Breaking away from the file on Simon Patton, Devlin motioned toward the brown bag on the leather seat to her right. “I’m good. Curt sent me off with something this morning.”
Hawkins sipped his beverage. “How is Curt?”
“This isn’t adding up.” She crossed her legs. “This guy Patton—” she pulled her nose away from the folder. “I’m sorry. Curt’s doing well.” She hesitated. “He...” she recalled their conversation about him wanting to join the SWAT team. I can’t get into that right now. She blinked a few times. “He’s doing well.”
Not convinced, Hawkins tipped his head to the side. “Is everything okay?”
She forced a smile, “Everything’s fine,” and went back to the information. “So this guy Patton embezzles one point five million and heads to a tiny little town in Mexico.”
After peering at her for a few seconds, Hawkins decided to let go of the issue. She’ll tell me when she’s ready.
“Why,” Devlin rubbed her temple, “why wouldn’t he go somewhere else? I can think of a hundred other places that are better than,” she flipped a page, “Villa Mainero...it’s got like four hundred people there...total.”
“Sounds like a good place to,” Hawkins grabbed another bite of his breakfast, “disappear...blend in with the locals.”
“Yeah,” she scanned the material, “maybe. But, if he was trying to blend in, then why start a fight with a couple of those locals? And this report says he paid for his drinks with hundred-dollar bills.” She eyed her partner. “Getting into fights and flashing that kind of cash doesn’t speak to a man trying to go unnoticed.”
Hawkins shrugged while stuffing the remainder of his meal into his mouth. “In my experience, criminals never were very smart.”
Devlin pinched a piece of paper and read the line just above her thumbnail. “Witnesses reported that when police arrived, Patton simply surrendered.” She faced Hawkins. “Why wouldn’t he try to get away before police showed up?”
“Look,” Hawkins put both feet on the floor and leaned toward her. “You’re putting too much energy into this, Dev. Sometimes things don’t add up,” he showed her a palm, “because sometimes they just don’t add up...period...end of story. We have a job to do here. We pick up this Patton guy and bring him to the U.S.” Hawkins sat back in his seat. “The courts take it from there.”
Devlin half closed an eye at him. “It’s nice everything is so simple for you, so black and white. Don’t you ever question things?”
“Not,” he inspected his coffee, “if I...” before dipping the tip of his pinky into the brown liquid and wiping the digit on his pants, leaving behind a black speck, “don’t have to.” He sipped. “Not everything has to have an answer.”
She slowly nodded her head. “Well, that must be nice...to be able to just let things go.”
He chuckled. “You were never in the military. I was. I learned real quick not to ask questions when my drill sergeant wanted me to run...jump,” he lifted his fore finger away from his cup and gestured at nothing in particular, “climb that rope, Hawkins...crawl under that wire, Hawkins...drop and give me fifty, Hawkins...get your scrawny little as—”
“Okay, okay...” Devlin sniggered while placing the manila folder on the seat beside her, “I get your point.”
“I questioned him once, and he tacked on another fifty push-ups.” Hawkins shook his head. “From that point on, ‘yes sir’ and ‘no sir’ and ‘thank you sir’ were the only words that came out of my mouth.”
Grinning, Devlin stood. “I’ll think I’ll have that cup of coffee now.”
He poked his chin toward the rear of the Gulfstream. “Try the hazelnut blend. It’s delicious.”
Shaking her head, her amusement growing again, she made her way toward the galley. “Thanks for the tip.”
He lifted his drink, “My pleasure,” and took another swallow.
∞=∞=∞=∞=∞=∞=∞
.
Chapter 8
Snag
10:42 a.m. (local time)
monterrey, mexico
general mariano escobedo
international airport
The Gulfstream V’s retractable staircase touched down on the tarmac, as the jet’s engines wound to a halt. Devlin descended the steps ahead of Hawkins. Two deputy marshals met them near the front bumper of a black Chevrolet Suburban. She extended a hand, “Jessica Devlin,” and gestured over a shoulder. “Blake Hawkins.”
Handshakes were exchanged while two more names were added, Frederick Mills and Celeste Chambers; the former belonged to a short and stocky man in his thirties with a shaved head while the latter identified a twenty-something woman the same height as Devlin, but twenty pounds heavier. Modeling sunglasses, both agents wore dark suits despite the sunny day and temperatures in the middle eighties.
Mills spread apart his jacket and planted hands on hips while eyeing the newcomers. “I have bad news for you two. We’ve run into a snag with processing your man.”
Feeling the heat smothering her like a blanket, Devlin pinched her blouse and fanned herself. “What kind of snag?”
“The Mexican police are dragging their heels on releasing Patton.”
She rolled eyes and crossed arms over her chest.
“Everything’s still on track, but we’re now going to have to pick him up.”
Hawkins showed upturned palms. “Why?”
“They didn’t want the exchange to take place,” Mills wagged a finger at the surrounding area, “here...at the airport. Not quite sure on the reasoning.”
Sighing, Devlin wiped a wrist across her forehead, “Fine,” and dried the perspiration on her pants. “Let’s get going.” She headed for the SUV. “How long is the drive?”
“There and back...five hours.”
Her shoulders drooping a bit, she shut her eyes and inwardly groaned. Great. There goes dinner with the family tonight. Devlin took out her cell phone, climbed into the right-rear passenger seat, and tapped the icon of Ashford’s smiling face.
*******
three hours later
1:34 p.m.
villa mainero
The drive had been long and boring. There was not much to see, except one tiny town after another. Three hours deeper
