by Lou Dobbs
None of the men noticed him as he came closer, his right hand slipping to the butt of his Glock on his duty belt in an unconscious show of power. Weicholz knew some of the girls he saw on patrol would be watching from their stalls. He cleared his throat and consciously made sure his voice wasn’t squeaky or high-pitched. He called out, “C’mon, fellas, you can’t leave him like that.” He stepped a little closer. “I’m gonna need some IDs. Right now.” He snapped his fingers to emphasize the urgency of his command.
* * *
When Cash saw the cop’s reflection, he tuned out Eric, the thumb drive, and all other distractions. The cop was a young guy and obviously in good shape. At first, Cash just said a little prayer that maybe he’d walk on past. He noticed Ari tense and mumbled in a low voice, “Be cool, Ari.”
Manny, still squeezed up next to him, remained perfectly calm. More than that, he was ice. Cash realized the guy had probably seen more shit than any American thug ever would. His real concern right now was that one of the dumbasses he was threatening, namely Eric or the doctor, would try something stupid. Then he realized the chances of Ari doing something stupid were much greater.
The cop stopped about twenty feet away.
Cash pulled the gun away from Manny’s ribs. He would prefer not to shoot a cop, but he wanted to go to jail even less.
The cop yelled out, “C’mon, fellas, you can’t leave him passed out like that. I’m gonna need some IDs. Right now.” Then he snapped his fingers as if he were talking to an obnoxious waiter. That made Cash tighten his grip on the heavy pistol.
* * *
As soon as the show ended, Dempsey stepped off the set and walked directly to Tom Eriksen, who was still standing to the side. He stuck out his hand and seemed genuinely happy to see the FBI agent. Eriksen immediately understood why this guy was so popular. He had the ability to make you feel like the only person in the world at that moment. After they chatted for a minute, Dempsey turned and said, “Let me introduce you to Elizabeth Ramos.”
The senator gave Eriksen a dazzling smile. He realized that it was a forced, practiced expression, but she beamed confidence and intelligence, which was probably why she was elected in the first place. Eriksen wasn’t sure if that was an act, but since he wasn’t registered to vote in Texas, he didn’t think it mattered much. Still, it showed him the difference between the two public figures. Dempsey was straight up and sincere, and the senator was pure politician.
She said the obligatory “How nice to speak to the people protecting us.”
Eriksen smiled and took her slender hand as Lila approached them from the other side of the set.
The senator said, “One of my main issues is terrorism. It has ruined my family’s country of origin. If you can’t call what has happened in Mexico terrorism, then what can you call it?” She kept her intense, brown eyes on him. “Do you work any terror cases?”
“Not really.” He couldn’t help looking down at the ground as he mumbled his response.
The senator said, “Do terror cases interest you?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He knew the enthusiasm popped in his voice.
“I have some friends at the FBI. If you’re really that interested in working terror-related cases, maybe I can help.”
Eriksen’s heart skipped a beat. Could this really be his release from purgatory?
As Lila stepped up, she assessed the senator coolly. Dempsey made the introductions, and the senator gave her the same polished greeting.
In the distance, Eriksen heard pops that sounded like gunfire.
TWENTY-SIX
In the market food court, Officer Weicholz stepped up to the picnic table, his eyes on the passed-out man. He couldn’t imagine drinking so much in public that he would pass out. It was one of the many things members of the general public did that annoyed him to no end.
He noticed no one at the table was making any effort to find a wallet with some identification. Just as he was about to snap another command, the little stocky guy on the other side of the table reached behind him, as if pulling his wallet.
An instant later, the tall, dark-haired guy at the end of the table turned to face him. There was something about the man’s movement that attracted the cop’s attention. It took a split second for his brain to register the pistol in the man’s hand. Weicholz shouted, “Gun!” He’d been trained to do that anytime he saw a weapon, even if there wasn’t anyone else around.
Officer Weicholz stepped to the side as he reached down to draw his issued pistol from the holster, yelling the other phrase that had been drilled into his head in hours and hours of training. As he started to bring his pistol up on target he shouted without thinking, “Drop the gun!” But it was too late. He heard the blast just as his pistol had cleared the holster and started to come on target. Out of reflex, Officer Weicholz squeezed the trigger several times.
He immediately lost the ability to breathe as the first round impacted his torso. He felt himself falling backward and wondered if he could reach the radio mic hooked to his shoulder. He needed help right now.
* * *
Cash watched helplessly as Ari reached behind his back. It might look like he was grabbing his wallet, but that was also where he stashed his .380 automatic. So Cash forced himself to calmly turn, trying not to draw the cop’s attention. He brought up his heavy pistol and pointed it just as the cop reached for his own weapon.
Time seemed to speed up at that point as the gun bucked in his hands twice. The cop fell backward after popping a few rounds randomly into the air. Ari, seeing the cop dealt with, pointed his small pistol at Dr. Martinez and shouted, “This time you stay dead.” He jerked the trigger three times, firing at point-blank range into the doctor’s face.
Cash stood up, covering the cop as the other men scattered from the table. He’d heard shouts from all corners of the market. He turned to yell at his partner, but Ari had followed him to the fallen cop. The cop looked like he was still alive, but his pistol was on the ground out of reach.
Ari raised his little gun, aiming at the cop’s head as Cash shoved him hard. The one shot Ari fired missed, pinging off the cement sidewalk.
The little Israeli looked at Cash and said, “Why’d you do that?”
“He’s no threat. Leave him be. Grab Eric and let’s get the hell out of here.”
When Cash turned, all he saw was the picnic table with two dead men. There was no one else in sight. They had to get the hell out of there.
* * *
Tom Eriksen lingered near Dempsey’s set as the crowd dissipated. He was waiting to hear more about a gunfight that had taken place at a market a few blocks away. It had been more than twenty minutes since Eriksen had talked with Senator Ramos and considered her offer to help him get back on terror investigations. Since then most of the cops had gone to the scene of the officer-involved shooting. The cops that were left on the set were on edge and had moved toward the street. One of them held a Remington shotgun.
Lila was chatting with an El Paso PD sergeant she knew. As Eriksen walked up he said, “Any word on what’s going on?”
The sergeant said, “One of our cops was shot at the market. There are two dead men at the scene, and at least three other suspects left on foot. We figured out this was the best route to take if you were going to cross back into Mexico quietly.”
Eriksen said, “How’d you know the suspects are Mexican?”
The older, heavyset sergeant said, “I don’t, but we’re stuck here anyway, so why not help out any way we can.”
Eriksen liked that kind of attitude. It was cops like this that got things done without making a fuss about it. Eriksen could hear bits and pieces over the radio and was relieved to hear that the cop’s ballistic vest had stopped two rounds and he was going to survive. There was a massive search of the downtown under way.
Here on the set, where the crowd spilled out of the courtyard, partially blocking one of the main downtown streets, every pedestrian caught a long look from the cop
s. A few were asked simple questions like where they had been and what they were doing for the evening. IDs were checked randomly.
Eriksen always heard people complain about the police asking them questions, but they never bothered to look behind the questions and try to understand that cops were just doing their job. Sometimes it was important to gather probable cause for a case or find a fleeing fugitive, and the only way to do that was to ask questions. He could tell by the looks on the faces of some of the pedestrians that they didn’t appreciate their interaction with the police, even though the cops were nothing but calm and professional.
Lila nudged Eriksen. He followed her eyes to a lone man walking on the other side of the street. “He look familiar?”
Eriksen studied the man for a moment and nodded his head, saying, “Yeah, he does.” He automatically reached back toward his pistol.
It was one of the men from the Martinez apartment shootout.
* * *
Eric Sidle panted for air on the empty street a few blocks from downtown El Paso. He had run cross-country in high school. If he still competed, he would’ve just won the regionals. As soon as he saw Luis Martinez’s lifeless, open eyes, and the three bullet holes placed randomly on his face, he knew he had to run farther and faster than he ever had.
When Eric realized what was going to happen to him as soon as Cash and his accomplice finished with the cop, he just started to sprint. His long legs took a moment to fall into rhythm, and he expected a bullet in his back at any moment, but he kept running. He was a little surprised he didn’t run out of gas until he was more than ten blocks away from the market and the bloody mess at the food court. Now, as he slowed down, he recognized that he hadn’t put any thought into where he was going. He had run north, away from the border, which in this situation was probably the right thing to do. Now that Eric had regained a little composure, he tried to think what he could do to end this whole mess. If he just gave the thumb drive to them, they’d still think he’d copied the information or had seen their secrets. There was no way anyone would let him walk away from a deal like that. He felt another rush of panic and patted his pocket.
He’d left the thumb drive when he fled. It didn’t matter, he had a copy, but now they’d know exactly what he had on them, if one of the killers had been able to pick up the drive. He wasn’t about to go back to find out.
He couldn’t believe he’d been talked into this crazy scheme.
A car racing past made him jump. He looked all around him in a panic and had to lean against the wall to catch his breath.
He couldn’t go on like this anymore.
* * *
On the street in front of the set Eriksen had the two cops’ attention. He pointed at the middle-aged man walking on the opposite sidewalk.
Eriksen said, “That guy. We need to stop him.” Eriksen drew his pistol.
The fat sergeant looked at him and said, “Why that guy?”
“He was involved in a shooting the other day, and Lila and I saw him.” That was all the cops needed to turn and hustle across the street with Eriksen and Lila next to them.
The big cop with a shotgun yelled, “Hey.”
The man now turned to face the cops and obviously knew they had him. He lifted his shirt with his left hand and reached for his waistband with his right.
The cop with the shotgun racked it once, yelling, “Don’t!”
But the man kept reaching.
The single shotgun blast stopped him as the pellets from the buckshot ripped through his torso and neck, spinning him until he was a heap on the sidewalk. His pistol dropped a foot from his body.
Eriksen scanned the street for any sign of others. He and Lila had only gotten a good look at this man on the ground. He knew one of the other men from the shootout was big, but he couldn’t identify him by his face.
This was all getting very spooky. He wasn’t much for conspiracies, but coincidence couldn’t explain what had happened over the last few days. Maybe he was involved in some kind of terror case whether he was officially assigned or not.
TWENTY-SEVEN
Tom Eriksen spoke in hushed tones even though it was just him and Kat Gleason inside his small apartment. Maybe he’d been hanging out with Lila too much and it was rubbing off on him. She sat next to him on the long, soft couch that had been there when he moved in. The light on the small table was bright and made him squint slightly as he tried to focus on her.
Eriksen said, “I wasn’t exactly deceitful, I just didn’t tell Andre or Mike Zara that Lila and I were that involved. The truth is the El Paso PD did all the work.”
Kat cocked her head and gave him one of those looks that usually melted him. “But it was you and Lila who identified the suspect, wasn’t it?” He tried to hide his exasperation. Between the border shooting and the shootout at the Martinez apartment, Eriksen knew his FBI supervisor would stop at nothing to have him transferred again and say it was for Eriksen’s own good. The way he and Lila were telling the story now gave the El Paso PD credit for stopping one of the men involved in a terrible murder spree.
In the week since a shotgun blast had cut down the fleeing man tied to the murders, so much had happened that Eriksen was shocked no one had seen through his and Lila’s low-key story. Luckily, the media focus had been on the important parts of the events. The injured police officer, a feisty little former marine named Weicholz, identified the suspect shot by the cops. They’d had no luck with the other suspects. One of the dead men at the crime scene in the marketplace was Dr. Martinez, but the other man was still unidentified.
The city had calmed down under the impression that the violent gang that had caused so much havoc was now dismantled. The public tended to latch on to any news that reassured them of their safety.
In the week since it had happened, Eriksen and Lila had been busy running down any lead related to the rumor they had heard about Senator Ramos. Lila had managed to get the information to the Texas Department of Public Safety and still remained out of the picture. One unit of the Texas DPS, the famed Texas Rangers, had sent a couple of their people to watch the senator. After a day of close security, Senator Ramos said she would rather risk an assassination attempt than tie up the state’s elite police officers. Some saw it as a noble move, but it aroused suspicion in others. There was still nothing to confirm the assassination attempt, but in their efforts to learn more, Lila had subtly taught Eriksen how to stay below the radar and still do his job. No one had noticed them. It was work that meant something and fulfilled Eriksen. He felt he was really going that extra mile.
At the moment he concentrated on Kat sitting across from him at his uneven dining table over an almost homemade meal with two glasses of Pinot Noir.
Kat gave him a warm smile and said, “This fish is great. What’s your recipe?”
He could tell from her smile she had caught on to him. He finally said, “You’d have to ask the chef over at the Seafood Hut downtown.”
She let out one of the soft laughs he couldn’t get enough of, then leaned across the table and planted a long kiss on his lips. They settled back to finish their dinner, and after a few minutes Eriksen finally asked, “Come up with anything interesting at work?”
She gave him her usual answer. “I wish I could talk with you about it.”
It felt like Kat enjoyed being able to hold her superior security clearance over his head. It was a small price to pay to spend a few hours with the beautiful girl from Pittsburgh.
Then Kat said the phrase he’d been hoping to hear. “Would you be opposed to the idea of me spending the night with you?”
A broad smile spread across his face as he nodded. For some reason he was wondering what sort of things Kat heard at work that she couldn’t talk to him about. He couldn’t help being curious.
* * *
Sitting at a clean table in a little Italian place off Alameda Avenue, Cash found himself in a good mood despite having to watch Ari wolf down his second meatball sub. After the
close call in the trendy market he was quite happy to lie low and handle a few minor chores around the office. He had also been relieved the cop he’d shot twice had lived. He couldn’t help smiling every time they showed the former marine making a few comments to the media. His heavy ballistic vest had stopped the bullets, but the impact of the heavy .45 caliber rounds had broken two of his ribs.
That hadn’t kept Cash’s employer from being dismayed. Not that they gave a shit about the life of an El Paso cop; they were worried about the press and pressure something like that would’ve brought to the area. Cash had managed to make it sound like he had planned on the cops catching Piña’s enforcer, Manny, and blaming all the carnage on him. It really couldn’t have worked out any better. At least for Cash. Poor Manny. He had no idea it was going to work out so badly for him.
Now he had been directed to find Eric and this stupid thumb drive with the information from Pablo Piña’s computer.
None of that seemed to matter to him now. Carol DiMetti had changed his perspective single-handedly. She was a remarkable young woman who had made him reconsider his entire life. Was this really what he wanted to be doing for a living? Hanging out with idiots like Ari? Dodging the cops and hoping his own employers didn’t decide to have him eliminated?
His own mom thought he was a stockbroker. He didn’t think she even had a clue what he really did for a living. But he had to wonder if it was too late to change.
Ari, with tomato sauce splashed across his round face, said, “When do we start cleaning up the loose ends? Ari would love to do that DiMetti chick.”
“Why do you even think she’s a problem?”
The short Israeli used a wad of napkins to mop up some of the mess from his face. He shrugged and said, “You may be the corporate guy, but sometimes people feel more comfortable around the contractor. There’s no competition. People like to talk to Ari.”
“You hear what any of the other loose ends might be?”
“Ari heard they brought in a hitter from Mexico to deal with a problem. We should feel insulted.”