Page 26 of Final Reckoning

Leaving Santiago physically and psychologically cut off from all his usual avenues of help is not the only goal of all this. It should also prevent him, not only from carrying out his planned massacre against the Adamos, but from mounting an armed assault on law enforcement should we find it necessary to apprehend him at the compound.

Finally, I hope it’ll lure him out of his hidey hole to come after me.

So far as we can tell, Santiago’s wife has nothing to do with his various criminal activities and may not even be aware of them. I never saw any signs of her knowledge or involvement, though admittedly we didn’t interact very often. And of course, his kids didn’t ask to have him for a dad.

But given the precarious state of the man’s mental health, we can’t be sure he wouldn’t use his family as human shields if we tried to take him there, or worse, go for a murder-suicide conclusion to the whole mess.

Back in his early days, Santiago didn’t hesitate to get his hands dirty. With no one left to do his bidding, and me constantly reminding him that I’m alive and free and metaphorically thumbing my nose at him, I’m hoping he’ll snap – and aim his aggression at me, not his family.

My phone rings. It’s Garcia. “I just got word that only three heat signatures have been detected inside the compound for at least the last hour. Based on their size, they’re confident that it’s Santiago who’s missing.”

“An hour? For fuck’s sake. Who’s watching the tunnel?” There’s a wine cellar under the main house that leads to a tunnel, which in turn exits outside the compound.

“Couple of Feebs. Either he’s still in the tunnel, or they missed him.”

“Fuck.” Santiago understands the value of a lure; he’d much rather force me into meeting on his terms than come after me directly. “I gotta go.”

Garcia’s still talking as I end the call. I dial Lando, but he doesn’t answer. “Fuck!” I try Carlo next. “Status,” I demand as soon as he answers.

“Bastard’s still got a few tricks up his sleeve. Buncha assholes rode into town about an hour ago, bikes and cars, dozens of ‘em working in pairs. We been chasing ‘em all over, keeping them away from target-rich environments.”

“Where are the Callahans? Lando’s not answering his phone.”

“Hang on.” He’s back in seconds, his voice grim. “Unaccounted for.”

“Fuck. Listen, Carlo. If you find Santiago with them, be careful. He’ll kill them just for fun. It’s me he wants.”

“Hurry,” he says, and ends the call.

I roar onto the freeway like a jet plane on steroids.

---