In Desperation

41

Phoenix, Arizona

T he secretary waved Hackett into ASAC Bruller’s office.

Seth Bruller-Assistant Special Agent in Charge of the Phoenix Division-was standing alone at his desk, sleeves rolled up, on the telephone.

He shot Hackett a look that made it clear: he was not enjoying this end of the conversation.

“Understood…yes, sir…I appreciate that…we will, sir.” Bruller ended the call, undid his collar button, loosened his tie and glared at Hackett.

“That was headquarters. They’re not happy, Earl.” Bruller snatched the file containing the inventory of items and material collected from the motel by the Evidence Response Team from his desk. “Damn it, where’s our lead on this?”

“We’re waiting for Clarksburg to process the latents,” Hackett said.

“Still?”

“They’ve been promising it momentarily for the last three hours.”

Bruller dropped the file, shaking his head. “Have we got anything else? A plate, a sighting, anything?”

“Nothing’s surfaced. We’re going to informants in Tijuana, Juarez, Phoenix and L.A.”

“And?”

“We’re leaning on them.”

“Not hard enough.” Bruller seized a printout of a news story. Hackett saw the logo for the WPA newswire. “What about Gannon, the brother who’s running all over the place. You get anything from him?”

“Just attitude. If he’s got anything, he’s not saying.”

“His niece’s life’s at stake. Why doesn’t he work with us?”

“Gannon doesn’t trust us.”

“ He doesn’t trust us? ”

“That’s right and I don’t blame him.”

“What?”

“Look at the facts-Salazar and Johnson were American ex-cops.”

“They were bad cops. It happens.”

“And you recall that little memo warning us of cartel infiltration of U.S. law enforcement?”

“What about it?”

“I don’t know what happened with the motel, Seth. It was almost like they could hear us coming. We were so close, their coffee was still warm.”

“Are you saying these guys were tipped from inside the task force?”

“I don’t know what to think.”

“I’ll tell you what to think-think about doing your damned job by looking for criminals, rather than looking for blame!” Through his glass walls Bruller saw heads turn to his office. He sat down, repositioned the two framed photos of his boys in their Scout uniforms and pursed his lips. “You say Gannon doesn’t trust us. Well, I don’t trust the fact he just happened to be in Mexico when all this came down with his sister. It’s just a little too coincidental, don’t you think?”

“The New York Division interviewed his editors,” Hackett said. “Gannon’s reason for being there checks out. Our people found no red flags in his background. He was on assignment in Juarez when this happened.”

“What about Galviera? What did we find on him?”

“Nothing other than what we know.”

“That’s it?”

“It’s already in the report you have, Seth. He had financial trouble. He gambled. He was going to lose his company and sought relief through Salazar and Johnson.”

“And who else? Did you pursue that? Where are your informants? Who else did Galviera associate with? For Christ’s sake, Earl!”

A soft rap on the open door interrupted them.

“Excuse me,” Bonnie Larson said. “I thought you’d like to know we’ve just received confirmations from the lab and EPIC. The prints of our kidnappers belong to two Mexican nationals in the Norte Cartel.”

“Get on it.” Bruller reached for his phone. “I’ll advise NHQ.”

Returning to their desks, Larson pulled Hackett aside, dropped her voice. “Thank God I got you out of there. With all that yelling, I was afraid.”

“For me?”

“For Bruller.” Larson rolled her eyes. “The last time he was operational, cell phones were just a dream.”

Upon examining the new analysis, Hackett’s stomach tightened.

The first man was Ruiz Limon-Rocha, a Mexican National. DOB: 14 July 1980. Height: 5'11". Weight: Unknown. Hair Color: Black. Eye Color: Brown.

The second was Alfredo Hector Tecaza, a Mexican National. DOB: 03 December 1986. Height: 5'10". Weight: 170. Hair Color: Black. Eye Color: Brown.

Limon-Rocha and Tecaza were ex-military recruited by a high-ranking member of the Norte Cartel. The two dead guys in the desert were American ex-cops, believed to be working for the Norte Cartel before betraying them.

Hackett also reflected on the task force, now hitting upward of seventy people from a range of jurisdictions.

Unease gnawed at him. The Norte Cartel was known for infiltrating law enforcement agencies.

His phone rang. Bruller wasn’t finished. He had a question.

“What about Cora, the mother?”

“What about her?”

“How deep did we go on her background?”

“We’ve been through all this. You saw our reports. No record, no warrants. She admitted to her past addiction to hard drugs but has been clean for over eleven years, since her daughter’s birth.”

“She admitted to knowing drug dealers.”

“Yes, in the past, but her neighbors told us she is a clean-living, churchgoing single mom.”

Larson’s line rang. She picked up the call, then started waving frantically at Hackett.

“Right,” Bruller was saying into Hackett’s ear, “but her boyfriend was a money man for the Norte Cartel. We need to polygraph her. Let’s get that set up.”

Hackett hung up, knowing Bruller was right. He should’ve trusted his instinct and polygraphed Cora earlier.

“Earl!” Larson cupped one hand over the receiver. “It’s EPIC. They just got a lead that a sicario for the cartel just entered the U.S. at El Paso. They think he’s our guy for Salazar and Johnson and he’s on a bus to Phoenix now. Arizona DPS is talking to the bus company and the driver. They’re getting set to take it down now!”