by Lou Dobbs
“It was a personal matter that wasn’t even a real debt of honor? My cousin died on that job.”
Now Piña hardened his voice. “And you were all paid well for your efforts. Now I’m offering you a chance to make more than you ever dreamed of.”
Hector wondered what such a job would be like. Living in a secure, nice hacienda. Not worrying about the ever-present slowdowns in his current profession. But on the flip side he’d have to deal with two-faced weasels like Pablo Piña. He was certain of his answer before he said it out loud.
* * *
It didn’t take long for Eriksen to find the $13,350 payment on the Lopez Building Supply books.
Curtis had been very careful to shuttle him into a rear office and stand behind him the whole time he searched the giant spreadsheet that contained all of the company’s expenditures and revenues. After Eriksen had scanned numbers for a minute or two, Curtis said, “So the FBI’s working on a case that involves money transfers. Is it some kind of spy case?”
“No.”
“A public corruption case?”
“No.”
“Terrorists?”
Now Eriksen turned from the computer screen and looked up at Curtis. “Can you give me just a few minutes to focus on this?”
“Sorry.”
Eriksen scanned column after column of numbers, looking for the magic figure, hoping he could trace it back.
Curtis said, “Is it some kind of serial killer case?”
Eriksen raised his voice. “Curtis, please—” but before he could finish his sentence his eye caught the figure 13,350. He froze and placed his finger on the screen, making sure he saw the right numbers. The date also matched the expenditure shown in the spreadsheet taken from the thumb drive. He let his finger drag to the left of the row of figures until he saw the customer’s name. TARC, the Technology and Research Center. That was who controlled everything. And that’s who Eriksen intended to focus on. Now he knew what he was up against.
THIRTY-NINE
Tom Eriksen and Lila Tellis sat in his government-issued Ford Taurus in the sprawling gas station directly across the entrance to TARC. He knew they wouldn’t see anything of value to their criminal investigation, but he just wanted to get a feel for the place. It was the sort of thing he would’ve seen a cop do on an old TV show. But most of the cops on TV shows didn’t have a woman who looked like Lila and had unbelievable connections sitting next to them.
So far they’d seen a dozen nondescript cars and two tractor-trailers pull into the fenced-in secure facility. TARC had bought cement and cinder blocks from Lopez Building Supply and had picked up the material in one of their own trucks. Curtis Lopez had no idea why they chose his company to deal with. He knew the name TARC but had nothing to do with the company.
Eriksen asked Lila, “Anything more on the source with the information about the assassination?”
“Nope.”
“I’m getting an ulcer worrying about the senator.”
“It’d be a shame if anything happened to her. Then you’d lose your big antiterror job.”
“You really think that’s all I care about?”
“I’m surprised you’re looking to get out of El Paso. I thought we had a good partnership here.”
“We do. That has nothing to do with any decisions I make. I joined the FBI to do something that made a real difference in the world. I can’t think of anything more important than investigating terrorists.”
Lila shook her head and said, “I was always taught to be careful what you wish for. There’s always a catch.”
Lila’s cell phone rang, and she answered it with just her first name. After listening for a moment she said, “Thanks, Chuck.” She turned to Eriksen and said, “I’ve got a name from the print on the thumb drive.”
Eriksen looked over, shocked, and said, “The thumb drive from the market?”
She gave him a flat stare as if he were an idiot. “He couldn’t go into much detail, because obviously my cell phone is not a secure line, but one of our specialists at Langley found an application for a computer engineer with the Department of Defense. They don’t enter their prints into criminal databases.”
“It makes sense we’re looking for a guy related to computers. And having no criminal record explains why El Paso PD couldn’t find anything. What’s his name?”
“Eric Sidle.”
* * *
Cash couldn’t remember the last time he felt so relaxed. He just lay there, staring up at the ceiling and enjoying the sunshine washing in through the window. Carol’s warm, naked body was snuggled up tight against his. It was soft and comforting and sapped him of any interest in starting his day.
When Cash had come over the night before, he’d expected more questions about her husband’s death. Instead, Carol DiMetti greeted him with a warm embrace and a long, passionate kiss. He didn’t want to stir up any trouble so he just went with it.
Now, in the quiet of midmorning, he felt like he had found what he was looking for. Maybe it was time to pull up stakes and get her away from the bad memories of El Paso. Carol stirred and rubbed her hand from the top of his chest all the way to his crotch. She propped herself up on one elbow and gave him a sweet smile. “It’s been a long time since I felt that safe the whole night.”
“You never have to worry about being safe while I’m around.”
“You say that now when there’s no danger, but what happens if TARC decides to treat me like they treated Vinnie?”
“That will never happen. Vinnie was trying to blackmail the company along with a guy named Eric Sidle. You were just his safety valve.”
“You never completely asked me about what information Vinnie gave me in case he was killed.”
“Because I never wanted to know the answer. And I still don’t. I’m not the only one who does dirty work for TARC.”
“But you would protect me from anyone else.”
“I would. I probably should find you a gun to keep at the house, just in case.”
“No need. I have a shotgun Vinnie gave me for the same reason.”
“Do you know how to use it?”
Carol just smiled, then laid a long kiss on him. When she had finished, she said, “I need someone like you to take me away from here.”
“Anytime you want.”
“As soon as we get what’s coming to us.”
* * *
Tom Eriksen sat at the table in the conference room of the Border Security Task Force with Lila Tellis sitting to his left and Kat Gleason sitting to his right. They’d been careful to keep the information they had on TARC between themselves because they still didn’t know if there was a leak at the task force.
The two men Eriksen reported to sat next to each other. With Mike Zara in his dark gray suit and Andre’s hulking form in a too-small Hawaiian shirt, they looked like opposite ends of the federal-supervisor spectrum. The one thing they had in common was that each had two phones on the table in front of him. A lot of federal agents carried a personal phone in addition to an issued phone, to keep their private calls private.
They were listening to a presentation by an assistant U.S. attorney about the subtleties of immigration law and how it would affect operations at the task force. The idea was for the task force to develop informants and sources of information, then pass on tips about large-scale smuggling operations to either HSI, DEA, or the Border Patrol. In theory it made sense, but in the real world, Eriksen died just a little bit every time he couldn’t be in on a major arrest.
Andre, the task force supervisor, asked a few of the more pointed questions, making the young prosecutor fidget in place as he tried to come up with answers.
“Are you saying we can’t make arrests, counselor?” Andre’s deep voice added an ominous tone to whatever he said.
“Of course not. Any of you who are sworn law enforcement officers and have the authority to investigate crimes like this can make an arrest. All I’m saying is you have to document the s
ources of your information and be ready to use them at trial if needed.”
From the other side of the room, Mike Zara who’d felt compelled to sit in on the meeting, said, “So you’re saying the FBI doesn’t have specific authority to investigate immigration.”
The young attorney replied, “In this case it doesn’t apply because everyone at the task force is officially cross-sworn and has jurisdiction over immigration if necessary.”
Eriksen could see the answer frustrated Zara, who was still looking for ways to curb any chance of Eriksen’s causing him more aggravation.
After the meeting broke up, but while everyone was still in the room, Eriksen’s phone rang. He picked it up and said, “Tom Eriksen.” He recognized the voice immediately.
“Tom, it’s Ted Dempsey. I was wondering if you and a couple friends wanted to come by a little party we’re throwing downtown at the Cattleman’s Steakhouse. One of my producers just got a big job in New York, and we’re going to take the crew out after the show.”
Tom’s eyes automatically cut to his supervisor and he hesitated.
Dempsey said, “Senator Ramos will be there. It wouldn’t hurt to keep yourself in her line of sight while you’re looking for a counterterrorism job. Besides, it’ll be fun. You can bring that lively DEA agent and anyone else you’d like.”
Eriksen mumbled thanks and said he be there, then closed the phone. He looked up at Mike Zara and realized that even though he didn’t like to lie, it could hurt to tell the truth in this situation. He went with his instincts. “Lila, Kat, and I are invited to a party thrown by Ted Dempsey tonight at the Cattleman’s Steakhouse. It’s a private event, and I won’t be on TV. Senator Ramos is going to be there too.” He looked from Mike Zara to Andre, basically the only two supervisors he’d ever dealt with in El Paso. “Do either of you have a problem with that?”
Andre shook his head immediately, but Eriksen could see Zara considering the implications of denying him permission to attend the party with a friendly senator.
Finally Zara mumbled, “Just don’t show your face on TV.”
* * *
Hector crossed the border through a pedestrian checkpoint where he knew the inspector. He didn’t have to slip him any money—that was too dangerous—but he did make a monthly contribution to the inspector’s family in Mexico City. That earned him the right to cross without scrutiny. He didn’t take advantage of the situation. Hector never tried to smuggle drugs or weapons across the border when he came through. It was just a way to come across the border quickly, and he knew the inspector would make no record of the visit.
He glanced at Hector’s passport and waved him on. No one at the Paso del Norte would ever suspect anything unethical had just occurred.
It was a cool day with a north wind bringing a little extra chill. Hector was dressed nicely with a blue blazer over his over starched white shirt and khaki Dockers. The outfit gave people the impression he was a casual professional with no need to impress. Hector didn’t like the idea that he had to overcome the stereotype many norteamericanos held about Mexicans. If he dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, the Texans would often assume he was a manual laborer or ran a lawn care service.
Four blocks from the port of entry was a small shipping and mailbox store where he owned two boxes. The mailbox held mail that came for him or his associates, and the larger box was used to store weapons and other items he might need when he came across the border. Today they were two pistols and a container of black powder that had been in the mailbox for almost six months. He was originally going to use it in a false kilo of cocaine that was really going to be a bomb. Before he had to make the deadly package, the man he had been sent to kill was shot by a DEA agent during a minor drug transaction.
Hector made sure no one was paying attention to him in the corner of the store and reached past his favorite 9 mm Browning Hi-Power pistol to retrieve the .40 caliber Beretta. It was a very smooth gun that packed a punch. Years earlier he’d liked the Beretta 92F. But he had to adapt to the times, and the .40 caliber was slightly larger and fired a more powerful round. He tucked the gun into his belt under his jacket. He didn’t bother with a second magazine. This was a simple approach to handling his assignment.
Based on the information he’d just been given, he could surprise his target in front of the fancy restaurant in downtown El Paso. He would be in place by eight o’clock and, if all went well, slip back across the border and be in bed by eleven.
FORTY
Tom Eriksen had never been inside a stretch limousine before. He liked the idea that Ted Dempsey had rented it for the night to make his producer, who was leaving for another job in New York, feel special. It said a lot about the TV news host. At the back of the limo, there was a long seat on the side as well as front and rear seats that all faced the middle, open area. A well-stocked bar had supplied everyone with a beer.
Eriksen also liked having Lila Tellis with him, but he was profoundly disappointed that Kat Gleason had gotten tied up at work and was meeting them at the restaurant later. The fact that he was disappointed and couldn’t share the experience of the limo ride with Kat made him realize how strong his feelings for her were becoming.
Dempsey was studying something on his BlackBerry when he looked up, mashed the off button, and jammed the phone back in his pocket.
Dempsey said, “I swear I did just fine without this electronic tether for most of my life.”
Eriksen and Lila had not really known a time as an adult without a cell phone. It was part of their nature to be in constant touch with other people.
Lila said, “There isn’t a supervisor in the federal government without two cell phones. One for official work calls and one for personal use.”
Eriksen let out a chuckle and said, “I did notice both Andre and Mike Zara scoop up two phones each after the meeting this afternoon.”
The senator said, “That’s why I have an aide. He’s the only one who calls me. Everyone else has to go through him. Even my husband.”
Eriksen sank back into the comfortable seat and sipped on a Coors Light. He could get used to traveling like this.
* * *
Hector had walked past the restaurant one time, then waited near the end of the street, out of sight. A little after eight o’clock he’d eased closer to the valet and nodded hello and greeted him in Spanish. The valet responded in Spanish and gave him a big smile. This was exactly what Hector wanted. He knew the valet was in the country illegally. After the job was complete this young man would not want to be a witness for the police. He’d probably flee the scene as fast as Hector.
Hector surveyed the area out of habit. No one in the office buildings this time of night, clear streets, perfect.
His pulse didn’t even start to climb. This really had become just a job to him.
* * *
Kat Gleason had raced around the empty office setting up equipment to monitor the lines she couldn’t follow live. She had a backlog of calls to review and a stack of transcripts she had not yet read. But tonight she wanted to be with Tom Eriksen. It sounded like fun. She’d been looking forward to the party all day and realized it wasn’t just because she was going to meet a celebrity like Ted Dempsey, but because she was going to spend time with Tom.
Even though she was always careful not to have any public displays of affection, and they were keeping their relationship quiet around the office, she loved spending time with him. As far as anyone in the office was concerned they were just friends. She didn’t want any questions about her relationship and how she had used the resources of the NSA to come back and haunt her.
In the hallway Kat dodged Larry, the tech who’d had found the spreadsheet on the thumb drive. He gave her a smile and said, “You’re here late tonight.”
“I’m just heading out the door.”
Larry looked at her awkwardly, then blurted, “Would you like to go out to dinner?”
She knew it was hard for him to ask, and she hated to shoot him d
own, but she gave him a smile and said, “I’m sorry, I have plans tonight already.”
“Some other time?”
She hesitated, not wanting to lead him on but not tipping her hand about her relationship with Tom Eriksen. “How about lunch sometime?”
The young man nodded his head as he looked down at the ground.
It was about the only sight that could take the wind out of her sails. She was not in the mood she expected as she jumped into her Honda and headed off to see Tom.
* * *
Cash had accomplished very little during the day except to avoid Ari. It was late now, and he had to talk to the little Israeli about their progress looking for Eric Sidle. He knew Ari had been at the corporate office all day and realized he was gaining the trust of their employers.
Now, as Ari approached him in the parking lot outside the little off-site office he said, “Any luck finding Eric?”
Cash just shook his head.
Ari said, “He’s contacted Mr. Haben, because now Ari has been told to tie up all the loose ends and find a way to lure Eric in. They don’t care if we do it quietly and cleanly or cause a big mess. He just wants Eric out of the picture, and then we can deal with anyone else.”
“Just Eric? No one else?”
Ari gave him a chuckle and said, “Really? What do you think?”
Cash resisted the urge to pull his pistol and blow the short Israeli’s brains all over the sidewalk.
* * *
As the limo turned the corner, headed for the restaurant, Eriksen looked out the window and noticed a man who looked familiar. It wasn’t so much his face as his demeanor. He was large and deliberate in his movement. It put him on edge. Once the limo had come to a complete stop in front of the restaurant’s fancy facade, Eriksen stepped out of the car first, scanning the area, looking for the man. But he was nowhere in sight.
Eriksen followed the group inside, and settled in the back room at a long table.
Kat Gleason showed up about twenty minutes later, getting a quick introduction to everyone. She gave them a dazzling smile and said, “Sorry I’m late. I got stuck at the office.”