long gone, and he had no plans to return to the States. Ever.
“Four days,” Noel said. “Four days was all I needed and he screws up in less than six hours.”
“And Jones?”
“We’ll see to him tonight. In the meantime, I want full backgrounds on all his employees—”
“You have that, and—”
“Go deeper. I want to know who they’ve talked to and where they’ve been in the last two months. I want to know who tipped off the FBI about Jones, and how much they know about me. I don’t give a fuck what happens to Jones, but I’m not going to let them take me down with him.”
And at this point Noel would prefer to just kill everyone involved in Jones’s operation. Unfortunately, in the States, the murder or disappearance of a couple dozen people would cause more than a small ripple in the landscape.
“Give me everyone who has any hand in our business, and everyone who’s just window dressing. We’ll pick and choose, decide who stays and goes. Start building a list of people I can trust to do their job right.”
Noel would find out who tipped off the FBI and make a clear statement. No one would dare turn against him.
Not that it would matter. In four days he’d be back home, safe, far away from the long arm of American law enforcement. They’d need an army to get him.
CHAPTER
FOUR
Sonia could have taken half a day personal time after working through the night, but she had too much on her plate to even think about sleeping. And if she did stop home for a couple hours of downtime, she feared that seeing Charlie again would trigger the nightmares she’d buried long ago.
She had to get this part over with.
She dialed the assistant special agent in charge of the San Francisco Regional ICE office—based in Oakland.
Toni Warner supervised all field offices in the large, multistate territory. Sonia had met her nearly ten years ago when she was transferred from Texas to the San Francisco office, and though they butted heads as often as not, there was no one in the business Sonia had more respect and admiration for. Toni was smart, savvy, chic, and ruthless.
“Warner.”
“It’s Sonia. I have news.”
“You have Jones in custody and a solid case to turn over to the DOJ.”
“Not yet.”
“Please don’t tell me to turn on the television.”
Sonia cringed. Last year, she’d been caught on film in an unfortunate situation taken completely out of context.She’d led the raid of a sweatshop that “employed” illegal aliens. Only these illegals were indentured servants—not only smuggled into the country but held against their will making a dollar an hour, half of which went toward their room and board. When she’d burst in, one of the supervisors had cracked a whip across the back of a minor, a twelve-year-old boy Sonia later learned had been working there since he was seven. Sonia had seized the whip and snapped it toward the asshole who abused children. It cut across his face—she had never intended to actually hit him, only scare him. When she escorted him out in cuffs, she still had the whip and the press filmed them—highlighting the bastard’s split face.
Sonia wouldn’t have changed anything—she’d wanted to do so much more when she saw the squalid conditions in which these people lived and worked—except in hindsight, she should have put a bag over his head and handed the whip to Trace.
“I saw Charlie Cammarata this morning.”
Toni was silent. Sonia squirmed uneasily, speaking quickly. “He’s driving for Xavier Jones. I saw him get out of the Escalade with Jones early this morning while surveilling the house. He’s up to something.” She dreaded asking, but had to. “Has he been reinstated? Without telling me? I understand, but I should have—”
Toni interrupted. “Charlie hasn’t been reinstated, at least to my knowledge, but I’ll find out. I can’t imagine ICE bringing him back, but stranger things have happened.”
“Is he working undercover for
“Four days,” Noel said. “Four days was all I needed and he screws up in less than six hours.”
“And Jones?”
“We’ll see to him tonight. In the meantime, I want full backgrounds on all his employees—”
“You have that, and—”
“Go deeper. I want to know who they’ve talked to and where they’ve been in the last two months. I want to know who tipped off the FBI about Jones, and how much they know about me. I don’t give a fuck what happens to Jones, but I’m not going to let them take me down with him.”
And at this point Noel would prefer to just kill everyone involved in Jones’s operation. Unfortunately, in the States, the murder or disappearance of a couple dozen people would cause more than a small ripple in the landscape.
“Give me everyone who has any hand in our business, and everyone who’s just window dressing. We’ll pick and choose, decide who stays and goes. Start building a list of people I can trust to do their job right.”
Noel would find out who tipped off the FBI and make a clear statement. No one would dare turn against him.
Not that it would matter. In four days he’d be back home, safe, far away from the long arm of American law enforcement. They’d need an army to get him.
CHAPTER
FOUR
Sonia could have taken half a day personal time after working through the night, but she had too much on her plate to even think about sleeping. And if she did stop home for a couple hours of downtime, she feared that seeing Charlie again would trigger the nightmares she’d buried long ago.
She had to get this part over with.
She dialed the assistant special agent in charge of the San Francisco Regional ICE office—based in Oakland.
Toni Warner supervised all field offices in the large, multistate territory. Sonia had met her nearly ten years ago when she was transferred from Texas to the San Francisco office, and though they butted heads as often as not, there was no one in the business Sonia had more respect and admiration for. Toni was smart, savvy, chic, and ruthless.
“Warner.”
“It’s Sonia. I have news.”
“You have Jones in custody and a solid case to turn over to the DOJ.”
“Not yet.”
“Please don’t tell me to turn on the television.”
Sonia cringed. Last year, she’d been caught on film in an unfortunate situation taken completely out of context.She’d led the raid of a sweatshop that “employed” illegal aliens. Only these illegals were indentured servants—not only smuggled into the country but held against their will making a dollar an hour, half of which went toward their room and board. When she’d burst in, one of the supervisors had cracked a whip across the back of a minor, a twelve-year-old boy Sonia later learned had been working there since he was seven. Sonia had seized the whip and snapped it toward the asshole who abused children. It cut across his face—she had never intended to actually hit him, only scare him. When she escorted him out in cuffs, she still had the whip and the press filmed them—highlighting the bastard’s split face.
Sonia wouldn’t have changed anything—she’d wanted to do so much more when she saw the squalid conditions in which these people lived and worked—except in hindsight, she should have put a bag over his head and handed the whip to Trace.
“I saw Charlie Cammarata this morning.”
Toni was silent. Sonia squirmed uneasily, speaking quickly. “He’s driving for Xavier Jones. I saw him get out of the Escalade with Jones early this morning while surveilling the house. He’s up to something.” She dreaded asking, but had to. “Has he been reinstated? Without telling me? I understand, but I should have—”
Toni interrupted. “Charlie hasn’t been reinstated, at least to my knowledge, but I’ll find out. I can’t imagine ICE bringing him back, but stranger things have happened.”
“Is he working undercover for
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