by Lou Dobbs
The FBI wasn’t exactly what he thought it would be. But neither was much else in life. The more things he learned, the more things he realized he didn’t know. Excellence and achievement seemed to be a component of experience. The perfect example was all the hours he put in on the range with the FBI. He was considered an excellent shot. Two short firefights were able to put all of his training into perspective more than a lifetime of shooting at the range. Now, if he could put the other things he was learning to good use, maybe he could fulfill his lifelong dreams.
* * *
Pablo Piña looked out on his estate, watching two of his daughters play on an oversized swing set he had made for them. The slide was so high he had a small elevator built for the kids to use if they got tired of climbing the ladder. Gazing out the huge window was his favorite place to think quietly.
He had never realized how much he had relied on Manny to run his entire operation. He also hadn’t expected the older man’s death to hit him so hard. Piña’s first reaction was to strike back at those who killed him, namely the El Paso Police Department. But he thought about what Manny would have told him to do and realized it was just bad luck that had gotten Manny killed. No one had any idea what had happened in the marketplace. There were other armed men involved, and it appeared that one of them had shot a uniformed patrol officer. That prompted an all-out search, and Manny got caught in some kind of roadblock near the filming of a TV show.
Piña had already gone to great lengths to make sure Manny’s widow was taken care of, but that didn’t change the fact that Manny had apparently known all the smuggling schedules off the top of his head, along with contacts and other information Piña had long since given up caring about. He needed another reliable veteran manager. The first person that came to his mind was Manny’s friend Hector. The problem was that the giant assassin was difficult to find. It’d been many years since Piña had roamed the streets of Ciudad Juárez on a chore like this. People had been shocked to see the Dark Lord of the Desert appear at different cafés and hotels in his search.
The most he could find out was that Hector had been in the U.S. on some job that required all of his attention.
He’d keep looking. There was no one currently in his organization prepared to step up and run it like Manny, and Piña had already decided Hector was the right man for the job.
His personal cell phone rang, and he checked the number before answering. It was from the United States again, but he didn’t feel like talking. He just let it ring.
* * *
Katharine Gleason sat in the technical room in the rear of the NSA’s suite of offices. The room looked more like an electronics repair shop with half-assembled computers, tools, and gadgets strewn across three workbenches.
The three younger men who worked in here, two graduates of MIT and one from a Russian polytechnic institute, were often referred to as the Three Wise Nerds. The Russian had been a hacker recruited by someone high up in the NSA. The agency had somehow worked out a security clearance to gain access to his remarkable skills at invading computer networks and tracking signals from the other side of the world. The two friends from the Massachusetts Institute of Technology had decided to join NSA together. They both had some kind of electronic engineering degree, but few people understood exactly what that meant. One of the young men, Larry, appeared to be able to diagnose any technical issue and overcome all types of encryption by just looking at a piece of equipment. Of course it wasn’t true, but he liked to build up the mythology surrounding his unusual abilities.
Kat had given him the thumb drive from Tom Eriksen and asked if he could pull up the information inside it. As usual, he had taken the drive without looking her in the eyes and mumbled some kind of response. Now, he appeared ready to provide her with the information. It was printed out in a neat thirty-page notebook with an official NSA seal on the front.
Larry said, “Do you have a reference number or case number I can assign to this?”
She hesitated. “No, not really.”
“How can you not really have a number for a thumb drive that really does exist?”
“I probably should’ve thought this through better, but the inquiry was supposed to be low-key and not involve official resources.”
Larry made a show of looking around the room crammed with old computers and tools designed to work on the smallest possible devices. “Where did you get the idea that anything inside this room was not an official resource?”
She reached for notebook but Larry pressed his hand down on top of it. He said, “I don’t mean to be a dick about this, but they’re very sensitive about how we spend our time.”
“One of the agencies involved with the Border Security Task Force gave me the thumb drive and just asked to see what was on it. I’m hoping to build a better relationship with other agencies on the task force and not always rub their nose in our higher security clearances. Is there any way, for me, we can just write this off as a favor?” She emphasized the request with a smile and placed her hand on Larry’s forearm.
The shy young man, maybe a year or two younger than Kat, swallowed hard and looked around the room again and finally said, “It’s nothing but a giant spreadsheet anyway. I don’t know if anyone will be able to make heads or tails of it.”
Kat smiled and said, “I know someone who will be able to figure it out. He is to spreadsheets what you are to encryption.”
“You mean a nerd who hasn’t had a date in months?”
“I meant someone who has an unnatural ability in solving specific problems. And don’t worry, Larry, there’s someone out there just waiting for a guy like you.”
Larry looked at her deadpan and said, “It’s been my experience through most of my life that the only someone waiting out there for me is a bully. Regardless, you’re the prettiest girl to ask me a favor in a long time, and the encryption on this wasn’t that crazy, so I’ll hide it under another case number. But you have to at least let me show you what I did to get the information.”
Kat said, “That’s fascinating. I’d love to see what you did.” She really did want to pay close attention because she could imagine the look on Tom Eriksen’s face when she explained it to him later on.
THIRTY-SIX
Tom Eriksen and Lila were in their favorite fastfood joint, which they called the “cone of silence” because it was safer to talk than any place in their office. None of the health-conscious members of the Border Security Task Force would get caught dead in a place like this because it reeked of fried food and greasy hamburgers. Eriksen doubted he could even get Kat to eat here with him. Plus, it was after lunch, almost three in the afternoon. He knew something was up when Lila suggested the place.
Lila ate with her usual gusto, shoving down a few fries and a bite of burger followed by a gulp of regular Coke. He marveled at her normal appetite and decided that not only was her workout regimen brutal, she had a metabolism faster than a NASCAR champion’s Ford. After he had managed to draw her attention from her after-lunch snack for just a moment, Eriksen said, “What was so important we needed to talk in the cone of silence?”
Her eyes darted around the room once before she answered. “You know how I kept telling you to cool it about your conspiracy theories concerning John Houghton.”
“Yeah.” He continued nodding as he waited for the payoff.
“I heard something very interesting this morning and was told I could pass it on to you.”
“What’s that?”
“The print you identified on John’s TV set is a thumbprint.”
“I’m listening.”
“It matches a print found on one of the .380 casings from the market shooting.”
The news really did stun Eriksen for a moment. “The same .380 casings that were found at the Martinez apartment?”
Lila nodded.
“That means both shootings and John’s death are all related.”
“And that’s how El Paso homicide is approaching the in
vestigation.”
“We need to call in the cavalry, too. We can get them all kinds of resources.”
“Whoa there, big fella. We still don’t know where the leak is coming from in our office. I’ve already talked to homicide about keeping it in-house. You and I are all the resources they’re going to need.”
For the first time the idea of an honest-to-God leak in the task force made Eriksen pause and consider the ramifications. The U.S. federal police agencies were remarkably clear of corruption. Only a handful of FBI agents had ever been convicted of corruption, and that included the time before they were at the top end of the public or private wage scale. He didn’t think he’d ever been involved in an investigation where he had to hide information from other people on the case. They were sailing in uncharted waters.
* * *
Cash was more than a little annoyed that Mr. Haben had included Ari in a tour of the packing facility on the way to the area where he felt comfortable talking. The catwalk looked down on the buzzing facility where workers packaged the laptop and desktop systems largely assembled in Mexico. The air was a little cooler above the fray, but the room was still too warm for a jacket.
The middle-aged CEO looked from Cash to Ari and said, “Boys, we have a lot going on. I’m not trying to insult you, but I’m keeping you out of the loop on purpose. I want you to focus on Eric Sidle.”
Cash said, “Is he busy stirring the shit again? I would’ve thought the incident at the market would scare him into permanent hiding.”
“He’s proven to be a little tougher than most of the computer engineers I know. Also, one of my Mexican partners wants this handled immediately. I don’t want to argue the point.”
“We’re on it.”
“Eric has a partner. I think it’s the partner that’s pushing him.”
“So Vinnie wasn’t his only accomplice.”
“It appears not.” Haben took a moment to look out over the floor where workers scurried around packing computers. The trucks were always unloaded in a different building; only a very select few saw what was coming out of the boxes.
Cash realized that eventually the goal for Mr. Haben was to get the company profitable on computers alone. God knows he was smart enough to work that out. And he had been ruthless enough to get started in a business where the giants regularly squashed the newcomers. The idea to bring in cheap labor and supplement the company’s early profits was brilliant.
Cash finally said, “We don’t have any idea who his partner is?”
Mr. Haben shook his head and said, “I have no idea. It might be that DiMetti broad. We probably should’ve done her the same night you shot her husband. But it’s too late to worry about now. We need to end this.”
Cash had been surprised Ari had been able to stay quiet for so long. The little Israeli wasn’t his usual agitated self, walking back and forth, grumbling under his breath. He stood calmly at the railing and looked down onto the floor. Finally he turned and faced their employer and said, “We’ll clear all this up for you, Mr. Haben. Don’t worry about a thing.”
Cash wondered how far Ari was going to take this new role as the responsible contractor.
* * *
Tom Eriksen was trying to concentrate on the conversation around the table at the Seafood Hut in downtown El Paso. The comfortable restaurant was a little dark and too cold for his taste.
He’d been distracted by the news that John Houghton’s death was definitely related to the rash of homicides in El Paso. He had accepted the invitation to dinner with Ted Dempsey earlier in the week, and Lila insisted they continue on with their normal lives so as not to draw any attention. The surprise at dinner was that Senator Elizabeth Ramos had invited herself to come along. She was in town for a meeting with Dempsey, who had mentioned that he was having dinner with the man who kept her from being doused in pig shit.
They were discussing the incident, and Dempsey’s view as usual was straightforward. “You can’t legislate crazy. No matter what the issue, there is always someone who’ll take it too far. When some nut shoots a dozen people, the antigun crowd want to strip every man and woman in the country of their guns, legislate magazine capacity limits, get rid of so-called assault weapons. No one takes into account that the assailant had issues, typically serious mental illness, which motivated the shooting. But the left reflexively exploits the possession of a firearm. Take a look at Chicago—toughest antigun laws in the country and it’s the murder capital of America! It’s really a simple deal: Outlaw guns and only outlaws will have ’em. And occasionally, there’ll be some idiot who brings pig poop to a debate. Crazy, but this time we got lucky.”
They all laughed.
The senator placed her delicate hand on Eriksen’s forearm and said, “Crazy or not, I’d still be in the shower if he’d been able to complete his task. Thank you so much for your efforts.”
“Are you grateful enough to allow the Texas Rangers security detail to start up again?”
“I appreciate your concern. But the fact is most members of the Senate have no security whatsoever. I have several aides who are veterans and can handle themselves. I would rather the Texas Rangers spend their time hunting down fugitives and helping the citizens of Texas.” She gave him a smile that looked more genuine than her normal politician’s smile as she squeezed his arm.
“I’d like to show my appreciation by helping your career. Have you given any thought to moving to an antiterrorism job?”
Eriksen hesitated, then said, “Of course I’ve given it thought, but that’s all. I’m pretty busy in my current assignment.”
“I’ve been told the Border Security Task Force is a dead end.”
“Yeah, some call it the ‘rubber gun squad.’”
“The job I’m talking about would mean moving back to Washington, D.C. You still have family back there, right?”
“My parents, sister, and brothers live in Baltimore. It would be nice to be closer.” As soon as he said it his mind flashed to the image of Kat Gleason. It was crazy to think their brand-new relationship would enter into a decision to return home and get the job he’d been dreaming about. But it did.
Dempsey picked up that he was uncomfortable and cut into the conversation. “What tipped you off about the guy at the show? How’d you know to rush him like that?”
He didn’t want to mention how paranoid he was about a possible assassin in the audience, so he said, “Just a hunch.”
Dempsey gave him a big smile. “That’s a gift. It’s a skill no amount of pay can take into account. Wish we had a thousand like him.” He slapped Eriksen on the back and beamed at the senator. Then Dempsey said, “Too bad all your cases aren’t as straightforward as this. You guys have to be tricky sometimes.”
That made Eriksen think about ways to find the leak in the task force, if there really was one.
* * *
Cash knew it was too much to hope that Eric would show up at the same café where he thought he’d seen the computer geek the night before. Staking out the Internet café was more of a way to keep Ari busy. He’d stuck the little Israeli in the alley behind the place, watching the back door. It was petty and useless, but satisfying nonetheless.
The corporate wheels were turning, and he didn’t like the direction they were headed. Ari was clearly gaining the respect and attention of his employers. He didn’t want to be replaced by the halfwit eating machine. And he really didn’t want to have to report to him. The idea of Ari becoming his boss physically turned his stomach.
Cash tried to relax in the front seat of his Cadillac, the Doobie Brothers playing quietly over a soft-rock FM station. He didn’t like the fact that he was old enough to appreciate “soft rock” or that people considered the music he liked “oldies.” But it was a fact of life that he was getting older, just like it was a fact he’d eventually be replaced. Now he wished he had listened to his mother and stayed in college. He could’ve ended up going to Rutgers. But that early money, when he was just a kid, was
too enticing.
His cell phone rang, and he snatched it up from the console. He answered it the way he always did. “Cash.”
Carol DiMetti said, “Joe, is that you?”
His heart immediately started to beat faster when he heard her sweet voice. He wasn’t sure how to answer, but he managed to keep cool. “Yeah, it’s me, Carol. How are you doing?”
“I’m feeling bad that I freaked out last night. You surprised me, and I’ve been really stressed out lately. Is there any way you could come over so we could talk?”
He pumped his fist in the car and gave a silent shout of joy. Over the phone he said calmly, “I’m a little tied up right now, but I could be over in the next hour or so. Is that too late?”
“What are you doing?”
“I’m working.”
“On what?”
“Just looking for a guy.”
“Who?”
He paused for a minute wondering what was with the twenty questions. “Just a guy who’s tied up with the corporation. Why do you want to know?”
“Just making conversation. Come by as soon as you can.”
After a few more minutes of small talk he closed the phone. Now he couldn’t think of anything but Carol. He’d do anything to make her happy. And just being around her made him happy. Maybe it was time to tell her exactly how he felt.
THIRTY-SEVEN
Tom Eriksen plopped onto his couch to relax for a minute before Kat Gleason showed up. She had called him during his dinner with the senator and Dempsey and said she’d meet him about ten at his apartment. It sounded like it had something to do with business, but he could always hope for something more. It really didn’t matter. Eriksen just liked being around the beautiful and intelligent NSA analyst.
