Page 30 of The Grave Artist (Sanchez & Heron #2)
Carmen was speaking to Adam Zebrowski, the evening manager. He had a faint eastern European accent, Polish probably, given the name.
“Sir, I’m a federal agent. I have you on speaker with my associates.” Plural, since Declan was listening too. “We have reason to believe the couple who was married there today, the sunset ceremony, might be in danger.”
“What?” Zebrowski sounded startled. “How do you mean?”
“No time to go into specifics now. What’s the status of the wedding?”
“It’s over. The guests have already left. It was a small ceremony—like most of them on weekdays. James and Robin work in the restaurant business and their weekends are too busy to take time off.”
“Where are they now?” Heron asked.
Carmen added, “That’s Jacoby Heron, my associate.”
“In the honeymoon suite.”
She checked her phone. Liam Grange and a dozen tactical operators were mobilizing.
“Do you have armed guards?”
“Yes, two.”
She continued, “Place one in the corridor outside their door.”
“I can’t.”
Can’t or wouldn’t? she wondered. “What do you mean?”
“There is no corridor. This is the Chinampas Grand Resort.”
Carmen scrunched her eyes shut, frustrated with herself. “I should have realized.”
“Sanchez?” Heron asked.
She said, “Chinampas were the floating gardens of the Aztecs in their capital, Tenochtitlan.”
“Exactly,” Zebrowski said, seemingly surprised she knew this esoteric fact. He continued, “The most exclusive suites are in the water. They’re miniature islands. It’s one of our big selling points. James and Robin are in the biggest one—and the most remote. It’s at the far end of the lagoon.”
“Do they have a boat?”
“No. We have small ones our staff uses to ferry them to and from the main lodge.”
“Can your security people see it?”
“Yes.”
“Have one of those armed guards watch it. And call the couple but just make up something innocuous. I want to know they’re all right.”
“Shouldn’t we tell them about it?”
“No,” Carmen and Heron said simultaneously. She continued, “They’ll want to leave and probably call friends and family. That could scare the person we’re after. He might hurt another guest or staff member trying to escape.”
“Whoever this person is,” Zebrowski said, “you really think he’s here?”
She and Heron shared a look.
It was a damn big assumption.
She said, “Yes.”
Much of policing was mindset. You had to believe your suspect was real and was dangerous and was nearby. Otherwise, you might let your guard down.
“Hold on a minute, please,” Zebrowski said.
For a very tense minute Carmen waited. Nothing but silence.
Were they not picking up because they were wedding-night indisposed?
Or because they were dead?
Then, gracias a Dios , they heard Zebrowski saying he was sorry to interrupt but was just inquiring whether the room was satisfactory. A pause, then: “Very good. Have a nice evening. And, again, congratulations.”
Heron blew out a sigh that reflected her own relief.
“There’ll be some officers arriving soon,” she told Zebrowski. “They’ll be discreet. They won’t bother your guests. They won’t even be seen. And my associate and I will be there in a half hour.”
They disconnected.
Heron regarded her thoughtfully. “We could get them out now if you really wanted to. But you don’t, do you?”
She fired a look his way.
He continued, “You’re using them as bait.”
This was the third reason for keeping the operation on the down-low. True, she did not want to ruin their day if it turned out to be a false alarm, but mostly she wanted this son of a bitch.
Wanted him bad.
“Say we get them out,” she snapped. “And HK sees and gets even more pissed off that we’re fucking with his plans. He changes his plans, follows them home and stabs both of them to death for the hell of it.”
Silence between them. Finally he broke it with, “That’s the way you want to play it, Sanchez, okay. It gives me an idea.”
“Good.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t think you’ll like it.”
“What’re you going to hack, Heron?”
“Nothing to do with that.”
“Then why wouldn’t I like it?”
“You’ll see.”