days. Quinn was about to head toward the one on the right when the other one opened, and a man in a uniform stepped out, holding a gun.
“
“
“I don’t care who sent you. You can’t be here.”
“Captain Moreno from Monterrey? I’m sure you remember him. He was here a few days ago.”
Caution crept into the man’s eyes. “Who are you?”
“Duncan. DEA.” Quinn held his hand out. The man didn’t take it, so Quinn shrugged and said, “These are my colleagues, Travers and Song. We’ve been running a joint investigation with the Federal Police in Monterrey.”
The man’s expression remained the same. “No drugs here.”
“We realize that,” Quinn said. “We’re here about the prisoner transfer.”
“Prisoner transfer?”
“Yes, the man who Moreno escorted here and handed over to the other agents. Were you not here? He said you were here. Are you…um…um…” Quinn turned back to Orlando, as if looking for help remembering.
“Diaz?” the man offered.
“Yes, Diaz.”
“That’s me.”
“And weren’t you here?”
Diaz looked at them one by one. “I need to see your IDs.”
“Really?” Quinn huffed, exasperated. “Moreno was supposed to have set this up. I get the impression you didn’t know we were coming.”
“No.”
“That’s just great.” He looked at Orlando. “Get him on the phone.”
She pulled out her phone and pretended to dial.
“No,” Quinn said. “Don’t call Moreno. Call Grayson in DC. Have him get ahold of Director Arroyo at CISEN.”
Orlando nodded and walked several feet away, her phone to her ear.
Diaz eyed her nervously.
“Don’t worry,” Quinn said. “I’m sure you’ll get a call in just a minute to straighten all this out. Wouldn’t want to be in Moreno’s shoes right now. Though I guess he might not be the only one who hears the wrath.”
The man licked his lips, looked at Orlando again, and said, “It’s okay. No problem. What is it I can do for you?”
“That’s very cooperative of you. I appreciate that.” Quinn glanced over at Orlando. “Never mind. We’re good.”
She said something into her phone, acted like she was disconnecting the call, and slipped it into her pocket.
Quinn looked back at the guard. “So, were you here during the prisoner exchange?”
“Yes. I was here,” Diaz said. He quickly added, “But I stayed out of the way. Only unlocked the doors they wanted.”
“Good. That’ll make things easier. We need to take a look at the room where the prisoner was held. Can you please take us there?”
“Um, sure. Yes. This way.”
Quinn turned to Orlando and Daeng. “Travers, you’re with me. Song, wait out here. Have a look around.”
Both Orlando and Daeng took a step toward Quinn, stopped, and looked at each other as if saying, “I thought I was Travers.”
Quinn looked directly at Orlando. “Travers, let’s go.”
She gave Daeng a quick, smug smile as she joined Quinn.
As soon as they passed inside, Diaz flicked on a flashlight and led them down a long, dim corridor. Given the appearance of the building from the outside, the interior was surprisingly clean and in order. Doors lined both sides of the hallway. All were closed so there was no telling what was in the rooms.
After turning down another corridor, Diaz finally stopped.
“This is it,” he said.
He pulled out a ring of keys, selected the proper one, unlocked, and opened the door. The room inside was dark. Diaz moved enough out of the way so that Quinn and Orlando could get a look while he shined his light through the space.
It was small and had no windows or vents, just a drain in the corner and a threadbare cot along the side. The room was a temporary holding cell, plain and simple.
“You put the prisoner in here yourself?” Quinn asked.
“I only unlocked the door. Captain Moreno and his men put him inside.”
“May I use your light, please?” Quinn said, holding out his hand.
Diaz reluctantly handed over his flashlight.
Quinn played the beam through the room, carefully examining the space in case Nate had been able to leave some kind of message. He spotted nothing.
When he was done, he stepped back and handed the light back to the guard. “How long was he held in here?”
“An hour, maybe two,” Diaz said. “I don’t remember exactly. I can check the log if you want.”
“Yes, please.”
Diaz led them back in the direction they’d come. Now that Quinn had seen the cell Nate had been in, he was sure most of the other doors along the corridor would open onto similar rooms. Low profile, out of the way, and with its own airstrip, it was the perfect transfer point for the problematic and unwanted.
Diaz’s office was a room near the building’s exit and about twice as large as Nate’s cell. Crammed inside were a desk, a small couch, and a television that was currently playing a security feed from outside the building, the same feed on which the guard had no doubt spotted Quinn and the others.
Diaz stepped behind the desk and typed into his computer. “The prisoner arrived at 12:48 p.m., and left again at 3:06. So, over two hours.”
Without looking at her, Quinn knew Orlando had taken special note of the departure time. It was a more exact number than the estimate Moreno had given them.
“And how was the prisoner when he left?” Quinn asked.
“Fine, I guess. Why? Has there been a problem?”
“What do you mean, you guess? Either he was or he wasn’t.”
“I don’t know,” Diaz said, flustered. “I couldn’t see his face with that black bag over his head.”
Quinn leaned back. Moreno had not mentioned that little detail. “Of course. Right.”
Though in truth it changed nothing, the thought of Nate in a bag angered Quinn even more.
“The pickup team Moreno handed the prisoner off to-did you speak with them?” Orlando asked.
“No. Just like I said, I opened doors and stayed out of the way. That’s my job.”
“Good,” Quinn said. “That’s exactly what I wanted to hear. We’ll note that in our report.”
Worry once more crossed the guard’s face. “Report?”
“Routine,” Quinn said with a smile.
Diaz stood up as if he planned to escort them back to their car.
“No need,” Quinn said. “We want to take a look outside, then we’ll be on our way.”
“But the gate’s locked.”
“We got in. We’ll get out.”
Outside, they found Daeng waiting near the door.
“Find anything?” Quinn asked.
