“I’ll get right to the point, gentlemen.” Kruger closed the folder and stood. “We think we’ve found a way to get to Stephen Rialto through a Dallas drug dealer named Lester Kane.”
This time, it was Brady who tensed. Lester Kane was his old nemesis, a devious bastard who had eluded the Dallas P.D.—and Brady—for too many years. “What’s Kane got to do with Rialto?” he asked sharply.
He could feel Mitchell’s steely gaze on him. Besides Jake, Mitchell was the only other person in the room who knew the whole story behind Brady’s sudden departure from the Dallas police force.
“We believe Kane has forged an alliance with Rialto,” Kruger explained. “In recent months, southeastern Texas has become the hottest transit zone for illegal drugs in this country. The Calderone cartel has become second only to the Juarez cartel in terms of volume. We estimate that each cartel ships upward of two hundred million dollars worth of drugs across the border a week. As a distributor for Calderone, Rialto’s business has literally exploded, and he’s looking to branch out, which is where Kane comes in. He wants the Dallas and Fort Worth area, and with Rialto’s help, he’s already muscled out most of his competition.
“We believe Rialto and Kane are positioning themselves to take over Calderone’s entire southwestern operation. The DPS and the DEA have monitored a flurry of recent meetings in both Dallas and Houston between the two organizations. One of those meetings took place the night before last in a warehouse owned by Kane. The place was torched afterward, and a body was found in the rubble. The victim has been identified as Alec Priestley, an associate of Kane’s. He was shot twice at close range before the fire was set. There was a witness.”
A witness.
Brady had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. He had a score to settle with both Lester Kane and Stephen Rialto, but he didn’t like the sound of this. Witness protection, the kind neither the U.S. Marshals Service nor the DPS was willing to provide, was Brady’s specialty. Or had been, until Rachel.
“Kane and Priestley go back a long way,” Kruger continued. “They both started dealing in college, and afterward, Kane expanded the operation. Priestley went on to law school, but a few years later, he rejoined Kane in the business. Priestley was always the nervous type, but he went along with whatever Kane wanted so long as they kept the operation low-profile. It was a way to rake in a lot of extra cash, selling mainly to friends and clients, people he could trust.
“Then Kane became involved with Rialto and the Calderone drug Mafia, and the business, which had been a sideline for Priestley up until then, got serious. Priestley got scared. He wanted out. He started feeding information to a local reporter about Kane’s connection to Rialto and Calderone, and he arranged for her to be in the warehouse the night he was killed. Not only did she witness Priestley’s murder, but she got everything on tape, including the voice of a man we think is Stephen Rialto.” Kruger paused dramatically, his gaze slipping from one agent’s face to the next. “Kane is the way we get to Rialto.”
“So where do we come in?” Rafe asked.
“Dallas P.D. has requested through the DPS that your organization handle the protection.” Kruger’s gaze stopped on Brady. “We have to assume the witness is refusing to cooperate. She made contact with the police early yesterday morning, but since then, she’s gone underground. No one has seen or heard from her in over twenty-four hours, but one thing’s certain. If we don’t find her before Kane does, she’s a dead woman. The Dallas P.D. are moving to arrest Kane, but without her statement or that tape, they’ll never make the charges stick.”
“Are you sure she’s still alive?” Jake asked.
“By all indications, she’s extremely resourceful. We have every reason to believe she’s alive and well, at least for the time being. But she can’t hide forever. Not with Calderone and Rialto backing Kane.”
Brady hadn’t said a word for several minutes, but the bad feeling he’d experienced earlier had grown into a full-blown premonition. He knew what was coming.
“Who is this reporter?” he asked quietly.
“She works for a small paper called the Examiner. Her name is Grace Drummond.”
Even after all these years, the mere mention of her name was like the twisting of a knife blade in Brady’s gut.
“Her disappearance could have more to do with her desire to get a hot story than anything else,” he suggested, not bothering to disguise the bitterness he still felt toward Grace Drummond.
“We’ve considered that, of course,” Kruger agreed. “But as I said, she did initially make contact with the police. When they arrived at her apartment, the place had been ransacked. We figure she panicked. She realized the tape is her only insurance policy against Kane. Once she gives it up, there’s nothing stopping him from killing her. Your job is to find her before Kane does and…convince her to accept your protection until she can testify against him.”
There was no mistaking his emphasis on the word “convince.” The subtle implication was to use whatever means necessary to bring her in. That, at least, had possibilities, Brady thought perversely.
“I’ll do it,” Jake volunteered.
But Mitchell shook his head. “We need Brady on this one. The doctors have given him the okay to return to active duty, and he’s the protection expert. Besides, DPS thinks she’s still in the Dallas area, right?” When Kruger nodded, Mitchell said, “Brady, you know that city better than any of us. If anyone can find her, you can. Penny’s already made all the arrangements.” He stubbed out his cigar, signaling the conclusion of the meeting. The other agents rose to leave. Until further notice, they’d all resume their duties on the ranch.
Kruger remained for a moment, speaking in low tones to Mitchell. They appeared to be arguing, and then Kruger grabbed up his folder, stuffed it into his briefcase, and with one final glance at Brady, stalked from the room.
For a moment, Brady said nothing, then he got up and walked to the end of the conference table, planting his hands flat on the surface as he leaned toward Mitchell.
“What were you and Kruger arguing about?”
Mitchell shrugged. “That’s nothing for you to worry about. I don’t always see eye-to-eye with Austin,” he said. “You know that.”
“Kruger doesn’t want me for this job, does he?”
Mitchell glanced up at him. “It doesn’t matter what Kruger wants. I’m in charge of the Confidential.”
“Have you ever considered that he may have a point?”
“Meaning?”
Brady straightened, taking pressure off his knee. “Have you forgotten what happened to the last woman you sent me out to protect?”
Mitchell’s gaze narrowed on him. “I haven’t forgotten, but maybe it’s time you did.”
“A woman died last year because of me,” Brady said grimly. “I’m not likely to forget it.”
“That’s a load of crap and you know it.” Mitchell took out another cigar, but he didn’t light up. He pointed the end at Brady. “You put your life on the line to protect your witness. You almost died. No one could have done
