Bluff
Chapter 4. The hand is dealt
Accompanied by Agents Wallace and Scola, and an escort of eight SWATs in two other cars, Jubal went to pick up Vargas at the MDC.
This time he had not been given back his suit, and the Durango cartel boss was dressed in prison jumpsuit, hands and ankles cuffed at the waist.
"And you are?" Vargas asked with the casual air of a conversation at a very exclusive event or cocktail party.
"Special Agent Valentine," he replied dryly as MDC officers handed him his custody.
Vargas' eyes swept over him, taking his measure. Ignoring as best he could the irritation that this produced in him, Jubal put him in the back seat of one of the cars and got on the other side next to him.
"Do you know Richard Jones?" he asked, as he buckled Vargas' seat belt.
"Ah... Ricardo," said Vargas as if something was now explained. "Not too much," he added, evasively.
Tiffany pulled away and the convoy left the MDC. They were already short of time.
"But he works for you," Jubal insisted.
Vargas thought the answer."Let's say it serves a purpose."
"So, he launders money for you," Jubal coaxed him.
"Among other things," Vargas replied, dismissively, "Why? Do you think Ricardo has Agent Castille?"
"Could be," grunted Jubal.
"I hope it's not Ricardo. He's not a very subtle man. He tends to be violent and to... overreaching."
"You better hope Jones hasn't touched a hair on Isobel's head," Jubal threatened, unable to control himself.
He knew he had made a mistake the very moment the words left his mouth. Vargas shot him a scrutinizing look and smiled an arrogant smartass grin on his lips. Jubal suppressed his anger with an effort. Anxiety and fatigue were taking their toll on him. In other circumstances, he would not have made such a slip.
Jubal reached for the rubber band but, before stretching it, he saw that Vargas was still watching him. He took off the rubber band slyly and threw it away, not wanting to be tempted to use it and inadvertently show a sign of weakness to his adversaries.
Thank Heaven, for the rest of the journey Vargas kept a proud and dignified silence. For Jubal it was a respite: he was in no condition to deal with his little mind games.
But time dragged on endlessly. His conversation with Rina tormented him, while his concern for Isobel presented him with scenarios of the terrible things they could be doing to her at that very moment.
A second indication directed them to a country road north of the town of Woodbourne in Sullivan. They had just over 90 minutes to make that distance. Tiffany's impeccable driving was eating up the miles. Jubal was confident they would arrive in time, but what was certain was that it would not be possible for them to survey the terrain or deploy drones. Whereas Jones and his men would have had all the time in the world to stake out and cover every angle. It was a very dangerous situation. They were practically walking into an ambush.
A fine, steady rain began to fall.
He thought of Tyler and Abigail. He hadn't even been able to talk to his kids before leaving. It was too late to call, anyway. He would have gotten them out of bed. And to tell them what? "I love you both" and leave them deadly worried about him for the rest of the night? It would have been good for his morale to hear their voices, but no. He would call tomorrow and talk to them before they left for school.
Meanwhile, OA and Maggie had followed the route of the black SUV that Ian was able to trace. But as it left the city heading upstate, the SUV took back roads where there were hardly any cameras... Ian lost track near Chester.
Jubal, who was still in contact with the JOC, had never heard him curse like that in his life.
·~·~·
When they opened the trunk again Isobel saw dark treetops against the starry night sky, streaked by a handful of swift clouds. A few raindrops fell on her face. They took her out of the car and led her to a small hunting lodge. Isobel looked around her, trying to locate any reference that would give her some clue as to where she was, but only a dense forest surrounded them. She could see there were at least two more armed men guarding the outside.
The two kidnappers, who had been with her since they had caught her in the street, entered the house with Isobel. Of the two of them, Coto was the one who seemed to be in charge. With short hair and dark eyes, tanned skin, a sparse but well-groomed beard; robust, taciturn and quiet, he contrasted with Bernal. The latter had light brown hair, curly and disheveled, his skin was paler, the color of his eyes tinged with a milky gray; was lean and wiry, restless and very talkative: except in the presence of his boss Jones, he did not stop chatting about trivial things and making jokes in bad taste. He was also always the most brusque and brutal. Bernal seemed unstable; he had an unbalanced look on his face and was the one with the hunting knife. He acted like he was having a good time. A weekend in the country.
Coto on the other hand seemed somehow displeased with the situation, as if he didn't want to be acting as a guardian for some reason. He wasn't nice either, but he treated her a bit better, in comparison. Upon entering the cabin he had even removed her gag.
"No one will hear you here, but if you scream, you'll regret it," he warned her threateningly.
Isobel had nodded and, once her mouth was released, had asked please for some water. She was trying to be submissive so they would give her some autonomy. Coto gave her a drink and examined her wrists.
"You're going to have to stop struggling with the bridle or you're going to tear them apart," he commented, but he did not remove the restraints.
Then he took her into a small room with a window covered with boards. As he was closing the door, Isobel asked him:
"Are you going to kill me? Do I only have half an hour to live?" She said it pretending that her voice was trembling, staying in her role as a frightened prisoner, but what she really wanted was to see his reaction to the question. If Coto felt guilty, it might be an advantage.
He gave her a cryptic look and seemed to be considering whether to answer.
"No. Jones wants to turn you over to Vargas. Looks like the big boss has plans for you," he said coldly. Somehow this was even more ominous than the impending death threat.
Coto left the room and closed the door on the outside. Isobel looked around. There was an old bed by the wall, covered with a faded, dusty bedspread, and a bedside table.
She pulled back the quilt, leaving it in a curl in the corner, and lay down on the bed to reflect. She was tired and sore; her shoulder was killing her. And demoralized.
·~·~·
The team with OA and Maggie had no choice but to stop.
The feeling Jubal had was of being left floating in a muddy, unpleasant limbo. If they failed to locate Isobel before the exchange, they would be at the mercy of Jones' goodwill, and that was too much to hope for.
But the people who were in the JOC were not part of his team by chance. They were the best at their job.
First they located the GPS IDs of all vehicles in each zone where the SUV had been identified by a camera image at that particular time, triangulating their signal. With that list of vehicles and locations, Elise cross-referenced them. And she found out that only one vehicle ID had passed through all those points.
With that GPS ID, Kelly got the more ambiguous and faster warrant for an electronic device tapping on record in the New York office. And finally, Ian hacked it. They got a location in less than 17 minutes.
The vehicle was not moving. They knew the location was correct when they identified it as one of Jones' properties, interestingly also in Sullivan County, and not too far from the meeting point they were headed to. If he had been at the JOC Jubal would have kissed everyone's feet. Maggie, OA and their team were immediately on their way.
The rain made a soothing sound on the roof of the car. And Jubal could finally focus on clearing his mind, regaining his calm. He was going to need them for what awaited him at the end of the journey.
·~·~·
The idea of the beads had been a good one until they had put Isobel in the SUV. But after that, it had been useless.
She still kept her wristwatch, so she knew it had taken about two hours to get there. But she did not know in which direction they had gone. They were in the middle of the forest, in who knows where... How were they going to find her now?
Where's your spy satellite now, Jubal? she joked to herself, trying to regain her spirits.
She wondered what he would be doing right now. Isobel knew he and the rest of the team would continue to scour heaven and earth to find her. They were very good at their job, but Isobel had no reason to think they could make it before the deadline.
And then what would happen? The FBI was never going to let Vargas escape again. But if they weren't going to kill her, what would become of her...? Isobel tried to remove the prospect of torture from her mind. She needed to keep her morale high. Come on, Isobel, get a move on and do something.
She stood up and searched the entire room for something to make a weapon out of, but there wasn't much to work with. The bed was made of iron and had no parts that could be disassembled, such as springs or pins. The nightstand was too heavy to use as a blunt weapon and the drawers could not be pulled out. There was a small lamp on the bedside table, but it was made of bamboo: light and flimsy as a throwing weapon.
Isobel tried turning it on and it worked. Hmm... That might do the trick.
She unplugged the lamp and went to work. With some effort due to her wrists tied, she disassembled the external part using the nail of her index finger as a screwdriver. Once the mechanism of the lamp was uncovered, Isobel loosened the screws on the clamp with his pinky and pulled out the wires; she stripped them by biting into the plastic coating. If she thought about it, it was funny how they thought she was helpless when she still had her nails and teeth.
Carefully, Isobel left the cord plugged in and stretched out on the bedside table, concealed behind the lamp, so she could grab it when needed. She also removed the light bulb and hid it under the pillow, next to the wall. From different positions, Isobel rehearsed how she would pick up one thing or another, even though her hands were tied.
~.~.~.~