by Lou Dobbs
Values were instilled early in life, and they were the foundation of any civilized society. His work at the FBI had shown him that the police can’t be everywhere at once and that they see only a fraction of the crime committed in society. It was only people’s basic conscience that kept the wheels of life turning without chaos. Like many other agents, he had worked on fraud cases. The fraud douchebags were horrible, preying on the most vulnerable people imaginable. Often their victims were the elderly and lost everything to these ruthless jerks. But most scams were easy to pull off and rarely noticed. Even if a scammer got caught, the courts were hesitant to be harsh on nonviolent offenders.
Eriksen was startled out of his hazy recall of his past as he blinked into the early morning sun streaming through his living room window. He felt stiff and moved his hand and realized he’d fallen asleep sitting up on the couch with Kat nestled under his right arm, her hand draped over his stomach.
She blinked open her pretty eyes and gave him a sweet smile. They were both clothed, and he was happy he hadn’t rushed anything, his father’s words coming back to him. She pulled herself higher and planted a long kiss on his lips.
Eriksen already felt like he could face the day now. Her one kiss had shown him she was something special. Maybe she was the ingredient that had been missing in his life in El Paso.
Kat stood up and stretched. “I have to go home.”
“Why? It’s early.”
She smiled and said, “I can’t go to work in the same clothes. People will get the wrong idea.”
“Do you care what people think?”
“I do at work.” She looked down at him sitting on the couch and said, “You need to take it easy today.”
“We’ll see.”
“You can’t conquer the world in one day.”
Eriksen gave her a smile. “I can try.”
She smiled back as she picked up her purse. “Don’t try too hard,” she said, and then she was out the door.
Before Tom Eriksen could get rolling, his cell phone rang and he snatched it off the coffee table, hoping it was Kat Gleason saying she would come back for a while. Instead, it was the supervisor of the Border Security Task Force, Andre. Before the big man even identified himself, Eriksen could tell by the echo of his deep voice and blocked number who it was.
Andre said, “How you doing today, tiger?”
“Just getting ready to come in now.”
“That’s why I’m calling. I think it’s a good idea if you take a couple of days to get your head on straight.”
“I’m fine.”
“I didn’t say you weren’t, but you and Lila saw some shit and I don’t want you back yet.”
“I know you already heard that the FBI cleared me to come back.”
“What I heard was the Department of Justice inspector general did some kind of voodoo and didn’t force you to take what I always thought was mandatory leave after a shooting.”
“Doesn’t matter if it’s voodoo or sound judgment, I’ve been cleared to work and that’s what I want to do.”
“I’m sorry if I gave you the impression it was a suggestion. I’ll see how I feel about you coming in tomorrow. But for now you can consider yourself free for the day. Any comments?”
“No, sir.” Then he worked up the courage to say, “What about Lila?”
Andre hesitated. “She’s different.”
“How?”
“I’m afraid of her.” There was an awkward pause on the line. Then, in a softer tone, Andre said, “Look, this isn’t really about the shooting. It has a lot more to do with John Houghton. I’m taking some time today, too. He was a really good dude.”
Eriksen mumbled, “I’ll see you in a couple of days.”
“Stay in touch. I like to know what each of you guys are up to, and I definitely want to keep track of a guy like you.”
“Why’s that?”
“I can see trouble coming from way off. Enjoy your personal time.” The line went dead.
Instead of looking forward to some free time, Eriksen plopped on his couch, realizing for the first time just how empty his life was.
* * *
Cash walked a step behind his employer as they surveyed the production facility just outside El Paso. The building had been constantly expanded over the past two years, and thousands of square feet of production and shipping space were supposed to be online soon.
He appreciated the fact that Mr. Haben wasn’t skittish about having a guy like Cash near him in public. He was supposed to be more of a liaison who let employees like Ari do the dirty work, but his job description had evolved, and he couldn’t argue with the pay.
This catwalk above the conveyor belts and packing areas was the perfect place to talk because no listening devices could be planted easily and the unending noise from the floor would disrupt any of the new technology used to catch even the most errant sound wave.
Cash looked out over the rows of computers. The parts came from Taiwan, and they were assembled in Mexico. All the United States was used for was a last check and the boxing of the computers. It took only a fraction of the workers that other computer manufacturers needed to provide the finished product. That’s why the corporation’s profits had soared even in the face of a near-collapse of the country’s economy.
Companies like Intel and Microsoft had to know something was up even though this company was nowhere near their size. Cash wondered if Bill Gates thought about why a company like TARC was so profitable. There were only a few ways to build a computer and the costs were similar. TARC was relatively small, but it was expanding.
Mr. Haben didn’t look at him when he said, “I appreciate how you handled the job yesterday.”
“I didn’t expect the other men.”
“That’s exactly what I mean. You didn’t panic and stayed with it until you accomplished your task. Technically speaking, those other idiots botched it by killing the father and daughter. Anything that attracts negative press can potentially affect profits. Now the problem is if anyone connects our reasons for shutting up Martinez and Piña’s reason for silencing the doctor.” He turned to face Cash, having to angle his bald head upward to look at the taller man. “And you’re certain Martinez is dead.”
“As a doornail.”
“What about Eric Sidle?”
“We’re working on it. I have a cell number for him, and we’re seeing what we can find out. I believe he’s still in the El Paso area.”
Haben shook his head and looked down at the factory floor. “Things were going so smoothly for so long that this is throwing me off my stride. It all seemed to happen at once. And this isn’t the only problem. I might need you to do a complicated job. One that could be more public. I can’t have people blabbing about immigration right here in our own town without it cutting into our operation.”
All Cash said was, “I’ll be ready.”
“I know you will, Joe.” He patted Cash on the shoulder like a father.
This was the first time Cash had ever detected any worry or distress in his employer’s voice. It freaked him out a little bit.
* * *
Eriksen cleaned up and was considering what to do with his day when he was surprised by a curt knock on his front door. His apartment wasn’t so big that he could hide his movements. He was cautious, stopping to pull his Glock from the drawer in the kitchen where he always stored it. The kitchen was in the corner of the living room and in sight of the door. He stayed behind the thick cabinets and called, “Who is it?”
A female voice said, “Eriksen, you decent?”
He recognized Lila Tellis’s voice and stepped to the door. When he pulled it open he was surprised to see her smiling and casually dressed in jeans and a simple, loose T-shirt with no makeup. She still looked great with her straight black hair and intense dark eyes. He was confused and hesitated.
Lila dropped her voice low in a mock imitation and said, “You wanna come in, Lila?” In her regular voice she answered h
erself, “Yes, I do.” She stepped inside and assessed him. “How are you doing?”
Eriksen shrugged. “Okay.”
“I heard about John Houghton. I’m sorry.” Eriksen just nodded.
Lila said, “Are you going to sit here alone and feel sorry for yourself?”
“I didn’t have those specific plans.”
“Are you as confused as me by what’s going on? Your border shooting, the Martinez home invasion, John’s rumor about one of the coyotes being a U.S. national.”
“Yeah, I am. So what?”
“So do you want to sit here or do you want to do something about it?”
He just stared at the beautiful DEA agent. Somehow he knew she had a plan, and he wanted to be part of it.
NINETEEN
Lila Tellis scanned the half-empty parking lot and felt comfortable no one noticed her or Tom Eriksen. The midmorning sun forced her to slip on her Ray-Bans and shade her eyes with her hand as she swept the area one last time.
She liked how few questions this good-looking FBI agent asked. It’d taken a little time before she was sure he was trustworthy, but now she’d decided to jump into the deep end of the pool.
She’d parked her personal vehicle in a shopping center three blocks from the port of entry between El Paso and Juárez. It had taken her a moment to convince Eriksen to lock his Glock and his badge in her glove compartment. No cop liked the idea of roaming the streets without a firearm handy. Now he followed her dutifully as they walked south toward the main port of entry.
She led him to the far left line for pedestrians and glanced past the first twenty people to make sure it was the correct line. The inspector on the Mexican side of the border looked up and gave her the faintest of nods.
Lila looked at Eriksen and said, “Any questions?” Eriksen just casually shook his head. That made her smile again. She’d found an FBI agent who trusted her enough to lock up his credentials and gun, then walk into Mexico carrying nothing but some cash and his driver’s license.
The line moved quickly, especially once the inspector on the Mexican side saw Lila. She already had the four fifty-dollar bills folded in her hand to slip the inspector, who gave Eriksen only a passing glance and waved them both through.
When they were past the port of entry and strolling toward the northern edge of Juárez, an area once teeming with U.S. visitors but now strangely quiet, Lila leaned in close and said, “Hold my hand.”
Eriksen turned and stared at her. “What?”
“We’re tourists. We are boyfriend and girlfriend or maybe even engaged. Grab ahold of my goddamn hand.” She kept a smile on her face while she said it. He had a good grip for holding hands, she realized as they interlocked fingers. Not too strong but not too weak. There was a gentle quality to it that made her imagine him for a moment as her real boyfriend.
Two blocks and twenty Chiclet-selling kids into the Mexican city, she saw the six-year-old Jeep Cherokee right where she expected it. The paint job was beat up, or at least looked like it was. She didn’t hesitate to open the rear door and slide all the way across and was happy to see Eriksen was smart enough to slide in with her.
As the car pulled away from the curb, beeping at pedestrians, Eriksen turned to her on the backseat and simply said, “Who are you, Lila?”
* * *
Eriksen had learned to keep his mouth shut and eyes open. John Houghton had said that set him apart from other FBI agents. Just the thought of his former partner made him smile. Now he followed Lila through the streets of Ciudad Juárez without comment. She obviously knew who to bribe on the Mexican side of the border, because they hadn’t even slowed down at the port of entry. A car was conveniently waiting for them, so she had plenty of contacts.
The DEA was known for international contacts, but this was something else. If Lila had misjudged anything and they were stuck unarmed here in Ciudad Juárez, they’d be in deep shit. But the way she moved and acted told Eriksen he had nothing to worry about.
Juárez was considered the most dangerous city in the world, with murders occurring at all levels of society. The death toll was frightening, even exceeding those in war zones across the globe. Generations of cartel members had been battling for control of northern Mexico and access to the border. The police had failed to stem the violence, and the military was taking a stab at the gargantuan task. By most estimates several of the cartels had more fluid capital than the government, and they certainly didn’t have to follow the same rules. Bribes to underpaid officials were difficult to track, and the barrios provided a seemingly unending source of cartel foot soldiers. In 2010, the city administration had tried to fire 25 percent of the police force on suspicion of corruption.
The cartels turned fourteen-year-olds into hit men and drug mules without batting an eye.
Mexico had been ruled by the PRI political party for seventy years before it lost power in the elections of 2000. The PRI had allowed certain cartels to operate as long as violence was kept to a minimum and out of the public eye. Now, with a multiparty ruling system, each party had a tie to a different cartel and violence had burst into the world’s view. The hope was to stop it before it became ingrained in society and could never be stopped.
Eriksen had already considered the different explanations he might have to make to his supervisor for why he was on this side of the border. Zara had proven to be by the book and unsympathetic to almost any effort Eriksen took to complete his role as an FBI special agent. At first Eriksen thought he was just testing a new transfer and feeling him out, and he wondered how much of his reputation had preceded him. Now he realized Zara was just lazy and didn’t want to be saddled with any extra work. Once again the simplest explanation was the best.
Eriksen took in the views of the city as they drove south, farther and farther from the border. Juárez almost looked like an American town out of the seventies, with lots of low strip malls and off-brand supermarkets, but the stark apartments and shantytowns didn’t resemble anything in the U.S. he had ever seen or read about.
Now they turned and stopped at a hotel with a bar on the first floor. They were on the extreme south side of Juárez. This was not a tourist area. A visitor would have to run the gauntlet of the entire city and risk seeing one of the up to five murders that occurred every day. This was a hotel where business was discussed and deals were made.
Eriksen said nothing as Lila reached into the back pocket of the front seat and pulled out an older .45 caliber pistol. It looked like army surplus from the 1960s.
Lila turned, smiled, and winked at him. “Ready to ruffle some feathers?”
“Ready as I’ll ever be.”
* * *
Manny felt a twinge of anxiety when he stepped into the beautiful office where Pablo Piña leaned on the desk, staring out over the fields behind his massive hacienda. He was dead tired, and the pain medicine the company doctor had given him after bandaging his bullet wound had made him even groggier. It was only the sharp stab of agony he felt when he stepped wrong on his right leg that kept him even partially alert.
After what seemed like an eternity, Piña turned and said, “What the hell happened yesterday?”
Manny shrugged, the exhaustion and drugs releasing his inhibitions. “The main thing I remember is being shot while trying to settle a minor personal grudge for my employer.” He contained a smile when he saw a twitch in Piña’s left eye.
Piña continued, “The only thing that’s been on the news in El Paso is the killing of a construction manager and his daughter. They mention another murder a few blocks away, but that’s what everyone focuses on. Why did you guys shoot the father and daughter?”
Manny hesitated, not wanting to shift the blame. He was responsible for everything that went on during a job he supervised. Finally he took a breath and said, “I regret it happened, but as I’m sure you know, we ran into other armed men as well as the police. Hector’s cousin was killed.”
“The crazy one who uses the knives?”
“The thing that bothers me, Manny, is that you didn’t come to me and tell me everything that had happened. I had to learn things on my own, and I hate surprises.”
“I’m sorry, boss, but I figured once Martinez was dead, you didn’t care too much about anything else, and I had to get medical attention.”
“So you saw Dr. Martinez dead?”
Manny knew his employer well enough to realize there was some trap in the question. He thought back on the scene and everything that had happened and finally said, “I saw him go down from a bullet to his chest. But truthfully, so much was going on I never got a chance to lean down and take his pulse or make the statement you wanted us to make. I’m sorry, boss.”
Piña seemed to consider this response for some time. Finally he said, “I knew you were an honest man, Manny. That’s why I accept your version of what happened without question.”
Then Manny said, “Why, is someone saying things didn’t happen like that?”
Piña leaned down and pressed the intercom button on his phone. “Bring him in.” Manny heard the door behind him and turned to see one of Piña’s personal security men step into the room, followed by another man who shoved someone from behind. It took a moment for Manny to realize the dusty, dazed man who had been wedged between the security people was Dr. Luis Martinez.
TWENTY
The hotel had a certain cinematic quality, like something out of a Humphrey Bogart film, and Tom Eriksen appreciated the fact that he and Lila now sat in a private room behind the bar, speaking to the second set of men today. The first had clearly been smugglers who told them Pablo Piña had been upset with Luis Martinez, but that it was a personal matter. For some reason the news seemed to bother Lila. She kept trying to break the men’s story and make it sound like Piña had been forced to take action.
