From over Stevie’s shoulder, Nick saw the image on the laptop being sent to them by the hawk drone. They’d just seen a blindfolded man being led into the rear of the complex. Garza’s men were patrolling the perimeter of the building, but Garza himself remained inside.
The laptop sat on a side table next to the bed, a crusty layer of dust settled over the top. Nick flicked a dead fly from the tabletop.
Matt kept pacing in the corner of the room, the sun getting lower in the sky and Nick feeling like his methods were being questioned.
“Where is he?” Matt said.
Nick checked his cell for any text messages, but found none.
“He’ll be here,” Nick assured him. “He’s just being thorough.”
Matt kept patting his gun. A comfort move. Linus and his blanket.
Stevie sat on the side of the bed, playing with the computer mouse, trying to get better images of the compound.
“Maybe we should get help,” Stevie said, without looking up.
It was an odd comment coming from Stevie. Normally the tech would keep to his area of expertise, but with Matt wearing out the carpet and Tommy missing his deadline, the tension was conspicuous.
Nick moved aside the curtains an inch and saw nothing but a vacant road and a wide expanse of desert. He could feel the heat seeping through the window. He turned to see Matt staring at him.
“What?”
“You know what,” Matt said, pointing out the closed-curtained window. “There’s a bomb about to be transported across the border and the guy who killed Jennifer and Jim and Ricky is a couple of miles away. Why don’t we bring the damn Marines down here and get this job done right?”
Nick rubbed his hand over his eyes. He’d been feeling the pressure for a while and took a breath. When was the last time he’d taken his medication? Could that be the reason he was being so rigid? He could feel an attack coming on, but suppressed it with deep breaths.
“Your problem,” Matt continued, “is you’re a control freak. You want to do everything yourself. Sometimes we need backup.”
“Look,” Nick said, “the town is quarantined. No one gets in or out. We come into this place with a battalion of soldiers and Chizek will know what’s going on. He’ll burrow down and get lost in the shuffle. We need them to go forward with their plan.”
“Why?” Stevie said. “Isn’t it better if they don’t go ahead with their plan? If we announce our presence, wouldn’t that dissuade them from transporting the bomb over the border?”
That’s when Nick realized he was doing this for revenge. He didn’t care about the bomb anymore. The whole damn town could blow up and he wouldn’t give a crap. He wanted to catch Garza on this side of the border so he could finish him off. He didn’t want a soldier shooting him with an assault rifle. Nick wanted to be there when Garza exhaled his last breath.
The doorknob jiggled. A moment later Tommy lumbered into the room. His face was distorted from lumps and gashes, while his right eye was swollen shut. Bloodstains covered his ripped shirt. He took two drunken steps and dropped onto the bed.
Nick rolled him over and saw Tommy wince in pain as he examined his cousin’s face.
“Hey, Nicky,” Tommy smiled through bloody teeth. “I think they know we’re here.”
“Fuck,” Nick said. His stomach twisted into a knot. Another casualty of his selfish plan.
Stevie grabbed his medic bag and uncapped a bottle of saline to pour over Tommy’s forehead. Then he ripped open a package of gauze sponges and inspected the wounds.
“He needs attention,” Stevie said, scrutinizing the lacerations on Tommy’s scalp.
Nick jumped up and yanked his phone out.
“What’re you doing?” Tommy asked through swollen lips.
“I’m ending this game right now,” Nick said, clenching his teeth.
“No, no,” Tommy shoved Stevie’s hand away and forced his way up, leaning on an elbow. “Don’t do it, Nicky. These guys are punk-ass rednecks. They’re like the Klan or something. You don’t wanna bring a bunch of law here, they’ll send Chizek to Mexico, if he isn’t there already.”
Nick looked at Matt.
“Make the call,” was all Matt said.
“Don’t, Nicky,” Tommy pleaded. “You need to bait them. You’re Nick Fuckin’ Bracco, for crying out loud. You’ve got all you need in this room.”
“We’re outnumbered three thousand to four,” Matt snapped. “How does that grab you?”
Nick hesitated. The phone in his palm, while Stevie nodded encouragement and Tommy shook his lumpy head.
The door opened, then shut. Matt was gone.
“Where’s he going?” Stevie asked.
Nick looked at the closed door. In the decade he’d been with Matt, he’d never had a rift with him before. They’d always been on the same page. Now, he needed to be assertive. He needed to give his partner what he wanted and get Garza. At any cost.
Nick strangled his phone as he devised a plan. Somewhere on his cell was a text message which read, “You Promised.” His chest tightened at the thought of the widow’s message. He’d let her down and would never forget that. Then, he remembered her husband’s last words to Nick. ‘Promise me you’ll kill him.’
Nick nodded to himself and whispered, “I’m going to keep your promise, Ricky. No matter the cost.”
Garza sat in the backseat of the Humvee and waited for the entourage to meet them. Victor was next to him, checking out the desert horizon, his sunglasses gleaming against the setting sun.
“I don’t see them,” Victor said.
“They will be here,” Garza assured him. “I know Santiago well. He is simply making us wait as payment for our infidelity.”
“But we-”
“It doesn’t matter,” Garza said. “We take his shipment and bring it with us. It’s over.”
“What about Sadeem?”
“What about him?”
“Does he know we are bringing an additional package?”
“Chingow, Victor. I do not care what Sadeem thinks. We will make it work.”
In the distance, the desert floor was disrupted by the traction of tires beneath a convoy of trucks and SUVs. They both saw the cloud approaching at the same time. Garza looked at the time on his phone.
“Only ten minutes late,” Garza said. “He is being nice.”
Ten vehicles surrounded Garza’s Humvee and the large delivery truck he had parked behind them. Victor shifted in his seat.
“Relax,” Garza said. “He needs us more than we need him. This is merely a show of power for his men. He wants them to see he is in charge of the transaction.”
The cartel’s soldiers jumped from the vehicles with assault rifles pointed and knees bent. Garza took a breath and opened the door.
“Stay here until I signal you,” Garza said. “Do not take action.”
Victor nodded.
Garza met Santiago Valdez in a clearing of cacti and sagebrush. He greeted the stoic cartel leader with an affable smile. Valdez stared at Garza behind his sunglasses, while a dozen soldiers carefully watched every move.
“It is a pleasure to do business with you again,” Garza said.
“This is a highly important shipment,” Santiago said. “It will be moved tonight.”
An order, not a question.
“Yes,” Garza said. “It will go tonight.”
“What time tonight?”
Now the guy was pushing too much and Garza needed him to back off without losing face. It was a creative dance which Garza had managed to perfect along the way. He scratched his left shoulder with his right hand. The signal.
“Now, Santiago,” Garza said. “The timing of this move is going to be determined by the actions of the American Border Patrol. There is never a set time.”
Valdez was about to argue that point when a conspicuous thumping sound emerged from the south. The cartel leader turned along with his soldiers. Garza didn’t bother.
Three Federale helicopters moved in formation toward the circle of vehicles.
Valdez scowled at Garza. “Is this some sort of trick?”
“No trick,” Garza said. “They are simply our protection.” Garza tapped his head twice and the three choppers split up and moved to the perimeter of the convoy, hovering low to the ground. A sense of authority had transcended from Valdez to Garza. Even Mexico’s largest cartel didn’t have the type of muscle Garza was putting on display.
Valdez seemed ready to refute the assassin’s influence, but the helicopter’s blades growled like a guard dog waiting to pounce.
“Maybe you can show me the package,” Garza said with an easy tone, not wanting to provoke any unnecessary hostility.
Valdez stood motionless. Garza knew this was another way of showing his control of the situation, no matter how juvenile it appeared. Finally, Valdez raised his hand and a panel truck left the formation and maneuvered around in the desert until it backed up into the circle, next to Garza. Two men jumped out of the truck and opened the back doors.
Two pallets were loaded full of packages of cocaine wrapped with the Zutons trademark wolf face on the top of each package. Garza figured the load to be around half a ton of product. Not a large shipment, but still a couple of hundred packages which needed to be handled. He waved to Victor and immediately his crew of eight men exited the delivery truck and formed a single line to move the merchandise from Valdez’s truck to theirs.
As Garza supervised the transfer, he stood by Valdez with his hands behind his back.
“We will have this to the safe house in Tucson before dawn,” Garza said, casually, letting the cartel leader know it was time for the payment.
Once again Valdez stood still a moment before turning to one of his soldiers and holding out his hand. The man handed him a manila envelope wrapped with a rubber band. Valdez gave the envelope to Garza, who slid it down the front of his trousers. He didn’t dare insult the man by inspecting the weight or size of the package. He knew it was all there.
“One day,” Valdez said, looking around at the helicopters looming in the background, “you will have to tell me how you wield such influence.”
Garza smiled. “Yes,” he lied. “One day.”