Hatch took a moment to tuck the gun alongside the other one pancaked against the base of her spine. Walking with a gun was a surefire way to draw unwanted attention.
The two slipped out into the muggy night air filled with the biting acridness of the electrical fire now consuming Club de Fuego. They moved down to the far corner at the rear of the building. One of the vans had pulled up to the rear entrance. The other was still parked in the back corner of the lot, idling.
Hatch made sure her brim was pulled down as low as it would go. "Stay here. Don't move until I come back for you."
The young girl leaned against the painted black concrete wall. "Come back—please."
"Promise." Hatch patted the traumatized girl's hand before removing it from her shoulder.
She stepped around the corner, head down but moving purposefully to the passenger side of the van.
Unable to see through the tinted window, Hatch grabbed the handle with her right hand while simultaneously withdrawing the Glock. She slipped inside quickly and closed the door behind her.
The driver said something in Spanish before realizing the man he was speaking to wasn't a man at all. He never had a chance to unholster the gun strapped to his thigh. Hatch slammed the side of his head into the driver's side window with enough force to spider the glass. Had the thick tinted overlay not been affixed to the glass, it would've undoubtably shattered, drawing unwanted attention. Hatch delivered a follow-up blow with the metal slide across his exposed right temple, zapping the fight out of the man.
Hatch pulled him across the seat to her side. She then opened the passenger door and dropped him onto the ground. Hatch looked over in the direction of the awaiting teen. "Come! Now!"
Letty moved in a wobbly run, zig zagging her way, as Hatch climbed back in the passenger side and then pulled herself across to the driver's seat. She took a moment to look out toward the second van. It continued to idle in the back corner of the dirt lot, its driver unaware of his partner's fate.
She watched the driver roll up from the heap she left him in and scream something in Spanish as Hatch pulled away.
Club de Fuego burned bright, sending its gray smoke high into the dark as Hatch raced away. No Angela, and now with the addition of Letty, Hatch needed a helping hand. She hoped Miguel Ayala was still willing and able to offer his.
Eighteen
Eddie Munoz arrived with thirty police officers who responded to the Club de Fuego fire. Although he wore the uniform identifying him as a ranking lieutenant, he didn't respond in his official capacity. He wasn't even technically on duty. His shift ended hours ago and he had been at a strip club on the other side of town when he got the call.
The call hadn't surprised him. He was called to handle all sorts of things for the Fuentes Family. He was their top guy in Nogales, serving both as enforcer and overseer for the operations within his hometown. He considered himself worthy of being at the head of the table someday. He often daydreamed about receiving the nod to come forward as next in line. If nothing else, as head of security.
Until that time when his talent and dedication were properly recognized, Munoz would continue to use his power and influence as a lieutenant to gather evidence, cover something up, and occasionally…kill. Tonight, his task had been simple. Gather as much intelligence about the person responsible and report back.
Munoz walked up on a cluster of Fuego employees, easily identified by their shirts’ emblem. "Any of you have access to the surveillance system?"
A skinny man in his fifties put his hand in the air. "I'm the manager. But I can't access it remotely. I have to go inside to do that and the firemen already told us that nobody's allowed back in yet."
"Let me worry about what the firemen want. You see this? This highly polished brass bar trumps any of the firemen. Got that?"
The manager raised his hands defensively, "I'm just repeating what they told me."
"I know," Munoz gestured toward the smoldering building.
Munoz walked by firefighters working to control the blaze on the west side of the building, where the damage had been worst. Nobody had been killed or severely injured. Some suffered minor smoke inhalation.
A stocky fireman grabbed Munoz by the shoulder and spoke in the crackled voice of a chain smoker. "Can't go in until it's cleared."
Munoz looked down at the soot-covered hand touching the freshly pressed uniform and smudging the collar brass he always kept to a high gloss shine. He fought the urge to smash the back of his hand across the man's face. But all that was hidden behind Munoz' engaging smile. "Oh, thank you." Munoz simply brushed the fireman's hand away and proceeded in the direction he had just been forbidden to go.
A few minutes later, Munoz was standing behind the manager who was busy logging into the camera system. A men's room separated the office space from the rest of the club. The air stunk of the fire, but the manager's space had been untouched and ran on an alternate fuse box from the club. The fire had not corrupted the lines, and power had not been lost.
A raised monitor offered twelve greyscale perspectives of the club. Munoz received a quick tutorial on how to use the system, a simple mouse click function display on the monitor allowed for easy playback. And he began scrolling back in time to the starting point of the fire. Each monitor reversing in sync.
Munoz saw the flash on four of the cameras. He zoomed in. Two of the screens were too far away. Of the last two cameras, only one captured what Munoz was looking for.
He brought up the freeze-frame image to full size on the monitor. All twelve screens disappeared but one. Munoz stared at the face captured in the still shot. And he was shocked to recognize the person in it.