“Another cartel?”

“We thought that, until we found out that afterwards one of the choppers crashed on a mountaintop when they were low-flying at night to escape detection. Where it crashed was what caught our attention. It was on the southern border of Mexico going into Guatemala.”

“Guatemala!”

“Exactly. It made us wonder, as well. Some locals reported a couple of men inside lost their lives, but another chopper stopped and retrieved the bodies. The only thing left behind was the wreckage … which had no markings or identification to indicate where the chopper came from or who owned it. Then we learned another key piece of information that gave us a pretty good idea who was behind it.”

“And it wasn’t the CIA?”

“No. Turns out this particular cartel was supplying drugs to the Palestinians who were selling the dope to make money to buy weapons.”

Jack took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. “That makes it rather obvious, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah, I would say so. We’re getting the heat for what the Israelis did.”

“I had no idea how dangerous Mexico really is. You paint a different picture than the travel agencies do.”

“What I told you is nothing. Right before you got here, I had a partner who went into Juarez. He got kidnapped and tortured for almost three hours by the police. They had him handcuffed to the bars and were dousing him with water and using a cattle prod on him. Luckily, four FBI agents found out where he was and rescued him.”

“Jesus Christ,” replied Jack in shock. “I had heard about the DEA agent who was kidnapped, tortured, and murdered. The one where the Mexican president’s brother was implicated.”

“You heard right. The guy they killed was Special Agent Enrique Camarena. A few key people were eventually arrested, but the president’s brother and a couple of guys under him will never be charged.”

“Did you know Camarena?”

“No … but you know how it feels.”

“It’s like losing a brother, even if he did work in another country.”

Adams nodded silently.

“Guess I was hoping the cartels wouldn’t try it again.”

“That kind of thinking could get you killed. They’re becoming bolder every day. Greg had three years to pension, but he decided not to stay. He quit because of it.”

“You’re working these guys alone? Don’t you have a new partner?”

“No. Just my cop friend in Juarez, but I can’t be seen with him.”

“So you are on your own.”

Adams nodded. “Now that I’ve opened your eyes a little, are you still sure you want to go into Mexico?”

“I’m sure I don’t want to … but I made someone a promise I would do my best to find Lily Rae. I keep my promises.”

“Yeah, that’s what I was afraid of.”

chapter twenty-five

“Where to now?” Jack asked as Adams drove away from the border.

“This afternoon we’ll go into Juarez. I’ll show you another escape route. Then I’m going to introduce you to my friend over there, Jose Rubalcava. He might be the only guy who could help you out down there.”

“How often do you go into Juarez?” asked Jack.

“A couple times a week, but I only meet Jose a couple times a month. His phones are likely tapped by the cartel, so we use a preset time and place. It’s too risky for him to meet me any more often than that.”

Jack was quiet as he thought of the gravity of the situation.

“We have some time to kill, so if you don’t mind, I’d like to take a look at a house in El Paso,” said Adams. “I think about a dozen couriers come and go from it. It was the one my partner was watching when they lured him into Mexico.”

“They still using it?” asked Jack.

“Two days ago there were still some of their cars there.”

“Two days ago?” said Jack. He doesn’t know about yesterday because he was busy driving me around. No wonder he was pissed off at having to pick me up at the airport.

“Yeah. Lots of muscle cars. All with Mexican plates. I have no idea who they belong to. I’m thinking they’ll be moving someplace else and would like to follow them. I know they work for the Guajardo cartel, but that’s all I know.”

“And you think the Mexican uncle I’m looking for is either with the Guajardo cartel or the Sinaloa cartel?”

“Yes. Jose might know which one, based on what we found yesterday in the desert.”

A short time later they drove into a neighbourhood in El Paso with overgrown yards strewn with garbage and the odd partially dismantled or wrecked car.

“That’s the house there,” sighed Adams. “The red one in the middle of the block. Usually the driveway is full of cars. They must have moved out yesterday.”

Jack grimaced as he thought of the frustration Adams must be feeling. “I’m sorry,” he said. “If you hadn’t been running me around you probably would have been here.”

“I wouldn’t call finding what we did yesterday a wasted day.”

“Getting those who kidnapped your partner would outrank that in my book.”

Adams paused as he looked at Jack and said, “Mine, too, but it’s not your fault. Anyway, I’m going to take you home for lunch. Introduce you to my wife. After we’ll head into Juarez.”

“Hold it,” said Jack, looking down the street. The largest, most muscular black man he had ever seen was walking along the sidewalk. He was in a postman’s uniform and had a mailbag slung over his shoulder.

“You looking at the mailman?” asked Adams.

“Why not? Your targets know the house is hot so you’ve got nothing to lose. Why not ask him who lives there? Maybe he’s got some mail for them and you could get some names.”

“Are you kidding?” replied Adams, sounding exasperated. “We’re not even allowed to say hello to a mailman, without going in front of a grand jury and getting a warrant.”

“I’m not talking about opening the mail, just seeing the name on the envelope.”

“I know what you’re saying, but we have privacy laws here that are strictly enforced. Two years ago a postman showed a policeman a name on an envelope. Not only did the mailman lose his job, he was also sentenced to three months in jail.”

Jack grimaced. The idea of an innocent person going to jail for helping the police sickened him. “But for this … can’t you get a warrant?”

“No, I already tried. Despite what happened, having souped-up cars does not mean someone is a drug trafficker and I have no right to infringe on their civil rights.”

“Bet the mailman would help if he thought the situation deserved it.”

“Don’t know what it’s like in Canada, but take a look at that guy. Also take a look at this neighbourhood, which is likely where he lives. Do you really think he is police-friendly?”

“What if he showed me the mail and I passed it on to you. Could you list me as your CI in your application for a warrant and that way honestly deny that you received it from a postman?”

“Underhanded … but yeah, that would work, except he won’t give it to you.”

“Let’s try.”

Adams sighed. “Yeah, okay, I’ll show you what it’s like down here.”

A moment later, Adams and Jack approached the mailman as he stopped in front of the house and retrieved a large handful of mail from his bag.

Adams flashed his badge and said, “I am hoping you can tell me who lives in this place. Any names on the —”

“You all got a warrant?” asked the mailman.

“No,” admitted Adams.

The mailman’s face darkened in anger as he clenched the wad of mail against his chest, purposely hiding the front of the envelopes from any prying eyes. “Then you all should know better than to be askin’,” he snarled. “Get away from me! I don’t even wanna be seen talkin’ to you all.”

Adams looked at Jack as if to say I told you so.

“That’s okay, sir,” said Jack. “We knew it was wrong to ask. It’s my fault. I was hoping … well, never mind. Have a nice day.” Jack then turned as if to walk away and said to Adams, “I just feel so damn sorry for all those poor little black kids.”