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“This footage is from exactly one week ago. It was taken from a high-altitude drone above Creel, Mexico, a tiny resort town near the Copper Canyon section of Chihuahua,” she said.
“The FBI flies high-altitude drones now?” I said. “In foreign countries?”
“No, but the air force does,” Emily said. “Is it that much of a shock that the military is involved in this, Mike? This is Homeland Security priority one. Just about everybody is involved.”
I absorbed that with a nod.
“Who’s in the cars?”
“We got intel that a high-level cartel meeting was taking place, so we had a plaza boss out of Río Bravo followed.”
“A plaza boss?” I said.
“A plaza boss controls the centers of the border towns where the drugs and the drug mules congregate. After the drugs make it up from the south, they use these plazas as staging areas where they can organize, distribute, and prepare the product for smuggling across the US border.”
The phalanx of cars pulled to a stop in front of a large, compoundlike building. What looked like tents were set up in the backyard. There were a large number of vehicles already there. There must have been fifty or sixty cars parked in a field beside the structure.
“It looks like a wedding,” I said.
“Almost,” Emily said. “It’s the quinceañera of the daughter of cartel leader Teodoro Salinas.”
I knew who Salinas was from the web news. He was the leader of the only cartel left that wasn’t under Perrine’s control.
Parker suddenly hit Fast-Forward on the video.
“Watch what happens.”
She hit Play again, and suddenly people were pouring out of the building, some of them running. There was a traffic jam in the parking lot as cars and trucks peeled out.
“A Mexican fire drill?” I said.
“It’s something. We don’t know exactly what. All we know is, our guy never came back for his car. Two of the other cars that were also left behind belonged to rivals of Perrine’s Los Salvajes organization. And Teodoro Salinas is missing. There’s been no word.”
“That is a mystery. You think Perrine had something to do with it? You think he was there?” I said.
“We’re not sure,” Emily said.
I stared at the screen.
“Well, let’s see. Three dirtbags enter, no dirtbags leave,” I said. “Then a bunch of people suddenly flee in panic. Sounds a lot like the Manuel Perrine that I’ve come to know and love.”
CHAPTER 12
“HOW LONG DO YOU think we have to stay out here?” Ricky said, watching as the beat-up Wilson football Brian tossed to him flew over his head.
“Agent Parker’s car is still there, right? So at least until it leaves, dummy,” Brian said, gesturing for the ball.
Ricky searched for the ball in the tall grass. It had been almost an hour, and here they still were, out in the back “yard.” It was no yard. It was a field you couldn’t see the end of. It was the size of Central Park—Manhattan, maybe. It had been cool at first, but now it was just like everything else out here in nowhere land. Extremely boring.
“What do you think they’re talking about in there?” Ricky said.
“Probably how this place is too visible for us, and they need to send us somewhere really remote,” Brian said.
“This sucks,” Ricky said as he finally found the ball. “Even with the delay, you know Mary Catherine is going to want us to do our schoolwork anyway. I wanted to catch Matlock. Now it’ll be over by the time we’re done.”
“No,” Brian said. “What really sucks is that you actually care if you miss a stupid, crappy eighties show about an old guy.”
Jane, sitting with her back to the car shed, dropped her book and jumped up and intercepted Ricky’s return pass right before Brian could catch it.
