Border War Page 9

  Cash had to swallow hard to control his temper and finally had to ask, “How do you eat so much?”

  Ari said, “Is there a law about eating regularly?”

  Cash looked aside and said, “There is if we’re busy. We got a new job.”

  Ari turned to him with a leering smile. “Is it the woman, DiMetti? Ari would do her for free. And all night long.” His grin, with the sauce from the sandwich, made him look like a creepy clown.

  “Give it a rest, Ari. This one is no cakewalk.”

  “Who is it?”

  Cash hesitated, turning it over in his head. Would it be better to hand the job off, or should he break one of his stupid rules and do it himself? It was probably important or his employers wouldn’t have sent it to him. He didn’t know how much he wanted to tell the little Israeli. He turned to Ari and said, “We have to make this one look like an accident.”

  Ari shrugged. “So it just takes a little more thought. Who is it?” There was an edge to his voice that gave away his impatience. “Ari never heard of a job he couldn’t do.”

  All Cash could do was shake his head. “I’m gonna let you run with it. This will be your special assignment.”

  * * *

  Manny made it through the short line at the checkpoint going from Juárez to El Paso. He had learned that at this time of the evening, when workers were coming back and forth across the border and the inspectors hadn’t gone to dinner yet, there were enough lanes open that there wasn’t much delay. He had a good ID and wasn’t on any watch lists. Not under the name he was using. He didn’t mind coming through the official port of entry because all he intended to do was a quick surveillance to confirm Dr. Martinez’s location. He had an address and knew the area pretty well. When it was time to act, tomorrow or the next day, he’d bring Hector and his crazy cousin to do the dirty work.

  He still wasn’t happy about the assignment, but he had to get it done. All to quiet down a pissed-off Latin father. It was a good thing he respected Pablo Piña overall or this would be a reason for him to walk away. He had enough money in mutual funds and overseas investments that he and his wife could live comfortably for the rest of their lives. He’d already set up his children in their own houses and was ready to pay for private school when they provided him with grandchildren.

  He drove a truck that belonged to a landscape company in El Paso and looked perfectly legitimate crossing the border. He knew the arrogant inspectors looked at him like some sort of indentured servant, and that was why he had worn an old T-shirt and slipped on a University of Texas at El Paso baseball cap. Driving down the main street he realized how much he liked El Paso. It reminded him of a smaller Juárez with a vibrant Latin community and a growing reputation as a business center in the Southwest. There were a few too many law enforcement agencies for his taste, though. HSI and DEA maintained large offices to keep an eye on the activity across the border.

  No one would look at the downtown and consider it a big city, with the tallest building being the Wells Fargo Business Center, which was a mere twenty-two stories. Manny felt embarrassed that he was going to shatter the quiet calm of the little city with a calculated murder. He wondered if others in his business hesitated with certain jobs.

  After several turns he found himself on Arizona Avenue looking for the apartment building near Brown Street. His main objective was to see the apartment complex and the surrounding areas to know what he could use as an escape route if necessary, but as he drove past the three-story building he was shocked to see Luis Martinez step out onto the street and slip into a small red Toyota.

  Manny wished he could just pull alongside him and take a quick shot now, but he had not risked bringing any weapons across the border. Somewhere in the back of the truck, along with the rakes and shovels, had to be a machete or something he could use to eliminate the little doctor quickly. He even considered a simple hit-and-run, but then decided to stick to his plan. Piña had been very specific that he wanted to send a message, and that’s why Manny had contracted out the hit.

  He followed the Toyota for several blocks, feeling almost invisible in the lawn maintenance truck, until Dr. Martinez stopped at a popular market area with a number of cafés and bars. Manny parked across the street and watched, wondering if it was worthwhile to call Hector and see if he would come across the border on such short notice.

  Then he felt a hitch in his breathing as he realized who the doctor was meeting. It took a moment for him to recognize the tall man, who had cut his hair very close and wore sunglasses and a baseball cap. The gringo computer guy who had wired the hacienda. The one who had stolen business secrets that could prove vital in the future. The one called Enrique, but he had heard Martinez call him Eric. The computer technician spoke Spanish with no accent, which was a mark of a smart man. But he’d gotten too smart for his own good and thought he found a way to make money on the side.

  If Manny had not come across the border at the checkpoint—if there hadn’t been video of him in the truck—he would act now and find a way to run down both men at once. Instead, he decided that when he finally did talk to the good doctor he would get some questions answered about Enrique.

  Something told him this did relate to business.

  * * *

  Tom Eriksen felt nervous. Not the kind of nerves he’d experienced in the last two weeks with his supervisor and the inspector general breathing down his neck as if he were a suspect, but a few butterflies. He sat in a simple restaurant called the Central Café that had gotten outstanding reviews in the El Paso Times and other local newspapers.

  Unlike the Border Crossing disco, this place was quiet and, by comparison, boring, but he thought it was appropriate. There were no transvestites asking him onto the dance floor, which he had to admit was at least flattering.

  Thinking about the disco made him think about John Houghton. He was worried about his former partner, who’d been acting oddly and drinking way too much. He suspected John was crossing the border against regulations for his own little investigation, but he wasn’t sure how to approach his friend, who had more experience and was very bright; he didn’t want to come off as an arrogant FBI douche, telling others what to do. John was separated from his wife, but Eriksen didn’t know her well enough to ask her for help.

  There was no one at the Border Intelligence Unit to give him any guidance because he didn’t know anyone well enough to trust yet. He couldn’t get a fix on his assigned partner, Lila Tellis. She wasn’t rude, but she wasn’t friendly. He noticed she preferred to conduct a number of activities on her own, and he didn’t know whether he should take it personally or not.

  Lila was convinced Dr. Martinez was hoarding information in an effort to trade for visas and other favors from the U.S. government. But Eriksen couldn’t figure out who he would lie about to protect. Why keep quiet?

  All of these thoughts whirled through his head but faded as soon as he saw his companion for the night enter the restaurant and look right at him. Kat Gleason paused at the front door, looking like an actress on the red carpet with her flowing blond hair and beautiful smile.

  Eriksen suddenly felt like things were looking up.

  ELEVEN

  Sitting alone in his Cadillac, Cash could hardly believe the feeling of relief that Ari wasn’t at his heels, either eating or bitching about how soft Americans were. Cash had sent Ari off on his “special assignment,” and he didn’t want to think about the muscle-bound Israeli, or what he was doing.

  Cash was amazed how easy it was to find where the Immigration Service had stashed Dr. Martinez and his wife. He still wasn’t crazy about having to deal with Dr. Martinez by himself, but at least this way Mrs. Martinez would escape unharmed. Cash would even try to get her back to Mexico. Ari would’ve argued she was a witness and had to be dealt with. He wouldn’t necessarily be wrong, but it hardly justified killing an innocent woman.

  This was the kind of job he had to suck up and complete because it made perfect sense that the
company couldn’t risk Martinez blabbing about who he was working for. And from what Cash had heard, Martinez would do anything he had to not to return to Mexico and face that crazy-assed drug lord. Pablo Piña’s reputation was well-known in the El Paso area, and no one in their right mind thought a simple international border would slow the sociopath down.

  Cash had the address on Arizona Avenue and waited a block down in his comfortable Cadillac to see who came and went from the building. It gave him time to wonder what Carol DiMetti was doing now. He knew she was too decent to be involved in any of her dead husband’s stupid plans. He couldn’t understand how she got mixed up with a moron like Vinnie in the first place.

  The front door to Martinez’s building opened and knocked Cash out of his philosophical ruminations. For a guy who was concerned for his safety, the doctor didn’t seem to pay much attention to anything around him. He slipped into a red Toyota parked directly in front of the building and pulled away from the curb on Arizona Avenue. Cash gave him a few blocks and pulled out to follow him. It only took a minute to realize a beat-up white pickup truck was following the doctor as well.

  The short ride took them through some of the side streets in downtown El Paso until Cash caught a glimpse of the Toyota pulling up to a popular and trendy market area. Just as he suspected, the pickup truck parked a block behind, forcing Cash to park even farther down the street. For the moment he was more interested in who was driving the pickup truck.

  It took Cash a few minutes to realize he was conducting an honest-to-God surveillance. He wondered if this was how the cops did it. Maybe the guy in the truck was a cop. If he was, that was the greatest undercover vehicle Cash had ever imagined. He lost sight of Dr. Martinez as he walked into the market. It looked like he might’ve talked to someone at the front door, but Cash couldn’t be sure.

  Dammit, he wanted to drive by and get a look at the driver of the pickup truck, but he also wanted to scoot into the market. Son of a bitch, it really would be easier with Ari here. Then they could just grab both of them.

  There was nothing on earth that would make Cash say out loud that he wanted Ari with him.

  * * *

  Luis Martinez liked the touristy marketplace with dozens of booths selling trendy clothing and homemade jewelry. The open-air plaza was a popular spot among the young people of El Paso. No one worried about being gunned down here.

  He had made the conscious decision that he was safe over here on the northern side of the border. He didn’t want to live his life scurrying around like a cockroach afraid of the light. He knew Pablo Piña was powerful, but he felt secure under the protection of the United States Immigration Service. He couldn’t believe how accommodating they had been, even providing him with a small rental car. But that didn’t change the fact that he had business to tend to and needed to know what his future held.

  He had one phone number that might reach his friend Enrique. It had taken several days, but finally he spoke to the young computer whiz and convinced him to meet at the market. It was public, but busy, and would make it difficult for anyone to see them meeting.

  The first thing out of Enrique’s mouth after they had embraced was, “Why did you want to meet?”

  Martinez ignored the question and said, “Why are you staying in El Paso?”

  “I have family living here locally. No one would think to look for me here.”

  “Are you going through with your plan? I think that it is suicide.”

  “Those are the issues I’m trying to figure out now. I think the company would pay a lot of money to have the thumb drive, and I don’t think your old boss would care. I can’t believe a U.S. corporation with that high of a profile would actually pay to have me killed.”

  “One thing I’ve learned is that money makes people and companies do horrible things. It even makes doctors do stupid things.”

  They eased into one of the picnic-table-like booths and ordered two Coronas. On principle, Martinez usually ordered Corona beer because of the ugly rumors spread by U.S. brewers that Mexicans urinated in the beer during brewing. It fit into a racist stereotype, and too many rednecks along the border bought into it. Martinez now addressed his friend by his given name. “Eric, this is not a game. Are you sure the information is safe?”

  The lanky young man said, “It’s all on one thumb drive, and I guarantee you it’s safe.”

  “But are we?”

  “Have you told anyone who hired us?”

  Martinez shook his head.

  Enrique said, “Anyone ask about me?”

  Again the doctor shook his head.

  Enrique said, “You’d never give me up, would you?”

  Martinez put on his most solemn expression, raised his right hand, and said, “May I invite the wrath of God if I do.”

  Enrique just nodded and said, “We probably shouldn’t meet like this again.”

  Martinez knew he needed to be able to get hold of Enrique if things went really bad with the DEA agent and his request for visas. He said, “Keep the phone with you, no?”

  The younger man nodded. “For now.”

  Martinez threw down the rest of his beer and said, “Be safe, my brother.”

  It seemed natural for both of them to stand and embrace.

  * * *

  Eriksen enjoyed the leisurely dinner. He was careful not to drink too much, limiting himself to two beers while Kat sipped red wine. There was something about her manner, even the way she ate, that was graceful and calming. Now they were on the outdoor patio of the trendy sports bar down the street from the Central Café. It cooled off outside as a September breeze blew from the west. It was almost the first night since he’d been in El Paso that he thought the weather and the company were nice. He had dated on and off, with Trudy being his most serious girlfriend, but even she only lasted two months. She might have been pretty, but she had no substance. Sitting here with this bright young woman emphasized that shortcoming even more.

  The TV was on a pedestal above their heads, and he glanced up briefly.

  Kat said, “I watch so many broadcasts on duty that I don’t even own a TV. I couldn’t care less if I never saw another news story or political speech. If I need a laugh I watch MSNBC for a few minutes.”

  “You never feel like watching a movie just to relax?”

  She shook her head. “I’m a big reader.”

  “What sort of stuff do you like to read?”

  She almost looked embarrassed as she shrugged and said, “Novels. Especially novels about police work. I don’t care what agency or what the crime is, I love police novels. If I wanna read about the LAPD I pick up a Michael Connelly novel. Anything Thomas Harris writes about Hannibal Lecter and the FBI is gold as far as I’m concerned, and I love the novels of W. E. B. Griffin and William Butterworth IV about the Philadelphia Police Department. It’s almost like I read about the life I expected to have when I took this job.”

  Eriksen had to let out a snort of laughter. “I know exactly how you feel. When I graduated the FBI Academy at Quantico I thought I was gonna run out and change the world and see action every day. Now you and I have essentially the same job.”

  “I wouldn’t say that. You’re not nearly qualified to have my job.” She gave him a sly smile, and they both started to laugh.

  “How’d you get into an agency like NSA, anyway?”

  “I was interested in communications and technology in college and was considering the navy when I met a lieutenant commander who also worked for the NSA. He’s the one who started me looking into it. They liked my degree from Stanford and my engineering background, and next thing I know I’m hooked.”

  “But how do you feel about El Paso?”

  “It’s a big change from where I grew up in Pittsburgh and nothing like the crazy atmosphere in the Bay Area, but it does have its own charm.”

  “It sounds like you’re saying except for the weather, violence, and economy, Detroit is not a bad place to live.”

  “I l
ike El Paso; I just thought it would be bigger. I also would like the task force more if the law enforcement group wasn’t completely separated from the intelligence people. I know we’re all supposed to be doing the same job, but the sworn people have a certain attitude toward us.”

  “They haven’t exactly warmed up to me either.”

  “You’re working with Lila Tellis, aren’t you?”

  He nodded his head.

  “The rumor is that she’s a lesbian, but I think it’s ridiculous. She’s just all business, and I admire that.”

  “I’m a little scared of her.”

  “We all are.”

  He laughed as he nodded again, appreciating the easy conversation. They had a lot in common, and he felt like he could confide in her. He was hoping he’d develop that feeling toward everyone on the task force.

  He glanced up at the news and then asked Kat, “You guys following any interesting trends?”

  “It’s a lot like following someone on Twitter. The more interest in a subject, the more it attracts our interest in that subject.”

  “And the big subject now?”

  “Immigration.”

  * * *

  John Houghton sat uncomfortably on a hard wooden stool at the bar of his favorite watering hole. The one-story cinder-block structure simply had a green neon sign that said PUB. The inside was no fancier, with two TVs over the bar and ten tables, of which rarely more than two were occupied at any time. He was enough of a regular that the bartender knew his first name but not what he did for a living. Anything to do with law enforcement along the border was better kept to one’s self.

  He casually watched highlights of Major League Baseball on ESPN. The other TV had ESPN2 with the World Series of Poker. John had always been more interested in real athletics than in cards, billiards, or bowling. Pretty much any sport that smoking didn’t affect your ability to win was not something he’d watch.

  He still didn’t pay much attention to baseball except for the Arizona Diamondbacks, which represented the entire Southwest as far as he was concerned, although the Texans loved their Rangers. He sipped on his fourth gin and tonic as he brooded about what he could say or do to convince his wife to allow him back into the house. Ironically, he recognized that cutting down on his drinking might be one of the keys to accomplishing his goal. He argued that the kids needed him around even if they didn’t show it. Teenagers never did. He thought he might be getting through to her, but she had been strangely silent on the subject the last few days.