powerful motivator than fear.”
“Then you’ll have to ask Ted when you find him.”
“Is that what you want?” Steele asked. “For us to find him?”
“If that’s what it takes to get Lane home safe, yes. But I was thinking more along the lines of having one of your, ah, employees go to Ensenada and bring Lane home. To be blunt, I want your best Latin American kidnap specialist—Joe Faroe.”
M ANHATTAN
S UNDAY, 2:15 A.M.
9
“C OVERTLY REMOVING L ANE FROM Mexico is the most dangerous of your options,” Steele said neutrally.
“What’s the safest?” Grace asked instantly.
“Find Ted, find the money, and return it.” Steele ignored the phone ringing on his desk. “Tell me about Hector Rivas Osuna and Carlos Calderón.”
“They’re both rich and well known, but for different reasons. I suspect you know more about both men than I do.”
“My files don’t have anything new to teach me. You do, Judge Silva.”
Grace stared at the image of Steele while she organized facts in her mind. “Carlos Calderón is one of the most prominent men in Tijuana, and in northwest Mexico for that matter. He’s the oldest son of a major Mexican politician, a former minister of the interior. His father, Higoberto Calderón, was a member of the ruling class, a kingmaker, very wealthy and very powerful. He passed all of it on to Carlos.”
Steele nodded. “Hereditary power. Is that how Ted met Carlos? Mutual financial interests?”
Grace looked at her short nails. “Carlos and Ted have been friends and associates for a number of years. Carlos owns a bank as well as other businesses. My husband owns and runs an investment fund with worldwide holdings. Their interests naturally coincide.”
“From your description, Carlos and Ted are rather like mirror images across the border. Both are wealthy. Both are well connected politically. Both have known you for a long time.”
Silently Grace absorbed the fact that Steele knew she’d gone to high school with Carlos Calderón. “His grades were worse than mine.”
Steele smiled. “It was the same for everyone at Our Lady of the Immaculate Heart. To put it mildly, you excelled at what was and is an intellectually demanding private high school. Does Calderón still live in the United States?”
“No, but at least two of his sisters do. And his mother, I believe.”
“That leaves Hector Rivas Osuna,” Steele said. “How long have you known him?”
“If you know where I went to high school, you know that I met Hector for the first time today. Sorry, yesterday, by your time. It’s after midnight in Manhattan.” She glanced at the clock on the wall. “I’m not as much into global time as you are.”
“Globalism is at the very heart of St. Kilda Consulting. What do you know about Hector?”
“He’s almost courtly for a thug, ugly, ruthless, intelligent, a careful dresser in his own cowboy style. He has the crude charisma that a few criminal leaders achieve. I suspect he had it before he went into crime. Triple testosterone. Whatever. He doesn’t respect anyone’s law except his own. He has frightening insight into everyone’s own special weakness. In my case, my son.”
“What about Hector’s business?”
“Put ROG into Google and see what you come up with,” Grace said roughly.
“I’m more interested in what you know.”
She shrugged, hating every second of the conversation, every word that dragged her closer to the barrio gutter her grandparents, parents, and she herself had spent lifetimes trying to crawl out of.
The gutter Lane was trapped in.
Two days .
And one of those was halfway gone.
“The Rivas clan has long been said to control the smuggling trade in Tijuana.” Grace’s words were as tight as the line of her shoulders. “That accusation has never risen above the level of hearsay, in Mexico or in America.”
“Rumors, shadows flickering on the cave wall,” Steele said. “You dismiss them. Is that because the rumors have
“Then you’ll have to ask Ted when you find him.”
“Is that what you want?” Steele asked. “For us to find him?”
“If that’s what it takes to get Lane home safe, yes. But I was thinking more along the lines of having one of your, ah, employees go to Ensenada and bring Lane home. To be blunt, I want your best Latin American kidnap specialist—Joe Faroe.”
M ANHATTAN
S UNDAY, 2:15 A.M.
9
“C OVERTLY REMOVING L ANE FROM Mexico is the most dangerous of your options,” Steele said neutrally.
“What’s the safest?” Grace asked instantly.
“Find Ted, find the money, and return it.” Steele ignored the phone ringing on his desk. “Tell me about Hector Rivas Osuna and Carlos Calderón.”
“They’re both rich and well known, but for different reasons. I suspect you know more about both men than I do.”
“My files don’t have anything new to teach me. You do, Judge Silva.”
Grace stared at the image of Steele while she organized facts in her mind. “Carlos Calderón is one of the most prominent men in Tijuana, and in northwest Mexico for that matter. He’s the oldest son of a major Mexican politician, a former minister of the interior. His father, Higoberto Calderón, was a member of the ruling class, a kingmaker, very wealthy and very powerful. He passed all of it on to Carlos.”
Steele nodded. “Hereditary power. Is that how Ted met Carlos? Mutual financial interests?”
Grace looked at her short nails. “Carlos and Ted have been friends and associates for a number of years. Carlos owns a bank as well as other businesses. My husband owns and runs an investment fund with worldwide holdings. Their interests naturally coincide.”
“From your description, Carlos and Ted are rather like mirror images across the border. Both are wealthy. Both are well connected politically. Both have known you for a long time.”
Silently Grace absorbed the fact that Steele knew she’d gone to high school with Carlos Calderón. “His grades were worse than mine.”
Steele smiled. “It was the same for everyone at Our Lady of the Immaculate Heart. To put it mildly, you excelled at what was and is an intellectually demanding private high school. Does Calderón still live in the United States?”
“No, but at least two of his sisters do. And his mother, I believe.”
“That leaves Hector Rivas Osuna,” Steele said. “How long have you known him?”
“If you know where I went to high school, you know that I met Hector for the first time today. Sorry, yesterday, by your time. It’s after midnight in Manhattan.” She glanced at the clock on the wall. “I’m not as much into global time as you are.”
“Globalism is at the very heart of St. Kilda Consulting. What do you know about Hector?”
“He’s almost courtly for a thug, ugly, ruthless, intelligent, a careful dresser in his own cowboy style. He has the crude charisma that a few criminal leaders achieve. I suspect he had it before he went into crime. Triple testosterone. Whatever. He doesn’t respect anyone’s law except his own. He has frightening insight into everyone’s own special weakness. In my case, my son.”
“What about Hector’s business?”
“Put ROG into Google and see what you come up with,” Grace said roughly.
“I’m more interested in what you know.”
She shrugged, hating every second of the conversation, every word that dragged her closer to the barrio gutter her grandparents, parents, and she herself had spent lifetimes trying to crawl out of.
The gutter Lane was trapped in.
Two days .
And one of those was halfway gone.
“The Rivas clan has long been said to control the smuggling trade in Tijuana.” Grace’s words were as tight as the line of her shoulders. “That accusation has never risen above the level of hearsay, in Mexico or in America.”
“Rumors, shadows flickering on the cave wall,” Steele said. “You dismiss them. Is that because the rumors have
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