“Then we should call in the police,” said Carson.
“No,” said Diaz. “Lampert and Rojas have assets everywhere. We
can’t trust the police.”
“Then the U.S. military. Eglin is right up the road.”
“By the time they can send anyone it’ll be too late,” argued Diaz.
Puller had a sudden thought. “You said this was a joint operation with the U.S. Did you happen to be working with military-looking guys in a Chrysler?”
“Yes,” said Diaz. “They told me of their interaction with Americans. I guess that was you.”
“Guess it was. Were they tracking me or Betsy Simon?”
Simon?”
“They had spotted a car belonging to Simon near the transfer spot one night. They traced it to her. Then she was killed. They started watching.” “Where are they now?” asked Puller.
“After their encounter with you, they were reassigned. No one has replaced them yet.” “Great,” muttered Puller.
“Okay, give us the layout of the warehouse,” said Carson. “If they’re still there we’ll have to hit it hard and fast.”
“We will hit it hard and fast,” said Mecho. “And we will kill who we have to kill.” He looked at Puller. “Unless you have a problem with murdering slavers.”
“No problem at all,” said Puller. “If they’re trying to murder me.”
“That I think you can count on,” said Mecho.
CHAPTER 82
There were four sides to the warehouse and they covered all of them. They had to split their forces in quarters to accomplish this, but allowing a hole for anyone to escape was deemed not acceptable.
Puller took the rear.
Mecho the front.
Carson the left side.
Diaz the right.
They were prepared for a war.
They did not find one.
They did not find anyone at all.
The warehouse was empty.
The makeshift prison cells held no one.
They searched the space in ten minutes and then regrouped in the center of it.
Puller said, “They move fast, I’ll give them that.”
“But where have they gone?” asked Carson. “We can get APBs out. They have to be using trucks to transport.”
“Lot of trucks going up and down the highway,” pointed out Puller. “Can’t stop and search them all.”
He glanced over her shoulder and stiffened. He raced past Carson and over to a spot against the wall. He knelt and picked it up.
The others joined him.
“What is it, Puller?” asked Carson.
Puller held it up.
It was a ring. A small silver ring with a lion on it.
“This belongs to my friend Diego.”
“Who is this Diego?” asked Mecho.
“A kid. About twelve years old. His cousin is Mateo. He’s five. They were probably both here. Diego probably left this as a clue. He’s a pretty smart kid.”
“A five-year-old,” said Diaz. “Why would they have taken twelve- and five-year-old boys?”
“Prostitution?” said Puller. “Sick bastards out there.”
“No. Rojas is a criminal. And a truly evil man. But he has never taken anyone that young before.”
“Diego didn’t come through the normal pipeline. He lived in Paradise. He was snatched from right here. Along with Mateo.”
Diaz looked worried.
Diaz said, “Where did you escape from?”
“An oil platform off the coast. No longer used, of course. They dock at a series of them going from Mexico to Florida. That is how they move the product.”
Diaz said, “But I didn’t think there were any oil platforms off the coast of Florida.”
Carson spoke up. “That’s mostly true. The vast majority are off the coasts of Louisiana and Texas. And some off Alabama. There are no oil platforms on the Atlantic side of Florida. And pretty much all the oil wells dug in Florida state waters in the Gulf over the years came up dry.” “Okay,” said Puller. “But Mecho is saying there is one out there and that he was on it. How does that make sense?”
Carson continued, “Some energy companies made natural gas discoveries in the mid-eighties to mid-nineties. About twenty-five miles off the