Flawlessly Executed (Dark Horse Guardians Book 3) (22 page)

Before dawn the men piled into two different armored vans and made the ninety mile drive back to Israel. Ben slept in the van. They took the less traveled Jordan Valley crossing, located north of Allenby. There was little traffic except for the occasional unmetered taxi. Once in Israel the mood lightened. The men became talkative and were swearing at each other. They complained about being hungry and wanting a shower.
Good, Ben smiled. Things were almost back to normal.

Ben received a message that the raid was planned to rescue the young children being held in a highly secure compound in Ar-Raqqah, a city ninety miles East of Aleppo on the banks of the Euphrates River. Abdul Rasin could punish the innocents no longer, a bonus in his mind.

~ Lara ~

When Detective Thompson left, Lara wasn’t prepared for the feelings that would flood over her when she opened the boxes of Hawk’s personal items. She found design notebooks written in his hand and she felt as if he was in the room speaking to her. Tears filled her eyes and couldn’t stop the sobbing that racked her. Oh God, she felt Hawk was there watching her. But he wasn’t there to comfort her now as he did when Eliot died. Hawk was always there when she needed him for
anything
. But, now he was gone.

She pulled his landscaping clothing out of the trash bag. “Oh, God, help me…” she wailed and rocked back and forth on the floor holding Hawk’s soiled shirt. Einstein put his thick body against her in an effort to calm her. He licked her face once or twice and Lara buried her face into the soft fur of the dog’s body.

There was a knock at the door and Lara looked up to see Rusty, her mother, Bettencourt and Monique. She opened the door and Bettencourt embraced her. “I’m sorry, honey.”

Lara’s mother made breakfast and Monique helped.

Rusty put the newspaper on the breakfast table and spoke with confidence, “We’ll get to the bottom of this, Lara. Don’t think we won’t.”

~ Doctor Duncan Norris ~

His vehicle was now moving at a high rate of speed away from the marshland on Cape Cod. Abby’s body would not be found for a long time; he was sure of it. His flight for Cancun was leaving in two hours. He parked his vehicle at the airport in the long-term parking and took a shuttle to Logan. He didn’t need to pack anything. He had a credit card and some cash on him.

There was no other alternative than to exit the country and set up practice in a warmer climate. Once in Mexico, he’d assume a different identity. There were plenty of forgery experts and he had enough money to create a new persona. As he stood in line to board the plane, he tried to think of a new name. Or, perhaps once he was in Mexico, the forgery experts would select a name from a deceased person.

Duncan Norris felt no remorse for what he did to Abby. He comforted himself with the rationale that he
had
to kill her. She would have told the authorities about the shooting and he’d be behind bars. No, there was no other way. She was a beautiful woman, but in the end she had only been a sex slave for him. He would find more vulnerable women in Mexico. And, maybe they’d be younger and even more beautiful.

The line at the airport snaked around several times but the ticket clerks were processing passengers quickly. Good. He wanted to get out of the country as quickly as possible. It was going to be a lengthy flight with several stops, but he planned to sleep on the plane. He was so very tired all of a sudden.

~ Ben ~ (in Israel)

It was 4:00 PM and he was in the mess hall with the team when he had an overwhelming desire to contact Lara. He’d been gone for almost three weeks with no contact, except watching her on the security cameras occasionally. This only served to put aside the worry he had about her safety. The images did not comfort him in any other way. In fact, watching her as he did made him ache inside with loneliness.

He tapped the phone to open the security video feed and noticed Lara in the kitchen with Rusty and her mother. Bettencourt and Monique were there, too, and they appeared to be soothing her. Lara was still in her bathrobe. God, it was 9:00 AM and she never would be in her robe unless she was ill ~ or something happened.

Immediately he dialed her number and saw her pick up the cell phone.

“Ben, is that you?” His heart stopped beating for a moment.

“Darlin ~ what’s wrong? You’re usually at work by this time of day.” He almost didn’t want the answer to his question.

“It’s terrible, Ben. Hawk was shot. He’s dead. And, Abby is missing. They were on a date together. Oh God, who would’ve done such a thing?” Lara sounded like she had been crying.

A million things ran through his mind at that moment. Abby was missing. His thoughts immediately went to the good doctor. “Lara, hand the phone to Bettencourt.”

Bettencourt’s deep voice boomed over the phone, “Yes, I know what you’re thinking. I’m thinking the same thing.”

Ben exhaled. “Check flights leaving Logan Airport for other countries. If that bastard did it, then he’s heading out for a long trip. I’ve got a bad feeling about this one, Bett.”

“I’m on it. Gotta go.” Bettencourt clicked off.

~ Bettencourt ~

“Sorry, but I have a lead that I need to follow up on, pronto. I hope you’ll excuse me.” Bettencourt said on his way out. The look on Lara’s face was all he needed to motivate him. He was on his cell phone speaking with security at Logan airport as he climbed into his vehicle, “Yes, the guy’s name is Duncan Norris. Detain him. I’m Officer Randall Bettencourt. Don’t tell him
why
you’re detaining him. Just hold him long enough for me to take him into custody.”

He was in street clothing, off shift, but he raced to Logan Airport speeding to get there in record time. Arriving at Logan, Bettencourt flashed his badge to security and parked in a break-down lane. He pushed through the long line searching for the face of Duncan Norris, but he was nowhere to be seen. The damned place was crowded. It was two days before Thanksgiving and wouldn’t you know it, Duncan Norris had managed to get lost in the crowd.

He scanned the flights heading to sunny destinations. If he was a killer, which flight would he be taking? Jamaica? Mexico? Oh God, it was a frustrating guessing game. He marched to the desk and revealed his badge.

“I need some help here, please. I’m searching for a man by the name of Duncan Norris. He may be trying to leave the country. He’s wanted for interrogation for a possible kidnapping and murder.” The moment he conveyed the information to the ticket agents, they hastily searched the passenger lists. One of them called out to Bettencourt.

“Hey, I’ve got that name here.” The agent shouted. Bettencourt ran to the desk and looked at the flight information. Mexico.

“Stop the plane from taking off. Get someone here to stop it.” Bettencourt ordered.

“I’m sorry sir. That plane just taxied and cleared the tower. It’s in flight. It will have a stop in Atlanta, but will continue on to Cancun from there,” the agent informed him.

Frustrated, Bettencourt hopped back into his vehicle and dialed Ben’s phone number.

“He’s gone. I just missed him, damn it. He’s headed for Cancun.” Bettencourt was back on the highway heading for Maine.

~ Ben ~

“Okay, give me the flight number. I’m heading there. Don’t say a word to Lara. Just tell her my mission will be one or two more days, then I’ll be home. And, don’t say
anything
to anyone about this. This is strictly between us.”

“I’ve got another target who’s moving rapidly to Mexico guys.” Ben spoke to Moshe and the others, “I’d love to sit and shoot the shit with you, but I’m out of here.” The SEALs slapped him around and Ben’s Dark Horse Guardian team called him a pussy. A few other insults were hurled around as Ben rapidly departed. He gave them his middle finger.

Moshe was by his side, “Use the jet. It’s fueled and ready. I’ll take you. My pilot will get you to Cancun in record time. He’s the best.”

As Ben climbed into the passenger seat of Moshe’s vehicle, Ben smiled, “You’re one of the only people in the world that understands this shit.”

Moshe was somber, “Whoever he is ~ I pity the bastard.”

Ben climbed into the salon area of the private jet. “Thanks, bro. I owe you.”

Moshe gestured, “Meh, get the hell out of here.”

The pilot started the engine and checked with the tower for take-off. Within thirty minutes Ben was cruising at 30,000 feet soaring toward Mexico.

It was a fourteen-hour flight with one stop for refueling. Ben slept on the jet and when he woke, was pleasantly surprised to find a meal prepared for him by the flight attendant. He ate and checked with the co-pilot. “What’s the ETA?”

“We are almost there.” The co-pilot replied. “Put your seatbelt on. As soon as we get clearance to land, it will be a rapid descent. Gotta take it when you can.”

Ben complied and got into the comfortable overstuffed recliner. He strapped himself in and pondered what he would do once he landed in Cancun. The flight the doctor was on had landed three hours ago. He’d have to make up time trying to find him. But usually there was a money trail or some way to get information. Once more he became a hound on the hunt.

He packed his gear into a rucksack and secured the straps. His H&K MK23 pistol and a 9mm Glock with suppressor was stashed in his sack. His five-inch blade was sheathed and nestled against his thigh.

The important thing would be to blend in with the populace…to look Mexican. The tourist town of Cancun was packed with vacationers at this time of year. The stewardess gave him some make-up; she used a bronzing powder as she sunburned easily. Ben took the bronzing powder and added some water. He slathered the stuff on his face and neck. He was instantly tanned. His dark sunglasses concealed his eyes and he rummaged in his bag for a hat and a wig. He also found a fake mustache. The stewardess provided eyelash glue to secure the mustache to his upper lip and he thanked her.

“Hot damn, you look just like a national!” the stewardess exclaimed. Ben put on a black cap with no logo on it. Just a plain black baseball cap. It covered his face a bit more. He practiced his Spanish as he prepared for landing.

He had the choice to rush home to Lara for Thanksgiving dinner or to chase after this bastard to kill him and he chose the latter. He wondered what that said about him. He would waste no time.
This doctor wasn’t worth his time, but doing the right thing was
.

As the plane taxied to a stop, Ben joined the line at the airport waiting, endlessly waiting, and getting the lay of the land. He spoke to a few nationals and asked what he should do if looking for a place to stay in Cancun. One youthful gentleman told him all of the hotels were booked. He might be able to get a room at the Centurion. Ben asked him to call and slipped him a fifty dollar bill. The phone call was made and Ben held up his finger.

“Ask if there is a Duncan Norris there at that hotel. I just want to know. He’s a friend.”

The agent spoke a few words and uttered the name Duncan Norris to the person on the other end of the line. “Si. Senor Norris is at that hotel. Room 777. Another fifty was pressed into the agent’s hand as he led Ben to a doorway that bypassed security.

“I’ll stamp your passport for you, senor.” The agent offered.

Ben handed him a hundred dollar bill. “Gracias.”

Contrary to popular belief, getting in and out of Mexico was not difficult. Their system was rife with corruption and if you had a few thousand dollars to hand out and a gun to back yourself up with just in case a problem arose, you’d be inside without a problem.

Outside the airport was a pickpocket’s heaven and a kidnapper’s paradise. More people went missing taking a cab ride in Mexico than anyone would believe. Hostages held for ransom; it was a cottage industry in this part of the world and the money was good. The only way to avoid becoming a statistic was to keep moving at a fast pace and utilize public transit.

His head swiveled as he saw the shuttle bus to the Centurion heading his way. He stepped into the roadway close to the pick-up spot. He’d be the first one on. He slipped the coins into the ancient slot on the bus and was moving in the direction of the hotel.

He nearly had to hold a bandana over his nose. The smell of urine was strong and there was another stench he could not readily identify. It was a foul aroma of motor oil mixed with body odor. A heavy-set woman sitting next to him on the bus reeked of cheap perfume. She smiled at him and nodded as if inviting his advance. She was one of the few friendly faces he had seen since landing.

“Senora, may I ask you a question?” Ben queried with his best Spanish intact.

She nodded and smiled.

“Where can I buy a garden hose?” Ben asked.

“At the Big Buy Store,” she sweetly smiled.

The bus pulled up in front of the Centurion and Ben was ready to hop off. But he asked her one more question. “Where is the Big Buy?”

The woman pointed, “There across the street. They have a garden department.”

Ben leapt off the bus and waved to her. He cross the street to the store and purchased a garden hose and duct tape. Then made his way to the seventh floor of the Centurion hotel and used his cell phone to hack the security cameras. He hid in a janitorial closet for a little while coiling the hose tightly so it would fit in his rucksack.