After wrapping up his tasks, Jack sank into a sofa and sent a message to Jane Banner. As usual, the "Scarlet Witch" delivered results. She had just led a raid with the U.S. Marshals on a small gang in Philadelphia and apprehended the gang leader. Under minimal pressure, the man had spilled everything he knew.
The Zapotec cartel frequently relocated their distribution points, constantly changing locations. However, according to the gang leader, a large shipment had recently arrived, meaning the current location likely wouldn't change until all the product was sold.
Jack quickly typed a long response, instructing Jane to keep surveillance on the site and stay cautious. He also sent over the details of the blue Honda Fit, hoping for a lead.
By morning, Jack was in the office, sipping a cup of strong black coffee brewed from a large pot in the command vehicle. The prison kitchen had provided hot pancakes and warm milk for breakfast. One by one, the groggy team members shuffled in, filling their cups with the bitter coffee and grabbing pancakes, leaving the milk untouched.
No one was surprised that Jack, who had slept even less than they had, seemed fully alert and energized. By now, they had grown accustomed to his inhuman stamina.
Hannah and JJ didn't even bother questioning it anymore. They both knew they couldn't keep up with him—even when gaming, Jack would be wide awake and bustling in the kitchen after pulling an all-nighter, while they could barely drag themselves out of bed.
"Alright, folks. Let's go over today's assignments," Jubal announced, clapping his hands after scarfing down his breakfast. He grabbed a pencil, preparing to lay out the day's plans.
Before he could continue, the office doors burst open. DEA Agent Greg Galeson walked in, looking excited.
"Hey, everyone! I think I've got something!" he exclaimed.
"Did you identify the fake priest?" Hannah asked curiously.
"Uh, no. I've never heard of the guy. He might've been a professional hired by the Zapotec cartel to deliver a message to Maldonado. I doubt they had prior contact," Galeson answered nonchalantly.
"But I've been thinking—Maldonado is on his own now. What would he do? Where would he go?" He proudly handed a document to Jubal.
"I found out that Emilia has a brother," he added.
Jubal passed the document to Alice, who quickly brought up a photo on the screen. It showed a young man with a face covered in acne—he looked like a stereotypical drug addict.
Aubrey, munching on another pancake, read the man's criminal record aloud. "Gabriel Ferrea. Theft, drug possession, public indecency... and two arrests for sexual assault. Wow, what a model citizen."
Aubrey raised an eyebrow. "So, why do you think Maldonado would go to him?"
"He's got nowhere else to go," Galeson replied confidently. "He killed Simic and is now alone. He'd naturally seek refuge with someone familiar. Gabriel Ferrea is his best option."
Alice frowned from her desk. "This guy doesn't even have a registered address. Based on his past arrests, I'm not sure he's still on the East Coast."
"He's in Newark," Galeson declared firmly. "I contacted my colleagues there. They're tracking him down. By the time we get there, they should have his location."
"Alright, let's pack up and move out," Jubal said, exchanging a knowing look with Jack. Both of them smiled subtly.
An hour later, the task force's command vehicle was headed southeast. They stopped in Harrisburg to pick up Captain Roland, who had worked through the night, and then continued eastward.
"Wait, shouldn't we be taking Highway 78 to Newark? Why are we on the Lincoln Highway?" Galeson asked, confused. The two highways ran parallel, but 78 would have led them directly to Newark, while the Lincoln Highway veered toward Philadelphia.
Jack, driving, gave him a bemused smile.
"The Marshals found something. They discovered a Zapotec cartel stash house on the outskirts of Philadelphia. We're heading there to check it out."
Galeson hesitated for a moment, then protested earnestly. "Listen, Agent Tavola. Maldonado might know the cartel's distribution network, but there's no way he'd know the locations of temporary stash houses. He wouldn't just stumble upon one by himself."
"You're absolutely right," Jack replied, still smiling. "But according to the Marshals' intel, this stash house just received a new shipment. We might be able to trace it back to one of their secret processing facilities in Pennsylvania. Maldonado would definitely know where that is. Once there, he could use the smuggling routes to return to Mexico."
Jubal chimed in, "Exactly. Isn't that why your agency moved him from Florida to Pennsylvania in the first place? To get intel on the Zapotec cartel's operations here?"
"But… if we go to Philadelphia, we'll lose the lead on his brother-in-law," Galeson argued weakly.
Jack chuckled and shook his head. "Relax. This is the number for Special Agent-in-Charge Rena Trenholm at the FBI Newark field office. She has plenty of agents available. Share your intel with her, and she'll handle it."
Looking dejected, Galeson took out his phone and retreated to the back of the vehicle. Once he was out of earshot, Jack and Jubal exchanged a knowing glance. They were now almost certain Galeson was compromised.
The only question was whether he was a pawn—pushed into this by a hidden hand within the DEA—or a willing traitor. Either way, this was delicate territory. Accusing another federal agency of harboring a mole without solid evidence could lead to bureaucratic infighting.
Jack had no intention of letting the DEA off the hook that easily. If there was a mole, the DEA would have to clean up its own mess. No way was Jack going to shoulder that burden himself.
As the convoy neared Philadelphia, Jack's phone rang. He answered on speaker.
"Jane, what's the situation?"
Gunfire crackled in the background as Jane's voice came through in fragments. "We found... the blue Honda Fit...!"
(End of Chapter)
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