businessmen looking for a place to stay. It was an easy act to pull off.
The office was situated at the end of a single row of motel rooms. It was an L-shaped building with the office jutting out as to allow a perfect view of the entrance to each room. It was a small office with wood-paneled walls and a plastic brochure dispenser next to the door which held pamphlets advertising facilities like water parks and shoreline vacation spots many miles from the desolate border town.
The man behind the counter sat on a stool and was watching a rodeo on a small TV. He was young and seemed annoyed to be dragged away from his show.
“Can I help you?” the man said, standing and assessing the four men with a leery expression. He was bone thin and Nick thought he looked a little too much like Norman Bates.
Nick stayed back and let Tommy do his thing. He engaged the man with his million dollar smile.
“Yeah,” Tommy said. “We need a place for the night.”
The man looked up at the clock on the wall showing that it hadn’t yet reached noon.
“You do have a place available, right?” Tommy asked, looking out the window at the near empty parking lot.
The young man glanced at the four of them and asked, “How many rooms?”
“Just one,” Tommy said with an easy expression. He pointed to Nick and said, “Me and my boss are staying the night, the other two are leaving and coming back tomorrow.”
Even after this explanation the man didn’t move. He didn’t reach for a log book or a key, or even gaze at his ten-year-old computer behind the counter. Instead, he asked, “What are you guys in town for?”
This didn’t dampen Tommy’s enthusiasm. He reached into his pocket and slapped a business card on the counter. “We’re here to install a new Dexa Scanner in Dr. Mitchell’s office.”
“A what?” the man said, examining the card of a real businessman who allowed Tommy to use his identity for the charade.
“A Dexa Scanner,” Tommy said. “It’s a machine which measures bone density.”
Still, the man remained motionless and watched Matt examine the facility with his FBI-trained eyes.
“What’s the doctor doing with something like that?” the man asked.
“Excuse me?” Tommy said.
“I mean, why does he need some kind of scanner in a town this size?”
Now, Tommy tilted his head. “Do you have any idea how prevalent osteoporosis is?”
The man shrugged.
“One in every two women over the age of fifty will fracture a bone due to this condition. Did you know that?”
The man stared.
“Are there any woman over the age of fifty living in this town?”
“I guess.”
“Well, then Dr. Mitchell is installing a new device to help diagnose those woman with low bone density and get them headed toward a healthier lifestyle.”
This seemed to satisfy the guy’s curiosity, so he finally looked at his computer screen and moved his mouse around. “We have room eight available.”
“Room eight sounds just peachy,” Tommy said.
“That’s eighty-nine dollars.”
Tommy handed him the phony credit card to match the phony business card. Both of them set up on short notice using FBI muscle to expedite the process.
As the motel clerk swiped Tommy’s card through the credit card machine, he said, “Will you be using the phone?”
“You’re kidding, right?” Tommy asked.
Nick could tell Tommy was running low on patience with the guy, so Nick gave him a look and his cousin frowned.
The clerk handed Tommy back his card along with a key.
As the four of them headed out the door, Tommy looked back at the man and said, “Thanks for the hospitality.” Then he added another winning smile for good measure.
As they grabbed their bags from the trunk of the car, Tommy said, “Punk,” under his breath.
“Relax,” Nick said. “They’ll know we’re here soon enough. We don’t need to give them a head start.”
The parking lot was gravel with nothing but desert lining the opposite side of the street. A six foot aluminum fence ran parallel to the road across from them representing the border to Mexico. Nick thought one swift kick could bring down the entire fence.
They made their way to room eight and when Tommy opened the door, the musty smell hit them like a rotten sack of potatoes.
“Aw, shit,” Matt said.
Nick waved his hand in front of his face, like he was leading a pack of hunters through the African Bush. “Jeez, how long has this been vacant?”
Stevie set up his laptop computer on the night table next to the first bed and began hitting the keypad with authority. Nick dropped his duffle bag while Matt went into the bathroom and closed the door.
Tommy whispered to Nick, “I’m a little worried about your partner.”
“He’ll be fine,” Nick said.
Tommy shook his head, but said no more.
When Matt came out of the bathroom pulling up his zipper, Nick said, “Stevie will get the drone back in the air while Tommy gets the lay of the land.”
Tommy whirled the car keys around his index finger. “Okay,” he said, pulling open the door. “I’ll be back.”
“Tommy,” Nick said.
“Yeah.”
“Don’t do too much,” was all Nick could say.
Tommy grinned. He said, “I wouldn’t dream of it.” Then the door shut behind him like a vault, sealing the three FBI agents inside the dungeon of dust.
Matt pulled apart the curtains and stood by the window, watching Tommy spit up gravel as the BMW sped out of the parking lot. They were less than five miles from Antonio Garza’s compound and Nick could practically smell the revenge oozing from Matt’s ears.
On Stevie’s computer screen, an aerial image of the desert floor came to life. Nick watched the landscape while dialing Walt on his cell phone.
“You in?” Walt asked.
“Yeah.”
“They know you’re there?”
“Not yet,” Nick said, watching Matt stare out the window like a caged tiger.
“Nick,” Walt said. “Are you doing the right thing?”
“I doubt it. But someone has to find that bomb before it leaves the neighborhood.”
There was a sigh on the other end of the line.
“I could send in a squad of Special Forces,” Walt said, stating the obvious.
“No,” Nick said, firmly. “They’ll just crawl under rocks like cockroaches. We don’t have time to search every inch of this place.”
“You do understand I don’t like this plan. Not one bit.” There was a bite to Walt’s words. He’d just lost three FBI agents in the past few days and there was a pain lingering in the tone of his voice.
“We’re okay,” Nick assured him. “Any word from the agent in Mexico?”
“The last communication said he was with the bomb. That’s all.”
“He’s pretty worthless without our help.”
Walt didn’t need to respond to that.
“Okay,” Nick said. “We’ll try this tactic until midnight. If we don’t recover the bomb by then, go ahead and bring the cavalry.”
“Listen, Fisk is on a plane right now to Mexico City for the presidential debate. He’ll be speaking with
