Mejia praises me. “Interesting theory.”
“Not a theory. We have proof, and that is in the appropriate authorities’ hands as we speak.” Now that is a lie. We’re still digging, but I’m stalling.
Mejia is silent for a moment and then he shrugs. “What do I care if you know the truth? You’re going to be dead sooner rather than later. Yes, Gayla Newman has gratefully accepted bribe money from me to look the other way. And she asked a favor of me to take out Agent Hathaway. We concocted this little mission to get her down here on her own to gather intel, have her steal from me, and thus make my retribution look legitimate. That should have eliminated the problem. But then you came along and thwarted us. Killed my son.”
“I could argue that Gayla Newman killed your son,” I say softly. “She started all this.”
“And I’ll end it,” Mejia promises. “I will eliminate you both, and I will not think about either of you again after that. But first, I’m going to make each of you suffer for my son’s death.”
“It was me who killed your son,” I say. I have no clue if Greer is on her way here, and I sincerely hope not, but if I can convince Mejia I’m the one he really wants, maybe Greer has a chance out of this.
Mejia reaches out and picks up the gun, and he aims it at me across the desk. His hands are steady, his eyes shrewd and calculating. “I’m glad you admitted to killing my son, Mr. McDermott.”
Mejia pulls the trigger, and pain explodes in my right shoulder. The force of the slug knocks me over in the chair and I roll to my back. I attempt to get up, but Mejia is there holding the gun loosely in his hand. He lifts a leg, brings his foot down onto my wound, and presses hard with his weight. My vision blurs from the pain, and I can feel my energy seeping away.
Mejia becomes distorted and darkens into shadow, but there’s just enough clarity before I pass out to see him raising the gun to point at me once again.
CHAPTER 20
Greer
Mejia’s country estate glows with foundational lighting as I approach a rolling fence at the edge of the driveway. Once he gave up his address, Bebe found property and elevation maps, and we learned it was surrounded by tall fencing. This presented the first hurdle in our rescue plan—how to breach the perimeter.
For me, it will be easy. I’m alone, and Mejia will most likely let me in himself.
For the others, there will be stealth involved, but once they infiltrate, it’s going to get crazy.
Kynan’s powers and influence are beyond imagination. Bebe mentioned quite casually that he had sprung her from prison and had her record expunged. While this was mind-boggling, I was rendered speechless when he pulled up on speed dial the director of the FBI, and after only a five-minute conversation, he had an official sanction by said agency allowing us to go in and rescue Ladd. This is important because without such government backing, any loss of life that comes out of this would be heavily repudiated by the Salvadorian government, and retaliation in some form would be forthcoming. That might still happen, but with the United States government supporting our mission, it will eventually be smoothed over. They’re not going to deny us our right to rescue an American citizen held against his will, but they’ll be miffed they weren’t included on the mission.
While Kynan brought an array of weapons, explosives, and other high-tech gadgetry, he also secured a military helicopter. One of his men, Benji, is a pilot. The chopper is partly for overhead surveillance and distraction, but also to give the appearance our forces are larger and better equipped than Mejia’s. If we can get his men to lay down their guns without a fight, that will be best for all.
I’m driving the rented Range Rover we picked up at the airport, and my palms are slick against the wheel as I stop outside the gate. I roll down the window, press a button on a call box staked into the ground, and listen to it crackle a moment before a man’s voice—Mejia’s—comes across. “Ms. Hathaway… I see you made it.”
He must be watching on the security feed as I smile up into the camera mounted on the edge of the fence post. “Just as I promised. Now send Ladd out, and I’ll come in.”
“You don’t make the rules,” Mejia admonishes. “I do.”
The box goes silent before I can respond. No static hissing, no more talking. Turned completely off and I have no clue what that means.
I get out of the Rover and in the glow of the headlights, I move closer to the fence to check it out. It’s manually operated, so someone is going to have to come down from the house. If there’s a God, it will be just Mejia and Ladd, but somehow I doubt that.