“Fuck.” I’d seen that shit, saw it those two years I’d searched for London. Still, no matter how many times you saw girls forced into prostitution, or marriages, you never became accustomed to it.
Tyler continued, “So Connor met her. Where? When? Shit, it could’ve been last month or ten years ago before he was taken.”
I shook my head. “He had the journal in his hand when he escaped the house. He gestured to it when he asked where she was. He had to have met her before he was taken by Vault and those pages were about her.”
“His head is also seriously fucked,” Vic stated.
True. His memory was screwed up from the drug and we didn’t know what the hell was going on with him or even if he was still alive.
There was a light tap on the door and I pushed away, my hand on my knife. I heard the men behind me do the same. Weapons ready.
I cracked it open. A small, robust man, early forties, dark skin, and a heavily wrinkled brow as if he frowned too much, stood with his hat in his hands while he nervously shifted his feet. I grabbed his arm and hauled him inside.
Tyler had contacted an acquaintance of his who lived in Medellin, Colombia. This acquaintance had known Tyler’s father who had been a DEA agent. Tyler’s father spent a lot of time down in Colombia, talked about it to Tyler when he was growing up. It was why Tyler had joined the army.
“Moreno? The kids?” I asked.
“Si. Si.” He nodded several times.
Tyler rose to his feet, walked over and slapped the guy on the back, “Juan. Good to finally meet you. My father speaks well of you.” Tyler switched to Spanish, speaking it fluently. The man responded, although he stammered, obviously either scared of us or scared of what Moreno would do to his family if he found out Juan was being a snitch.
But if he gave us what we needed, then he and his wife and daughter would be looked after. Deck had strings, but they weren’t like mine. They were on the right side of the law and he’d organized to safely get Juan and his family out of Colombia.
Tyler translated what they were talking about. “Juan here delivers food twice a week to one of Moreno’s buildings. He says last week there were sixteen kids and twenty watchdogs with assault rifles. But yesterday Juan was told not to bring food.”
“They’re moving,” I said.
Tyler nodded. “It’s been the same routine for the last three years he has supplied them. Every Tuesday and Friday, never missed a day.”
“Need to make our move now.” Vic started to gather up his gear as did Ernie. Tristan shut down the computer and packed it up.
“He knows we’re coming,” Deck said. “He gets those kids into the jungle, we’ll never find them. No time for sneak and peek. We go in locked and loaded.”
The kids were most important, but Moreno wouldn’t give a shit about losing sixteen kids when he could pick up twenty more. Our plan was to hit it hard and get the kids out while Tristan and Ernie had eyes on Moreno’s house and his movements. Because he’d make a move the second he heard his farm was being taken out.
“We don’t leave Colombia until he’s dead,” I stated.
The men nodded. We were all in agreement on this. Moreno was too dangerous alive knowing we were after him. Vault’s foundation was crumbling, but it hadn’t fallen and Moreno was a building block we had to crush fast before he found others to replace my mother and Dorsey.
I walked over to my knapsack, unzipped it, and then pulled out a wad of cash. Ten grand. It was more than this man probably saw in his lifetime. “Half now. Half when you show us where.” I tossed him the money and his mouth gaped then produced a smile, revealing his crooked teeth.
Tyler translated what I said. He’d show us the location of the building. Then he’d take his family to a disclosed location where Deck’s contact was waiting to get them out.
“Si. Si.”
Tyler spoke to him a little more in Spanish and then slapped him on the back again.
“Let’s roll,” Deck ordered.I wasn’t used to working with other men on a job. Ernie was it and that had strictly been while searching for London, never anything to do with Vault missions.
Now I had Deck, Vic, Tyler, Ernie, and Tristan, who surprisingly knew how to handle a gun and a knife. But it made sense; he had spent years at the farm before Chess helped him escape.
The Moreno Cartel had a number of ‘jungle labs’ for his cocaine operation, but according to Tyler’s contact, Juan, there was a building owned by Moreno a mile from his extravagant property where he resided.