"No-they have the same address, but all different corporations. It's just a way to obfuscate the picture. But filing dates are part of the record, so I was able to re-create the order in which these organizations were set up. Maybe whoever organized this didn't realize we'd get so far, or maybe they didn't know what they were doing initially and weren't able to cover their tracks. But the first one was disbanded a year ago-and the appointed director is Gregory Valeria. His address is in San Diego."

"That's really good work, Zach," Noah said. "And fast."

Zach grinned, both out of pride and embarrassment. "Um, yeah, thanks. But I'm not done. The property management company is just a one-room office-I called pretending to have a group of properties and asked about their policies and rates. They told me they are a private company and work only for a group of businesses. They wanted to know how I got the number. I had to do some quick thinking, so I said the Internet, then quickly created a fake page that listed a hundred property management companies in Texas and included them. If they dig deep, they'll see it was created today, but hopefully they don't."

"Smart," Lucy said.

"I need a warrant," Noah said. "I don't want to go in there and tip them off."

"We have cause," Lucy said. "One of their properties was a murder scene."

"We don't know she was killed there."

"We don't know she wasn't."

"The AUSA isn't going to bite on that." Noah snapped his fingers. "The brothel in Del Rio. Illegal prostitution. We have a confidential informant who gave us information, we need the property records and all information on the owner."

"Who? Barrow? He'll never agree."

"Doesn't matter, he already talked to us, he gave us the intel, and we have his investigative report. I think I can convince the AUSA to give us a little room on this." Noah packed up the remaining food. "I'm going to talk to Rick first thing in the morning and we'll work out a strategy. Lucy-follow up with the Kansas City field office about the memo we sent, see if you can find this Randall kid, and be ready to serve the warrant on DPH. Zach-I need you to quietly dig up everything you can about Jasmine Constance Ricardo, born in Corpus Christi, possibly goes by the name Jasmine Flores. Copy in only me and Lucy. Donnelly with the DEA is looking into her as well, and he's making a bigger splash, but I need you to be discreet."

"No problem," Zach said. "Oh-one more thing, on those photos you sent. Finally got a hit late this afternoon on this guy." He slid over the photo of Jasmine's bodyguard. "Lance Dobleman. Dishonorably discharged from the Army six years ago for a variety of charges, including insubordination and assault of a superior officer."

"Why wasn't he court-martialed?" Noah asked.

"I hope you don't mind, but I asked Agent Dunning to look into it, since he's former Army."

"And?"

"Dobleman was sleeping with his commanding officer's wife. Commanding officer caught them in bed, fight ensued, Dobleman got the discharge. But apparently there were a lot of shady things with this guy. Nate couldn't get the details, only that Dobleman was a ladies' man, may have been abusive to the women he was with, and his unit didn't like him. His bunkmate is the one who told their commander about the affair."

Noah said, "Ask Nate to follow up on that, and I'll work on getting his military records and see if we can work that angle. Find out what he's been doing in the last six years and who employs him now."

"I got that part," Zach said with a grin. He handed over a slender file. "I don't have a lot on him, but he works for Gold Key Enterprises, one of the companies in this big shell game." He circled a business in the middle of the chart. "Title is security chief. And I have a residence-thanks to Nate. It's all in the folder."

Lucy opened it. Dobleman lived in Austin, Texas.

"Hold off on interviewing Dobleman until I hear from Stockton about how we're going to handle Jasmine," Noah said. "But Zach-keep working this. The more information we have, the better."

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN.

The bad news was that the stadium was crowded and sold out.

That good news was that the stadium was crowded and sold out.

The crowds could help Sean grab Jesse and slip away with minimal attention, but first he had to get in. That wasn't the difficult part-bribing a guard at a back exit did the trick.

But now he had to find Jesse. And Jaye hadn't called him.

On the ride to the stadium-Sean had hot-wired an old motorcycle that was easy to manuever and park close to the stadium-he considered all the ways his plan could go wrong.

In fact, he didn't see it going right.

But what other choice did he have? Kane's idea of appealing to Dante Romero may or may not work. And then they would have to breach the Flores compound, putting both of them-and Jesse-at risk. Grabbing Jesse now and explaining to the kid on the way home what was going on seemed the most logical-and easiest-of solutions.

Sean didn't want to scare Jesse. Hell, that was the last thing he wanted to do. He considered how to explain to his son what was going on ... and the best way was getting him to talk to his mother. Sean had Madison now programmed on speed dial and he suspected she'd pick up on the first ring. He hoped. After this morning ...

Focus, Sean. Focus on finding Jesse, then worry about getting him out.

Sean arrived just after halftime ended. People were still moving back to their seats, some agitated, drunk, excited. Sean liked to play sports for fun, but he grew restless as an observer. What was the last major sporting event he'd watched? Was it the Super Bowl? No ... he missed most of it. He caught one of the games of the World Series last year, only because he'd been with Patrick who loved baseball. How did people have fun here? There was a certain energy and excitement-that he understood-but Sean would much rather be playing on the field than sitting in the stands drinking beer.

He didn't know how much time he had-an hour, take or leave. He walked the entire perimeter of the stadium to get the layout. There were food and souvenir vendors in several strategic locations. The credit card that Jaye had caught only gave the name of the business entity that ran all sales at the stadium, so Sean had no idea which clothing retailer had sold Carson the shirts.

Jaye still hadn't called.

He called her.

"Jaye, I need something."

"Sean, what the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Funny, you don't sound like Jaye." Shit, it was JT.

"You're acting on emotion. For a fucking genius, you're an idiot."

"It's an opportunity."

"You're there without backup!"

"Kane is working his own angle, I'm working mine. If I can get Jesse tonight, we'll be back in San Antonio before dawn."

"I'm not saying the plan is bad-though it is because you don't even have a plan-I'm saying you never go in alone. Kane is on his way. Do not do anything until he gets there."

"I don't even know where Jesse is!"

"Jaye is very good. Flores has season tickets, a box of eight-which means you're not just dealing with some cartel lawyer and a kid; you could be dealing with bodyguards and one or more of the Flores brothers. Wait for Kane. He'll meet you at the top of section one eighteen."

"Okay."

"I'm serious, Sean."

"I said I'd wait for him!" He rubbed his face. He was so close ... "Look, JT, I get it. But what choice did I have? What if Jesse were your kid?"

"This is why you bring backup-because emotions have no place in hostage rescue. Be safe-and smart."

"I have no intention of dying tonight."

"It's about time," Sean muttered when Kane came up silently next to him twenty minutes after he got off the phone with JT.

Kane was in disguise, of sorts. Black shirt but instead of his military surplus jacket, he had on a worn leather jacket, and he wore a home team baseball cap with sunglasses-even though it was near dark. Sean also wore sunglasses, and Kane pulled an extra cap from his back pocket. Sean put it on.

"You have one chance," Kane said. "If anything goes south, we disappear, got it? Being arrested would really screw with our plans-not to mention being dangerous for both of us. I have a jeep parked outside the perimeter, directly across from the north exit, but it's a quarter-mile walk. I couldn't risk getting caught up in crowds leaving. This place is going to be a zoo." He glanced at the scoreboard. "Good thing it's tied at one, because if it goes into overtime, no one is going to leave early. This is important, Sean-if you get Jesse, get to the jeep. If I'm not there, leave. I'll meet you at the plane."

"I'm not leaving you behind."

"I have a backup plan. Which is what you should have had before you got here."

"We're close, Kane."

"I know."

"Where is he?"

"The Flores family has a box directly above section one oh three-directly across the stadium from us." He slipped Sean a pair of binoculars. "I already scoped it out when I arrived. The kid is there; so are Carson Spade, Gabriella Romero, and one of the Flores brothers. Four other men, two I pegged as bodyguards, two I believe are associates. I couldn't stay long-this disguise is nonexistent. I'm sure Dante already alerted Gabriella to my presence, and she's a wild card."

"You're going to have to clue me in later," Sean said. He looked through the binoculars and adjusted them. He saw mostly a sea of red and white, the team colors.

And then he saw Jesse.

The kid was watching the game intently. His hair was longer than in the photo Sean had seen, long enough to curl at the ends just like Sean's hair did. He wore a home team jersey that was too big on him, and held a bag of popcorn.

Sean's heart rate increased. That was his son. He should be taking him to games, showing him how to play soccer and baseball. He should be watching him play in Little League or coaching his soccer team.

Focus. Sean turned the binoculars to the rest of the group. Carson wasn't sitting next to Jesse-he was in front of him, next to a relaxed older man. Jesse was sitting between the only female in the group-Gabriella Romero, Sean presumed-and a broad-shouldered dark-skinned man with a mustache. He looked all bodyguard.

"We wait until they leave."

"I hate that plan."

"I've gone through the possibles and this is the only way it's going to work. Unless the kid needs to use the bathroom, we're going to wait until the group leaves. I will split him off from his group, using the crowds as a diversion. We need to act fast. Spade or one of the entourage will notice pretty quick if the kid isn't with them. You have to convince him not to make a scene. If he goes quietly, we get out fast. If he argues, we bolt. Without him. You may have authority from his mother, but that doesn't give you rights here in Mexico when Carson Spade is his legal guardian."

Sean wanted to argue, but he didn't. Kane didn't talk much, so when he had a speech, Sean paid attention.

He nodded.

"Follow me."

Sean followed Kane around the south end of the stadium until they reached section 103 where Jesse sat with his group. Cheers erupted when the home team scored a goal, putting them ahead 21 with two minutes left. Sean stopped where he had a vantage point, but Kane pushed him forward, around the corner, and up the stairs that led to the upper balcony. After the goal, many people started to leave.

Kane pushed Sean into an alcove-a food stand had once been there, but it was shut down now-and said, "Stay here."

Sean waited. And waited. The stadium roared several minutes later, and thundering applause, shouts, and footfalls filled the arena. Where the hell was Kane?

He almost left. He watched from his vantage point as masses of people filed past him. They didn't seem to be ending. Then suddenly Kane emerged with Jesse by the arm.

"Let me go!" Jesse said. With the noise from the crowd, no one would be able to hear him.

Kane gave Sean a look that said they had little time.

"Jesse," Sean said, "your mother sent me to bring you home."

"No way, she would have told me. Who are you?"

"My name is Sean, and your mother and I were friends years ago. You need to trust me. As soon as we get out of here, you can call her."

"Yeah, and you have a puppy you want me to help you find."

Kane was watching the crowd. "Sean, time."

"Jesse," Sean said, "your stepfather is bad news, and he's put your life in danger. Your mother hired me to find you. You need to come with me now."

He reached for him, took him by the arm, and suddenly Jesse started screaming. "Let me go!"

Sean didn't want to scare him, but what was he supposed to do?

"Carson Spade is working for the drug cartels, and you're not safe with him!" Sean said, pulling Jesse toward him.

Jesse lashed out, scratching Sean. He saw Sean's gun under his jacket and kicked Sean in the balls. Sean fell to his knees and Jesse slipped away.

"Kane! Grab him!"

Kane did and at first Sean was relieved, then Kane said in a low voice, "Jesse, do not tell anyone about this. You will put your mother's life in grave danger. We're coming back for you."

Then he let him go. Jesse ran.

"What the hell?" Sean said. "Why?"

"We have to go, Spade already alerted security. If the kid talks, we're fucked."

Sean slammed his hand against the stone wall and followed Kane.

That didn't go anything like he had planned.

Jesse ran away from the two creeps, but he had no idea where to go. He headed back toward the seats they'd been sitting in, fighting the crowds.

Carson Spade is working for the drug cartels.

That was the stupidest thing Jesse had ever heard. Those men were probably here to kidnap him for ransom. His dad had warned him that it was a real possibility.