CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

Tuesday, November 16

12:07 a.m.

Chacho, TX

Edward Dean was strapped to a straight desk chair placed in the center of the room. Gaspar lounged on the bed as if he’d never been more relaxed. Neagley stood in the corner, back to the wall, watching Dean. Morrie leaned against the door as if he were body-blocking it to prevent entry.

Kim paced as she talked, like a caged tiger. She felt like one, too. She’d opened up the laptop and displayed the satellite images of Black Star Ranch. The Boss had sent two encrypted videos showing workers and residents going about their business. Kim didn’t share those. She wasn’t sure how much cooperation they could expect from Dean.

Everything about Black Star was under intense scrutiny. As soon as the ATF and FBI and Homeland Security had collected enough evidence to nail them, the Las Olas Black Star farm would be shut down. The plan was to close the arrests in six months.

Until then, the operation was as undercover as it was possible to be when several hundred people already knew about it and some of those people were politicians.

She looked straight at Dean and pulled out a syringe filled with yellowish liquid. She held it up to the light, pulled off the protective plastic cap, pushed the plunger to prime the needle and release any potential bubbles.

“This is our most sophisticated truth serum. Way better than anything we’ve ever used before,” she said. “Three minutes after this hits the bloodstream, people feel euphoric and extremely talkative. They know what they’re saying. They feel like we’re their best friends in the world. They tell us everything we want to know. Not that they want to reveal all secrets. But they simply aren’t able to lie.”

She recapped the needle and laid the syringe on the desk.

Dean’s face had reflected snarling contempt and now showed something like alarm. He was prepared to resist questioning. He was defiant. But chemical interrogation was another matter entirely. Resistance was futile and he knew it. He also knew he was a dead man the second Las Olas learned he’d been compromised. He sneered, but he was appropriately sweaty.

Kim continued, “Agent Gaspar and I are going to get coffee for everyone. You like yours black, right? We’ll leave our colleagues here with you.”

He glanced at Neagley and his smirk lost a bit of its edge.

Kim said, “When we come back, we’re going to ask you about the hostages. And you’ll tell us where they are and how to collect them. After we’re done here, a half-dozen FBI agents will arrive to question you and record your answers. You’ll confess to everything you’ve done. You’ll identify all of your Las Olas pals. You’ll help us bring them down. If you’re lucky, you’ll be tried and convicted and since this is Texas, you’ll be put to death pretty quickly. If you’re not lucky, your Las Olas friends will reach you before trial.”

She stopped pacing and stood directly in front of him, eyes steady on his face until he blinked and looked down. She put her index finger under his chin and lifted his gaze back to hers. “Be back in a few. Looking forward to it.”

Gaspar got up off the bed and followed her out into the hallway. When the door snugged closed behind them, he said, “Where are we going to get good coffee at this hour?”

“You know what La Quinta means?” she asked.

“The Fifth,” Gaspar replied, puzzled. “You think he’s going to refuse to answer? Try to stonewall until it’s too late?”

She smiled and said, “It’s a joke. LaQuinta. The hotel chain. I saw one two doors down. La Quinta means next to Denny’s.”

“Denny’s. Right.”

They walked toward the lighted sign three blocks away. The sidewalk was in good shape. No cracks or lifted sections. No grass or landscaping on the dry shoulder, but that was okay. Kim felt good to be outside in the breeze. She’d been cooped up too long. Too much tension. Too many antacids.

Gaspar asked, “So you asked the Boss for a raid on Black Star and he sent you the syringe?”

She stuffed her hands in her pockets and slowed the pace a bit. Neagley needed time to give Dean the injection and let it get to work.

“The Boss said they aren’t ready for the raid yet. There are too many lives at stake if they don’t get enough evidence to shut down Black Star and make a serious dent in Las Olas when they go in for the raid.”

“You knew that was the situation before you asked for help.”

“True. But negotiations have to start somewhere,” she said.

“He made the right decision,” Gaspar said. “Simple math. Seven lives are at stake here, but thousands more are impacted by Las Olas’ money laundering and drug and kidnapping-for-ransom businesses.”

“Agreed. But we can’t go in there alone, either. That place is fortified like a bunker.”

Gaspar shrugged. “We can’t expose the undercover work, but local law enforcement is available. We are back in Texas, after all.” He stopped walking at the second intersection to wait for a green light.

“True.”

“We escaped Valle Alto, and we were outgunned there, too,” Gaspar pointed out.

“We had limited options in Valle Alto and we got lucky,” Kim said, tersely. “It was dark. Las Olas was distracted. We were all conscious and able to run.”

The light changed. Kim stepped off the curb and over a dead raccoon in the middle of the street and continued to the other side. Denny’s was next to LaQuinta half a block ahead.

She said, “Berenson is focused like a laser. She hasn’t heard from Dean. That’ll make her more cautious. The hostages are deeply anesthetized. It’s too risky to wake them up without medical supervision and we can’t possibly carry them all.”

At Denny’s they took a seat and waited for the waitress. Gaspar gazed longingly at food on the plates of four nearby patrons, but there wasn’t time to eat right now. They’d come back after they learned whatever Dean could tell them.

Kim checked the time. Even though they had Dean in custody, she fostered no illusions that Berenson or another Las Olas member wouldn’t shoot a second hostage if they missed their deadline by half a second.

“What’s your plan?” Gaspar asked.

“Black Star pretends to be a legitimate business. So I figure we should treat them as if they are what they claim to be.”

“Meaning what?”

“We get Dean to tell us exactly where the hostages are located on the ranch. We call four civilian ambulances to go in there and pull them out,” she explained.

He thought it through, nodding. “Are there four ambulances in this town?”

“No. There’s two here and two in a town about ten miles away. We’ll have to stagger the calls so they arrive at the same time.”

The waitress came and took Gaspar’s order for nine coffees to go and left.

“Nine?” Kim asked.

“Two each, and one for the throw-away,” he said. “Where will the ambulances take the hostages?”

“There’s a military hospital thirty minutes away. They’ll be guarded there. When they wake up and we’re sure they’re okay, the Boss will get them home again.”

“What about Berenson?”

“We’ll have to find her, take her out at the same time.”

He raised his eyebrow. “Without a SWAT team?”

Kim wagged her head back and forth. “Dean will help us isolate her. After that, I’m guessing Neagley will take care of Berenson. No way to stop her, even if anyone wanted to try.”

The waitress returned with the to-go cups stacked inside two large takeaway bags. Kim paid cash for the order and took one bag. Gaspar took the other. She glanced at her Seiko. They’d been gone fifteen minutes. Plenty of time.

On the walk back, Kim stepped over the dead raccoon again.

“Nocturnal animals end up as road kill because they think they’re safe when they’re not,” Gaspar said. “What if your plan doesn’t work? What’s plan B?”

“It has to work. It’s the only option we have,” she replied. “One choice, right choice, Chico.”