James Born - Burn Zone

"That line didn't work for the Nazis."

"The FBI is not the Gestapo either."

He went back to looking over the phone calls to and from Forrest Jessup's house. "These aren't normal toll records."

She smiled, "I used a different source to get them."

"What kind of source?"

"The NSA."

Duarte tried to keep the shock off his face. "Is that legal?"

"Do you care?"

He shrugged and went back to the records. "Here, look." He pushed the sheet of paper toward Lina. "He got one call." He looked closer. "Jesus, that was today? How'd they get these?"

She just smiled.

Duarte continued. "He got one call. It originated from Houston. See the eight-three-two area code."

Lina nodded. "So."

"Cal Linley thought his package had something to do with the oil business. Jessup used to be in the oil business and lived in Houston."

"Could be a coincidence."

"We need to start taking some chances. This may be a viable lead."

He pulled out his cell phone and dialed the number. After four rings, a man answered. "Hello?"

"Hey," said Duarte. "Where is this phone? I got a call from it."

"In the Santa Anna's Pit Stop off Brylan Street."

"In what town?"

"Jacinto City, Texas."

"Near Houston?"

"Yep."

"Thanks," Duarte said as he hung up.

He looked at a small map on the back of an advertisement booklet. It showed the Gulf Coast and East Texas. "If I were on my way to Houston, I'd go through Lafayette."

"Based on one call, you think he's in Houston?"

"It's where the information points."

"It's a stretch."

"You think they drove to Lafayette, then back to New Orleans?"

"I didn't say that."

Duarte said, "But what would be in Houston?"

Lina said, "A lot of Middle Easterners."

"That the FBI paranoia coming out?"

"No, it's just that there's not much else to Houston that might relate to a dirty bomb."

Duarte stared at the map as he considered their options.

ALEX DUARTE WOKE UP IN HIS NEW ORLEANS HOTEL ROOM CONFUSED and tired. He had dreamed of Agent Ruley and the case. In the short hours he had slept, Ruley had come to him in some kind of uniform, in her business suit and in a bikini, and each time she had said the same thing. "You fucked up. Now it's time for the first team to take the field." In real life, she had been the model of professionalism and quiet competence. He wished she had the confidence in him to let him work with her, but he knew he was essentially on his own. He had made a mess of things. He did not deserve to work with the team now trying to find out what was on the Flame of Panama and where it had gone.

He sat up in bed and saw it was seven on the nose. He tried to clear his head and decide on his next move. Then his Nextel rang.

"Duarte."

"Good morning, sunshine."

He could picture Alice Brainard's smiling, pretty face behind the voice.

"Good morning."

"Sounds like you had a rough night. Did the NEST people get up with you?"

"Oh, we spoke."

"They were really nice to me."

"That's a shocker. How many dinner invitations did you get?"

She laughed, then said, "Two."

Duarte sat up in bed and said, "What are you doing now?"

"Just looking through newspapers and breaking news online."

"Anything on this mess?"

"Nope, not a word."

"That's something, then." He thought about it and said, "Can you look in the Lafayette paper?"

"What for?"

"I don't know. I'm just looking for something that might point us in the right direction. Anything on murders, racists, Nazis. Anything at all."

After a few seconds, she said, "Here's an article on a set of three murders in Lafayette. A U-Haul worker and a young couple."

"I knew about them."

"Let me take a look in some of the other regional papers."

Duarte heard her hum to herself while she scanned some pages.

"Here's a dead man found outside of Houston. They call it breaking news, and the cops are still on the scene. "

"Anything unusual?"

"The body was that of Charles Kilner of Daytona Beach. Wanted in Florida for possession of crack. What do you think?"

Duarte considered it. "Don't know. That's the first time I've heard his name." But it still sat in Duarte's brain. He went on to say, "I know you got the one blood sample. I'm sorry, it's just happening so fast I can't keep up with everything."

"So you're still working on the case?"

"Not as far as the Department of Justice is concerned, but we're still poking around."

"Who's 'we'?"

"Félix, Lina and I."

"Anything else I can help with?"

"You've already done enough." He paused, then added, "I do have a cigarette butt for a DNA sample."

"Send it on." She chuckled at her intentionally tired tone.

He said, "Alice, I can't tell you how much I appreciate the help. When I get home, I intend to spend a lot of time showing you how great I think you are."

There was another silence, then Alice asked, "When are you coming home?"

"As soon as I can. I promise."

He had never meant something as much in his life.

William "Ike" Floyd had all of his belongings together and was all set to meet Mr. Ortíz later that evening at a warehouse in Houston. Mr. Ortíz had e-mailed him that everything was in order. Ike wrote back that he had no problems. He smiled a little writing that because he had had some problems but solved them himself. Three problems that had been eliminated, and no one would ever know.

He walked into the Jacinto Arms' small front office. The same, tired-looking young woman who had sat there the last two days never even set down her People magazine. Her big, brown eyes just gazed up at him.

Ike smiled. "Just need to settle up."

She leaned up on the stool and tapped a few keys of her computer. "That'll be one seventy-seven fifty, Mr. Johnson." Her eyes stayed on the keyboard of the computer.

Ike dug out some money and laid down a hundred and eighty bucks. "You know where this address is?" He showed her the warehouse address Mr. Ortíz had given him.

She squinted at his handwriting on the small notepad. She hit a few keys on her computer and then typed in the address.

After half a minute, Ike heard a printer working hard. Then the girl silently pulled out a Mapquest map to the warehouse.

Ike smiled and started to thank her when he noticed a police car turn down the access road next to the hotel. He stepped over to the big window and saw several cars and one set of police lights down the road near where he had left Charlie.

"What's going on?" he asked the doe-eyed girl.

She shrugged. "Cops found a body."

"When?"

"Last night. You didn't hear the sirens?"

"No. I was out like a light."

"They already had a photo of the dead guy. Asked me if he was registered here."

"Was he?" Ike didn't think she had seen him with the Charlies.

"Nope. Only you and two families from Illinois. Cops talked to them. They talk to you?"

He shook his head, then said, "Thanks for the map."

The woman said, "You give back the Ryder truck?"

Ike nodded and said, "Yeah, all set. Have a good day." He walked out of the small office smiling, knowing that once he left here, there was no way to trace him. Nothing could stop him from his mission now.

Alex Duarte had spent forty minutes on the phone trying to track down a Houston ATF agent who knew about the murder Alice had told him about.

Now he had on a young man with a slight Spanish accent who had graduated from the ATF academy in Glynco, Georgia, a few months earlier.

The new agent explained all he knew about the body the cops had found with a bullet in his head.