Cliff Ryder - Aim And Fire

“Got an undocumented alien with heatstroke and dehydration, suggest IV fluids and observation,” he said.

Tracy noticed that the nurse who took charge of the patient, a chunky bottle blonde, looked startled when Nate came in, but covered her surprise under a professional mask and got a gurney ready to take her into a room. Nate and Tracy followed, and got information from Julia to fill out the necessary forms to admit her mother to the hospital.

When that was done, the nurse—she introduced herself as Sharon—asked to examine Julia in the back, leaving Nate and Tracy in the crowded waiting room.

“How long are we going to wait here?” Tracy asked.

“Well, we’ll make sure she’s all right—I imagine they’ll want to watch her overnight—and then tomorrow both she and her daughter will have to be collected, processed and returned to wherever they came from.”

“Isn’t there any way to keep them here? I’m sure they don’t have a lot to look forward to going back.”

Nate turned to look at her, his face neutral. “Look, I know this is your first hands-on experience with this, but we’re going to follow procedure just like every other UA we apprehend, whether they’ve got one child or a dozen.

Like as not, as soon as she gets back, she’s gonna turn right around and head north again, and keep tryin’ until she either makes it across or dies in the attempt, just like tens of thousands of others every year.”

Tracy couldn’t believe her ears. “Jesus, you sound like you’re herding cattle. These are human beings you’re so casually dismissing.”

“Yeah, human beings that are breaking our laws to enter this country.” He waved at the people in the waiting room, more than half of whom were Hispanic. “How many of these people do you think are here legally? When they get medical care—care they’re not entitled to and have no way to pay for—the hospitals have to eat that cost. There’s no reimbursement from the government or anyone. There are medical centers all over Texas and throughout the Southwest going broke because they can’t keep up with the flood of illegal immigrants coming through their doors.

When they close, they don’t just stop treating illegals— they stop treating the surrounding communities, too.”

Nate glanced around again, but Tracy wasn’t sure if he was checking to see if anyone heard him, or if anyone was going to challenge him. “UAs get their forged papers and green cards, get jobs here with companies willing to hire them without doing the proper checks, and have their kids educated—also paid for by the state and federal governments—and most of the money they earn goes back to their family in Mexico. A good cause, sure, but every dollar sent comes out of our economic system. And I haven’t even mentioned the criminals that flee to America to commit more crimes against our citizens, or the ever popular and increasing drug trade that flows across our border, as well.”

Tracy brushed a lank lock of hair out of her face, more aware by the minute that she hadn’t had a shower since early that morning. “I know the issues the Customs and Border Protection faces down here, Nate—”

Nate rubbed a hand over his eyes, which came away coated in dust and sweat. “Spoken like a true bureaucrat.

Maybe that’s the real difference between us and you. Up there you call them issues. Down here we call them problems, and they’re gettin’ larger every single day.”

“Well, of course we can’t have criminals coming here, but still, the INS system should be corrected—it’s ridiculous to make people wait for six or eight or ten years to immigrate to America.”

“I agree, but that isn’t my problem—sorry, my issue— down here, but something for you folks in Washington to chew on. However, if you come up with a quick, easy, fool-proof way to solve the immigration process, I’m sure INS would love to hear it. My only problem at the moment, along with the rest of the CBP, is to find a way to locate and detain anyone crossing the border into America who doesn’t have the right to be here, and if we could, to figure out a way to make them stay on their side of the river until they can come here legally.”

Tracy gritted her teeth, trying to rein in her temper.

“You keep saying ‘you’ and ‘I’ like we’re two different groups. Last I checked, we were still on the same side.”

Nate shook his head. “Maybe so, but not in the way you and I see those issues of yours.” He looked around her.

“Nurse’s comin’ back.”

Sharon walked over to them. “Mrs. Martinez is resting and taking intravenous liquids, so she should be all right for now. We’ll monitor her overnight, just in case.”

“Good, we’ll check on her tomorrow, and someone from the agency will be by to pick her and her daughter up later, assuming she’s ready to travel,” Nate said.

“Call about midmorning—we’ll know more then.” The nurse looked as if she wanted to say more, but didn’t.

Nate nodded. “Thanks. Someone will be in touch later.”

He turned on his heel and headed for the doors, leaving Tracy behind.

“Are you his partner?” the nurse asked, her expression neutral, although her seemingly nonchalant tone was anything but.

As soon as she heard the question, Tracy figured out what was going on between the two of them, but was too tired to blush at the inference the nurse had drawn. “Just temporarily.

I’m from out of town, here on assignment. Besides, I’m not sure I could handle being his partner for more than a few days.” She offered a wry grin, and got a small one in return.

“Yeah.” Sharon’s eyes hadn’t left the doors Nate had walked through. “Is that why you’re still standing here?”

“Maybe. Maybe I just like pissing him off.” Something slammed against the glass, and Tracy looked back to see Nate standing there with a “what the hell are you doing?” look on his face. “Duty calls. Thanks for looking after them,” she said.

“Oh, sure, at Providence the revolving door is always open.” Sharon shook her head. “They’ll be all right—until the next time they try to cross.”

Tracy watched her walk away, then she turned to catch up with Nate before he decided to really leave her at the hospital.

“You girls have a good time catching up?” Nate said snarkily.

Tracy considered teasing him about the nurse, but stole a look at his face that told her it wasn’t a good idea. Instead, she dug the phone out of her purse. “I’d better check in.”

She waited until they got back into the truck before flipping it open, bracing herself against the door as Nate tore out of the hospital driveway on squealing tires.

Kate looked as if she was sleeping in her chair, tilted back with her eyes closed. In reality she was deep in thought, letting all of the sketchy data she had flow through her mind while she brainstormed. She was searching for a logical connection that might give them a lead, anything to go on.

The problem was that the trail was already cold when Kryukov got the bomb—well, what he thought was the bomb. They had researched the arms dealer’s extensive list of associates, searching for the missing link between him and al-Kharzi. Although they had connected him with several other terrorist groups, they hadn’t come up with anything connecting the two men.

Of course, it’s not like I could just log on to www.terrorist.com and find whatever I’m looking for, she thought.

Although the various U.S. intelligence agencies had made some very good strides, they still had a long way to go.

Getting accurate, timely data was still difficult at best.

With the 9/11 attacks, there hadn’t been any excuse for intelligence agencies dropping the ball—there had been a clear, definitive chain of ignored or passed-over evidence.