White Lines

by Tom Fowler

  A few minutes past the appointed hour, C.T. Ferguson walked in. He stood about six-two and was built like a runner or lacrosse player. His dark brown hair looked freshly cut, and he wore a Hilfiger jacket over jeans and tennis shoes. “You’re late,” Rollins said.

  “Three minutes. It’s early for me. Need a refill?”

  Rollins shook his head, and C.T. got in line. A couple minutes later, he sat opposite Rollins. “I’ve already marked this day on the calendar . . . you asking me for help.”

  “It’s definitely some role reversal,” Rollins said with a nod.

  “If you’re going to play my part,” C.T. said, “you’ll need to dress better.”

  “I’ll do my best.” Rollins sipped his chai. It smelled great, and it carried exactly the right amount of spice. Holding the cup closer to his face drowned out the dominant aroma of coffee. “You ever hear of a place called Iron Tower?”

  “You mean the one in Germany?”

  “No,” Rollins said. “This is a facility outside Houston.”

  C.T. shook his head. “Can’t say I have.”

  Rollins glanced around. Tables were filling up, and a half-dozen people waited in line for drinks. “Let’s walk and talk.” He put the plastic lid back on his cup and headed for the door. A block later, the two men climbed into Rollins’ pickup. “Better not to have this conversation in there. I have a friend who needs my help. Long story short, he’s taking on a drug cartel selling out of Harford County.”

  “Sounds like a suicide mission.” C.T. frowned. “If your friend wants to die, you don’t need to go with him.”

  “We’ve actually done pretty well,” Rollins said. “Eight guys down so far. We have someone else working with us, too. He knows all the intel about these bastards. We figured out they’re getting a shipment soon, and they’ll be processing and packing it at a place outside Houston.”

  “I’ve always wanted to see Texas,” C.T. said. “I’m not really a raid-the-cartel-compound kind of guy, though.”

  Rollins waved a hand. “We’ll take care of the raiding part. The place sells itself on being high-tech. I thought you could help us from behind the keyboard.” From experience, Rollins knew C.T. to be a very capable hacker. He didn’t know if something like this would be in the man’s wheelhouse, however. If not, he’d need to scramble for an alternative.

  C.T. grinned. “Sure. Let me do some research on it and get back to you. Iron Tower, you said?” Rollins nodded. “All right. I’ll let you know what I find. When were you all planning to undertake this fool’s errand?”

  “A day or two.”

  “I’d better read fast, then.” C.T. opened the passenger’s side door and climbed down. “I’ll be in touch.”

  “Thanks,” Rollins said. He drove back to Tyler’s house and told him and Aguilar he’d be hearing from his contact soon. In the meantime, the trio looked at Google Earth data to get the lay of the land around the facility. About an hour later, C.T. called. Rollins stepped into the living room to answer.

  “They’re definitely leaning hard into security,” he said. “Selling a proprietary system raises an alarm for me. Pun intended.”

  “Of course it was,” Rollins said. “Does this mean you think you can get past it?”

  “As far as I can tell, they’re running a stripped-down version of Linux. It’s a few years old, and they’ve removed a lot. Someone breaking in will find a lot of familiar commands gone. Fortunately, I found a review of their beta code with some clever Googling.”

  “Why wouldn’t they delete it?”

  “Most companies are bad at document control,” C.T. said. “The good thing for them is a lot of their competitors don’t know how to take advantage of it.”

  Rollins followed this part of the conversation, at least. “But you do.”

  “Sure. They’ve done a good job. I have to give them credit for it. I’m pretty sure I found a way in, however.”

  “Do I want to know the details?”

  “Basically, the system will only accept a shutdown command issued with a few parameters. It puts everything in maintenance mode for two hours. I don’t think I can shut it down for longer.”

  Rollins placed his hand over the phone’s mic. “You guys think two hours is enough?” he called into the kitchen.

  “We’ll go full auto and save time,” Tyler said. Aguilar grinned and nodded.

  “It’ll work. I’ll let you know when it’s showtime.”

  “I’ll be ready,” C.T. said, and the two hung up.

  “Who is this mystery helper of yours?” Tyler asked.

  “A local private investigator,” Rollins said. “He’s good with computers.”

  “All right.” Tyler bobbed his head. “We know where, and we know how much time we’ll have to get in and get out. Now, we just need to get down there.”

  “I know a guy who could get us there,” Aguilar said. “He usually flies rich assholes around, but I’m sure he’ll work with us.”

  “Good,” Tyler said. “Let’s pack. I’d like to see this place in the light of day.”

  31

  By mid-afternoon, Tyler, Rollins, and Aguilar were wheels up and winging for Houston. They’d fly into Astro Airfield like their targets did. If the cartel used it a lot, there could be value in scouting it. In advance, they’d given all their weapons to Aguilar’s friend Bowman who would fly them down. His bag didn’t get searched at the tiny airport they flew out of, so he carried a massive roller packed with guns.

  Tyler gripped the armrests hard as the plane continued its ascent and leveled off. He noticed Rollins chuckling at him. “What?”

  “Didn’t think you’d be afraid of flying,” Rollins said.

  “I’m not,” Tyler insisted. “I just . . . don’t like it very much.”

  “We probably could’ve taken a boat.”

  “You know I get seasick. Why do you think I fixed tanks and Hummers? I wanted four wheels or two treads on the ground at all times.” Tyler tried to relax. The small plane remained steady during flight with only a few small pockets of turbulence. Lush green dominated the view out the tiny round window. This was another mark against flying in Tyler’s opinion: much of the country looked the same from thirty thousand feet and five hundred miles per hour.

  After about three hours and fifteen minutes in the air, they touched down at Astro Airfield. Bowman parked the plane on the tarmac, and the four walked into a small terminal. Rollins wheeled the weapons bag behind him. An employee met them inside, hoped they’d enjoyed their flight, and offered cold bottles of water. The place looked unremarkable to Tyler. It was small enough to be claustrophobic. There wouldn’t be any place for the cartel to stash any product or cash.

  The main area of the building continued the miniature motif. A single computer and scale handled people and luggage flying in. A bored middle-aged employee sat behind a desk to the side. The tin badge pinned to his shirt meant he pretended to be the security detail. Considering how little he seemed to care about his job, Héctor could pay him off easily with a stack of bills. This was an amateur operation—easily exploitable but not criminal.

  By six PM local time, the trio arrived at a nearby car rental business. Aguilar paid cash and scored a GMC Yukon SUV. As they loaded up the spacious rear, Tyler asked, “You’re not worried about this coming back on you?”

  Aguilar shook his head. “It’s not my name on the license. If they wanted me to hand in all my cover IDs when I left, someone should have kept a list.”

  “Fair enough.” Rollins climbed in the driver’s seat. Tyler was happy to sit in the back. The ample legroom allowed him to sit low and still keep an eye out. It made him less likely to be spotted if they ran into any of the cartel’s men near the Iron Tower. The SUV didn’t have a GPS, so Rollins used his phone. Eight minutes later, the Yukon slowed as they approached a foreboding black fence. The rest of the area remained undeveloped, and a small hill provided a good sniping spot about three hundred yards away on the opposite sid
e of the road.

  The barricade featured close-set iron posts at least twelve feet tall, spikes at the top, and barbed wire angled out to provide a further deterrent. No one could slip through the narrow gap between the poles and climbing their sheer surfaces would be nearly impossible. Even if someone made it over, Tyler spotted several cameras which would see the whole thing. They rolled on and came to the gate. It looked just like the rest of the barrier save for massive hinges and a keypad setup nearby. “Your friend’s going to get us past this?” Tyler asked Rollins. He looked at the building beyond, which seemed less impressive than the barricade surrounding it.

  “He says he can.” Rollins kept the Yukon moving so the cameras wouldn’t see anyone stopping to case the place. “I believe him.”

  “He ex-military?”

  “No,” Rollins said.

  “A former cop?”

  “Nope.”

  “How the hell did he come to be a PI, then?” Tyler said.

  Rollins grinned in the rearview mirror. “You’ll have to ask him yourself. I’m not the man’s agent.” They drove past the far end of the complex. The building itself stood two stories tall and looked to be about the size of a typical large supermarket.

  “You said we’d have two hours?” Tyler said. Rollins nodded.

  “We might need it,” Aguilar said. “Pretty big place.”

  With the Iron Tower behind them, Tyler sat up more. “Let’s confirm the shipment details once we’re checked in to a hotel. There’s a lot of square footage there, but I think the cartel guys will be easy enough to find once we’re inside.”

  “What if Héctor sent his big bastard down here?” Rollins said.

  “I’ll deal with him,” Tyler said. Rollins glanced into the mirror. Tyler didn’t see a lot of confidence in his eyes.

  “I don’t think you should do it.”

  Lexi looked up at her grandfather. “They’re up to something.”

  “Your mother was always up to something,” he said. “The best thing to do is not engage. Ignore her and her asshole brother, and they’ll go away.”

  “I’m not so sure.” She grabbed her dad’s old company laptop. “I don’t know what they’re after yet, but I’m gonna find out.”

  Zeke sighed and sat beside her on the couch. “Do you want to have a real relationship with your mother when she gets out?”

  Lexi stared at the screen as the computer booted up and displayed a login prompt. “I don’t know.” She let out a dry chuckle. “I loved her so much growing up. She was always there, you know? Dad was deployed a bunch. After they split up, he made sure to see me at least every weekend. I thought it was cool, but now I think he did it because he was concerned about her raising me.”

  “He was. It was one of the reasons he left the army.”

  “Really?” Lexi’s fingers hovered above the keys. “I thought it was all tied to the Braxton mess.”

  “I think Braxton gave your dad an easy out,” her grandfather said. “He didn’t tell me this, of course. I’m speculating. My guess is he wasn’t going to re-up when the time came out of concern for you. When the Braxton crap hit the fan, it was the final confirmation he needed to know he’d made the right decision. And none of the brass would question it after what went down.”

  “I’ve never heard that side of the story,” Lexi said. She logged in to the laptop using her dad’s credentials.

  “He wants you to have a normal relationship with your mother.” Zeke paused. “As normal as possible, I guess.”

  Lexi’s eyes narrowed as several distinct memories of her mom bad-mouthing her dad rushed to the front of her mind. He’s deployed too much. He loves the goddamn army more than he loves us. Why do you need to spend the whole weekend with him? “We might have passed the point of no return there.”

  “You’re an adult,” Zeke said. “You should do what you think is right. Besides, your generation doesn’t want to listen to an old man like me. If I were you, I’d just ignore them. Don’t answer emails or calls. Don’t visit. Let them fade away.”

  “What if they’re running some kind of scheme?” Lexi said.

  “Same advice.” Zeke stood. “It’s ultimately your call, y’know.” He left the living room and walked into the kitchen. Lexi cracked her knuckles and got to work. Uncle George was the real unknown. She now understood her mother’s shady past. Past a few sketchy details, however, she didn’t have much on her uncle. He was always nice enough, but they’d never been especially close. She ran a public records search for him. The Patriot laptop checked many sources with a single click and compiled the results, so it saved a ton of time versus checking multiple repositories.

  Uncle George owned a poor credit score, a fair bit of unpaid debt, and a criminal record. Most of his arrests didn’t lead to conviction, but Lexi noticed the last three—all in different jurisdictions, of course—were for fraud. She explored each for more details, and the laptop provided the police reports and other legal records each time.

  Attempted pension theft.

  Attempted pension theft.

  Attempted pension theft.

  “So that’s what you’re after,” Lexi whispered. “Grandpa, can you tell me again about my dad’s pension?”

  He walked back into the main room. “Normally, when there’s a divorce, a soldier has to give half to his ex-wife. Certain circumstances can prevent it, though, and your dad argued your mother’s criminal record meant he could divorce her for cause or something similar. It worked. His pension’s all his . . . or yours one day.” The old man frowned. “You think they’re after it?”

  “It fits a pattern with my uncle,” Lexi said. “Somehow, he’s avoided going to jail for it.”

  “What about this time?”

  She closed the laptop. “I’m going to burn him down.”

  32

  The next morning, Tyler looked at his phone. A text from Lexi came in after he went to sleep. Mom reached out to me because she’s going after your pension. Don’t worry, I’m all over it. “Hell,” he muttered, rubbing his face in an effort to wake up. He’d long suspected Rachel of being salty because she couldn’t stake a claim to his money. Her own poor choices led to it, of course, but people rarely blamed themselves for their own mistakes.

  Tyler sent a reply. I’m in Texas. Be careful. Your mom may be in jail, but she could call her brother. Your uncle is a grifter who probably knows some people. Love you.

  He showered and dressed. The plan was to meet Rollins and Aguilar for breakfast at a nearby diner at 0730. They would all arrive and leave separately. It all seemed a bit silly to Tyler—they’d be sitting together, after all—but he shrugged and went along with it. Leaving the hotel, Tyler walked a circuitous route. No one followed him, and he pushed the diner door open at 0729.

  Rollins sat at a round table in the back. Customers crowded the counter, but not many people gathered around a proper table to eat. Rollins’ spot was near the hallway leading to the restrooms. It dead-ended with no emergency exit. Tyler joined him, sliding onto a chair which would afford him full view of the entrance. The kitchen to his left would lead to another way out, and he could keep both in sight.

  Aguilar walked in a moment later and sat to Tyler’s right. A middle-aged waitress with a huge hair bun poured them coffee without asking. Tyler liked this place already. He ordered sausage, eggs, and toast when she came around again. Aguilar chose some fancy-sounding omelet, and Rollins opted for oatmeal. After the waitress walked away, Aguilar leaned in. “It’s coming tonight. I got confirmation a short while ago.”

  Tyler nodded. “Do we know when?”

  “Touchdown is at twenty-one hundred hours. With time for processing and handling, we should expect them about a half-hour later.”

  “Processing and handling?” Tyler grinned. “Now, I feel like I need to pay fourteen-ninety-five.”

  “All contributions are welcome,” Aguilar said.

  “We’ll call C.T. once we’re back at the hotel,” Rollins sa
id.

  The waitress dropped off their breakfasts and refreshed their coffees. The three ate in silence, paid their tabs separately, and left a couple minutes apart. Tyler took a random route back to the hotel. Rollins and Aguilar waited in the hallway when he stepped off the elevator, and they all filed into his small room. Floor space was at a premium, but the bed and desk chair offered spots to sit. Rollins bounced a quarter off the mattress, smiled, and sat.

  “Did I pass?” Tyler asked.

  “Barely.” Rollins slid his coin back into his pocket. “You’re rusty.”

  Tyler positioned himself on the opposite corner of the bed. “Let’s call your friend.”

  Rollins took out his phone and called C.T. on speaker. “It’s going down tonight,” he said following an initial exchange of pleasantries.

  “I’ll be ready. Let me know when.”

  “Have you done this before?” Tyler said.

  “Gone after this specific facility?” C.T. said. “No. Have I taken out other alarms before? Yes.”

  “What makes you think you can do it?”

  “Probably the same thing which makes you think you can storm a secure building, shoot a bunch of drug dealers, and drive away.”

  Tyler spread his hands. “All right.”

  “You got everything you need?” Rollins asked.

  “I could get technical on you,” C.T. said. “My guess is you don’t want to hear about things like code review and Linux command aliases. Let’s just say I’m good to go.”

  “Thanks. We’ll be in touch later.” Rollins ended the call.

  “All right,” Tyler said. “We have some time before we roll out tonight. Let’s make sure we’re all well-rested and fed. We could be in for a long evening.”

  “Let’s take these bastards down,” Aguilar added. He and Rollins adjourned to their own rooms. Tyler thought about the plan. They’d seen a Google Earth view of the Iron Tower. He and his fellow soldiers raided similar compounds in Afghanistan. He’d be doing it with a smaller force tonight, but they’d also be facing less opposition. Aguilar would snipe at first and then join the raid once they’d neutralized all outside sentries.