Nick left the basement with one word on his mind. Sandoval.
* * *
CIA Director Ken Morris still had a half-eaten bagel from breakfast on his desk while he conducted three online conversations with some of his finest Mexican contacts. None of them could help track the name of the undercover agent currently operating within one of the cartels.
He took a sip of six-hour-old coffee and hit the enter key to send the latest update to President Merrick, stating there has been no progress in the ability to discover who the agent was.
One thing was for sure, the agent had quit sending messages forty-eight hours earlier and frightened many into believing the man had turned. The President was willing to throw more money at the independent contractor and Ken was willing to endorse that philosophy, but he knew deep down it signaled a new sense of desperation.
At the same time he was struggling with a cryptic message left on the CIA website the night before. A series of letters were left anonymously and his tech team could only track the message to somewhere in Mexico. Even as his team worked on the message, Ken still played with them on a yellow legal pad, switching the letters around to make sense of them.
The letters were: nvloaads.
His cell phone buzzed. Walt Jackson. He snapped the phone into the docking station on his desk and pushed the speaker button.
“Hey, Walt,” Ken said.
“You sound dejected.”
“Yeah, well, lately that’s my normal tone. What have you got?”
“I’ve got an olive branch,” Walt said.
Ken dropped his pencil on the legal pad and leaned back in his chair. “You know, Walt, it’s never been personal.”
“I know.”
“It’s just. . well, I feel responsible to keep our department secure. I have a lot of mouths to feed over here. You understand, right?”
“Of course,” Walt said. “We’re no different over here.”
Ken squeezed the back of his neck. “Walt, I am truly sorry about your losses. I’ve been on the phone nonstop pressing my contacts for a name down there and it’s just not coming. Whoever is embedded with the cartels is remarkably stealthy.”
“Or dead.”
“Or that,” Ken said, picking up his pencil and tapping the eraser on the legal pad. “Do you have anything?”
“Just one thing.”
“Yeah?”
“Does the name Sandoval mean anything to you?”
Ken shrugged. “Boy, off the top of my head I’ve got nothing, but I can run it by the analysts and see what they come up with.”
“I’d appreciate it.”
Ken wrote the word, ‘Sandoval,’ on the legal pad. “Are Nick and Matt still thinking about storming over the border?”
“It’s a miracle Matt hasn’t gone already.”
“Sure,” Ken said, swirling a circle around the eight mysterious letters. He noticed something peculiar about the series of letters he’d just written on his pad. He drew a line from the first letter of his jumbled message to the ‘n,’ in Sandoval. Then he took the second letter from the message and drew a line to the ‘v’ in Sandoval. He did this six more times until it became clear the letters matched the exact letters in the word ‘Sandoval.’
“You still there?” Walt asked.
Ken grinned, circling ‘Sandoval’ over and over, pressing the pencil tip so hard, it broke in two. “Walt,” he said. “I think I have something for you.”
Chapter 16
Garza was watering his flowers when his phone rang. He looked down at the name on his display and frowned. Julio was behind him throwing a tennis ball against the side of the building, so he handed the hose to his son and instructed him to finish watering.
Garza walked to the back of the complex and pushed the talk button on his phone.
“Yes,” he said, in a tired voice.
“Mr. Garza, are you prepared to transfer the device?”
“Yes, Sadeem,” Garza said.
“Very well. I shall meet you at your complex tomorrow night.”
Garza sighed. He found Victor eating a burrito on the back patio and sat next to him at the table. “No,” Garza said. “I don’t want you bringing that thing here. We’ll meet out in the desert. I’ll have a car meet you in town at Guedo’s Taco Shop at three. You’ll follow them to our meeting place.”
“If that is your wish. There is one other thing,” Sadeem said. “My people want me to travel with the package until it arrives into the United States. They are concerned about the stability of the device.”
Garza tugged at his hair. “This is not what we had agreed upon.”
“This material is simply much too sensitive to be left to inexperienced transporters. I am doing this for your safety as well.”
Garza could feel his pulse quickening. His expression must’ve seemed extreme because Victor had put the burrito down and was staring at his boss.
“No,” Garza snapped. “You will not be going with the package.”
There was a pause. After a few seconds, Sadeem said, “Very well. I will come by first thing in the morning to pick up my briefcase.”
The words hung there in the air and Garza recognized them for what they were. A bluff. Sadeem was in no position to call off his assault. He would have to find another method to cross the border with a nuclear device and Garza doubted he’d be able to find a substitute within a reasonable time frame. Yet, the man kept quiet and let it stew in Garza’s belly. In his mind, Garza had already spent the money and Sadeem seemed to know that. Returning the briefcase would be like returning a winning lottery ticket.
Finally, Garza said, “I do not trust you.”
“There is no need for trust. This is a business transaction. You either accept the offer or you do not. Would you like a few minutes to talk it over with your people?”
Another insult. As if Garza needed permission to make such a decision on his own.
“Okay,” Garza said. “We will bring you. But you will not be allowed to see our entry point.”
“As you wish,” Sadeem said. “As long as I am with the material.”
Garza hung up the phone and slammed it onto the table. Victor’s burrito jumped up a few inches.
“I have a bad feeling about this Sadeem character,” Garza seethed. “He insists on coming with us while we bring the nuclear device across the border. This is not how I planned things.”
“Then don’t do it,” Victor said.
Garza squeezed his eyes shut. “I must.”
“Why?”
“Because, Victor. I am simply too greedy.”
* * *
Nick, Matt and Stevie were in Roger Decker’s office contemplating their next move, while Tommy slept on the couch still battling jet lag from his cross-continental flight. Stevie sat behind Decker’s desk, his fingers scurrying across the computer keypad while he searched for a connection with the word, “Sandoval.”
Matt leaned back in a chair, writing notes on a legal pad as Nick paced.
“You’re sure there’s not one Sandoval with any law enforcement in the Tucson PD?” Nick asked Stevie.
Stevie placed his index finger on the computer screen to mark his place. “How many times do I need to say no?” Then he resumed reading something on the screen.
Nick felt a buzz in his pocket and pulled his phone out to see a text message from Julie.
“How are things going?” she asked.
Nick messaged, “Great. Getting closer every hour. How’s Thomas?”
“He misses you.”
“Love you guys.” Nick sent the final message, then returned to pacing. He would call before bedtime as usual.
Matt seemed to be drawing something on his legal pad.
“What do you have there?” Nick asked.
“You’ll see.”
Nick was glad to see Matt productively helping the process. There were two directions he could’ve gone after Jennifer Steele’s murder: depressed and distraught or bent on getting revenge. So far Matt had shown great restraint by following the plan and not jumping in a car and crossing the border all by himself.