And they were animals.
Over sixty thousand people had been killed since 2006 in relation to drug-trafficking organizations. Not all of them could be attributed to the Black Tosca’s network, but she was a big part of the problem. The Justice Department had estimated that the sale of heroin, marijuana, and cocaine added over $3 billion annually into the Black Tosca’s coffers. Illegal drugs, though, were only one of the products her cartel offered. Her revenue streams had become increasingly diversified over the past couple years and now included human trafficking and the shipment of illegal immigrants and sex workers. She had ordered the construction of an extensive network of skillfully constructed tunnels under the United States–Mexico border. Some experts Hunt knew thought she was getting ready to sell her services to terrorists. They would pay her dearly for the right to use her network to transport weapons and sleeper cells into the United States. And that scared the shit out of Hunt.
There wasn’t much traffic this time of night, and Hunt could see the headlights of oncoming cars from afar. That went for anyone trying to follow them too. Cole Egan’s face resurfaced in his mind. Was it purely a coincidence that Egan was a couple blocks away from Pomar’s condominium? He hadn’t seen the man for years, and now, on this night, here he was. Hunt’s gut told him that Egan’s sudden reappearance wasn’t a fluke. It was more than that. It meant trouble. The only link connecting Egan to this whole mess was McMaster. Was his new boss dirty? The thought had crossed his mind earlier, but he took advantage of the quiet drive to give it more consideration. McMaster was the one who had introduced him to Chief Inspector Zorita, the man who had tried to kill Vicente Garcia.
Good Christ!
Why hadn’t he seen this before? McMaster was on the Black Tosca’s payroll, and he had hired Egan to do his dirty work. With Cole Egan in the picture, the operation had just gotten a whole lot more dangerous. Had McMaster issued the warrant too? Had he lied to Hunt that the FBI was behind it? Warning Hunt about the warrant might have been a ruse to lure him in or to guarantee his trust. Did this mean that the only people he could trust were Anna and Tony Garcia? The very same people he had once betrayed? How screwed up was that? But that wasn’t entirely true, was it? He wasn’t alone. He could trust Simon Carter and the rest of his former teammates. Of that he was sure.
“We’re one mile out,” he said, looking at Anna. At her request, he had moved into the driver’s seat the moment they were out of Miami.
Anna hadn’t been the same since they had left Pomar’s condominium. He could tell something bothered her, but she had yet to share it with him. What was he going to do with her? She had spent the past five minutes typing furiously on her laptop. A video started playing.
“What are you watching?”
“Did you know the house we’re about to hit was for sale three years ago?”
“Why would I know that?”
“They were asking eleven million dollars for it.”
“Not the type of listing I usually look at. A bit outside of my budget.”
“The real estate broker who listed the house uploaded a superb video.”
That sparked Hunt’s interest. “It’s still up?”
“It is. We’re a quarter mile away. It will be on your right.”
Hunt let up on the gas pedal a couple hundred feet away from the house and let the Jeep coast by. The Black Tosca’s Hallandale Beach safe house was a huge estate. It wasn’t part of a gated community, and it didn’t need to be. It was located directly on the A1A next to similar estates. High brick walls surrounded it on three sides. The only access from the road was through a fifteen-foot iron fence secured by an electronic latch. A tank could bust through it, but not a Grand Cherokee.
“Looks like a fortress,” Anna said.
“Yeah.”
“How are we gonna go in?”
“The beach is an option,” Hunt replied.
“But they’ll be expecting that, won’t they?”
“Not only that, but they probably have motion detectors all around the back of the house, and every door and window will be wired.”
“So?”
“I’ll be fine,” Hunt said, making a right at the next intersection. “I’ll park the SUV and watch the video you found. That should give me a better idea about what to expect inside the house. Don’t worry. I’ll find a way. Trust me.”
“I don’t think you meant that.”
“What?”
“Trusting you.”
“I simply meant I know what I’m doing, Anna. Nothing else.”
“I’ll ask Tony to send some men to help out. And just so you know, I’m not staying in the car.”
Hunt thought better than to pick another fight with her. Two miles past the safe house, he made a right turn into an almost empty parking lot. He took a space between two vehicles next to a Taco Bell.
“We need new transportation. There aren’t many SRTs on the streets, and the police probably have a BOLO out on it. A BOLO is—”