Cliff Ryder - Aim And Fire

“What the—?”

Tracy heard footsteps from inside, and a stocky man, his white shirtsleeves rolled up and rimless reading glasses perched on his head, appeared in the doorway. “Jesus, Nate, you readin’ my mind again? I was gonna call you in here anyway.” Noticing Tracy, Robertson nodded. “Agent Wentworth, I presume?”

“Correct. Chief Agent Robertson?”

“Please, come inside. You, too, Nate, since you opened this whole can of worms to begin with.”

Tracy couldn’t help staring a bit as the agent known as Nate motioned to the door with his hand. “Ma’am. Can I take those for you?”

“I’m fine, thank you.” She walked in and chose the sturdier of the two chairs in front of the desk, setting her bags down and sitting next to them. Behind her, Nate closed the door and ambled—there really was no other way to describe it—over to the other chair, folding himself down and crossing his legs, revealing a worn black-and-white cowboy boot that looked as if it had walked through hell and back but was still ready for more. Just like its owner, Tracy thought.

“I just got an e-mail this morning regarding you, Agent Wentworth,” Robertson said.

“Then you know why I’m here,” Tracy replied.

“Yes, although—and I’m quite apart from Nate on this—I find the scenario you’re following up on very hard to believe, or that Washington even sent you here to investigate. The idea that a nuclear device would be brought across this border, especially in this time of heightened surveillance, is simply in the minutest realm of possibility.”

Tracy cocked her head. “But that possibility, however unlikely, is exactly why I’m here.”

“Hold on a sec.” The rangy border agent next to her leaned forward. “Are you both sayin’ my e-mail report is what brought you here?”

“Got it in one, Nate. This is Agent Tracy Wentworth, from the Department of Homeland Security in D.C. Agent Wentworth, this is Customs and Border Protection Agent Nathaniel Spencer, the guy who’s responsible for bringing you down here on this wild-goose chase.”

“I’ll be the judge of that, if you don’t mind, Chief Agent,” Tracy said.

A peculiar look crossed Robertson’s face, as if he had bitten into what he thought was an orange and found a lemon between his lips instead. Tracy figured she might have nicked his law-enforcement officer’s pride, but if Agent Spencer was right, the boss would deserve it—the idea of a loose nuke was simply too dangerous to dismiss out of hand. She glanced over to see if Spencer was offended at her jab at his boss since they obviously had a good working relationship. He didn’t move a muscle in her direction, just sat back in his chair and ran a hand over his salt-and-pepper mustache.

Robertson cleared his throat. “They’ve also specifically requested that you serve as the liaison for Agent Wentworth here, and assist her in her investigation in any way possible.”

“What about my suspension?” Nate asked, clearly surprised.

Tracy beat Robertson to it this time. “Agent Spencer, I think you’d agree that the threat of a potential nuclear device loose in the El Paso area would certainly trump any internal investigation into an agent’s cases, wouldn’t you?”

“Absolutely, ma’am.”

“Excellent. Chief Agent Robertson, I’ll need whatever data your crime lab has procured from the scene, as well as any preliminary reports. Once I’ve had a chance to review your office’s progress, we can discuss follow-up leads and other necessary investigations.”

“Sounds good. Of course the resources of our entire department are at your disposal.” Robertson’s round face turned dark and serious. “I suppose you know those bastards killed two of our men.”

“Yes, and on behalf of everyone at the Washington headquarters, you have our deepest sympathies,” Tracy said.

“Yeah, I already got the obligatory phone call. What I want, however—especially if these guys are up to what you both seem to think they are—is them stopped, one way or the other.”

Tracy looked him straight in the eye. “We’ll do everything we can.”

“Good.” Tracy didn’t miss the covert look that was exchanged between the two border agents; the old-boy network rearing its head. Welcome to Texas, sweetheart, she thought.

“Do you have any other questions, Agent Wentworth?”

Robertson asked.

She rose, smoothing her suit jacket and picking up her carry-on. Nate had somehow reached around her and snagged the larger case. “Not at this time, sir, but I’ll certainly be in touch.”

He nodded. “Good luck and good hunting. Nate, you be sure she gets anything she needs.”

“Yes, sir.” Nate was at the door again, opening it. “After you,” he said.

Once outside the office, he paused. “Can you wait here for a moment? I have to go pull that info for you.” His gaze strayed across the room to where a serious-looking man in the regulation black slacks, white shirt and tie was typing on a computer.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come with you?”

Tracy asked.

“No, there’s likely to be some fireworks, and I’m sure you got better things to do with your time. Besides, this will just take a minute.” He strolled over to the other man’s desk and leaned over him, their low conversation punctuated with the occasional nod. The other man leaned around Nate to look at her, his face darkening with anger. Nate shrugged his shoulders, holding out his hands in an “I don’t have a choice” gesture.

“This is total bullshit!” The white-shirted man gathered several file folders and tapped out commands on his computer with forceful stabs of his fingers, then tossed a small flash drive at Nate. Rising from his chair so fast he sent it rolling backward into the wall, the man stalked toward Robertson’s door. Nate, who had stayed where he was, nodded at Tracy to meet him at the main entrance. She shouldered her bag and slipped away, leaving the other man banging on the chief border agent’s door.

She noticed Nate’s grin as they walked out into the bright sunshine. “You enjoyed that, didn’t you?”

Slipping on a pair of mirrored aviator sunglasses, he gave her a sidelong glance. “Maybe a little.”

Tracy returned the appraising look. “Is there a history between you and the agent formerly in charge of this investigation that I should know about?”

“Travis just likes to be the head bull, that’s all.”

“Whereas you just blend into the background and do your part, take one for the team, that sort of thing, right?”

He met her gaze, then broke first with a genuine smile.

“Something like that. This is my ride.” He stopped at a battered black Bronco with what looked like fresh paint on the hood and doors. “Doesn’t look like much, but the AC works. I take it you haven’t had a chance to check into your hotel yet?”

“What gave me away?” She walked to the back of the SUV and waited for him to open the door. When he did, she saw the pistol grip of what looked like a shotgun sticking out of a sleeve attached to the back of the rear seat.

“That doesn’t look like regulation,” she said.

Nate didn’t give it a second look as he set her bags down inside. “I hunt, too.” He didn’t elaborate, and Tracy didn’t ask.

She got into the clean passenger’s seat, and when he turned the engine over, true to his word, a blast of cool air wafted from the vents. Nate drove her to the Holiday Inn a few blocks from the Border Patrol offices—nothing but the best for government agents—and waited in the lobby while she dropped off her things. When she came out, he was leaning against the wall.

“Had any lunch yet?” he asked.

“I thought we’d grab something on the way out to the crime scene—I’d like to see it for myself.”