“I found Alejandra’s daughter in Puerto Cabezas. She was with Veloz. He said she was to be a gift for El Presidente.” Sin slumped down into an overstuffed chair and buried her head in her hands. “It’s my fault she’s in this predicament. I told her to trust me. All that changed when Humberto hit me with a fucking shovel and knocked me unconscious.”
“That explains the discoloration of your face,” Charlie said. “We’ll have Dr. O’Rourke check you out. It looks like you may have a busted eye socket.”
Sin brought her hand up to her face. The touch brought tears to her eye. “With everything that’s been happening, I wasn’t paying any attention to it,” she grimaced. “Thanks for reminding me.”
“You’ve never looked better.”
Sin looked in the direction of the voice—Thomas was standing in the doorway. The biggest smile plastered on his face.
She hugged her father and told him how much she loved him. She saw Charlie give her the look from the side of the room.
“Dad, can you give us a few more minutes and then we can talk?”
He looked at Charlie, who nodded. “Sure,” he smiled. “I’ll go tell Carmelita and Maria you’re all safe.”
“So,” Sin said. “We’ve gone over the plan to extract the girls from the studio, but there is something you’re not telling me. What is it?”
“I was able to pin down the location where the emails are originating from.”
Sin swallowed hard. It felt like she was trying to swallow a ball of cotton. “Where?”
“935 Pennsylvania Ave.”
Sin closed her eyes and dropped her head―not in disbelief, but more in affirmation.
“D.C.?” Troy was stunned.
“Not just D.C.,” Sin said, “FBI headquarters.” She could barely speak. “Is it Frank?”
Charlie shrugged. “Not necessarily, Westcott keeps his office there as well.”
“He’s Homeland Security, why—”
“He was bureau before he was HS. He has always kept his private office at 935 Pennsylvania Ave.”
Sin sucked on her lower lip. “Either way,” she said, “it can only be one of two people.”
42
“You found the microchip in a UPS truck!” a high pitched voice screamed.
“No shipping or return address. The driver doesn’t even know how it got on his truck. He only makes one round trip every four days, that’s why it took us a while to track.”
“How the hell did that bitch remove her chip without you knowing it?”
“I don’t know,” the voice on the other end of the phone line answered.
“It was probably that doctor.”
“What doctor?”
“The one from the Naval hospital. My men told me she and O’Malley had been seen together eating in the hospital cafeteria. Now, she has taken an unexplained leave of absence.”
“Are you shitting me!” screamed the deeper voice.
“Don’t you use that tone of voice with me. You’re the one with all the connections―you’re the one with all the big plans. I can disappear right now and leave you to mop up this fucking mess.”
A loud exhale came through the phone. “I’m sorry, all right? We need this ‘show’ to go off without a hitch tonight and then you can disappear for a while.”
“I’ll take care of my end, you just worry about finding and killing O’Malley.”
“I’m taking care of it as we speak.”
“My contact tells me Heap is getting nervous―real nervous. I think his helpfulness has run its course.”
“I’m up to my eyeballs in shit pouring down from all sides here in D.C. Tell our friend to take care of Heap tonight before the show. An extra ten grand should be enough incentive.”
“That shouldn’t be a problem.”
“Good, then I will meet you as planned when this all blows over.”
The line went dead.
43
“I don’t care how much money they’re paying us, I spent the better part of my life saving girls from this kind of life. I will not be part of this. I’m terminating the lease!”
“Prophet,” Chief Miller stammered, “it’s not that simple. We have no way of contacting the production company and we also don’t have any proof that there is any wrong doing going on.”
“No proof? You heard what the authorities are saying.” Heap stood up and moved to the side of the chief. “Ezekiel,” he placed his hand on Miller’s shoulder and poured on the compassion and the southern drawl, “your own son might have been killed in the boat explosion early this morning. Enough is enough.”
Miller took in a deep breath and pushed his girth from the chair. “You’re right, Prophet,” he nodded, “you’re always right. We’ll get the deacons together and make a stand against the production crew when they show up.”
“Now, that’s what I like to hear.” Heap slapped Miller on the back.
“Would you mind praying for my son, Prophet?”
Heap jutted out his chin like a proud daddy. “Not at all, let’s bow our heads and close our eyes.”
As Heap began praying, Miller dropped his head. Heap was blabbing some long, self-indulgent soliloquy when the first bullet tore through his gut. The force of the .357 caliber bullet knocked him off his feet and onto the couch behind him.
He stared―eyes wide in disbelief―as the crimson stain spread out across his white linen shirt.
“You dumb sombitch,” Miller’s lips barely moved as he spoke. He grabbed the other chair and spun it backwards, straddling it while keeping his revolver aimed at Heap. “I could sit here and let you bleed out, but I got better things to do with my time.”
“Why?” Heap gurgled.
Miller stood and moved toward the door. “Why! For the same reason you run this carnival show, you call a church. Money and power―that’s why.”
With the final word spilling from his mouth, he squeezed the trigger blowing Jeremiah Heap’s brains all over the bright, white wall of his office.
44
“The ‘show’ is scheduled for one a.m.,” Charlie said. “While you were out of the country, I was able to hook up to the traffic cameras on U.S. 1 by the church as well as Heap’s security camera feed. There are cameras placed on the four corners of the property.
“I was also able to set a
