would be honored to join him.”
They spoke casually for a few more minutes, before Fisk looked at his watch. “I apologize, Mr. Rodriguez, but I must be heading back now.”
Fisk rose and Rodriguez stood as well. The two men faced each other, smiling and shaking hands, knowing every nuance was being recorded for the evening news.
Fisk leaned over and said, “I look forward to seeing you in Washington.”
Rodriguez beamed. “Yes. Thank you again for your invitation, Mr. Secretary.”
Fisk made sure they faced the cameras for one last time with his arm on Rodriguez’s back. He wanted to throw up in his mouth as he smiled and nodded to the media. He’d done what he came for, now he just needed the tough part of the plan to come through. If it didn’t, Fisk would come off as the laughing stock of Washington. The images of him joking around with a narcissistic cartel supporter would live on for eternity.
He could almost feel himself falling on the sword as he waved to the press.
Chapter 25
Walt Jackson was pacing in his office, waiting to hear an update from someone, anyone. It was the hardest part of the administrative side of the job. The wait. When you were in the field, time flew. You were marking assets or following leads, but now the walls surrounded him like a cage.
“Ken is on one-nineteen,” his secretary said, over the speaker on his desk.
Walt quickly pushed a button on his phone and put the receiver to his ear. “And?”
There was a sigh on the other end and it forced Walt down into his chair.
“The plant is in Garza’s compound with the bomb,” the CIA Director said.
“That’s encouraging,” Walt said, glad to hear anything remotely positive.
“Maybe,” Ken said. “I can’t confirm a name or even a gender, but the person is working alone and can’t stop the transfer. He or she can only stay with the device until it reaches our border.”
“Then what?”
“Then we have Nick take over from there,” Ken said. “He is in position, right?”
Now it was Walt’s turn to sigh. “Yes, he’s in position.”
“So what’s wrong?”
Walt looked at his cell phone sitting on his desk as a reminder of what had set him off on a ten minute pace. “I just received a text from him telling me to keep the troops out of Denton. He’s about to do something and needs room to operate.”
“What’s he up to?”
“I don’t know. He said to have ambulances waiting at the end of the exit road from Denton. He expects casualties to be leaving town within the hour and told me to make sure we were there to take their cell phones away immediately.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means he’s. .” Walt considered who he was speaking with and thought carefully about revealing his own translation to Nick’s words. “It means, I don’t know. I don’t even want to guess. He told me if we don’t hear from him by midnight to bring the entire force into town.”
“How many people do you have ready?”
“Including FBI, Marines, Special Forces and National Guard-around five hundred.”
“Geesh, Walt, you expecting a war?”
“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m expecting,” Walt said, tapping his foot. “I have no intention of losing any more agents.”
“All right,” Ken said. “I’ll keep pounding the phones and see what I can get for you.”
Walt hung up and leaned back in his chair with his eyes shut. He wasn’t about to tell Ken that Nick had stopped returning his calls forty-five minutes ago. Something his top agent had never done before. In all the years he’d worked with Nick, the longest he’d ever waited for a return call was three minutes.
His phone chirped with a text message and he swiped it from his desk and read the sender’s name. His wife. It was the third consecutive night he’d missed dinner. She’d been way too patient with him and he couldn’t stand how much he’d failed to be there for her. He tried to imagine the thoughts running through her mind as she sat in their empty nest and waited for him to be with her.
Walt winced in preparation as he opened her message:
“I love you,” was all it said.
He held the phone to his chest and sighed. “I love you too, Sweetie.”
* * *
Nick opened the door to the Denton Bar and Grill and felt the examination begin. Twenty patrons were scattered around round tables, while three sat at the bar. He could tell almost immediately which ones would be trouble and which were bystanders. There were five men who Nick thought were the culprits. A manageable number.
George Straight was singing a love song from the wooden speakers behind the bar, while a large ceiling fan with two missing blades slowly spun overhead. He stepped up to the bar and ordered a Bud Light. The pock-faced bartender looked just interested enough to make that happen.
Nick turned and saw the same five men trying to avoid detection; their surveillance technique was the worst he’d ever seen. But then, they probably weren’t used to professional investigators stopping by for a drink. In the back was the deputy and his friend. They seemed to be in high spirits, clinking their beer bottles to some inept toast.
When the bartender returned, Nick thanked him and gave him a twenty. He saw the waitress at the end of the bar looking sullen, not the cheery girl Tommy had told him about. Her left cheek was blotched with red marks and there was a long scratch down the side of her face. He took a drink of his beer and went up to the girl.
“Samantha?” Nick asked.
The girl gave him a suspicious glare. “Yes.”
“Relax,” Nick said. “These guys can’t hurt you.”
Samantha’s face scrunched up tight. “What guys?”
“You know what I’m saying.”
“No, I don’t,” she said, her movements jittery.
“My cousin Tommy was here a little while ago.”
She covered her open mouth with her hand.
“It’s okay,” Nick said. “He’s in a hospital recovering. He’ll be fine. He wanted me to thank you for trying to stop them. He said you were very brave.”
Samantha’s eyes became glossy. She saw something over Nick’s shoulder and stepped back to tend to her order book.
When Nick turned, he saw the thin guy with a big gut coming his way.
“Get out of here,” Nick whispered to Samantha. When she hesitated, he said more forcefully, “Now,” and watched her exit the bar through the kitchen entrance.
The man walked up into Nick’s face about to say something when Nick grinned and said, “You must be Doug.”
The guy cocked his head. “Yeah.”
Nick pointed at his dirty boots. “Didn’t you notice that?”
Doug followed Nick’s finger. Big mistake.
With his knees bent and his hand clenched, Nick swung his fist up into Doug’s chin with a ferocious uppercut. The power came from Nick’s legs and drove Doug’s lower teeth into his uppers with such a force, his head snapped back and a short whimper escaped as he hit the floor.
Nick unclenched his fist and rubbed his knuckles, while he kicked Doug’s face.
“I don’t like bullies,” Nick said. “Never did.”
The bartender pulled up a twelve gauge shotgun from behind the bar. Three men around another table stood
