“You’re wrong. I’m worried about electronic surveillance.”
“Here in Redford?”
“At this funeral, where every law enforcement agency in the area has representatives. It’s a perfect place to eavesdrop.”
“I never thought about that.”
“There’s also the fact that my superiors wouldn’t want me sharing information with a U.S. Agent without going through official channels. That could be trouble for me.”
“Yeah, I’m the same way with my office. You and I are playing in the out of bounds zone right now.”
Lucas pulled out his cell phone, typed on it, then showed it to Hunter. He said, “Remember this.” He leaned down so his lips were almost close enough to touch her ear. “Go to a public library and open this email address. Use your first name as the password. Open the draft message and read it, then answer me and save it as the draft.”
His nearness made her pulse quicken, but she heard him, “No one can see what we send that way but us.”
Lucas straightened to his previous stance. “That’s it.” He put out his hand. Hunter shook it, and he smiled at her, slid into his car, and started driving away, then stopped and rolled his window down. “How did Lee describe me? I’m just curious, because you picked me out so fast.”
“Henry Cavill. He said you looked like Henry Cavill, the movie Superman.”
Lucas smiled, “I can live with that.” He rolled up the window and drove slowly away so he didn’t stir up the dust.
Hunter ran her thumbs over her palms. They were wet with perspiration. She thought about shaking his hand. “Just great,” she said to herself, “Girl, you sure know how to make an impression.”
***
Holland used a twenty-power spotting scope equipped with a digital camera to watch the funeral from a hilltop in Mexico. He photographed everyone one attending, and then several extra photos of individuals that caught his attention or he knew from other images in the local news. One female intrigued him, and he took several photos of her, then of her talking to a man at his vehicle. From intelligence he previously gathered on area law enforcement, Holland thought this one might be Hunter Kincaid, the female Border Patrol Agent involved in a shooting last year. He scooted off the back of the hill, sliding on his rear until far enough downhill to stand without being seen, then Holland dusted off his cargo pants and walked to the Jeep.
He downloaded the images to his laptop, and attached them to emails he sent to several sources. Holland drank some cold coffee and relaxed in the coolness of the hill’s shadow, enjoying the feel of it after lying in the hot sun for an hour.
A message showed on his email, and he opened it. Holland read it twice, then finished off the coffee and drove out of the draw. He reached the paved road, then drove the hour to the Mexican ranch on the Rio Conchos outside of Ojinaga, and called everyone into the ranch house. When they were together in the living room, Holland said, “Use your contacts, find a small, remote village, preferably one that is in a valley. I repeat, it must be remote, not often visited by others.”
One of the men asked, “Do you care how far away it is?”
“A day from here would be ideal, but I will consider further, and anything closer is better.”
Riffey cleared his throat, “I know a place.”
Holland said, “Really.”
“They’re friends of mine. I used to buy weed from the farmers there. Tiny place, no real roads to it, only trails, and way back up in the mountains about eight hours southwest from here.”
“What is the name of this place.”
“La Sombra.”
“And how small is it?”
“I doubt there’s eighty people there, total.”
“The terrain?”
“It’s in a high, small valley in the mountains southwest of the town of Flores Magon, and maybe six thousand feet altitude. Nothing around it for miles except for mountains and canyons.”
“How did you travel there?”
“Four wheel drive, on a trail that will damage your kidneys when you travel it.”
“This place sounds as if i