Border War

by Lou Dobbs

  Senator Ramos returned her smile, then pointed at Eriksen and Lila and said, “You should be like these two and take the office with you.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Look at them. They may be at a party, but they won’t let the cop in them take a rest. They’re so nervous about some vague threat against me I can’t seem to lose them.”

  Kat found a seat next to Eriksen and said, “What threat?”

  Eriksen explained what Lila’s source had said.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “We didn’t say anything to anyone in the office. There was just so much going on, and we had been involved in one too many touchy situations.” He hesitated, then decided if he couldn’t trust Kat, he couldn’t trust anyone. “We’re also worried about a possible leak in the office.”

  “A leak. I couldn’t imagine anyone in that office leaking information. Do you have any idea who it might be?”

  Eriksen looked down and mumbled, “We think it might be Andre.”

  Kat seemed like she wanted to say something, but she just stared at him. It looked like she was caught in an ethical bind. He wondered if she had already said something to Andre about a case.

  Eriksen decided to let it go. Kat would tell him if she thought it was important.

  * * *

  Hector waited and calculated the odds. He knew he couldn’t make his move in front of the restaurant when the young cop stepped out of the limo first. Hector had heard someone yell, “He’s an FBI agent,” when he tackled the man in front of Hector after the TV show. Regardless, it was a wrinkle Hector hadn’t expected, and he needed some time to think. The pressure Don Herrera was putting on him was affecting his judgment. He wanted this over tonight. Now he walked as quickly as he could to the mailbox store to retrieve his black powder. He could find the other elements he needed at the Home Depot not far away. It would be crude, but he thought he could make a bomb powerful enough to ignite the limo’s gas tank and handle two problems at once. He wasn’t happy about the collateral damage, but he was starting to run out of time. Sooner or later his target would leave El Paso and he would have a much more difficult time accomplishing his assignment.

  FORTY-ONE

  Tom Eriksen had enjoyed the entire evening, even if it had stretched on a little too long. The food was phenomenal, and the presentation to the young producer was mostly funny, although it had way too many inside jokes.

  As things started to wind down, the senator took a seat next to Eriksen and Kat Gleason, leaned in close, and said, “It’s not my business, but I have to ask the question.” Eriksen shrugged his shoulders and said, “Sure, go ahead.”

  “Are you two an item?”

  Before Eriksen could answer, Kat volunteered, “No, we’re just friends.”

  The senator gave him a smile and said, “So you won’t have anything holding you here in El Paso. I think you’ll get offered a position on a counterterror squad in D.C. I pulled a lot of strings to get you the job.”

  On one hand Eriksen was thrilled at the opportunity, but when he turned, he could see the surprise in Kat’s face and wanted to explain. He knew she wanted to keep their relationship quiet around the office and figured that was why she had volunteered the “just friends,” so quickly. The truth was, looking at her right now, he wasn’t sure what he wanted to do.

  * * *

  Hector had taken advantage of the fact that the driver had left the limo behind the restaurant when he went inside to join the party. It had only taken a few minutes for Hector to duct-tape his makeshift bomb. He’d stuffed the black powder into a clear plastic container that had held some kind of fluorescent spray paint, then packed a number of small items including screws and roofing nails around the explosive. Then he closed the container and taped a road flare to it. He had it secured against the gas tank so that when the car moved it would ignite the flare, which would detonate the black powder, which, in theory, would detonate the gas tank.

  It was difficult for Hector to move his bulk from the rear of the car, but he slid out, then retrieved his nice blazer from the trunk. The rear parking lot was dark, and he had no concerns about having been seen. He was going to watch the show from the alley not far away.

  * * *

  Kat Gleason had been shocked when Tom Eriksen told her about the threat to the senator. It coincided with her intercept about someone wanting to “deal with a big mouth.” It was something she had to look into more closely. But all she could think about was her boss’s admonition to keep quiet about the NSA’s capabilities.

  The news was so important, she was hardly processing what she had just heard about Eriksen moving back to Washington.

  Eriksen seemed concerned that they had not been able to verify the threat and gain more resources to protect the senator. It was legitimate.

  She could see Ted Dempsey paying the bill and knew the party was about to break up. She had to get Tom Eriksen away from the crowd so she could talk to him more about the threat and find a way to explain what she knew without violating her boss’s order. It was the only thing that could have distracted her from asking more questions about the senator’s comment about his counterterror job in D.C.

  Everyone started to slip on jackets and collect purses. The whole group headed out the front door as Tom turned to her and said, “Why don’t you leave your car here and ride in the limo back to the set? I’ll give you a ride back here in my car.”

  Kat just nodded her head, looking forward to a few quiet moments with him when she could explain what she knew about the threat.

  * * *

  Eric huddled in his shitty hotel room and tried not to be terrified, but it wasn’t working. He had made an overture to the corporation and told them that for two separate payments of a million bucks each, they could have back all information in his control. Sure, Mr. Haben seemed reasonable on the phone, but Eric knew he had guys like Joe Azeri, or Cash, working for him. He also knew there were people asking questions about him. Mainly street people and people connected to computers, but he wondered if it wasn’t a way for the corporation to locate him.

  He wanted to go by his sister’s and have a home-cooked meal, but he didn’t want her to get any more involved in this bullshit than she already was. If something happened to her, it would kill him.

  Only one person knew he was at the hotel, and that was his buddy Kurt. Kurt had helped him out with a small loan and brought some food by one night. Other than that, Eric was a hermit and intended to stay that way until he could get out of town and head back to Chicago for good.

  * * *

  Eriksen scanned the street as they stepped out of the restaurant. The image of the big man in the blue blazer hadn’t left him. It was second nature. But at this time in the evening, in El Paso, Texas, on a weekday night, they all but rolled up the sidewalks. The driver whom Dempsey had invited to the party, slipped past the crowd and started toward the rear of the building where he had parked the limo. Dempsey grabbed him by the arm and said, “Hang on, Leo. It’s a beautiful night, and my hotel is just a few blocks away.” Dempsey looked to the rest of the crowd. “Would you guys do me the honor of walking with me to my hotel, where we’ll have one last toast to America’s hottest producer?”

  Even though Eriksen wanted Kat to see the inside of the limo, no one could refuse such an eloquent and gracious offer. Everyone, even Senator Ramos, started walking toward the Marriott.

  * * *

  As she made her tenth call from her cell phone while walking with the group in downtown El Paso, Lila Tellis saw how her cover as a U.S. drug agent had real advantages. DEA agents were renowned for the cultivation of informants. It made sense because anyone working a narcotics case needed someone on the inside of a big organization. From early in the academy, the DEA preached the gospel of using informants to infiltrate drug gangs. They had the usual bureaucracy, but at least they realized an agent couldn’t use a Boy Scout to crack a drug ring. Often the informants were either working off th
eir own drug charges or they were former drug users looking for a way to earn some quick cash. Neither circumstance called for the highest quality of person. Lila had initially cultivated a number of thugs and smugglers in the El Paso area to solidify her cover with her coworkers, but her army of slimeballs willing to rat out friends had come up with good information over the last couple of years.

  Now she was using her cadre of informants to reach out like fingers into the underground world of computer hackers. She knew that someone had to be talking to Eric Sidle, who might not even realize how badly people wanted to find him.

  She had sent the word to so many informants that after a day of reaching out to the computer underground her phone had started to ring nonstop. She had met two of the computer people personally and had to all but spray them with a bottle of water to keep them away from her. Once they realized she was a real-life female and willing to interact with them, the computer guys became relentless stalkers.

  She felt like she needed to make Eric pay for this inconvenience whenever she managed to find him.

  It was funny how a guy like Tom Eriksen could inspire her to work so hard on a case not related to international terrorism and intelligence, which was her main assignment. She supposed that was what real leadership did. The guy was willing to work day and night and made others willing to do the same thing. She had grown to like the somewhat serious FBI agent and could see flashes of his real personality whenever he wasn’t worried about someone else’s safety. She really hoped he stayed in the Southwest. Lila would like to work with him for a good long time.

  * * *

  Hector watched in shock as his target turned with all the other people away from the parking lot and started walking down the main street. He couldn’t believe his bad luck and what a wasted day this had been. Was he ever going to get a clean shot at the target?

  Then he had another thought as he watched the lean, older limo driver walk by himself to the rear of the building. Hector realized immediately that wherever the group was walking, the driver was going to meet them in the limo. But as soon as the vehicle started to back out, it would start the chain reaction that would lead to a massive explosion. An explosion that would draw attention, tip off his target, and kill an innocent driver.

  Hector hustled across the parking lot from the alley as the driver slipped into the limo and slammed the door.

  He heard the engine start but was able to get the driver’s attention before he moved the car. Hector always had the option of the pistol if he couldn’t think of anything else to say that would stop the driver. The local cops would write it off as a robbery. He didn’t want to resort to that, but he would if necessary. If for no other reason than to save the man’s life. A bullet in the arm was better than instant incineration. Just scare him out of the limo and yank off the bomb after he flees.

  As the limo’s tinted window rolled down, Hector saw the dark features and black hair of the driver and called out to him in Spanish.

  The driver held up his hand and said, “No habla, amigo.”

  “I’m sorry, I thought you were one of my people.”

  “No way, man. I’m Italian from Westchester County. Never learned a lick of Spanish. Whatchu need, my man?”

  His friendly manner caught Hector by surprise, and he fumbled for words as he tried to think of an excuse to keep the car from moving. Then, in what he considered a flash of brilliance, Hector said, “I think my daughter’s cat might have crawled under your limo. Hang on a minute while I look under. No?” He thought he’d gotten the comment out like a real American until he finished it with “No” as a question. He knew that was more a Latin habit.

  Regardless, the driver nodded his consent, and Hector scrambled to the rear of the vehicle and was able to scoop off the bomb in a matter of seconds. He tucked it under his jacket, stood up, and called back to the driver, “Nope, it must’ve scampered past you. Thanks for letting me take a look.”

  The driver waved his acknowledgment as he backed the giant limo out of the spot.

  FORTY-TWO

  Tom Eriksen walked into the Border Security Task Force office and didn’t even try to hide his smug satisfaction when he turned to Lila and said, “I’ve got a full background on Eric Sidle. I’ve got everything, including where he went to high school.” He held up a copy of Eric’s driver’s license from Illinois. The photo was five years old.

  Lila glanced at the photograph and said, “I’ve got one, too.” She held up a small color photo that showed the computer engineer dressed in a suit like someone applying for a job.

  “Where did you get that?”

  Lila just gave him a grin. “You’re so cute.”

  Eriksen had the impression she wanted to ruffle his hair as if he were a little kid. “At least now we can hit the streets and know who we’re looking for.”

  Lila nodded slowly, then said, “Or we could go talk to the snitch that just called me and said he knew where Eric was staying.”

  Eriksen gave her a look and finally said, “Do you always have to upstage me?”

  “C’mon, you’re an FBI agent, it’s expected.”

  Eriksen tried to stifle a laugh. He liked these interactions, and the feeling made him consider his options for the antiterror job the senator had hinted at. But he couldn’t pass up a chance to fulfill a dream.

  An hour later, Eriksen and Lila found themselves in a discount computer store in a suburb of El Paso known as Castner Heights. It was a nice, quiet residential neighborhood with a few upscale restaurants and businesses.

  The informant, whose name was Kurt, knew one of Lila’s contacts. She had sent out the message that they were looking for Eric Sidle. It was a common police practice, and in this case, the computer underground was so specific, it hadn’t taken long to find the wayward computer engineer.

  Eriksen noticed a tall, gangly young man standing in the rear of the store. He was wearing a black shirt that said something about hackers. “Looks like our man.”

  “Let’s give it a second before we just walk up to him.”

  “This is a weird place to meet.”

  Lila said, “If we were working a narcotics case the meeting would be in a seedy bar late at night, but with computer geeks this is the kind of place we meet.”

  The young man spent a minute assessing the store, then walked directly up to them. “Are you Lila?”

  She gave him a smile and said, “I am if you’re Kurt.”

  They spent a minute getting to know each other, and Lila introduced Eriksen, emphasizing the fact that he was an FBI agent. Eriksen noticed Lila never mentioned to Kurt exactly what police agency she worked for.

  Finally Kurt said, “And you won’t tell Eric how you found him?”

  “Nope.”

  “And you give me five hundred dollars cash.”

  Lila said, “That was the agreement.”

  “And you forget about my hacking into the UTEP computers?”

  “The administrators will drop the charges, but you’ve got to knock that bullshit off. Getting the names of coeds out of the computer is just plain creepy.”

  “I was just using them for specific marketing. All I ever did was give their addresses to companies selling designer purses and perfume.”

  “As of today it’s no longer part of your business plan.”

  “Got it.” Kurt leaned in closer to the two federal agents, then scanned the store one more time before he said, “Eric is living in an old hotel on the west side of town. It’s called the McLaughlin Towers. Only four stories tall, but I guess back when it was built it was probably giant in comparison.”

  Now Eriksen asked, “Have you heard about anyone else looking for Eric?”

  “Nope.”

  “And I don’t have to tell you how important it is for you to keep this quiet.”

  “I completely understand.”

  Somehow Eriksen felt more comfortable dealing with narcotics dealers and killers. There was something about this guy he didn’t
trust.

  * * *

  Ari felt like a caged tiger as he fidgeted at the table in the Dunkin’ Donuts. He hadn’t been out to this area called Castner Heights before. There was no reason for him to venture out this way. Just a bunch of yuppies and comfortable houses. There was a time when he would have felt like spraying them with a burst from an Uzi. But now that he was getting used to the corporate environment, he realized these were potential customers. Not just for the shitty computers TARC made, but for the cocaine they smuggled in to bolster profits.

  The only business close to the Dunkin’ Donuts was a computer store across the parking lot, and it didn’t surprise him when he saw the tall, goofy-looking guy strolling across the lot from there. An executive at TARC had connections with the local computer nerds and had found someone who might know Eric. Go figure, nerds all tended to stick together.

  Ari was supposed to pass the information to Cash but instead thought he might take the opportunity to enhance his standing with the corporation. Not only would it help his chances for a permanent job, it would annoy Cash to no end. The guy thought he was the king shit, always telling Ari what to do. Not for much longer.

  Not only did the guy walking toward the doughnut shop match the description, but he was wearing a black T-shirt that said HACKERS DO IT WITH COMPUTERS. It had to be him.

  Ari gave him a quick wave as he stepped into the Dunkin’ Donuts. The younger man hesitated, then slowly walked his way, easing into the chair on the other side of the tiny table.

  Ari didn’t waste any time. “You got some information for me?”

  “You got the cash?”

  Ari plopped down a wad that contained fifty twenty-dollar bills.

  The kid said, “Wow. Eric is at a hotel called the McLaughlin Towers.”

  Ari knew the place on the west side of the city. He didn’t say anything; he just kept staring at the kid named Kurt.

  Kurt said, “You won’t tell Eric how you found him, will you?”