CHAPTER 16

As Miles lay in bed, the reality he would once again face off against Jonathan Reese kept him awake. So many, including himself, had fallen victim to Reese’s brutality that he felt immense pressure to end this man’s ability to hurt others once and for all. Slowly, his anger and anxiety turned to resolve. Hopefully, his assignment in Guadalajara would be completed quickly so he could begin the pursuit.

He got up out of bed early the next morning and went to the basement to fetch his sidearm and a box of ammunition. Thankfully, Agent Drummond had made arrangements for him to travel to Mexico with it in his carry-on. She approved the request on the condition that he promise to only use it in self-defense. He agreed, but deep down he hoped he would have the chance to use it to exact revenge on Jonathan Reese, whose loan-sharking scheme had taken so much from his victims, like Olivia Sims. Miles couldn’t help but think back to that final encounter in Reese’s penthouse apartment where he would have been another of Reese’s victims had the FBI not arrived just in time. The fact that Reese avoided capture that day gnawed at Miles ever since, and recalling it made for a night of fitful tossing and turning.

Carl promptly showed up at nine carrying a suit bag containing two suits. Miles made his way to the door, still bleary-eyed from his mostly sleepless night.

“I won’t be wearing either of these anytime soon, so just hold on to both of them until we see each other again.” Carl handed Miles the bag.

“So very nice of you, Carl. I’ll take good care of them,” Miles said.

“I’m sure you will. Hope your Mexico trip is successful. I’m due in court in an hour, so I’ve got to go.” Carl waved and walked to his car.

“Thanks again, Carl,” Miles called after him.

After hanging the suit bag in his closet, Miles washed down a third cup of coffee, grabbed his car keys, and went to meet Anne at the office so they could tie up any loose ends before he left for Mexico.

“I turned down two more cases this morning,” Anne announced, somewhat annoyed, as she walked through the door to his office.

“Good morning to you too,” Miles teased.

“Sorry. Hi, Miles. How are you today? I turned down two more cases this morning,” she responded in a cheerful but sarcastic voice.

“Much better. I’m fine, thanks,” he said, approving the revised greeting. “Unfortunately, you will likely be doing quite a bit of turning down while I’m gone. That said, I expect to only be gone for a couple of weeks, so if they can wait, you can certainly sign ’em up.”

“Not likely. Everyone who calls seems to have a case as urgent as a fire alarm. Do you have anything else you need handled while you’re gone?” Anne asked, steno pad in hand.

“Just please check in with George Willis from time to time to see how Molly’s doing and if he or Cora needs anything. Also, please send Carl Rafferty a no-charge invoice for the Richardson case. I’m trading my work on that one for use of a couple of his suits.”

“I don’t understand.” The tilt of her head along with a squint showed her confusion.

“I need to look like a successful businessman when I go to Guadalajara and nothing in my wardrobe will convey that, so I asked Carl if I could borrow a couple of things for the trip. Simple as that.”

Rather than delve any deeper, Anne merely shrugged and retreated to her desk in the outer office.

Miles finished off the few remaining items of his office work around twelve thirty and, after a brief stop to pick up a sandwich, returned home to pack. Ryan was busy with the research for his essay when Miles arrived back at the house. They both agreed to finish packing before going to George and Cora’s for dinner. They also decided to take Molly along and have her stay there so in the morning they could leave without making an additional stop.

When they arrived at George and Cora’s, they were elated to discover Olivia would be joining them at dinner. She was on break from art school in Milwaukee and had come home to pick up a few warm weather clothing items before leaving for Florida with a couple of her fellow students. Given Olivia’s and her family’s suffering at the hands of Reese, Miles so wanted to tell them all about his assignment, but he had promised the FBI and himself that he would not. No sense passing along any of his anxiety or creating any unreasonable expectations.

“How are you getting to O’Hare tomorrow?” George asked.

“Just planning to leave the car at one of the long-term lots on Mannheim Road,” Miles explained.

“Let me take you. No sense paying for a couple weeks’ parking when I can drive you both ways,” offered George.

“Very kind of you, George, but that’s not necessary,” Miles replied.

“Yes, it is!” Cora demanded. “He needs to get the heck out of here for a few hours. Since the new boat still hasn’t arrived he’s been constantly underfoot and driving me crazy.”

Everyone at the table laughed wholeheartedly. Molly chimed in with a big bark. It was settled. George would pick them up at seven thirty.

After dinner, Miles and Ryan said goodbye to Cora and Olivia, and then each gave Molly some love as they walked out the door.

Once they were in the car, Miles shared a private conversation between him and Olivia. “Olivia pulled me aside to thank me again for all we did during her unfortunate near-death experience at the hands of Reese and his cronies. She went on to say she’d been in counseling and that her head was now in a much better space.”

Ryan smiled, punctuated with a sigh of relief. “That’s really wonderful.”

Once they arrived back at Miles’s house, they each retreated to their rooms to finish some last-minute packing and get some sleep. Even though Miles hadn’t slept much the night before, sleep did not come easily tonight either.

When George arrived on Sunday morning, the guys were ready to go. Once they loaded the luggage and were ready to depart, George handed each of them a paper bag.

“Cora didn’t want you to be subjected to airplane food, so she packed lunches for you,” he said proudly.

“You married well, George,” Ryan declared.

“Thanks to you, Miles,” George acknowledged.

“All I did was introduce you two, and then got you a bullet to the chest for dessert,” Miles pointed out.

“Protecting her from those thugs was worth the pain,” said George. “Have you heard anything about that asshole Reese?”

“Nothing to report, I’m afraid.” Miles’s response was the truth in the sense that he wasn’t allowed to report anything.

Ryan’s relationship issues had been thoroughly covered at dinner the previous night, so for the balance of the ride, they talked about the new boat George had ordered and other lighthearted topics.

George pulled up directly in front of the Aero Mexico sign at O’Hare’s Terminal 5. After exchanging handshakes and thank-yous, Miles and Ryan grabbed their bags and went inside to check in. As expected, the terminal was teaming with passengers. Thankfully, the line at the Aero Mexico ticket counter was short. After Ryan had checked in, Miles stepped up to the counter and handed the ticket agent his travel documents. After she checked his passport, handed him his boarding pass, and tagged his luggage she called her supervisor over.

“Mr. Darien, I’ll be escorting you through security. Mr. Duffy, please proceed to your gate through the security checkpoint around the corner to your left,” the supervisor said.

Miles was not surprised. He had expected some sort of special procedure given his FBI weapon authorization. Rather than go through the standard metal detectors, he and the supervisor proceeded to the TSA office. After his documentation was approved and his carry-on was thoroughly examined, an agent escorted him directly to his gate through the bustling throngs of travelers. Ryan saw them pass while he was seated at a coffee stand near the Aero Mexico gates. He would give Miles a couple of minutes to get situated at his gate before joining him. Since Ryan’s flight was to depart about an hour after Miles’s, they could keep each other company until Miles needed to board.

“Well, buddy boy. Another in our long line of adventures,” Miles said once Ryan arrived at the gate.

“Much more than just a simple adventure. This time it’s a mission,” Ryan reminded him.

Their conversation shifted focus specifically to their pursuit of Jonathan Reese. Ryan reassured Miles he had properly secured his copies of the information that the FBI had supplied and would devote the lion’s share of his time in Puerto Vallarta looking for evidence of Reese’s activities. There was no question his essay for the Times would be his secondary assignment. They reaffirmed their decision not to engage with the local authorities unless absolutely necessary. As for the FBI, Miles had arranged with Agent Drummond for him to send her any updates either by a secure phone app she had supplied or via encrypted email. Ryan was to verbally relay any information he had to Miles, who would then send it on to her.

“See you in Puerto Vallarta soon,” Miles said as he got in line to board.

“Sí, señor,” Ryan replied as he turned and started down the concourse to his gate.