Brady refused to comply. Enemario had started to lower his weapon but then left his hands in position.
“I would love to shoot you in the head, you asshole, you misfit. I’ve waited for years, so don’t think I won’t do it.”
Without regard to his own safety, Lieutenant Commander Roland Stanley walked directly toward Brady and pointed his police special in the middle of his forehead. “I said drop it.”
Brady stepped back and held his SIG to the side. One of the officers picked it up, grabbing Enemario’s as well. Stanley pointed to the gun stuffed in Enemario’s belt, and the policeman removed it.
Esquivel Rojas turned and gave Brady a cheesy grin. “I told you, you’ll never get away with it. There wasn’t a chance in hell I was going to be captured on American soil. I don’t think you understand how important I am to your government.”
“That’s enough, Rojas,” shouted Stanley. “Keep your trap shut.”
“Then I will go upstairs and get my clothes. Would one of you officers like to accompany me?”
Esquivel held out his hand to Enemario. “The key, please?”
Enemario laid the brass passkey in the middle of his palm. He didn’t take his eyes off the man, however. Brady noticed Enemario didn’t appear to have an ounce of fear.
As Rojas unceremoniously slipped across the lobby in his striped pajama bottoms, his feet padding on the carpet, Stanley called after him. “I want you back down here in five minutes. Officer Craig? See to it that he doesn’t use his cell phone, please?”
“You got it.”
Before they reached the elevator, Stanley reconsidered. “Someone else go with him too.” Instantly, one of the Naval security patrol ran after the two of them, catching up just before the doors closed.
Stanley motioned for Brady and Enemario to take seats in the lobby. He had one of the other San Diego sheriffs secure their wrists and their ankles. Riley was led into the lobby at gunpoint from the manager’s office and was instructed to sit across from Brady. John had been handcuffed to a pillar by the front door. He remained standing.
They didn’t appear to have found the sniper outside, who could hear everything Brady said.
“So I want to know how come you’re stopping me from apprehending this criminal. Do you know what he does for a living?”
Stanley paced back and forth in front of Brady, preening like a peacock. Finally, he stopped, turned to him, and said, “Of course I know. That’s why I’m here. Mr. Rojas is an asset. We have been very successful in bringing down one of the largest cartels in Baja, California recently, and we are about to finish the last strike to put the nail in the coffin so that this family will never rise again. We could not have done that without Rojas. Tons of narcotics will now be dumped into the ocean instead of injected into the veins of our youth. I consider that a win-win.”
“At the cost of women and children sold into slavery and stolen from their families, to become sex objects for perverts.” Brady knew Stanley must understand what Rojas was involved in but was turning a blind eye. “You honestly think you can deal with somebody who does that to women and children? Don’t you have any compassion, Stanley? You have a wife and children. What would happen if a guy like that got hold of them? Have you ever considered that?”
“Well, first of all, I keep my wife safe.” Stanley peered into Brady’s soul with the cool gray eyes of a snake. He had not an ounce of compassion. The message was clear. Brady was responsible for Maggie’s death.
Brady seethed, stood up, and pushed himself into Stanley’s body. Willing to take a bullet to crush this man who had stopped him once from preserving whatever decency was left in his life, from saving Maggie. He’d interfered at that very important juncture of the mission and was interfering again today.
Stanley was light on his feet, and because he did not fall, Brady remained standing as well. He soon had two arms around him, pushing him back into the couch. Stanley straightened his uniform as his cell phone rang.
“Bring him down now.” Stanley listened and then repeated himself. “I said, bring him down. I don’t care who he’s called. You bring him down right now.” He waited again and then gave his order a third time. “Then you bring them both down please.”
Exasperated, he said something under his breath, shaking his head from side to side.
“So what happens now, Stanley?”
“Well, I think the Navy is going to lock you up until we work out the jurisdictional issues, since you are now my prisoner, interfering with my operation. In the long run, the court system will find you an attractive target, and as they so expertly do, they’ll drain your bank account of every penny you own, taking your beloved property and turning you into the inmate that you really always have been.”
Brady kept quiet about his orders. And he wasn’t going to volunteer that he had a possibility of protection.
Rojas and his young companion were fully dressed and joined them in the lobby. “I would like to leave now.”
Stanley, who was about six inches taller than Rojas, peered down at him like he was a bug. “You’ll have to remain here just a little while longer, Esquivel. I apologize. We have some paperwork, and I need to verify that it is protocol to release you. But ultimately, not to worry, you will be leaving soon.”
Cocky from the information he’d received, Esquivel decided to dig into Brady a little further. “How in the world did you think you could get me, and why did you think it was going to be a good idea?”
“I wondered the same, Brady. You just came up with this on your own?” Stanley asked.
“I have been thinking of nothing else for the past three years, ever since he murdered my Maggie.”
There it was. He’d said it, finally. Admitted to the whole fucking room the one thing that had haunted him, the one thing that hurt him so badly he could hardly stand it every time he thought of it. Instead of acknowledging, Rojas broke out in a huge belly laugh.
“You are so dumb, Brady. So impossibly dumb. You see, what I do will ultimately last forever. It’s the oldest profession in the world, and it will still exist two thousand years from now. You can’t stop this. People want to better themselves, and they will do just about anything to get there.”
“I will never give up. I will have my revenge,” Brady said defiantly.
Esquivel turned to his companion. “Do you have your certificate?”
“Sí, sí. Let me look.” She sat down and began rummaging through a large purse. She extracted a Manila envelope, opened the clasp, and slipped out a piece of paper, handing it to Esquivel Rojas.
Mr. Rojas held the paper in front of Brady and said, “Read it. Read her certificate.”
Brady was looking at the heading on the certificate, which said Evidence of Live Birth. Enemario and Riley were reading along with him, Riley leaning over his shoulder to do so.
“So she’s had a baby. What does that matter? Did you sell her baby? Is that what you’re telling everybody you’re so proud of, Rojas?”
“Read the signature of the attending physician.”
Brady’s eyes scanned the baby’s name and the April date, meaning it was six months prior to today. He kept scanning until he came to the bottom of the page where there was a beautifully scrawled signature. He recognized the penmanship.