“Fuck,” Chase grumps, but seems to accept the situation.
“I want an update,” I tell him. I move further into the room and grab a chair near Chase’s designated area.
Chase sits next to me and pulls up a screen on his computer. “Not much to go on regarding Opal’s case, I’m afraid.”
I sum up the conversation I had with Gauge minutes before.
“Gauge has been trying to get through to her. Hopefully, Jo can get her to open up. Any intel Opal gives us will help. Right now, I’m throwing darts and seeing what sticks,” Chase says, running his hands through his long tawny hair.
“Anything happen while I was traveling?”
“FBI contacted us. Pueblo’s MC chapter of Hell’s Horsemen has been causing issues in the city, claiming their drug profits are down. Feds are asking if we’ve heard any news on the street about a potential new drug ring in the state.”
I roll my eyes. We don’t associate with the 1% MCs, even if we blur the line occasionally. The FBI is only asking us because we’re a motorcycle club—it’s stereotypical bullshit. Not all MCs are nefarious.
“We’re not the narcotics division. Do they want us to take an insider job, or are they asking for intel from the outside?”
Chase shrugs. “Outsider information for now, but I wouldn’t be surprised if the FBI asks us to get involved down the road. I’ve been talking with Hell’s Horsemen to get some background because I think the FBI doesn’t know their head from their asses. We’re keeping each other in the loop as information rolls in.”
“And where are we on Esteban’s location?”
“We’ve been digging nonstop. I asked the FBI to see if they could extract any information from Pretty Paulo. If Paulo knew anything, he would have sung it like a canary to get himself a better deal.”
Chase pulls up a map of the state, highlighting Fort Collins. “We have one source claiming Esteban is back in Colombia, but our other sources cannot confirm or deny the claim. Locations for a safe house have been narrowed to a three-hour radius of the Fort Collins metro area, but still in Colorado. Nebraska and Wyoming are off the list. We’ve narrowed it to the top ten counties with the heaviest population and transportation, making it easier for Esteban to move freely without fear of being discovered, as well as entering and leaving the country quickly and quietly. We’re looking at Denver, El Paso, Arapahoe, Jefferson, Adams, Larimer, Douglas, Boulder, Weld, and Pueblo.”
“That’s too big of an area, bro. We need to narrow it.”
“My team is working on it, Atlas. As you said, it’s a lot of ground to cover, and you already said one sweep through is not enough.”
I stand and walk to the monitors on the wall showcasing the map of the potential target spots. “Luca told you the safe house was within three hours. Why three hours? It seems specific?”
“Three hours would give him enough time, plus cushion, to get himself together and on a plane out of here,” Chase offers, pushing up his black-framed glasses.
“Exactly. Close enough to spy but far enough to give him time to escape.” I snap my fingers. “That’s it. Start with the furthest potential counties and check how many private airfields are in the area. I think it’s safe to say Boulder, Larimer, and Weld are out for now. Focus on Pueblo, El Paso, and Douglas. Let’s work our way in.”
“Smart,” Chase muses as he types away on his computer. “Should we start with Pueblo?”
“Yeah. Cover the city. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”