Free JET - Escape: (Volume 9) by Russell Blake

the sonorous drone of male snores. After several agonizing moments he was satisfied that the room’s occupants were fast asleep, and he moved through the doorway, his steps soundless.
    The bed was a jumble of forms, and it took Drago a moment to make out the single expected male and two smaller females, their nudity stark against the white sheets. He scanned the room and spotted the blinking red of an LED from the nightstand nearest the slumbering Renaldo. Cursing silently that he would have to get that close to the man, he crept toward the bed, which as he drew nearer, reeked of cheap floral perfume and sex.
    Drago’s fingers were closing on the cell when one of the girls stirred. He froze, not daring to breathe lest the slightest movement rouse her. She groaned softly and shifted on the bed, and then resumed sleeping. Drago’s eyes darted to an empty bottle of rum on the dresser near the window and thanked Providence for the threesome’s appetite for alcohol. If they’d been doing cocaine they would have been up all night, and he’d have had to come up with another approach.
    Drago lifted the phone from the table and retraced his steps to the sitting room, where he quickly plugged the cable into the cell and uploaded the tracking software, which took twenty seconds. He checked to ensure his effort had been successful and rebooted the phone, wincing as it beeped softly when he powered it back on.
    His return to the bedroom was anticlimactic, and he was in and out in moments. Drago stopped in the doorway and eyed the tableau of the inebriated drug lord and his companions, and then turned and took measured steps back to the sitting room window. His errand concluded, the only thing remaining to be done was to get back to his bed without plunging three stories to his death.
    The return trip along the ledge posed no undue challenge, however, and thirty seconds later he was standing outside his window, eyes scanning the darkness.
    Once in his room, he powered on his phone and activated the tracking application. It blinked at him in the dark and an icon showing no activity appeared on the screen, indicating it was working, waiting patiently for an incoming call or text. He scrolled to another icon, selected it, and found himself with a list of Renaldo’s text messages.
    Two hours later he’d finished his scan of the cartel capo’s phone contents; but other than enough evidence to convict Renaldo ten times over, he had nothing. There were only references to looking for the targets, putting the word out, alerting immigration, but nothing that indicated the cartel had any idea where to find their quarry.
    Drago swallowed the bitter disappointment and stripped off his clothes before climbing back into bed. He set his cell on the nightstand beside him and rolled toward Alana, who would be unconscious for at least another few hours before awakening with the hangover of her life. His phone would notify him whenever Renaldo received a call or a text message, so now there was little to do but wait. And he’d paid for the room all night, as well as Alana’s able company…and there was nothing to be gained by allowing either to go to waste.
    He closed his eyes, resigned to snatching a few hours of rest, and was asleep in minutes.
     

Chapter 12
    La Virginia, Colombia
     
    Fog hung over the valley as Ramón and Fernanda rolled into the downtown area of La Virgina and past the cathedral on the square, which was the focal point of the town’s commercial center. The narrow streets were deserted as dawn broke, its amber rays lighting the sky through the ghostly haze.
    “Not really a lot here, is there?” Fernanda asked as they rumbled over the uneven pavement.
    “No. But the good news is that should make it easier to track our friends. Not much goes unnoticed in a town this size.”
    “Viega is already on the ground?”
    “Yes. He roused the locals and they’re knocking on doors. We’re to meet him at the square.” Ramón was