Page 18 of Wick
The second the news anchor finishes her story, and the program cuts to a commercial, I head in the direction of the room the club holds church. "Mr. Wilder, I'm going to hang up and call you right back. I need to call Scott."
No sooner do I hang up with Vayda's dad when the landline on the table in front of me rings. I answer already knowing who it is. "Scott. You better have some answers for me."
"I take it you saw the news?"
"That and Vayda's father just called me. Speaking of, can you patch him in?"
"One second." The line goes silent while Scott taps Mr. Wilder in on the conversation. Scott is the mission coordinator for Vayda's current assignment. Riggs and I have worked with him on many occasions. "Look. All I can tell you is I lost communication with Vayda, Burks, Thorstad, and Miller forty-eight hours ago."
"Forty-eight hours?" I bark. "What the fuck, Scott. Why are we just now being informed? Why is this shit all over the news? Vayda's mission is supposed to be classified."
"I've been over here dealing with my superiors, Dawson. I'm breaking protocol by being on the phone with you now."
"Is there any word on if my daughter is alive?" Mr. Wilder questions.
Scott sighs. "Honestly, I don't know. They haven't sent in search and rescue."
I look at Riggs, who is standing over my shoulder. He nods, giving me the signal he's all in. "Scott…" I go to say only to have him cut me off.
"There is a plane waiting for you and LeBlanc. I'll see you both in a couple of hours."
"Is this stunt going to rain fire down on your head?"
"At this point, I don't give a fuck. All that matters now is bringing my team home. Besides, since when have you ever played by the rules, Dawson?"
"Fuckin' never. See you soon."
Scott disconnects, leaving Mr. Wilder and me on the line. He's silent, but I know he's still there. "Bring my baby girl home, Malik."
"You have my word."
It's late afternoon by the time Riggs and I make it to Texas, where an SUV was waiting for us at the airport to take us straight to Scott's house, which also doubles as his headquarters. Scott's estate sits on endless acres of land out here in Texas. It's also where he has a chopper waiting to fly us to Mexico.
Hopping out of the SUV, I jog around to the back, open the hatch and retrieve my gear. Riggs stands beside me doing the same. When we make it to the chopper and climb in, Scott is sitting in the pilot seat buckling his safety belt. "You get clearance?" I ask.
"Nope. But I don't need it. I have my own connections."
"Good enough for me. Let's roll."
With Scott living so close to the Mexico border, flight time is just over an hour. With my thoughts running rampant, it is going to be the most extended hour of my life. I keep playing different scenarios over in my head. Will we find her dead? Is she alive and injured? The third scenario has my gut churning with dread. I know all too well what Vayda's missions entail. Cartels, drug trafficking, and the sex trade. To the Cartel, women are used as nothing more than to make a profit. They are nothing more than expendable property. Once a woman is used up and has served her purpose, she will be tossed out like yesterday's garbage and killed. I close my eyes and clench my fist at the mere notion of what Vayda may very well be enduring at this very moment. Because if she were captured, there would be only one outcome for her in the ways of the Cartel. Hearing Riggs' voice come over my headset, brings me out of my head.
"Don't fuckin' go there, brother. I can tell by the look on your face you're thinkin' the worst. Keep your head on straight. She's going to need you."
"That's if she's still alive."
"Tequila is one of the strongest women I know, Malik. She's a survivor."
I spend the remainder of the flight repeating, Riggs' words. Vayda is a survivor.
"We're coming up on where Tequila's emergency landing point would have been." Scott's voice crackles in my ear.
Just as the chopper clears a cliff, I spot it. "There!" I point to my right where Vayda's helicopter wreckage lays in a cornfield. Instead of landing, Scott circles the area to get a feel of our surroundings.
A compound is located twenty miles from where Vayda landed. Scott informed us this was where Vayda and her team had intended to extract a dozen women held by a man named Arturo Cortez. Not wanting to make our presence known, Scott doubles back in the opposite direction of Cortez's compound. "I'm going to put us down six miles out. We'll have to go on foot to the compound."
"Copy," Riggs and I say at the same time.
By the time we find a secluded place to land, I affirm we only have a few hours before daylight. Right now, the bleak darkness is on our side. Scott, Riggs, and I move through the dense brush in the direction of the wreckage until we come upon the cornfield and Vayda's chopper. I'm the first to reach the aircraft. Riggs is covering my back with his weapon drawn. Pulling a flashlight from my utility belt, I shine the light inside. "There's nobody here."
