SAN YSIDRO
MONDAY, 9:40 A.M.
“NICE OF YOU TO give us a ride to the motor coach,” Faroe said as two agents ran up.
Agent Gonzalez and Agent Daily didn’t smile.
“ID,” Daily said curtly.
“Last time I checked, this was the United States,” Faroe said to him. “So why don’t you show me some ID first?”
“Read my raid jacket,” Daily retorted.
“Want to read mine?” Faroe asked. “I’ve got quite a collection. Gotta love eBay.”
Magon bit back a smile.
Gonzalez flipped out her badge holder. “Who are you and where did you come from?”
“You may not know it, but we’re on a real short clock,” Faroe said. He gestured toward the vehicles parked across the exit. “Who’s in charge of all these boys and girls?”
“Agent Talon Cook,” she said.
“Ah, good old Short Order. Take us to him.”
Agent Daily coughed. “Are you Joe Faroe by any chance?”
“Does it matter?” Faroe asked.
Gonzalez pulled out a two-way. When Cook picked up, she said, “We’ve got three unidentified males, two probably Mexican nationals-”
“Don’t bet on it,” Magon said, smiling.
“-and one six-foot-plus, dark-haired, green-eyed American with attitude who’s got the moves to back up his smart mouth.”
“Faroe,” Cook said, disgusted.
“Hey, Short Order,” Faroe said loud enough for the radio to pick it up. “Still hangin’ tall?”
Daily coughed again.
“Bring the son of a bitch to Steele’s coach,” Cook said.
“What about the other two men?”
“Pat them down and keep them with you. If you find any weapons, cuff them.”
“What about the chopper?” Gonzalez asked.
“You see any numbers on it?”
“No.”
“Then what chopper are you talking about?” Cook asked sardonically. “Get Faroe over here.”
“You want him patted down?”
“Oh yeah. I really hope he’s carrying. Then I’ll have his ass in prison.”
“Hold your breath, darlin’,” Faroe called out.
What Cook said was illegal over U.S. airwaves.
Daily coughed again.
“Better take something for that,” Faroe said, holding his arms out and taking a wide stance. “Might be contagious.”
“Smart-ass,” Daily muttered.
Faroe winked.
While Daily patted him down, Faroe congratulated himself on leaving Grace’s Browning in the motor coach with Harley. A lot of times, a weapon was just more trouble than it was worth.
This would have been one outstanding example.
Daily patted down the other two men, found only the antique gold crucifix, and looked at Magon curiously.
“All clean,” Daily said into his two-way.
“Bring Faroe” was all Cook said.