the tools at your disposal rather than cursing your ill-fortune. Under normal circumstances, a task of this nature would require ten times the resources if it was to be carefully and safely executed. The surveillance and intelligence team would be one component, the extraction team another. There would be a quartermaster, a transport coordinator and all manner of other personnel.
Complicating matters even further, they had two targets. One would, Lock hoped, go willingly, although that couldn’t be guaranteed when you were dealing with someone already traumatized by an abduction and who might have begun to identify with her captors. Mendez, on the other hand, would go kicking and screaming.
As they gathered together their gear, Rafaela on her way to them, Lock looked at his partner. ‘We’re going to have to forget Mendez. We take the girl, get her out of there, and deal with him later.’
He could tell that Ty didn’t like the idea of giving up on the fugitive they had come to collect. ‘We can’t take ’em both?’ Ty asked.
Lock tucked a spare clip into his jacket. ‘We could try, but it halves our chances and right now they’re pretty slim as it goes.’
‘So he gets off again?’
‘Maybe we can come back for him,’ said Lock.
‘That ain’t gonna happen. You and me both know it.’
‘If he’s implicated in kidnapping the girl the State Department will have to get off their fat ass and put pressure on the Mexicans to get him back.’
‘Or he floats on down to Venezuela or catches a slow boat to Cuba,’ said Ty.
Lock zipped up a bag. ‘What do you want me to tell you here, Ty? It sucks, but taking them both is too risky.’
‘What about Melissa and what she wanted?’
There was a long silence. Lock flushed and his jaw tightened. He advanced on Ty, fists clenched. ‘Melissa’s dead. Carrie’s dead. When they’re gone, they’re gone. The girl’s alive. We can get her home. There’s no debate.’
They froze as the apartment door opened and Rafaela walked in. ‘Am I interrupting something?’
‘No, we’re good,’ said Ty, breaking eye contact with Lock. ‘Just talking things over.’
‘Now what?’ Rafaela asked.
Lock looked at Ty.
‘We go get the girl,’ Ty said.
Lock gave Rafaela a grim smile. ‘You’re the cop in charge of finding her. Should be straightforward, right?’
She smiled back, all three knowing that for Rafaela to knock at the door and demand they hand over the girl was about as likely as building a snowman in Palm Springs in June. Of course, they might hand her over, and that would be it, until a bomb turned up under Rafaela’s car or someone arrived at her apartment to kill her. But, Lock thought, there might be a way for them to extract the girl while everyone saved face. In him and Ty, Rafaela might not have two accomplices so much as two scapegoats.
‘Sure,’ Rafaela said. ‘Piece of cake.’
Forty-seven
Lock had already run through the choices in his head, dismissing most of them out of hand. They could try a covert entry, breaking in without anyone noticing and taking the girl out. That was Fantasy Land, the domain of movies. Even if they could sneak in, which in itself was unlikely, getting out unnoticed with the girl was pushing the boundaries of possibility.
The second approach was a dynamic, and therefore overt, entry. In other words, forcing their way in. From the cursory glance he’d had of the location that, too, was unlikely. They would almost certainly have something akin to a panic room. The girl, Mendez or both would be put there and then it was a siege, with plenty of reinforcements to hand.
Their only real shot at this was if the girl left the house, and there was no way of knowing if that would happen. And even if it did she might not necessarily leave alive. If she had been retained for Mendez’s amusement, then history suggested he would tire of her — there had been no sequels in his date-rape movie collection — and she was far too risky to keep. She would be killed, dumped, and Rafaela would be handed a prime suspect. The case would be closed, and Lock would find himself a lone voice trying to persuade people that Mendez had been involved in her disappearance.
No, the only real shot they had was if she was moved — and that would have to be prompted. They would have to find a way of dictating the kidnapper’s next play.
He wrote out what he needed and handed it to Ty. Ty looked at the list and his eyes widened a little. ‘You sure about this?’ he asked.
‘That’s Plan B.’
‘And Plan A?’ Rafaela asked.
‘Once Ty’s got what we need and it’s all in place I want you to call your boss and tell him you have a lead. Give him this address. They’ll have to move her and that’ll give us a shot.’
Rafaela looked unconvinced. ‘And what if they decide to kill her, then move her? You might be better going with your second plan first. That way they won’t have time to think, just to react.’
Lock walked to the window and stared over the wall. The light was still on in the living room but there was no sign of anyone. Rafaela had a point and he wasn’t one for letting his ego get in the way. ‘None of this is without risk, but okay. Can you take Ty and gather the materials?’
She gave a curt nod. ‘Sure.’
As Ty followed her to the door, Lock called him back. ‘And we’re going to need a new vehicle as well.’
Ty raised an eyebrow. ‘Oh, yeah? Ask the black guy to jack the car. Y’know, just because I grew up in Long Beach doesn’t mean that-’
Lock put up his hand. ‘Tyrone. How many cars have I seen you steal? Not how many cars have you actually stolen. Just how many have I seen you steal?’
‘“Steal” is kind of a judgemental term to apply under the circumstances.’
‘Okay — borrowed without asking first,’ said Lock.
Ty glanced at the ceiling as he did the math. ‘I dunno. Maybe a dozen?’
Lock nodded outside toward the villa. ‘Okay, so can we have the racial stereotyping discussion after we’ve taken care of business?’
‘Fine,’ said Ty. He turned to Rafaela. ‘See what I have to deal with here?’
As they headed out, Lock stayed at the window, torn, not sure if he wasn’t deluding himself, that maybe he shouldn’t just pick up the phone to the State Department. He packed that idea away. Who would they call? Rafaela’s boss? That was one sure way of getting the girl killed.
Ty sat out of direct sight in the back seat as Rafaela navigated the empty streets. Her eyes flicked to him in the rear-view mirror. ‘You want Mendez, don’t you?’
Ty shrugged. ‘Can’t always get what you want. Ryan’s right, the girl’s more important.’
They got to the gas station. A couple of kids were hanging around out front, kicking a soccer ball back and forth. Ty helped Rafaela fill the two gas containers and load them into the back of her vehicle. She went in to pay and he put the small tank of propane next to the gas.
Lock had already worked out that the guard he’d seen walking round the grounds stuck to a regular routine, leaving on the hour every hour and taking less than seven minutes, even with a stop to pee in the pool, to complete his patrol. So, barring someone coming out of the house, that left the grounds empty and unpatrolled for fifty-three minutes. The rest of the time, Lock figured, they were relying on someone inside watching the security monitors, but the cameras were mostly at the front of the property, leaving a couple of large blind areas at the side and rear. One of those areas covered the wood pile.
With Ty and Rafaela back safely with supplies and a new model, recently ‘borrowed’, white, Toyota RAV 4, with heavily tinted windows. Lock checked his watch. It showed a quarter past the hour. He set to work, climbing
