Read Rarities Unlimited 04 - The Color of Death for Free Online Page A

which served to minimize her female attributes. Brown hair, brown eyes, brown suit, ordinary build. Easy to overlook even if the room wasn’t crowded.
    But she has the latest spy-tech equipment, Sam thought. Damn, I’d like to have what she’s wearing instead of the crap Uncle Sam supplied to the strike force. I’d need Rasta hair to hide the stuff we use.
    “…and Mendoza,” Kennedy said, “tell your men to ride that border harder. The assholes we’re looking for don’t use passports and paved truck crossings.”
    “What about the airports?” Mendoza asked.
    “Sky Harbor will be covered, even though we don’t expect much. Pass out photos of the known gang members and be watching all the flights that originate or connect south of the border.”
    Mendoza nodded as though he’d been told something unusually insightful. “I’m on it.”
    Sam looked at his warm water and asked, “What about the secondary airport in Scottsdale?”
    “You volunteering?” Kennedy shot back.
    “If that’s where you want me.”
    “Don’t tempt me.”
    Sam drank the rest of his water and thought about going back for more.
    “Okay, I want everybody, ” Kennedy glared at Sam, “to keep in mind that we’re dealing with a highly organized, very fluid group of South American ex-military, some of whom were trained by various U.S. special forces to fight drug dealers but decided it was more profitable to hit jewelry couriers in the U.S. and keep the change. The low-level gang players change from week to week and month to month, but the leaders don’t. We want the top of that food chain, not the bottom. It’s a real old-boy club, so going undercover won’t work. If you weren’t in the homeboy military with these crooks, you’ll never get to first base in their gang.”
    Sizemore nodded emphatically. “The Colombian gang I put away was all ex-military, wise to technology, and brutal to the bone. Hardest people I ever came across in my…”
    …thirty-odd years with the Bureau, Sam said silently, speaking Sizemore’s sentences before the older man could. Nothing has changed since I set up my own security business. I tell you, don’t underestimate these assholes. You’ll be…
    “…dead before you know what hit you,” Sizemore finished. He banged his empty beer bottle on the table for emphasis.
    Warm tap water was sounding really good to Sam, but he knew if he walked out on Sizemore, Kennedy would get even.
    It wouldn’t be the first time. If Sam stayed long enough in the Bureau, he’d end up in Fargo, North Dakota, the FBI’s graveyardfor special agents who had pissed off their SSAs. But he was sixteen years into his twenty and figured if it came to that, he could do his last four in Fargo.
    Hell, men survived in prison longer, right?
    “Any of the metro PDs have anything to report?” Kennedy asked, looking around the room with pale blue eyes.
    “Nothing yet,” Mario said. “A pawnshop and a 7-Eleven were robbed by Hispanics, but none of the gem shipments that are coming in for the show have been touched. At least I assume they’re coming in?” He looked at Sizemore for confirmation.
    “Several times a day,” Sizemore said. “Right, Sharon?”
    “Next one is due in Sky Harbor Airport this afternoon, via Mandel, Inc., a courier service,” Sharon said crisply. “The courier’s identity and flight haven’t been released for security reasons, but if required, we will advise Mandel, Inc. to cooperate with the FBI.”
    “Damn straight,” Sizemore said. He leaned sideways, snagged another beer, and twisted the top off the bottle. “These South Americans have spies and informers everywhere. Toughest, smartest bunch of…”
    Sam tuned out and hoped what he was thinking didn’t show, but he doubted it. He’d had three months to listen to Sizemore hark back to the good old days when he’d become the Legend by overseeing the crime strike force that dismantled three South American gangs that had been operating