A Touch of Greed (24 page)

The third guy removed his mask and Chizek recognized him as Bracco’s partner. The sharpshooter who had messed up his bar. The guy stood with his gun tucked into his waistband, almost daring Chizek to make a wrong move.

“Then Matt here shot his truck with a GPS device wrapped in an adhesive glue-ball,” Bracco added. “You surround yourself with suck-ups and it gives you a false sense of your intelligence.”

Chizek looked at the wall clock. Almost ten. Garza and his men would be arriving soon. He smiled at Bracco. “You have no idea how fucked you are.”

The FBI agent seemed to nod at that. “Yeah,” he said. “I think I know.”

* * *

Walt was still pacing with the phone in his hand, his long strides taking him around his office in just three or four seconds. With every minute that passed, he wondered the prudence of his strategy. Was he feeding his best agents to the wolves by letting them operate alone in the hostile environment of Denton, Arizona? Just a couple of miles from Mexico’s deadliest assassin.

His phone chirped.

FBI Agent Ron Mantle was calling from the Arizona barricade.

“What’s up, Ron?”

“We’ve got reports of an explosion at the Denton Motel. You know anything about that?”

Boy, was that a great question. That’s where Nick’s team was staying, but he had no idea whether they were there at the time. “I don’t,” Walt said.

“Well, you want us to head down there early?”

Walt looked at the clock on the wall. They were inside of two hours from Nick’s time limit. “Listen, Ron, how far are you from Denton?”

“Forty miles.”

“Okay, take one team down there with you. Drive an undercover car. No markings. Drive the speed limit.”

“All right,” Mantle said. “What about the rest of the crew?”

Walt chewed on his fingernail, then spit out a sliver. “Tell them to wait until the deadline.”

“Got it.”

“And, Ron.”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t cross the border, no matter what. You understand?”

“Whatever you say.”

Walt pressed the end button not sure if what he’d said was right or wrong. He’d lost sight of that line long ago. Now it was a matter of survival. How many lives could he save while keeping his team alive? He’d finally felt the weight of his decisions and dropped down into his chair; every limb was exhausted.

He leaned back and placed the phone to his forehead. “Please, guys. Just tell me what’s going on.”

* * *

Nick moved around the room, examining the contents, looking for something to tell him he was on the right track. His heart was running a little quick and he took a deep breath while searching for clues. 

The guy who Chizek smacked was holding the side of his face, blood trickling between his fingers. Nick gestured to Stevie and he pulled something from his bag to take care of the guy’s wounds.

Bracco kept lurking around the pool table, his eyes darting left and right.

“What exactly are you looking for?” Chizek said, suddenly looking smug about the security of his facility.

“I won’t know until I find it,” Nick said.

“Well, the Border Patrol was just here a while back,” Chizek said. “They spent two days, scrutinizing every inch of this place. They had dogs and guys with black bags like him and you want to know what they found?” Chizek made a circle with his index finger and thumb. “Zilch.”

Nick kept looking. “Yeah, well, maybe you were tipped off ahead of time. Maybe the Border Patrol agents weren’t searching where they should’ve.”

Chizek chuckled. “Agent Bracco, you’re wasting your time as a government employee. You should be a fiction writer.”

The room was still while Bracco got on his knees and examined something on the floor near the base of the pool table. Something about the table bothered him. It sat on a wooden platform which served no purpose. The floor was cement, so there was no need to protect it from scrapes or scratches. He squeezed his finger under the platform and felt a crack in the cement. Maybe a forced break, maybe not.

He looked up to see Chizek acting casual, like he was having a cup of coffee with friends. Matt just kept staring at the guy, dying for him to do something stupid.

“He okay?” Bracco asked Stevie, working on Chizek’s henchman.

“He’ll be fine,” Stevie said.

“Good. Tie him up.”

Stevie sat the guy on a stool against the counter and pulled his hands behind his back and began taping him up.

His partner seemed to focus on a set of lights which stood out among the desert landscape. Garza’s complex.

“That’s Mexico,” Chizek told him. “No need to look over there.”

Matt said nothing, but Nick knew what his partner was thinking. There it was, beckoning him like a meteor being pulled into the earth’s gravity.

Nick was fighting time now. Within a couple of hours Garza would see the cavalry coming and scurry back into his hole. He’d be out of reach and untouchable. Nick wanted to lure him over the border and snatch him up before he was warned. Especially since Nick and Matt were now considered dead.  

Nick found a remote control sitting on a side table next to Chizek’s beer. He held the device for a moment, then walked over to Stevie and handed it to him.

“Look at this,” he said.

Stevie removed a microscope from his black bag and placed it on the pool table. Then he slid the remote under the lens.

Chizek didn’t seem to like that move, but he wasn’t lawyering up, so he must’ve felt comfortable with everything so far.

“Three digits,” Stevie said, while staring through the single eyepiece. “That’s how many buttons are depressed routinely.”

“Good,” Bracco said. “That means there’s only six combinations of that sequence. Try all six.”

Stevie picked up the device and tried pushing the three numbers all different ways.

Nothing happened.

Chizek smiled, looking more confident with every minute that passed. “Do I need to be here while you do this?” he said. “I could use some beauty sleep.”

“You’re a funny guy,” Nick said.

Stevie kept playing with the remote while Nick pulled out his mini-flashlight and found a set of tracks on the floor leading to the garage doors on the north side of the room.

“You have a lot of mining equipment on this floor?” Nick asked.

“Nope,” Chizek said. “This is strictly the administrative wing of the building.”

“I see,” Nick said, following the tracks to the massive door and shining the light outside. “What’s the loading dock for then?”

Chizek hesitated before answering that.

Nick looked at him.

“We throw parties sometimes,” Chizek shrugged. “We need a wide access for our deliveries. Sometimes we’ll have a band play for the Christmas party.”

“Now who’s the fiction writer?” Nick said.

Chizek’s face became even wider, showing Nick a mouthful of teeth.

Stevie was back at the microscope, eyeing the remote again. “I think I know what’s going on,” he said.

“Yeah?”

“I think it’s a four digit number, but the first three are the same, that’s why they’re so worn. The fourth number is different for each command.”

Chizek’s smile vanished.

“Go on,” Nick said. “I’m listening.”

“Well, if I’m right about this,” Stevie said, taking the remote and holding it out in front of him. “I simply need to find the correct sequence for the first three digits, then keep trying a different fourth until I come up with a match.”

Chizek lost his enthusiasm altogether. He seemed to be checking out an exit strategy, but Matt was paying close attention.

Stevie played with the remote, pressing a sequence of numbers, then glancing around the room for activity.

Nothing.

“You look worried,” Nick said to Chizek.

The man stood there like a trapped squirrel.

Stevie tried a new sequence.

Nothing.

Nick pointed to Chizek and said to Matt, “Get him wrapped up, so we don’t waste any time.”

“You’re playing with fire, Agent Bracco,” Chizek said, taking a step back.

Chizek’s henchman also seemed concerned, but kept still.

“You need to work on your threats,” Nick answered, examining the room for movement every time Stevie tried a new sequence.

Matt secured the large man to a stool, wrapping his legs around the legs of the stool, then needing both arms to drag his bulk along the cement floor until he reached the refrigerator. He handcuffed the man to the handle of the fridge, then followed Stevie’s attempts.

Stevie held out his arm each time he imputed a new series of numbers. Now, he held it out and said, “Shhh.”

“What?” Nick asked.

“I hear something.”

Stevie repeated the sequence into the remote, then stood still. There was a distant creaking noise. Chizek pulled at his bindings, making noise as he rubbed the handcuffs against the refrigerator door.

Matt pulled out his pistol and aimed it at Chizek with an angry glare.

Chizek stopped.

Stevie did it again.

Again a scraping sound.

Finally, Matt pointed out the window. “There.”

The front gate was opening.

Stevie smiled.

Nick’s heart raced. He knew they were onto something. He pulled out his pistol and checked out his surroundings. He felt like they were being watched.

“Okay, Stevie,” Nick said. “Next number.”

Matt was on his toes now, prowling around the room with his Glock ready to go.

This time there was a single click coming from the entrance of the building.

Stevie pressed the buttons again and the same click. Matt went over toward the front door and gestured for Stevie to hit it again.

Click.

“It’s the lock on the front door,” Matt said from the darkness. “Try the next one.”

Stevie held out the remote and pressed the buttons.

The balls on the pool table began to tremble, then roll to the north side of the table. The floor seemed to move beneath their feet. The table itself began to shake and quiver as it rose from the cement, the hydraulic lift churning beneath it to move the massive piece of slate and wood.

Nick felt his pocket to see if he had any pills left. None. He could feel his head throb as the lift reached the pinnacle of it journey. The pool table stopped and exposed a giant opening in the earth below.

Nick crept up to the opening with wobbly steps, his gun out, his eyes peeled for the slightest movement. Matt was there instantly. He shined his flashlight down and said, “Oh my.”

There was a fairly wide tunnel in complete darkness, with an electric lift at the bottom and a metal ladder running down the side. Nick added his light to the mix, finding a pallet full of packages. His head pounded with needle-sharp pain when he spotted the Zutons’ wolf face logo wrapped around each package.

“See that?” he said.

“I see it,” Matt said. He reached back into Stevie’s bag and tossed a pair of night vision goggles to Nick, then slipped on his own pair. Before Nick could figure out a plan, his partner was climbing down the metal stairs, his gun out.

Nick grabbed Matt’s arm and was shaken off with lightning speed, like trying to hold back a hungry lion with a string-thin leash.

“Matt, wait,” Nick said.

“Wait, my ass.” Matt scowled at him. “I’ve waited too long already.”

Nick knew this was coming. Matt was below ground before he could react.

“Shit,” Nick said, slipping on night vision goggles and heading down the ladder. Just before he went below, he said to Stevie. “You stay here and watch these guys. Don’t come down no matter what.”

“Do I call Walt?” Stevie asked.

Nick was three steps down the ladder, then came back up and said, “Yeah, call Walt.”

Matt was down in just seconds, Nick close behind, wanting to stop him, but realizing now their biggest commodity was silence. They had obviously found Garza’s conduit to the United States and needed stealth to survive the discovery. He glanced quickly at the pallet of packages. Cocaine. Maybe half a ton.

Matt crept up against the wall and Nick mirrored his pace against the opposite side. As they moved away from the opening, the night vision goggles kicked into gear. Through the lenses, the green image showed a highly sophisticated passageway with wooden floors and a rail system to transport drugs into the country.

They took slow steps as they advanced down the tunnel. The air was musty and cool. The passage was wide and tall enough to move without crouching. As they moved deeper into the tunnel, the light began to dissipate. Even the night vision goggles were needing more illumination. Matt gently snapped his fingers and pointed to his headset. Nick understood. He turned on his infrared illuminator to intensify their ability to see.

In the middle of the rail, an object came into view. Matt was a few steps ahead of him and he was pointing furiously at the object. After a couple of steps, Nick saw that it was a cart. Inside the cart sat an object the size of a large guitar case. Except it was wrapped in black tape.

The bomb.

For a moment, Nick thought they should get the bomb out of there and finish their mission. But the moment passed as Matt’s silhouette faded into the darkness. As much as his partner was blinded by revenge, he couldn’t leave him down here by himself.  

Nick kept his head on a swivel, keeping his eyes as far ahead as the lenses would allow, but watching the wall as well, looking for an ambush. Matt’s pace began to quicken and Nick felt they were being lured somehow, as if Garza knew they would be coming eventually.

The tunnel was deadly quiet. Their footsteps creaked slightly with each step. Something up ahead moved. Matt held up his hand and Nick stopped. The noise was coming toward them. Nick squinted, but saw nothing. Getting closer now, Nick squeezed the handle of his gun, ready to fire.

The movement came at him quickly, low, at his feet. He nearly fired his gun, before capturing the image of a rat scampering along the side of the wall, bristling against his pant leg as it scurried between his feet. Matt had already tracked the rat with his pistol and shook his head as Nick tried to get his breathing under control. He looked back and saw how far they’d gone from the opening, realizing they would be passing over the border soon.