by Gary Ponzo
Thomas became fussy, maybe sensing the anxiety between them. Nick went over and took him from Julie. He smiled at his son and received a smile back.
“Who’s my good boy?” he asked Thomas.
Julie put her head on Nick’s shoulder and seemed to accept her fate. “How long will you be gone?”
“A week, maybe less.”
“You take your pills?”
“They’re packed,” Nick said, referring to the medication to keep his PTSD in check. He’d been diagnosed with the disorder a year back when the stress of battling terrorists had become too much for his brain to handle.
She sighed, the two of them now staring jubilantly at their proudest possession.
“Jule,” Nick said, still looking at Thomas.
“Yeah?”
“He has your eyes.”
He could feel her face smile.
A car pulled up in the front of the house. Nick went over and glanced out a side window to catch a view of the vehicle.
“Hey, check this out,” Nick said, calling Julie to the window. “You’ve never witnessed the good-bye ritual before.”
Julie came over and leaned into the window to get a better view. They could see Jennifer Steele grab a bag from the back seat and move around to the driver’s side and duck in through the window. She gave Matt a kiss, then dropped her bag and wrapped both arms around her boyfriend, while Matt pulled her halfway into the car, the two of them voraciously going at it, time seeming to be no option.
Julie sighed. “Remember when we were like that?”
“C’mon, Jule,” Nick said. “We’re still like that. Only difference is, we aren’t as insecure about our relationship.”
“So that’s what this is,” she said, watching the two lovers keeping the embrace alive. “Insecurity?”
“Of course,” Nick said, grinning now, because the kiss didn’t seem to have a shelf life. “I mean, who needs that long to express their feelings?”
Julie reached her free arm around Nick’s waist and gave him a long kiss. Thomas gurgled up spit on Nick’s neck and the expulsion quickly ended the romantic interlude.
Nick handed Thomas back to her and grabbed a towel from the dresser. He returned with a disgusted expression while wiping his neck. “Maybe, there’s another reason for our lack of romance.”
The front door opened and footsteps came up the stairs.
“Knock, knock,” Jennifer Steele said from the foyer.
“We’re in the bedroom,” Julie called out.
Jennifer came in wearing jeans, a Phoenix Suns T-shirt and a baseball cap with a ponytail hanging from the back. She dropped a heavy duffle bag on the floor and rubbed her shoulder.
Nick lifted the bag, then quickly returned it to the floor. “What kind of protection are you packing, Agent Steele?”
“The usual,” Steele smiled and left it at that.
A car horn honked. Steele pointed a thumb over her shoulder. “He’s waiting.”
Nick quickly threw his shaving kit into the bag, then kissed Julie and Thomas before heading for the door.
“I’ll text you when we get there,” he said.
Steele held his arm, a little longer than necessary. She looked at him with a deadpan stare. “Be careful.”
Nick nodded casually, not wanting to add to the tension he could see in Julie’s eyes. “Of course.”
He left the house and tossed his bag into the back seat of his partner’s Ford Expedition. Matt McColm handed him an apple as he strapped himself into the passenger seat.
“Thanks,” Nick said, taking a bite from the apple.
Matt drove to the end of the driveway and stopped, looking over his left shoulder at the house.
“Julie okay?” Matt said.
“As okay as she’ll ever be.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means, she doesn’t want to know where I’m going, but she asks anyway. Then she frets about every possible scenario.” Nick ran a hand through his hair. “I don’t know, buddy. These days I wonder if a job with the postal service isn’t a good choice.”
“Yeah, well, they’re laying off a lot of postal employees these days,” Matt said. “So you’d probably be out of work and scrounging around for mortgage money. Be grateful you haven’t had the financial stress most Americans have had to face.”
Nick sighed, thinking of what lie ahead of them.
“Stevie coming?” Matt asked.
“Uh, huh.”
“It’s going to get ugly,” Matt said.
Nick glanced back at his house where both of his prized possessions resided. “It always does,” he said.
* * *
After picking up Stevie Gilpin at the airport, Nick and Matt debriefed him on the way to Tucson. Gilpin was a slim young man with thin, frameless glasses and an insatiable penchant for all things technical.
Nick looked over his shoulder at Stevie who was playing with one of his mechanical toys. “Are you listening to me?”
“Of course,” Stevie said with an easy smile. “Unlike some older agents, I can multitask.”
Matt grinned from behind the wheel. “I’m not even forty, so don’t go shoveling dirt on me just yet.”
Nick pointed to an abandoned building in the center of an empty parking lot. “There,” he said. “Park in the back.”
The building was the size of an enormous superstore with no other marking but the faded letters where the original sign covered the paint. In the rear of the building was a row of cars parked under a strip of metal covering to protect against the Arizona summer heat. Matt pulled into one of the empty spots and turned off the car.
Nick twisted in his seat. “Stevie?”
While still pushing buttons on a small electronic device, Stevie said, “I know. Stay close to you and don’t talk to anyone.”
Nick got out of the car satisfied his instructions were heard. When they approached the white metal door, Nick spied the miniature camera above a wall light. To the unobservant eye it would seem as if this were a vacant building instead of the Southwest’s largest Homeland Security office.
Before pushing the button on the wall next to the door, Nick turned to Matt and said, “You ready?”
Matt stuck a piece of chewing gum in his mouth and nodded. “Uh huh.”
Nick hit the button next to an employee card scanning device and waited only a few seconds before the door opened. A chiseled man in fatigues with an assault rifle strapped around his neck stood waiting for them.
Nick held up his FBI shield and received a nod from the man who stepped aside and allowed the three agents to pass. Without a word spoken, they entered the building. The place was an enormous hollowed out warehouse with a high ceiling and no walls to separate anyone. To their left was a large cage where several German Shepherds paced around each other, prancing on their toes, anxious for action. On the opposite side of the massive facility was the only closed-in room, the size of a volleyball court. That’s where all the impounded drugs would be stored.
Throughout the gutted warehouse were dozens of desks with computers and small lamps. Border Patrol agents banged on keyboards and moved around the facility with an organized choreography which denoted years of practice. The floor had been stripped down to the cement so an echo rang out with every phone call and every conversation. A concrete stairway led up to a second floor loft with just enough room for a secretary’s desk, a couple of waiting couches, and the one large office which would be the command center. Nick knew the Deputy Director would be working up there.
Nick led the way, walking with authority in order to diminish any chance for confrontation. Although he was seething, he kept a placid expression and nodded as he passed people at their desks. They headed up the staircase and upon reaching the top, Nick approached the solitary desk where a woman eyed the three men warily. He held out his credentials and smiled.
“Margie, you don’t know us,” Nick said, affably, “but we’re old Navy buddies of Roger’s a
nd I want to surprise him.”
The secretary looked over the three agents who acted like they were visiting Santa. “Well, he’s on the phone right now, but once he’s off, I’ll let him know you’re here.”
Nick pointed to the phone on her desk with a solitary green light designating a current call in progress. He held his index finger to his mouth in a mischievous gesture. “Shh,” he said, heading toward the closed door. “Once he sees us, he’ll hang up. Promise. He might get a little animated, though. We were a pretty close group.”
Nick headed to the door with Matt and Stevie behind him. As he grabbed the doorknob, he turned to the secretary, who was halfway out of her seat. “If he doesn’t get off the phone within five seconds, you can come and chase us out.”
This put the secretary back in her chair with a dubious glare.
Nick smiled. “Start counting.”
The three agents entered the windowless office. Matt closed the door behind them.
Roger Decker was a stocky guy with a beefy, motorcycle cop mustache. His desk fronted a gigantic wall map of Arizona with mountains and buttes protruding from its surface to accent the topography. Decker sat behind his desk with the phone to his ear. As soon as he saw the trio approach, he pulled the phone down and said, “Who the fuck are you?”
Nick calmly grabbed the phone from Decker’s hand and slammed it down on the cradle. A complete look of astonishment covered Decker’s face. Matt came around the desk and pulled up on Decker’s white, button-down shirt, until the man was upright, then shoved the Deputy Director against the wall.
“This is a hostile takeover, asshole,” Matt spat at him.
Nick slid into the Director’s chair and began tapping on the keyboard.
Stevie seemed to want to explain things, so he held up his FBI shield. “We’re with the Bureau,” he said.
Decker looked confused.
Matt gave Stevie an angry glare. “Did you forget your instructions already?”
The technologist looked apologetic.
Nick pointed to a chair in front of Decker’s desk. “Sit down.”
Matt reached for Decker again, but this time he shoved Matt’s arms away and moved to sit in the chair on his own. A tiny show of defiance in an otherwise submissive situation.
Decker’s face twisted into a nasty snarl. “What gives you the right to barge into my office like this?”
Nick found the page he wanted, then twisted the thin monitor so Decker could get a good view. “This gives me the right,” Nick said. “I received this picture from Antonio Garza a few hours ago.”
The Deputy Director’s face became pale and his eyes wide. Subconsciously, he rubbed his neck. “El Carnicero?”
“The very same.”
Stevie stretched to see the photo over Decker’s shoulder. He looked like he might get sick. The picture showed two headless males sitting with their backs against a gray wall, nothing but bloody stumps on top of their shoulders. Their heads sat in their laps with forced smiles on the faces.
“These two men were working undercover,” Nick said. “There were only three men who knew their identity and one of them had to give them up to Garza, there’s no other explanation for this.”
Decker looked as if he had just bit into a lemon. He twisted the monitor away from him.
“Okay,” Decker said, “you made your point. But what has this got to do with me?”
“These three men work out of this office.”
“What?” Decker held up his hands. “You were running an undercover operation out of my office and you didn’t consult me?”
Nick folded his arms. “I don’t have time to explain our motives. The less people who knew meant the less people who could tip off Garza.” Nick gestured toward the monitor. “Obviously, we had one too many people involved already.”
Decker seemed disgusted. “Who are you? You never told me your name.”
“Nick Bracco.”
“Bracco?” Decker said, his eyes darting side-to-side until a flicker of recognition came across his face. “You’re the terrorist expert. What are you doing messing with drug cartels? This is way out of your league.”
“No, Mr. Decker, I’m not messing with cartels. I’m messing with Antonio Garza. He’s not a drug smuggler. He’s the gatekeeper for any cartel who wants a guaranteed entry into the United States. These drug lords know that thirty percent of their product will get confiscated, that’s already built into the price. But if someone needs assurance that a certain product will make it across-they contact Garza. He’s the one who can make it happen.”
Decker shook his head. “You’re talking to me like I’m in kindergarten. I know more about Antonio Garza than you ever will, so don’t come in here and act like you’re a genius because you’ve figured that out.” Decker got out of his chair and roamed the interior of his office, looking at the three agents with disdain. “You’re upset Garza killed two of your men. . well, shit, he’s probably killed over a hundred of my men. Men with families and courage and integrity. This war on drugs is expensive in more ways than one and no one outside of this building has any idea what’s going on out there.”
Decker returned to his chair and waited for a response. Nick looked up at Matt who was itching for conflict. Stevie stood in the background waiting to help.
Nick leaned forward and dropped his elbows on the desk. “First of all, I don’t give a crap about the drug war. If it were up to me I’d legalize the stuff and let nature take its course.”
“Then what?” Decker said. “Revenge? You think you’re going to get to Garza when the entire force of eight thousand Border Patrol agents couldn’t?” Decker glanced around the room. “You three?” He laughed. “Boy, are you in for a surprise.”
Nick stood up and ran a hand through his hair. He wasn’t about to give out any more information than he had to. He pointed to Matt. “Give him the names.”
Matt pulled a card from his pants pocket and handed it to Decker.
“What’s this?” Decker asked.
“Get these guys in here now,” Nick said.
Decker examined the card. “These are three of my best agents. I’m afraid your information is faulty.”
Nick was growing impatient. His stomach simmered with an intense desire for answers, but he wasn’t sure how much to trust anyone. Even Decker. He sat at the edge of the desk and glared at the Deputy Director. “Now,” he said.
Decker didn’t seem to have options. Any hesitation on his part could cause the appearance of a cover-up. Even if he thought his men were clean, he couldn’t afford to be complicit. He grabbed the cell phone from his desk and made three calls. His tone was firm, but not forced or phony. When he finished the final call, he looked up at Nick and asked. “What now?”
Nick turned to look at the physical map on the wall behind him and pointed to a specific spot. “Now, you’re going to tell me everything you know about this region of the border.”
Decker’s face lost its angry tone and was replaced by a new emotion. Pity.
“Please don’t tell me you’re going to do what I think you’re going to do,” Decker said.
Nick said nothing. The frightened look on the Deputy Director’s face was enough to allow a shred of doubt to creep into Nick’s mind. He just wished his plan didn’t include so many variables.
Chapter 4
Antonio Garza sat at the kitchen table helping Julio with his homework. School was starting earlier in the year and Garza was adamant about Julio’s education. He wanted the boy to grow up and live a clean life, without the stress and terror his father had to endure. The dirty dinner plates were still beside them on the table.
“Papa,” Julio said, writing in his notebook. “Donde esta mi madre?”
“En Ingles, mi hijo.”
“Por que?”
“Because,” Garza said, looking around to assure their solitude, “we may not always live in Mexico.”
“Why?” the boy asked.
“Well,�
� Garza said, “one day we may decide to live far away from here where English is the main language and it would be important for you to be able to speak with your neighbors.”
The boy’s eyes brightened. “You mean we could have neighbors? Like Pablo and Salvador? We could live next door to them?”
Garza smiled, ruffling up his son’s hair. “Maybe,” he said.
A thought seemed to cross Julio’s mind and his face became somber. “Is that where Mama is?”
Garza had waited as long as possible for this conversation, but needed to wait just a little longer. “Maybe,” Garza said, keeping the lie alive.
“When?” Julio asked, anxious to know his fate.
“I don’t know, hijo. Maybe soon.”
Through the upstairs kitchen window a pair of headlights could be seen traveling up the dirt road toward the complex. The road was three miles of pure desert landscape with no shelter along the way. It was the only way in and the only way out.
Following his father’s gaze, Julio began to gather his homework.
“Yes, Papa,” Julio said without being told a thing. “You have a business meeting, I know.”
Garza sighed. He took his son in his arms and said, “I do everything for you, Julio. Do you understand?”
Julio looked up into his father’s eyes. “No, Papa.”
Garza pulled him into his chest and smiled. “Someday you will, hijo. Someday.”
The boy left the room and Garza headed downstairs, passing three soldiers on the way. The last one was bigger than the rest and didn’t carry an assault rifle around his shoulder. When Garza saw him, he slowed his stride down the final couple of steps.
“Visitor, Jefe,” Victor Sanchez said.
“Yes, I know,” Garza said. “Bring him to the basement.”
“As you wish.”
Garza grabbed Victor’s arm. “Make sure you check him thoroughly, eh?”
