The Gatekeeper

Twenty-Two

“Chip?”

Kelly shook her head. Rodriguez crunched noisily. “Haven’t had these since I was a kid,” he said happily, shaking the bag in her direction. “I didn’t even know they still made them.”

“That’s exciting,” Kelly said wryly.

“Hey, anything to lighten the mood.”

Kelly shifted in her seat. She had to go to the bathroom again, but the nearest one was almost a mile away on a parallel road. It was nearly noon and the other warehouses had a steady stream of trucks to and from their loading ramps. Their parked car hadn’t attracted any attention yet, but she was nervous. The other warehouses could also be harboring illegal activities. For all she knew, there could be a posse assembling to string them up, and they were out here all alone. With every passing hour, her doubts about the plan grew. And Rodriguez’s incessant chatter wasn’t helping.

So far she’d been mistaken in her assumption that the cowboys would race to check the second warehouse. She and Rodriguez had spent the night in the car, taking shifts sleeping, and no one had appeared. Maybe Rodriguez was right, and the close call yesterday caused them to shy off. Kelly had agreed that if no one showed by noon, she’d call ICE. Rodriguez bet her fifty dollars that she’d be making that call, and they shook on it. She felt guilty leaving those poor people inside with no food or water. When she conceived the plan she’d expected to wait a few hours, max.

Kelly examined Rodriguez out of the corner of her eye. His face was the manifestation of a mood ring, with every passing hour a new shade was revealed. She had to admit, she was impressed with the way he was handling himself. The bar incident was a debacle, but since then he’d proven surprisingly devoted to solving the case, almost to an extreme. Under similar circumstances, she’d probably still be in a hospital bed.

“You sure you don’t want one? They’re almost gone.” He held the bag out again, and this time she grabbed a handful.

“Thanks.” Kelly popped one in her mouth and promptly gagged. “Oh my God!” she choked.

Rodriguez laughed and handed her a soda. Kelly took a gulp, swished it around her mouth, and spit out the window. “What is that?”

“Pork.”

“That does not taste like pork,” Kelly said, eyeing the remaining chips skeptically.

“Depends on what part of the pig you’re used to eating.” Rodriguez laughed at the shock on her face. “Easy, Jones. I’m messing with you.”

“I’m never trusting you again.” She sniffed, dumping the chips back in the bag.

“Please. Like you trusted me before?” Before she could craft a response, he shook his head and looked out the window. “It’s okay. I’ve heard the rumors.”

“So are they true?”

“Which ones?”

“That you ratted out your last partner,” Kelly said. “Let’s start with that one.”

He shook his head, turning back to the bag.

“C’mon, I’m sure there’s plenty of gossip about me,” Kelly said, tapping his elbow.

“You bet there is.”

Kelly wasn’t expecting such a strong response. Now in spite of herself, she was curious. “If you want me to trust you, I need to know the truth.”

“Is it so hard to believe I did a great job on my last case, and the promotion was based on that?” Rodriguez grumbled.

“You’re twenty-seven years old,” Kelly noted. “You’d have to find Jimmy Hoffa for that kind of bump at your age.”

“Maybe I did.”

Kelly raised an eyebrow. He glared back at her, then shrugged. “Fine. I ratted someone out, but it wasn’t my partner.”

“Who?”

“My boss. He buried some evidence on a case. I found out, told his SAC. Long story short, the FBI couldn’t afford another black eye. He took early retirement, I was given my pick of divisions.”

“Huh.” It made sense, Kelly thought. Last thing the Bureau needed was a high profile officer dragged through the mud. And they’d definitely do whatever it took to keep Rodriguez happy. After working there for more than a decade, she recognized that the FBI could be every bit as dirty and political as a major corporation. Still, she tried to do the best job she could. Sometimes she even felt like justice had been served. Less and less lately, but sometimes. “Okay.”

“Anything else?” Rodriguez asked, jutting his chin out.

She ignored his confrontational tone. “Are you a hermaphrodite?”

“What? They’re not saying that.”

Kelly laughed at his expression. “No, but it’s a good one. Want me to start it?”

“I can promise if you did, my fiancée would hunt you down. And she’s scary, trust me. Those boys in the bar wouldn’t have stood a chance against her.”

“I was surprised to hear you were engaged,” Kelly said.

“What, I’m not a catch?” He grinned.

“You’re so young to be getting married.”

Rodriguez looked bemused. “Tell my mother that. She’s been on me to get hitched since high school. You’re engaged, too, right?”

“Sort of,” Kelly mumbled.

“Have you sort of set a date?”

“Not yet. We’re working out some…technicalities,” Kelly said, wishing he’d change the subject.

“Don’t wait too long, we had to sign up for the ballroom a year in advance. Me, I can’t wait. August 31, back in L.A. It’s gonna be off the hook. You and Jake should come.”

Rodriguez sounded excited, and Kelly guessed that “off the hook” was a good thing. She shifted in her seat. “So what are they saying about me?”

“Ah, I was just trying to get under your skin, chica.” Rodriguez turned his attention back to the chips.

Kelly was about to respond when a familiar pickup appeared, rising and falling with the ruts in the road. It pulled into the lot in front of the warehouse.

Rodriguez elbowed her. “You were right.”

“Damn straight I was. And you’re out fifty dollars.” She glanced at her watch: 11:59 a.m., right under the wire.

“How do you want to handle this?”

“Neither of them was carrying before, but that doesn’t mean anything. I say we get them away from the truck, where they might have a shotgun. We know there aren’t any weapons in the front of the warehouse. So after they go inside, we hit them hard and fast.”

“Sounds good, boss.” Rodriguez nodded.

Kelly looked him over. “You sure you’re up for this?”

“I don’t feel as bad as I look. Which is rare, usually it’s the other way around.”

Kelly decided they’d have to chance it. Jethro, the taller cowboy, was headed toward the door, Jim fast on his heels. “Let’s go, quick and quiet. I don’t want them barricading themselves inside with hostages.”

Kelly got out of the car and bent double, staying low to the ground. She crossed the parking lot in front of the warehouse with long strides, gun drawn. As she got closer she overheard snippets of conversation, something about the Rangers’ chances this season. Jethro was sorting through a key ring. Their backs were still to her. The sand muffled her footsteps and she steered clear of the gravel patches dotting the lot.

The door opened and Jethro stepped inside. Kelly waited until Jim had followed, then bolted up the stairs, catching the door as it was about to close. She glanced over her shoulder. Rodriguez was right behind her, eyes wide with exhilaration. She nodded at him, jerked open the door and slipped inside.

The cowboys sensed them and spun. Jethro darted a hand toward his belt and Kelly yelled, “FBI! Hands where I can see them!”

Jethro’s hand stalled its descent. She could see him deliberating, and took three quick strides forward with the muzzle leveled at his chest. “I’d prefer to have you alive,” she said, “but it’s your choice.”

His brother Jim already had his hands in the air. Jethro glanced at him, then slowly followed suit.

“On the ground, nice and slow,” Kelly said.

“This is bullshit,” Jim spat. “We ain’t done nothin’ wrong.”

“Shush, Jim,” Jethro said warningly.

“You kidding? Doesn’t even matter, bitch. No one in this town is gonna charge us. You seriously think Luke’ll put us behind bars? Hell, the folks around here think we deserve a medal, and they don’t know the half of…”

“I said shut the fuck up!” Jethro growled.

“I’m not calling your buddy Rowe,” Kelly said, digging a knee into Jethro’s back as she fastened handcuffs around his wrists. “What we’ve got here is a federal violation.”

“Fuck you,” Jim said, kicking his legs at Rodriguez, who was bending to cuff him. “I don’t want you touching me.”

Kelly and Rodriguez exchanged a glance.

“Don’t make me add assaulting a federal officer, that’s another twenty-five years,” Kelly said.

Rodriguez settled into a squat, hands clasped in front of him. “So, boys. How long you been coyotes?”

Jim snorted. “We’re not fucking coyotes, you stupid spic.”

Jethro snapped out his leg, kicking him hard in the shin. Jim yelped, then fell silent.

“Your brother has a lot to say,” Rodriguez remarked. Kelly heard the undercurrent in his voice and knew the slur had gotten to him. “How ’bout you? You think I’m a dirty wetback?”

“Jethro Henderson. Colonel. TX- 47928878.”

“What?” Kelly asked, puzzled.

“Jethro Henderson. Colonel. TX- 47928878.”

His brother started chanting as well, changing name, rank and number, speaking with a slight lisp. Kelly and Rodriguez exchanged a look.

“Déjà vu, huh, Jones?” he said.

Jake clicked open his phone as he walked to the café on the corner. It was blazing hot outside, well over a hundred degrees. Hard to believe it was already July. He’d expected them to be married by now, and maybe even pregnant. Since he and Kelly were both older and didn’t have much family, he’d figured they’d go to the courthouse and exchange vows there. Maybe they still would, he thought. Maybe this time apart had helped Kelly clarify what she was feeling, persuading her that it was time for them to move forward. Not that he was counting on that.

He dialed her number and got voice mail again. No missed calls, either, just a text saying she was following a lead and would call when she could. Jake debated leaving a message, then texted back okay, and shut the phone.

While Jake waited for his order to be filled he scanned the baked goods. Nothing looked appetizing, but his stomach growled and he realized he hadn’t eaten anything since a mealy cafeteria sandwich the night before. He got three chicken wraps, figuring Syd would be starving when she woke up.

On the walk back he reviewed his last conversation with Kelly, and the reprobation in her voice. He knew they had different philosophies about how to work a case, and that if she joined The Longhorn Group that might become an issue. It could even end up widening the schism between them. But what was the alternative? Kelly had been miserable these past few months, conflicted about continuing with the Bureau. And even if she stayed there, she wasn’t the type to settle happily into a desk job. She was smart and talented, she could probably do well at any career she set her mind to. But once you’d worked in the field, days spent sending faxes and filing memos were soul-crushing.

If they didn’t at least end up in the same city soon, the distance between them would become far more than a physical obstacle. He was losing her, slowly but steadily, and had been even before the proposal. In all honesty, he was no longer sure that was such a bad thing.

He balanced the coffee and food in one hand while awkwardly opening the door to Randall’s apartment with the other. Jake cursed slightly as liquid sloshed out of the top, scalding him. He glanced up to find Syd smiling. She had stripped down to a camisole and panties, sky-blue against her tan skin.

“I couldn’t sleep,” she said.

He started to speak, then the bag shifted and he lunged awkwardly to grab it, spilling more coffee.

“Here, let me help you,” she said. Her hand lingered on his as she took the bag. She strolled to the kitchen, set it on a counter and bent to dig a dishcloth out of a drawer. She handed it to him, eyes fixed on his.

Jake wiped his hands, which were drenched with more than coffee. After a minute he said, “I would have gotten you a latte, but figured you’d be asleep.”

“You’re a sweet guy, Jake.”

“Yeah, well-” He cleared his throat. “Any word from your friend?”

“Not yet.” She took a step closer. “So we’ve got some time to kill.”

Jake fumbled in his pocket for his phone and checked the screen.

Syd frowned. “I didn’t hear it ring.”

“It didn’t but I-I’m expecting a call.” Jesus, he was actually stuttering. When did he become such a moron? But then, he used to know exactly what to do in a situation like this. A few years ago he would have swept Syd into the bedroom the minute he saw what amounted to an open invitation.

“I’ve still got so much adrenaline in my system,” Syd said, holding up her hand. Jake watched it hover in the air a foot from him. “Shaky. Not sure if I’ll be able to sleep unless…”

“It’s probably not a good idea,” Jake said firmly, recovering himself.

She took a step closer. He could feel the heat coming off her. One more step and what little self-control he possessed would go right out the proverbial window.

A phone rang, and Jake instinctively fumbled for his. Syd’s brow furrowed with annoyance. “It’s not yours, it’s mine,” she snapped.

She grabbed her cell from the coffee table. “Yes?” Her eyes narrowed and she glanced at Jake.

“What’s up?”

She raised a finger for him to wait. Jake tried valiantly not to notice her nipples through the filmy fabric.

“Can you defend it, or would it be safer on the move?” she asked calmly.

Clearly not her banker friend, Jake thought, settling on the arm of the couch. He sipped his coffee. From the sound of it, he might not have the opportunity for another nap. Or for anything else, he thought, as in spite of himself his eyes wandered over her curves.

“I think that’s your best option.” She listened for another moment, then shook her head. “Not possible. But we can be there in an hour or so.”

After another minute of listening, she shut the phone and turned to Jake.

“Trouble at the hospital?” he guessed.

“The Grants aren’t at the hospital anymore. I moved them to a safe house in Winters last night.”

Jake frowned. “When did we decide that?”

“I thought it was best, in case whoever took Madison wasn’t done with her yet.” She held up her hands at Jake’s expression. “Look, it was Maltz’s idea, and sounded good so I signed off on it. Then we got caught up here and I forgot to mention it.”

It bothered Jake that she hadn’t consulted him, but he decided that was a discussion for another day. In the future they’d develop a strict set of guidelines for how cases were handled. Maybe it was good they’d had this one to cut their teeth on. He was definitely coming away with a deeper understanding of what it meant to be in business with Syd. “So what’s going on?”

“During a perimeter patrol Jagerson came across a parked car with two men camped out watching the house.”

“Maybe they’re locals.”

“Maltz said that even in meth country these two stick out. No way they’re local. And they seemed to be waiting for something.”

“Reinforcements. Shit,” Jake said. He ran a hand through his hair, still stiff from sweat.

“Looks like it.” She brushed past him on her way to the bedroom. “We were pretty much done here anyway. We’ll head up there to provide support.”

“Do you have any other guys on tap?”

“Nope, those four were all I had in California. It’ll take a day to mobilize another unit and I don’t think we have time.”

“I don’t like it, Syd. We don’t know what we’re up against.”

She came out of the bedroom wearing a clean pair of jeans and a T-shirt, running a brush through her hair. “So what do you want to do?”

“Call in the Feds.”

“Jake…”

“I’m serious. Whoever we’re dealing with has some serious reach and resources. There might be fifty people coming to take the girl back. Against the six of us, I don’t like the odds.”

Syd sat on the couch, clamping a hair band between her lips and arching her back as she tugged her hair into a ponytail. Jake caught himself appreciating how this maneuver displayed her breasts and cursed under his breath. Now that his mind had gone there, it was stuck. “I don’t want a swarm of Feds coming in and getting everyone killed,” she said, wrapping the band around her hair.

“Neither do I. But if we all end up dead it won’t much matter.” Jake sensed she was wavering, and pressed the advantage. “Let me call a few people I trust. They can provide backup if this thing goes south.”

“Fine, make the call.” Syd stood and grabbed her backpack. “Let’s get on the road, I told Maltz we’d be there in an hour. And don’t forget the food.”

Randall heaved again. The convulsions were so violent it felt as if his insides were being ripped apart.

Afterward he sat back, wiping his mouth and gasping. The rational part of his brain knew this was largely psychosomatic. The gamma radiation dose he’d received would induce nausea three to six hours after exposure, but it wouldn’t make him this ill. But the stress of the situation combined with the knowledge that he had, at most, weeks left to live was affecting him.

A knock at the bathroom door. “Stop stalling, Grant,” Dante growled.

Randall climbed shakily to his feet. He hauled himself over to the sink, splashed some water on his face, and rinsed out his mouth. The mirror above it was badly cracked, rending his face into a thousand fragments. Which pretty much matched how he felt.

Randall wiped his face with a rough paper towel and trudged back outside. Dante had been unable to find another volunteer for sentry duty so he was working alone. He’d been warned that if he tried to escape or dragged his heels, he’d be shot and his family would be raped and killed. Not that he needed the warning after the show of strength earlier.

As Randall worked, his thoughts focused on what he could expect in the coming days and weeks, the gradual deterioration of his body in the face of acute radiation poisoning. Vomiting was the first sign, followed by radiation burns to exposed skin. After that, a latent phase of five to ten days before he started shedding hair. The massive loss of white blood cells would weaken his immune system, inducing fatigue and leaving him susceptible to infection. If he survived that, the real fun began: uncontrollable bleeding in the mouth, under his skin and in his kidneys; sterility; internal hemorrhaging; complete destruction of bone marrow; gastric and intestinal tissue damage. Near one hundred percent fatality rate within fourteen days. Although chances were he’d take a bullet through the temple before much of that came to pass.

Randall pulled his suit back on, knowing full well that he was kidding himself. He might as well strip down and wrap himself in cellophane for the good it would do. It was warm inside the warehouse even without the heat coming off the source, and sweat poured down his back, adding to the flu-ish symptoms. Randall pictured Audrey and Bree at her mother’s house, sitting on the couch watching television, completely unaware of the threat outside their door. His darling Madison was probably already dead. He’d fucked everything up, and for what? A little money. He’d traded the lives of himself, his family and countless others for a grand total of $160,000. Pathetic.

His limbs felt heavy as he worked the robotic arms, trying to see through the tears behind his mask.