Texas IS Heaven 002

It took another two hours to get across Houston to the Airbnb I had rented. It was all done via email and electronic communications. The payment was made using cash via an electronic cash system. It could be traced, but it would take weeks, if not months, to be worked out. Then whoever was doing the looking would find that some poor drunk homeless guy had done the few things that required a real person to do. I felt safe about it.

I had the combination to the lock on the front door. I gave it to John, who jumped out and was soon in the front door. Seconds later, the garage door went up, and the Bronco was inside. The door slid shut, and I got out, pulled the release cable on the garage door opener, unplugged the motor and flipped the lock on the garage door. Nobody would inadvertently open that door. We hauled most of the gear into the house and chose our bedrooms. It had three bedrooms, each with a private bath.

John looked in the refrigerator.

"No groceries."

"When the rental car gets here, we will stop while we are out and load up. Always in small batches and always with cash. We look for small local stores with little or no surveillance. All the big stores now have video on each checkout station, and most of them are using digital facial recognition. It's to stop recurring theft, but it's a trail I'd rather not leave."

"Won't you have to sign for the car."

"Already did it electronically. The driver will leave the keys in the mailbox. They don't like to do it, but a little extra in the online payment convinced the local manager. This ain't one of the big airport rental agencies. It's a small, locally owned place called rent-a-wreck"

"What kind of car?"

I grinned.

"It's an old Crown Vic police interceptor. The guy probably bought it from the police auction. If the tires are good and there is any life left in the engine, it should get the job done."

We hung around the house with the lights out and the blinds closed for about two hours. I heard the Crown Vic pull into the driveway. The keys came through the mail slot and I watched carefully as the kid driving the car hustled out to another car, climbed in and they headed out. So far, so good.

We waited until after dark. We spent the time checking the gear I had brought along. I had a pair of high dollar night vision binoculars, a pair of night vision goggles, a mini recorder because I hate trying to take notes. I had my tried and true Glock 17, a tactical shotgun and my colt M4 carbine.

John had his trusted 1911, a boot pistol, a boot knife, a double barrel 12 gauge shotgun, and, of all things, an Uzi. I looked at his choices. He looked at mine and nodded while he spoke.

"I figured you for that exact setup. It is nearly military grade equipment. Go with what you know. I tried to fill in the holes."

"That M4 is good for some close quarters combat, but in a really tight situation, the ability to unleash a hail storm of lead in a lighter weight cartridge can be useful. That double barrel is nasty at close range and doesn't need to be manipulated to fire it. In a pinch, you can hang inside a raincoat. I notice you didn't include a blade."

"I reached into the small of my back and brought out a CRKT, clever girl. Jon looked at it.

"That's a nasty piece of work. I'll take it you know how to use it."

I made the knife disappear as fast as it appeared, and then pulled a Boker AK74 folding knife from my pocket. It clicked open, and I rotated it a couple of times in my hand, transitioning from a backhand grip to a forehand grip.

"Ok. You made your point. What else you got?"

I opened my other duffle back and pulled out a t-shirt made of soft stretchable material. John picked it up and then his eyes went wide.

"That's armor."

"Yeah, Level three, and you can wear it under a shirt and it's unnoticeable."

"Not much coverage."

"It covers the thoracic region. The mesh is also cut resistant. I won't totally stop a full on direct stab, but it will stop most slashing attacks. It gives you an edge."

"Where'd you get this?"

"Don't worry. We can stop at a place here and pick you one up."

"Is that safe?"

I grinned.

"It is if you know the guy who owns the store."

We finally got all the gear stowed and squared away. I donned the body armor and pulled a close-fitting long sleeve knit shirt over it. I chose black tactical pants and a pair of soft soled black suede shoes. John had on his cowboy boots, jeans, a belt with a big rodeo buckle and plaid western shirt and his stetson. I looked at him.

"You stand out like a sore thumb."

"Remember where you are, boy. This is Texas. If you want to be the gray man, dress like the romans or some shit like that."

I shrugged.

"Let's go find this chick."

It took another hour to find the house where we suspected she lived. It was, of course, in a gated and guarded neighborhood. I parked the car and was about to get out. John opened his door as well.

"Ugh, ugh. You stay here. You aren't dressed to be skulking around a guarded neighborhood. You stay with the car and be sharp."

As I walked away, I thought to myself I might be a bit presumptuous, telling the old man to stay sharp. I walked away from the neighborhood for a couple of blocks and then doubled back. I had seen something interesting on the way in, and I wanted to check it out. An old train right of way ran along one side of the property. It was slightly elevated and overgrown. By walking carefully on the far side of the right of way, I was able to move within feet of the back fence of the development without having any knowledge I was there. I had checked the online tax records, which gave me a pretty detailed plot map of the neighborhood. I knew about where the house was and because the tax records contained the footprint of the house, I could easily recognize it. Likewise, I would have to cross through one yard and across a street to get close to the house. There were plenty of streetlights, and I was sure that every one of the houses had exterior video surveillance. Some of it was probably infrared as well. I pondered what to do when I saw something in the shadows a few yards further down the fence.

There was an easement of some kind between the fences of the houses and the security fence around the development. I was sure what I had found was a power transformer. It was a long shot. I moved on down three or four more transformers, then jumped the security fence. I looked at the transformer. Of course, I didn't have the tools to remove the cover and all the electrical connections entered under the metal box and concrete pad. I was just about to abandon my idea when I saw the padlock low to the ground on the back side of the transformer in the shadows. I bent down and looked at it closely. It was an ordinary master padlock.

I fumbled in the small backpack he carried until I found the leather case in the outside pocket. I opened the soft case and chose my instruments. The lock pick set had been standard issue to covert operators. Hours of practice had left me with a fine touch, and the master padlock was an easy pick. In seconds, I had the back of the transformer open. I could hear the soft hum of the electricity feeding through to the houses below.

Using my small flashlight, I examined the interior of the transformer and found the main breaker. I got myself ready, flipped the breaker and shut the door on the transformer and relocked the padlock. I looked down as I hurried back to my chosen spot. Three of the houses below had gone dark. I heard a generator crank and the furthest house suddenly came back to life. They had a whole house generator. I hurried out of the brush behind the house and over the fence. It would only take seconds for any backup battery system to come to life.

The streetlights, of course, were on their own power system and remained bright. I hesitated in the shadows of the house I had picked, and then sprinted across the street. Just as I dove into the shrubbery at the corner of my target house, a small SUV came dashing around the corner and two security guards got out. At least one of the houses had alerted someone when the power went down. I backed further into the shadows and watched.

The two men looked around the two houses that were still dark and satisfied themselves that all seemed to be normal. They got back into the SUV and slowly rolled away down the street. I spent the next hour nosing around my target house. The house was dark, everything was secure. The house did have a full perimeter security system and lights. That made it difficult to get a very close view inside the house. I finally decided I had seen what I needed to see and exfiltrated back the way I had come.

Back at the Crown Vic, John was asleep propped up in the passenger seat. I eased into the driver's seat, and John roused when I started the car. He looked around, somewhat dazed.

"Good thing no one wanted to steal a beat up old cop car."

He looked at me funny.

"Did you find anything?"

"Lots. Let's find someplace to grab breakfast and I'll tell you what I found."

A Denny's a couple of miles away was just the ticket. We found a table and ordered breakfast. No one else was in the place at this hour. When the waitress had left a full carafe of coffee at the table, she retreated behind the front counter and went back to work on her nails.

John sat patiently until I was satisfied before starting my debrief.

'Well. What did you find?"

"What I didn't find is more important than what I found."

"Why?"

"If this woman is the daughter of a major crime boss, and she has her own successful crime organization going on, they certainly don't act like it."

"What do you mean?"

"Not a single guard was to be found. No where. The house was dark. It was secure and had a security system. It was what I would expect from an average Joe Shmoe."

"But there were the security guards. I saw that SUV come around when the lights went out on those three houses."

I made a mental note. He had been watching.

"Unarmed minimum wage wannabes. I watched them from no more than 15 feet away. They never even checked the area where I was hiding."

"What are you thinking?"

"Something's not right. That was way too easy."

"What now?"

"I want to see her daily routine."

"We aren't going home to bed."

"Hell no. I told you this was going to be a long deal."

John grumbled a bit. Our breakfast came, and I dove into a pile of hotcakes, eggs and sausage.

&&&&&

In an hour, we were back on our spot overlooking the house. I settled in with a cup of Denny's coffee and waited. It was almost 10 am before there was any activity at the target house. About a quarter to ten, the garage door opened, and a red corvette pulled out. I identified the driver as our target and watched as she pulled out of the gated neighborhood. I was making mental notes. No guards. No chase vehicle. I eased in behind her a few car lengths back and followed until the car parked in a marked spot near the front of a stand-alone building with a sign identifying the business as Angelina's Dance and Modeling Academy. A smaller sign saying Houston Modeling Agency sat below. I watched as our target got out of the corvette and headed to the front door. There were no other cars in the lot. She stopped to unlock the door. That gave me a chance to check her out closely with the high-power binoculars.

She was a total knockout. I knew she was in her mid-thirties, but she looked about 25. Judging by the door frame, she stood about 5' 7". She had that look of a dancer. Great legs, well muscled. A small waist and broad shoulders. The one thing that proclaimed she wasn't a working dancer was her rack. Those had to be at least 36 double D's. Very few successful professional dancers are that well-endowed.

She was wearing yoga pants, a t-shirt top and low heels. Nothing here screamed to me as a major crime operator. I watched until she disappeared into the store. We continued to watch the rest of the day. There was a taco shop a few blocks down. I got John to walk and get us lunch. All I saw all day was a steady stream of soccer mom's delivering little girls and a few little boys to what, I assumed, were dance classes. Toward the end of the afternoon, John left again to go to the convenience store down the block to take a leak and get some snacks. I watched several older women come and go from the store. I assumed they were models checking in at the agency.

About 4 pm, I asked John to wait. I got out of the car and walked casually back a few blocks away from the store, then crossed the street and made my way back. That put me on the right side of the storefront. As I walked past the corvette, I dropped my small flashlight and kicked it casually toward the care. I walked over and knelt down to pick it up. As I put my hand on the corvette to help myself back to my feet, a small GPS transmitter went under the fiberglass body and stuck to the metal mounting plate on the running gear. I walked a few blocks down, entered the convenience store and walked around for a bit. In a few minutes, I slipped back into the Crown Vic.

John looked at me.

"Need a stretch?"

"No. I needed to put a GPS tracker on that car. That way, we don't have to spend all our time following that car around. There is still something not right about this. It doesn't feel right."

"Why?"

"She is the only one who has been around that place all day except soccer moms and their kids and a few wanna be models. No hangers on, no guards, nothing."

"That makes you suspicious. It sounds to me like it would be a good thing. It shouldn't be a problem to make the snatch."

"Too easy. Criminals by and large are a paranoid and suspicious bunch. She isn't acting like what I would expect from someone doing a huge business in human and illicit drug trafficking."

I continued to watch the store until almost 9pm. After school, a steady stream of mom's came and went in waves. I surmised that dance classes were going on. Just after 9 pm, there was only one car left in the parking lot, the red corvette. When the woman came out of the store and locked up, I started the car. I heard John's question.

"I thought the GPS was going to keep track of her."

"We will follow her back to the house. It's on our way anyway. I want to watch the house a while longer."

"Gezussss... We been at this for more than 24 hours."

"I told you I wanted to be thorough."

I watched the house until well after midnight. The corvette had pulled into the garage, the lights had come on in the house. At about 11 pm, the lights had gone out. Not long after that, I started the car and headed back to the house.

We stopped again at a truck stop on the highway with a restaurant and grabbed breakfast again. I was pretty sure that John was about done with my style of surveillance. We got back to the house at about 3 am. John didn't say much, just headed to the bedroom he had claimed and shut the door. I opened a beer I had purchased at the truck stop and sat in the dark living room and let my mind work through what I had seen. Something wasn't adding up about this whole deal, but I couldn't put my finger on anything specific. I was just a bunch of inconsistencies that caused me to worry.

I finally fell asleep in the recliner. I woke up about 7 am and headed to my bedroom to shower and change clothes. As I passed by the kitchen, I wished we had stopped to buy coffee. I showered and shaved, dressed normally, and headed back out. John's bedroom door was open, and he was sitting sourly at the kitchen table.

"We didn't buy any fucking coffee."

"I know. We'll get some today."

"Are we gonna sit in that goddamned car for 24 hours again."

"Maybe. You can stay here if you want."

"No. I bought into this deal and I will stick it out."

"Then let's go. I saw a place around the corner that serves breakfast."

&&&&&

Two hours later, we headed back to the store location. I was surprised to find at least 4 cars in the parking lot. A large, heavy set guy was leaning against one of the cars near the front door. This was a change. No cover yesterday and a very visible guard the next day. There were possibly others inside. After a couple of hours of watching the usual stream of moms and kids come and go, I started the Crown Vic.

"Where we going."

"Grocery shopping."

I had a list of small locally owned markets, and we headed to the nearest one. We picked up the essentials such as coffee, bread, condiments, lunch meat and cheese. The main thing was the coffee. It was the fuel on which I ran.

We came back to our position a little after 3 pm. Nothing much had changed. We sat through the evening run of what I believed to be dance classes and then headed back toward the house. I stopped at another market, where we picked up some more groceries and a bag of sandwiches and fries from the deli in the market.

As we drove, John was asking questions.

"Aren't you satisfied yet?"

"Not yet. Things changed today. There was someone watching the front door all the time. But I don't think he was really doing anything but being present."

"Why do you say that?"

"He played on his phone most of the time. Anyone serious about personal protection would have been eyes moving around all the time and aware of who was coming and going. I walked up and down the sidewalk twice, and he never even looked at me."

"I'm going back later to make a drive by on the house."

"I think I'm going to stay here. I'm bushed and my butt hurts from sitting in that Crown Vic all day."

"No problem. I won't be gone for more than a few hours.

I drove back to her house after we had eaten. I parked and used the binoculars and saw that, again, things had changed. There was someone hanging around the back of the house. He was sitting in a patio chair, sort of looking around. I stayed for more than an hour, and he never moved from the chair. I finally headed back to the house, thinking hard along the way. There were some things to check online when I got back to the house.

I locked the bedroom door and sat on the bed with the laptop on my thighs. I checked several things, including the GPS tracker history, and didn't find anything to attract my attention. Then I checked the keylogger on the burner phone I had given John. Mind you, I'm not a suspicious kind of guy, but being careful is not suspicious. What I found gave me pause. There were a number of outgoing calls on that burner phone, all to a single number. I made a note of the number and then hit my usual sources of information.

Ten minutes later, I was sitting on the bed with my eyes focused squarely on the screen. The phone number went back to the address that we had been surveilling. Except the name didn't come back to the name I had been given. It came back to Stephanie Stanford. I began to dig further. It took a while, but I soon had a nearly complete dossier on Miss Stanford. Unmarried or divorced, I couldn't tell yet. 36 years old. I had her birthdate and place. She was born at a Naval base in Florida. I recognized it as a SEAL station. Educated at various public schools, with a change in schools every three to five years. Went to college at a small private university in Texas. Graduates with a degree in fine arts dance. Spent some time in New York City and then moved back to Houston. Self-employed since that time. No siblings. I closed the laptop and began to think.

My first inclination was to rush across the hall, wake up John Stanford, and confront him with what I had found. Then I had a second thought. I liked that idea even better. Two could play in this game. I went to work on the computer.

Two days later, I was ready to put my new plan into action. I hadn't shared anything with John about the changes. We stayed close to the house, letting the GPS tracker work. Our target was a creature of habit. She left the house at the same time every day. She took the same route to work each morning. Her habit was to leave her studio within 15 minutes of the same time every evening. She took the same route home and never varied that routine. It was certainly not what I would expect from someone running a high-end drug and human trafficking operation.