“You’ve been pulling his strings all this fucking time. You killed my partner’s wife and kids, so that tells me you know exactly where to find Drake. I warned you what would happen if I found out you were in on this, pendejo!”
“You stupid, cunt. There is a bigger picture here than two dead kids!”
“Oh wait, don’t tell me! The War on Terrorism, right?”
“Yes. Drake sneaks into other countries and kills terrorists and people who give aid to them, but he makes it look like it was a serial killer by killing the targets in gruesome displays.”
“Right, kill their wives and kids too because they’ll just end up as terrorists as well.”
He laughs. “You’re a simple little tart, aren’t ya? We have Drake make it look like a serial killer so governments can’t accuse us of illegally conducting operations on their soil.”
I press my gun to his forehead. “Drake says he doesn’t kill kids. So who killed my partner’s little girls?”
He laughs. “The little sand niggers, you mean? Yes, I killed them. Come on, you served in Iraq just like me. So you and I know those little innocent, sweet looking Muslim kids just grow up to be terrorists just like mommy and daddy.”
“What the fuck!” Mateo hisses.
I pull out my Karambit and jam against his throat. “You’re a sick fuck!” I grit my teeth.
“Wrong! I am a patriot, and so is Drake. I would think a soldier like you would understand that sometimes you have to get your hands dirty to fight the enemy; let them know you are not afraid to use their own methods against them.”
“You and Drake are nothing but murdering psychopaths hiding behind a flag of patriotism. You kill kids and give yourselves a nice pat on your back and say, hey, it’s okay because it’s all for the greater good, right? I grip my gun tighter. “You and Drake are no different than ISIL or any other terrorist group. Now, where the fuck is Drake?” I grit my teeth.
“I don’t know.”
Mateo slams a kick into his side. Knocking the wind out of him. “Bullshit, motherfucker. You came here with Drake needing a replacement passport so he could get out of the country after his job was over.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about you, silly bastard.”
I punch him in the balls, and he goes into a fit of coughs. He glances up at me, his face contorted with pain. I place the gun against his knee. “Fine! Drake is located on the big Island in Hillsborough Bay.”
The gun cracks, exploding his knee cap. He lets out a howl clutching his knee. “Which one! They’re two of them, Conroy!”
“Goddamn bloody fucking hell! He cries. “The large one to the north of the smaller one. Oh, fucking hell, this hurts!”
Mateo presses the gun against his head. “I say we pop this fucker now, Devora. I can take care of erasing his body from existence.”
“As much as I’d love to, Mateo. I can’t because killing him would create a political shit storm. Plus, killing this asshole would mean his crimes stay in the shadows.”
He bursts into laughter. “You should kill me now because your career is fucked. You think the British government is the only one who is running this operation?”
“Who else is involved?”
He snickers. “The US Government. That’s right, Detective. Your own government-sanctioned Drake to take out the trash.” He turns to Mateo. “Mr. Garza, Agent Drake is expecting his passport. You wouldn’t want to disappoint him.”
“Yeah, I’ll give him his passport along with every bullet from this fucking gun.”
“Alright, guys, get him up, and let’s go.” Mateo removes a gun from Conroy’s holster while I handcuff him.
He laughs boastfully. “Detective, you’re wasting your time. I will never see a day in prison, but if you want to keep up with this charade, then I will be a good sporting gent and play along.” I lift him up, and we drag him out of the apartment and toss him into the trunk.
Chapter 14
We arrive on the Island in Hillsborough Bay via Mateo’s boat. By the time we reached the Island, the evening thunderstorms have rolled in. Flashes of lightning streak across the night sky along with a roaring cacophony of thunder. The rain pours as if the Angels in heaven are crying. We step off the boat, I pull out my handgun and check my magazine out of habit, then I slap the mag back into the gun, slipping it into my holster and unsling the M4 Mateo gave me on the way here. It’s been a while since I used one of these rifles, but I think I can remember my marksman training in the DEA.
Stepping off the dock, we slosh down the muddy path. “Hey, Lobos. You and Conroy may want to hide in that tree line we’re coming on his place.”
“Remember what I said on the way over here, Mateo, don’t shoot him on sight. I need to try and take him alive,” I say with a warning in my voice.
“Relax, senorita, I got this.”
Conroy laughs. “You won’t take him alive. He will kill all of you first.”
I slap him in the back of the head with my gun, and he cringes in pain. “No talking. Now move!” I hiss. Entering the woods with Agent Conroy in front of me. “Watch where you step, it’d be a real fucking shame to have a snake rob me of the chance to expose you.”
He glances over his shoulder. “You think that’s going to happen? Wake up, little girl! Because let me paint a picture for you. Let’s say by some miracle you were to take Drake alive, do you really think he will face any charges?”
“What the hell are you talking
