collected DNA evidence and we’re talking to the FAA about identifying the aircraft,” said Cruz.
“That’s something – a start,” said Foote. “What else? Anyone got any theories? Right about now, I’ll listen to anything .”
Crickets.
I had a question. “Why two aircraft?”
The corners of Foote’s mouth sank like they were supported by quicksand.
“The attack wasn’t random,” Gomez said. “Lieutenant, you said you thought it was carefully planned and executed. I agree.”
Cruz nodded, grateful for the support.
“And for some reason the plan called for two aircraft.”
Gomez looked at me. “How many passengers can you put in a King Air?”
I’d worked with several variants in the past. “Depends on the configuration,” I replied. “Ten or more?”
“Lieutenant, you got an estimate of how many killers you believe were running around the airport?”
I sensed that Gomez had maybe sniffed something out.
Cruz held his forehead in his fingertips and massaged it. “Nothing definitive, no, but given the area, the number of deaths, the spread of the casings and the variations in striations on them – best guess so far is up to maybe fifteen.”
“Around fifteen people arriving in relative comfort, split between two aircraft … Why not twenty or more killers, fill the planes up with them and do the job in half the time with twice the numbers?”
“Maybe all the assailants were squeezed into one plane,” I said, headed to the same place Gomez was going. “Because there was something else in the other aircraft.”
Gomez scratched his chin. “This is about drugs. The hit squad in one aircraft came along to ensure there were no witnesses to the cargo brought in on the other.”
No one had anything to say. The air was tense, all of us testing the theory internally, looking for holes. That is with the possible exception of Matheson, who was maybe thinking about what music he was gonna put on for the evening’s floor class.
“Would’ve been a big load,” said Foote, climbing on board.
“Does El Paso still get a lot of drugs coming across the border?” Gomez asked.
“Yes, but nothing like Laredo.”
“Didn’t you make a big bust here not so long ago? A thirty-million-dollar haul?”
Foote, Matheson and Cruz all nodded.
“Maybe this time, whoever made this shipment – maybe they wanted the delivery assured,” I said.
“Jesus,” said Foote.
Gomez turned to me. “What’s the cargo payload of a King Air?”
I was paid to know these things. I took a guess at it. “Over a ton.”
“They land, the hit squad deplanes, disburses, kills all possible witnesses to the offload and flies away.”
“What do they offload into?” Foote asked.
“A truck, or perhaps several vehicles,” Cruz suggested. “Y’know, split up the load. One or two get caught but the others sneak through. Your standard decoy run.”
“That makes sense,” said Foote.
“We got evidence that any of this is anything other than guesswork?” asked Matheson.
“ Educated guesswork,” Cruz corrected him.
I wondered whether Matheson might need the word educated spelled out. “What’s a thousand kees of cocaine worth on the street?” I asked. “A hundred million?”
“In these parts, somewhere around one hundred and thirty million dollars,” said Foote. “Lieutenant?”
Cruz nodded, backing her up.
“So where’s it gone?” I asked. “El Paso?”
Foote replied. “No, the market here’s too small.”
“Five hours after it’s landed and transferred,” Matheson added, “those vehicles are gonna be halfway to Dallas.”
“Why Dallas?”
“Biggest distribution point in north Texas for drugs coming up from this part of Mexico,” said Gomez. “Anything major heads to Dallas for dispersal – it’s a transport hub for the rest of the country.”
“We been to a conference hosted by the DEA ’bout it,” Matheson added. “You can hide in Dallas, but you can’t hide in El
“That’s something – a start,” said Foote. “What else? Anyone got any theories? Right about now, I’ll listen to anything .”
Crickets.
I had a question. “Why two aircraft?”
The corners of Foote’s mouth sank like they were supported by quicksand.
“The attack wasn’t random,” Gomez said. “Lieutenant, you said you thought it was carefully planned and executed. I agree.”
Cruz nodded, grateful for the support.
“And for some reason the plan called for two aircraft.”
Gomez looked at me. “How many passengers can you put in a King Air?”
I’d worked with several variants in the past. “Depends on the configuration,” I replied. “Ten or more?”
“Lieutenant, you got an estimate of how many killers you believe were running around the airport?”
I sensed that Gomez had maybe sniffed something out.
Cruz held his forehead in his fingertips and massaged it. “Nothing definitive, no, but given the area, the number of deaths, the spread of the casings and the variations in striations on them – best guess so far is up to maybe fifteen.”
“Around fifteen people arriving in relative comfort, split between two aircraft … Why not twenty or more killers, fill the planes up with them and do the job in half the time with twice the numbers?”
“Maybe all the assailants were squeezed into one plane,” I said, headed to the same place Gomez was going. “Because there was something else in the other aircraft.”
Gomez scratched his chin. “This is about drugs. The hit squad in one aircraft came along to ensure there were no witnesses to the cargo brought in on the other.”
No one had anything to say. The air was tense, all of us testing the theory internally, looking for holes. That is with the possible exception of Matheson, who was maybe thinking about what music he was gonna put on for the evening’s floor class.
“Would’ve been a big load,” said Foote, climbing on board.
“Does El Paso still get a lot of drugs coming across the border?” Gomez asked.
“Yes, but nothing like Laredo.”
“Didn’t you make a big bust here not so long ago? A thirty-million-dollar haul?”
Foote, Matheson and Cruz all nodded.
“Maybe this time, whoever made this shipment – maybe they wanted the delivery assured,” I said.
“Jesus,” said Foote.
Gomez turned to me. “What’s the cargo payload of a King Air?”
I was paid to know these things. I took a guess at it. “Over a ton.”
“They land, the hit squad deplanes, disburses, kills all possible witnesses to the offload and flies away.”
“What do they offload into?” Foote asked.
“A truck, or perhaps several vehicles,” Cruz suggested. “Y’know, split up the load. One or two get caught but the others sneak through. Your standard decoy run.”
“That makes sense,” said Foote.
“We got evidence that any of this is anything other than guesswork?” asked Matheson.
“ Educated guesswork,” Cruz corrected him.
I wondered whether Matheson might need the word educated spelled out. “What’s a thousand kees of cocaine worth on the street?” I asked. “A hundred million?”
“In these parts, somewhere around one hundred and thirty million dollars,” said Foote. “Lieutenant?”
Cruz nodded, backing her up.
“So where’s it gone?” I asked. “El Paso?”
Foote replied. “No, the market here’s too small.”
“Five hours after it’s landed and transferred,” Matheson added, “those vehicles are gonna be halfway to Dallas.”
“Why Dallas?”
“Biggest distribution point in north Texas for drugs coming up from this part of Mexico,” said Gomez. “Anything major heads to Dallas for dispersal – it’s a transport hub for the rest of the country.”
“We been to a conference hosted by the DEA ’bout it,” Matheson added. “You can hide in Dallas, but you can’t hide in El
Similar Books
