Chapter 7

Nightlife in Lima appeared much like nightlife in any large city. Lights that made it seem like perpetual dusk. People as thick as bees in a hive. Duncan watched out the closed passenger window as Jess Larsen's local contact drove them to the first casino on the list. He wanted to roll down his window, but assumed Lima was like any large city. Open windows in sketchy areas encouraged stoplight robberies.

"Gringos are targets for a smash and grab," Samuel said as he gunned the engine past a group of locals. "This is when men smash a window and rob us at gunpoint."

Yes, much like nightlife in any large city. Nothing good happens after midnight, especially if alcohol was involved. This was precisely why they were here.

"The two of you are dressed like you have a lot of money." His English was excellent, possibly a little too much so as he enunciated each syllable. "When you leave the car, you will also be a target for an express kidnapping."

"A what?" Andy asked from the backseat.

Samuel explained. "You are taken by force to an ATM and made to empty your bank account. Then, you are left there with no money or cell phone."

Express kidnapping. Duncan retracted any thoughts of matching nightlife with large cities anywhere.

Tiny lights scattered over the sides of the mountains that loomed behind the city. In the daylight, they provided a most picturesque backdrop to a colorful and breathtaking country. Now, they seemed like freckled giants who kept them prisoner.

"The casino is a block away. You may call me when you are ready for me to pick you up, or you may use one of the taxi companies Jess listed for you. Are you sure about this? You are ducks that are sitting."

He was sure. The cowboy hats and boots may be considered overkill. That was a good thing. They needed to stick out.

Samuel pulled to the side and double-parked, causing a number of cars to zip around them, holding their horns down as they passed. The more negative attention, the better.

"Good luck, Duncan and Andy."

"Thanks, man," Andy said.

Duncan handed him the tip he'd placed in his money belt. Samuel's eyes grew as he took it from him. "Thank you," Duncan said as he exited the vehicle.

As Samuel drove away, Duncan stood with his brother and scanned the rows of multicolored, flashing neon lights all around them. It was the first time doubt blew through him. Where could he possibly start? An image of a needle in a haystack appeared clearly in his mind.

Andy jabbed an elbow into his rib cage. Duncan glanced his way.

A boy about the age of nine stood in front of them and smiled as he stared. In the chilly winter Peru air, he wore a holey T-shirt and dirty pants. His expression was that of innocence and interest. It would be quite convincing if not for the hour of night and location the child chose to browse.

"Gotcha," Andy said as he grabbed the wrist of another that had come up from behind.

They were like ants. Four of them came out of nowhere. Andy craned the arm he'd grabbed and rotated it behind the boy's back. "Nice try, man. I gotta say I'm impressed."

Duncan doubted they understood Andy's English words, but his brother's expression and tone spoke volumes.

"Now, shoo," Andy barked and gave the boy a push.

The children ran east down the street, then scattered. Duncan imagined they would regroup and try another man or men within minutes.

"Come on," Andy said. "It probably won't be any better inside. At least they can't get these suckers off us," he said and wrapped his hand around his metal wire-money belt.

"Yes, but there is the express kidnapping thing. Please stay vigilant."

"I live for this shit."

Duncan wasn't sure what he was hoping for exactly. A poker game? Men in black pants and mock turtlenecks? "Let's try blackjack. It will give us a chance to first survey our surroundings."

"Okay, but can't you just say, 'case the joint?'"

"Never."

The looks from the other patrons were telling. He and Andy were not welcome. He ignored the glares and, without speaking, tossed a few Peruvian bills on the table. Andy did the same.

The dealer hesitated, then set chips in front of each of them. The man was twice Duncan's age with a full head of hair dyed black. He twisted the long ends of his mustache before picking up the cards. He, too, scanned the reactions of the men to the presence of the two gringos as he executed a complicated shuffling and fanning of the cards.

As the cards were dealt, a head appeared between Duncan and his brother. "You're not welcome here," the voice said in steeply accented English.

Duncan lifted the corner of his cards. Six of clubs and five of hearts. He motioned for the dealer to hit him with another. "We're not here for the gambling."

Another voice came from the other side of Andy. "Hit me. You gringos can find that at any corner. Out. Side." This man's English was flawless.

Two of clubs. He motioned a hold. "My tastes are more specific than what is found at corners."

Silence ensued before the cards were overturned. He and Andy lost and surrendered their chips. It went on like this for another half hour. The men around them spoke in a Spanish that differed from what was spoken at Nickie's childhood foster home. The men made a point to make it obvious that they spoke of him and Andy. Jeers, stares, pointing. Little did they know, this only helped Duncan with his cause.

A seven of hearts and a four of hearts. He estimated about eighty-five percent of the cards left in the remaining deck of six decks would be tens or face cards. He folded. A large win at the blackjack table would draw the wrong kind of attention.

Roulette, poker. He and Andy shifted through the entire establishment.

As well as the one across the street, down the street and around the corner.

* * *

It looked like a presidential motorcade. Lines of black SUVs staged at staggered off-site intervals. They made Nickie and Eddy take the one farthest from the park. Special Agent Hurst had given her the audio channels for each of the team leaders but not the GPS signals for the corresponding undercover johns. Jimbo only.

Relinquishing control was a bitch, but there was no denying the euphoria that raced through her body. Her knee bounced furiously. Girls would be saved. Girls that right at that moment either shook with fear or lay perfectly still in hopelessness. Some would be tying knots in their hair. Others, rocking back and forth or hugging their knees close to their chests.

By this time tomorrow, they would be free of it all.

Eddy dangled his wrist over the top of the SUV steering wheel. The windows were down as they waited in the first of their assigned four-car motorcade. The breeze helped to both cool her off and keep her mind from spinning in too many directions. Hurst had programmed the built-in screen to Slippery Jimbo's GPS tracer. It blinked at the pre-planned location within the park but didn't move.

He tapped his thumb against the wheel.

"What are you thinking?" Nickie asked.

Sniffing, he said, "I'm thinking this rig cost the feds forty grand stripped. There are twenty-four of them. That's almost a million dollars in cars for this one operation."

"Damn," she said in two syllables. She hadn't thought about it.

He craned his head to look at her. "I could do a lot with a million dollars."

She thought of his apartment, then of the home she and Duncan lived in. Or, lived in before Fu Haizi blew it up. Was the explosion her mother's idea, she wondered, but only for a moment.

Static from the audio attachment interrupted her train of thought. "Bogey at nine o'clock," the plainclothes agent assigned to their detail spoke into the bug.

Eddy grunted. "Did the dude just say, bogey?"

"Oy."

"Did you just say, oy?"

"Oy." She blinked and squinted at the screen. Did Jimbo's trace just move?

Speaking into her assigned channel, she alerted the rest of her team. "This is Savage. Be ready to go."

"Vehicle Three, affirmative."

"Vehicle Two, affirmative."

"Vehicle Four, affirmative."

"That's going to get old real fast," Eddy said, but she wasn't really listening to him.

She sat up straighter and scooted her butt so she could be closer to the screen.

Static. "Three men. Black pants. Black shirts. Black suit jackets. The five undercovers are standing behind the civilian." The civilian as in Jimbo. "One of the men in black is stepping to the civilian. It's like a posturing of the clan leaders in the Lord of the Rings."

Nickie ground her teeth together. Children's lives were at stake. She was in no mood for this. Her breath picked up. She checked the volume on the audio for the tenth time. All the way up.

Static. "And we have a launch."

She bent her nose closer to the screen. "Jimbo is on the move."

Eddy turned over the ignition.

"This keeping us in the dark to the rest of the plainclothes audios and undercover GPS trackers is bullshit."

"Hell, yes," Eddy said and shifted into drive.

She didn't realize she'd said that last part out loud.

The damn blink moved in slow motion. Her jaw ached from the pressure of her grinding teeth by the time Jimbo's trace moved fast enough to be in a car. Was he alone in the unmarked they gave him? With the other johns? In a car alone with the transports? Had he been made?

Static. "James is alone and headed north away from the park." She wanted to know about the others.

Eddy pulled out on the highway.

"Not too close."

"I know."

"Not too far."

"I know."

"This sucks."

"I'm—"

"Don't say you know."

"I was going to say I'm sorry. I know this sucks."

Buckling her seat belt, she inhaled, lifted her chin and rolled up her window.

It didn't take long before the oncoming traffic became scarce. "Two, Three and Four. Increase distance with us and each other."

"Vehicle Three, affirmative."

"Vehicle Four, affirmative."

"Vehicle Two, affirmative."

Eddy moaned. "Shoot me now."

Since she couldn't see a taillight, not even in the few straightaways, she kept her eyes glued to the screen. Her head shook. It's been too long. "Hurst, do you copy?" she said into her audio. No answer.

The blinking slowed and turned. Eddy backed off. The blinking stopped.

"Over near those bushes," she said and pointed off the shoulder. It was one of the few miles of road that wasn't lined with a white picket fence. Trees, bushes and shrubs almost completely concealed the entrance road that was more of a gravel driveway.

He did as she said, then turned off the engine. The search engine map said there was no back way for the perps to escape, but she found it hard to believe that they would be that stupid.

She spoke into the channel. "Two, Three and Four. Fifteen minutes. Check your watches. Numbers three and four, stage north a hundred yards from the next turn. I will text you the coordinates of our immediate rendezvous. Get your asses down here now."

"Vehicle Four, affirmative."

"Vehicle Three, affirmative."

Nickie's left eyelid twitched. She spoke into the police channel. "Hurst, do you copy?"

Nothing.

She rechecked the channel. "Hurst, we're going in fifteen."

Sighing, she blinked and shook her head. "Suit up," she said and pulled a dark cap around her head and face. "Let's do this, Lynx."

Before she could open her car door, he grabbed her hand. She looked at his fingers, and noticed he was fooling with the controls to his left.

"Don't open the door. I can't find the switch to turn off the inside lights in this damned vehicle."

She didn't have time for this and, focusing on her breathing, closed her eyes. He released her arm, and she opened her door to the humid night. The scent of fresh-cut grass filled her nose. The sound of the door clicking as she pressed it shut was quickly followed by Eddy's. With soft knees, they shuffled through noisy crickets and the brilliant starlight.

It was hot as hell. The long sleeves and pants weren't so bad, but the face mask was a bitch.

Three minutes in. While they waited for the rest of the team, she tried texting Hurst this time. "You there? Are the others safe? Are they in?" Were captive children saved?

She checked that her phone was on silent, turned the brightness down and stuffed it back in her pocket. The sound of soft feet came from in front of her.

"Vehicle Two approaching on foot, sir."

Because they might have driven through the bushes and trees?

Four minutes. More feet.

"Vehicle Three approaching on foot."

"Vehicle Four approaching on foot."

"Do you have the bullhorn?" she asked the vehicle three driver. The agent nodded as headlights came from the highway. The nine of them hit the grass and lay still. It slowed down and turned onto the road leading back to Jimbo. As it passed, she spoke into the microphone device attached to her vest. "Audio check. Number off if you can hear me in your earpiece.

"Group one takes the north, two the east, three south and four west. Stick to the plan, but be flexible. We have ten minutes. Let's go." She checked her phone one more time for a response from Hurst, and this time hoped he wasn't hurt.