Steven slapped his hand to his holster and started to draw his gun out.
He yelled out for backup.
‘That won’t be necessary. I’m on your side,’ Zeb told him calmly.
Officers rushed inside and pointed weapons at his head.
‘Your officer raised a hand to my friend, didn’t he? My friend wouldn’t use force otherwise.’
Steven’s face turned red, but before he could speak, another man bustled in.
He was wearing a San Diego Police uniform.
‘Trey Mueller,’ he introduced himself. ‘Assistant Chief.’
He leaned forward and murmured in Steven’s ear.
‘Are you sure?’ Steven asked him.
‘Make your call. Find out for yourself.’
Steven left the room, leaving Mueller with Zeb. The other officers remained, their guns still pointing at the seated man.
‘I don’t think that’s necessary,’ Mueller told them.
The guns didn’t lower.
Steven returned. ‘He’s one of ours. No threat,’ he rapped out to his men. ‘Stand down.’
The officers left.
‘Matt?’ Steven stopped one of them.
‘Yeah?’
‘Get a few chairs, please.’
‘Just who are you, Mr. Carter?’
Steven was seated on the other side of the table. Along with him were Mueller and Forrester.
Forrester was big and florid, his jovial exterior not concealing sharp eyes.
‘Like I said, a security consultant. We’re tracking our kidnapped team members.’
‘Is that all you are?’
‘Do you know what your friend did? Bear? Is that what his name is?’ Steven began heatedly.
‘How would I know? I was handcuffed here. With you.’
‘Do we really need to go into all that?’ Mueller asked Steven pointedly, who flushed and subsided in his chair.
The assistant chief waved a hand in the air as if to clear it. ‘I got calls from people I never met in my life. From folks so high up in office that my head nearly toppled looking up their names.’ He smiled to take any bite out of his words. ‘That said, you and your people, you’re good folks. We’re supposed to help you. I have to ask,’ he said, a smile in his eyes, ‘Did you really need to shoot that gas station up?’
‘Just self-defense, sir. We didn’t hurt anyone.’
‘Except the Barrio Hoods.’ There was the faintest trace of satisfaction in Mueller’s voice. ‘There’s a mechanic shop. Pete. He’s come on TV to say he was glad to be of service. In bringing down the gang.’
He looked at Zeb questioningly.
‘He sold us some vehicles, sir.’
‘That tunnel. We didn’t know of it. Thank you.’
‘Got the same calls,’ Forrester added after a while when Zeb didn’t respond. ‘The ladies were here. They boarded a private flight to Turkey. A few of the ground staff saw them. They didn’t recognize them, not then. One of my men is giving……’ He searched for a name. ‘Broker, all the details.’
He smiled thinly. ‘It looks like Broker didn’t need our help.’
‘He has his ways.’ Zeb rose, and no one stopped him when he walked out. Even Steven had stopped glaring.
‘Ordered the Gulfstream,’ Chloe told him as soon as he joined them. They were in the VIP section, a few cops and airport security personnel hanging around further away.
‘You know whose aircraft that is?’ he asked, rubbing his wrists.
The cuffs had been tight, and of a make he hadn’t had much practice on. Luckily, they had given way before Steven had entered the room.
‘Working on it.’ Broker helped himself to a cookie on a nearby plate. ‘The serial numbers are fake.’
‘And that’s stopping you?’ Roger goaded him.
‘Nah, I’ll crack this. If you guys leave me alone.’
They left him alone, drifting away to give him space to work in.
‘Who laid out the hospitality?’ Zeb eyed the plate and a jar of coffee.
‘Forrester’s men. Returned our weapons too. Requested us not to use them in the building.’
‘Zeb?’ Chloe prompted when he pulled out his phone.
‘Yeah?’
‘They’re looking exhausted.’
‘I know.’ He knew who she was referring to.
He held a finger up and mouthed ‘Clare’ to her.
‘Barrio Hoods,’ their boss began abruptly. ‘The FBI has been wanting to nail Mesa for a long time. He was suspected of supplying weapons to domestic terrorists.’
‘Why didn’t they act on it sooner?’
‘Evidence, Zeb,’ she replied. ‘Not everyone has your methods.’
‘Ma’am, you’re saying—’
‘I’m saying there are many in law enforcement who are happy Mesa ended up in the morgue.
There were two men with them?’
‘Yes, ma’am. Their backs are to the cameras, but Broker’s working on it. Possibly Mesa’s men, accompanying them.’
‘Mesa didn’t say why?’
‘No, ma’am. I figure he didn’t know. In any case, he died before he could tell us anything.’
‘Zeb?’
‘Yes, ma’am?’
‘Why are you still talking to me? Why aren’t you in Turkey?’
‘Why did the Barrio Hoods attack them?’ the old man screamed.
It was nighttime in DC, and he was alone at home, only the watcher at the other end of the call to vent at.
‘I told you. These are low-level gangsters. You can’t control them. Carter’s men killed Mesa’s brother at the tunnel. Looks like he was out for revenge.’
‘Did Mesa say anything?’
‘No, sir. He died before he could. Our sources have confirmed that.’
‘What about Mesa’s men? The two who are with the packages.’
‘They’ll be dealt with.’
‘Where’s Carter now?’
The watcher glanced at his watch and stretched out in the Bombardier jet he was in. ‘Crossing the East Coast now. He’ll be over the Atlantic soon.’
‘And you?’
‘A half hour behind him.’
‘Your team’s with you?’
The watcher looked at the five hard-faced men sleeping in their seats.
‘Yes, sir.’
‘You need to give Carter a clue. He needs to go in the right direction.’
‘Yes, sir.’