“I thought you were dead! God, I thought you were dead!” she whispered next to his ear between her sobs.
Sean felt the weight of the world fall on him as the wife whose husband was most definitely dead clung to him in relief.
“I’m not your husband, he is dead,” Sean said quietly but firmly, extracting himself from Katie’s hold.
Katie swung a fist at Sean. “Stop saying that! Why would you say that?! You are Sean Fox!” she cried, looking him deep in the eye.
A statement that Sean could not deny. He was Sean Fox but not her Sean Fox.
“I am Sean Fox,” he said and received a smile almost instantly from Katie. “But not your Sean Fox,” he added in explanation.
Katie looked at him with concern. “You must have hit your head. Head injuries can cause memory loss,” she offered, reassuringly stroking the side of his face.
Sean pulled back. Her intimate touch, after six months in the wilderness of Afghanistan, was very pleasant but also very wrong. He was not who she thought he was.
Sean led Katie through to the dining room which was untouched by the earlier violence and lacked any recent corpses. He sat her down in one of the chairs and pulled another out to allow him to face her.
“Please just hear me out,” he asked and received a nod of acceptance in response.
“My name is Sean Fox. I am 39 years old and have never been married. Up until 18 months ago, I worked for the government and only arrived back in the United States this morning after being in Afghanistan for six months.”
Katie had nodded in agreement to every statement but the last. “You were here three months ago,” she corrected. “That’s when you went missing and we thought you had been killed.”
Sean shook his head in frustration. “No I was in Afghanistan for six months and pretty much most of the year before that.”
Katie smiled. “It’s OK Sean I’ve seen TV shows about this, the confusion, the denial, the loss of time, it’s Post Traumatic Stress Disorder.” She worked her way forward in the chair and reached out to him again. “I understand and we’ll get through it together!”
Sean stood up in frustration. Katie pulled back but did not react. Obviously, the TV shows had prepared her for such outbursts. None of it was helping Sean get his point across.
“Katie, your name is Katie, right?”
Katie nodded her head and smiled.
“I don’t know what has happened but I am a different Sean Fox. I am not your husband and I need you to accept that. I will get to the bottom of whatever has happened but your son…”
Katie’s face changed. The euphoria of having her husband back was suddenly trumped by the reminder of her son being kidnapped and being in the hands of the Mexican gang that her husband had just killed two members of.
“…I need to know everything you know about the men that took him, ok?”
Katie explained that the two dead Mexicans were part of the same gang that had taken her son and that their only demand was to meet Sean’s contacts, whoever they were.
As she stopped speaking, she threw herself once again into his arms, the tears started to flow afresh. Sean debated pushing her off once again but he would have done the same for any mother in that situation. She needed comfort, not more heartache.
Neither knew what to say or what to do next. They just climbed into the car in silence and drove out of the estate. Had there been a flight available at that time of night, they would have caught it to anywhere it was going. As Alexa indicated for the motel they had been at earlier, Pyotr broke the silence. “Let’s head to San Antonio, I’d rather not stay in Laredo!”
Alexa did not need to be asked twice. She killed the indicator and stepped on the gas.
“We need to call in,” she said, knowing Pyotr was thinking the same.
“I know,” he said heavily. His mind was elsewhere. Depending on how they handled their call in, there was just a chance they might manage to get out of the hole they were in.
“If they order us back, what do we do?” asked Alexa.
Pyotr didn’t answer straight away, as he considered the question. After a minute or two, he smiled and grabbed his phone.
“Get me General Borodin!” barked Pyotr as the call was answered. Alexa looked on in panic, not having had the chance to debate how Pyotr would handle the call that held their lives in the balance.
After a few seconds, Borodin came on the line.
“Done?” asked Borodin.
“Slight problem.”
“What?!” boomed Borodin threateningly.
“Sean Fox isn’t dead!”
“What makes you think that?” asked Borodin, his voice heavy with suspicion.
“He answered the door,” replied Pyotr. Although not technically true, Sean had been the first to react to Alexa and by default had answered their entry to the house.
Silence reined as Borodin digested the information. Pyotr waited with bated breath as the future of his life hung in the balance. If he was ordered back, he was as good as dead. If he were put on hold and told to await further orders, he reckoned it was a fifty fifty. If they were stood down, he pretty much reckoned they were free and clear.
Seconds felt like minutes as he awaited his fate. A deep guttural cough announced Borodin was about to speak. Pyotr held his breath.
“I’ll call you back shortly!” said Borodin and hung up.
“Shit!” replied Pyotr to the empty line.
“What? What is it?!” clamored Alexa, desperate to know what was happening.
Chapter 19
Luis crushed the pre-paid cell and extracted another. He gave it ten minutes and tried the emergency cell phone again; it was switched off. Miguel was one of the oldest and most trusted members of Los Zetas. Not answering a call to the emergency cell phone was uncharacteristic but he could have been taking a piss, thought Luis. That was allowed but having it switched off was totally unacceptable and suggested something far more worrying.
He tried again after thirty seconds; it was still off. Miguel would not let it run out of charge; it was for emergency contact and had to be available at all times. Miguel knew that. Luis began to panic. If anything had happened to the woman, all hell would break loose. El Jefe would not rest with killing the son in retaliation, there would be a very high probability that Luis may feature in any reprisals. Failure with El Jefe really wasn’t an option. Certainly not if Luis wanted to live. His life depended on securing Fat Jake’s contacts.
Luis had the landline number for the house but was loathed to use it. It went against every piece of field craft he had advocated over the last few years. Never ever use a line that could be traced or recorded. One-time pre-paid cell phones were a must and, even then, only in emergencies. Luis wanted to keep their voices from the authorities as much as anything else. With their voices came voice print analysis and with voice print analysis came tracking capabilities even with pre-paid cells. If they didn’t have the voiceprints, they couldn’t track them and as far as he knew, he had succeeded. To give that up for a phone not being answered was a risk. Too big a risk, he thought.
Luis walked out into the warm night air and pointed to four guards. “Grab a truck, we’re going out!” he shouted.
As he waited for the truck to materialize, Luis watched El Jefe appear, heavily armed from the ranch house. A large group of guards rushed to join him, including two of the men that Luis had pointed to.
