,” Quinn said.
He stared at the black marks, his frustration returning. He glanced at his watch. “All right. We’ve seen it all. It’s time to talk to the cop.”
CHAPTER 27
When Liz saw her brother and Orlando waiting at the departure gate at LAX for the flight to Monterrey, she had not been surprised in the slightest. Though they hadn’t mentioned on the recordings she’d listened to what airline they would be taking, Orlando had mentioned the time of their flight. Liz would have preferred to take another flight, but she knew her only chance was if she arrived before or at the same time they did. Before wasn’t an option.
She noticed a man standing with them, and realized he had to be the third voice she’d heard. There was no mistaking Daeng. He looked just like the picture Nate had shown her once.
Hanging back, she waited until boarding was all but completed, then presented her ticket and walked onto the plane as the last passenger. Her hope was that if she got on board right before the doors closed, even if her brother did see her, it would be too late to leave her behind without causing a scene-something she was sure he would not want to do.
But she needn’t have worried. He didn’t see her. Upon entering the aircraft, she had turned right and headed to her seat two rows from the back, not seeing either her brother, Orlando, or Daeng anywhere in the economy section. Apparently, they had booked themselves business-class seats, and instead of going right had gone left when they entered.
At passport control in Monterrey, she’d pressed her luck and followed as closely as she could, afraid that if she gave them too much room, she’d lose them. She positioned herself so that she would be helped by a different passport officer a few stations down, and was fortunate enough to actually finish before them. She walked quickly through Customs and lost herself in the crowd on the other side, keeping an eye on the exit.
When the three others emerged, they paused for a moment to talk before heading through the terminal to one of the booths along the wall. Though her Spanish wasn’t perfect, the sign above the booth clearly indicated it was a car rental agency.
She tensed, knowing that if she tried to rent a car herself, she’d never be able to keep up with them. Her only option would be to grab a taxi.
Once Jake and the others finished up, one of the clerks led them over to the door and outside. Liz took the exit fifty feet away, and watched as they climbed into a van with the name of the agency on the side.
She looked around until she spotted the line of taxis. She sprinted over to the one in front and jumped in.
“?A donde? ” the driver asked.
“That van,” she said in English, pointing out the window. “Follow it.”
CHAPTER 28
“Up!” The shout came from down the hall. “Up, up, up!”
Every word was emphasized by a loud bang of something knocking against the wall.
Nate opened his eyes, suddenly alert. The lights in the hallway had come on, and seeped through his door vent, creating a rectangle of illumination on his floor.
“Up! Everyone. Wake now!”
As Nate pushed himself to his feet, the overhead bulb came on. He blinked several times, shuffled over to the toilet, and relieved himself. As he was zipping up his pants, the door behind him opened.
Janus took a step into the room, with one of the fatigues-clad soldiers following.
“I said up. I not say play with self,” Janus said.
A thousand comebacks played through Nate’s head, but he kept his mouth shut.
“Put this on.”
Janus tossed something at him. As Nate caught it, he realized it was a black bag similar to the one put over his head when he’d been captured.
“Put it on,” Janus repeated.
As much as Nate wanted to just throw it right back, doing so would only result in him being used as a punching bag. He pulled it over his head.
“Tie string,” Janus said.
Nate started to tie off the cord that encircled the opening.
“Pull tighter first, so cannot take off your head.”
Nate decreased the size of the opening and then tied it off.
“Good. Now hands out front.”
Nate held his hands out. Instead of the plastic ties that had been used to this point, his hands were locked together in a much heavier set of cuffs that were wide, almost like wristbands.
“Bring him.” This time the words weren’t for Nate.
A hand he assumed belonged to the soldier grabbed his arm and yanked him into the hallway.
“No move.” A different voice, the soldier’s.
Nate stood in the middle of the hall and listened as Janus repeated the bag-and-cuffs routine from room to room. Soon, though he couldn’t see them, he knew his four fellow prisoners were standing in the corridor with him.
“Everyone. Turn to my voice,” Janus ordered.
As soon as Nate turned, the soldier grabbed him again and started pushing him forward.
It must have been an odd sight, the five black-bagged men walking down the stone hallway with at least one fatigue-wearing escort and probably more And Janus-can’t forget him, Nate thought-the big dumb blond man leading the way.
If Lanier was right, and he and the others had been pretty much left alone since they’d arrived, then this little exercise was something new. Of course, the bald guy-Harris-had intimated they were waiting for only one more person to arrive. That had happened the day before, meaning the period of just sitting around was apparently over.
They were moved through several doors, and the echo of the hallway disappeared. A breeze pushed the side of the bag against Nate’s cheek. They were outside. The courtyard again, Nate suspected, given the stone beneath his feet.
“Stop!”
The soldier clamped down on Nate’s arm, halting him.
“Put them in their places.” Harris’s voice.
The soldier turned Nate forty-five degrees, then pulled him backward until Nate’s heel bumped into a solid surface.
“Step up,” the soldier said.
Reluctantly, Nate raised his foot, sliding his heel against the surface until he passed above it. He moved his foot back, set it down, and pulled up his other foot.