His phone chirped.
FBI Agent Ron Mantle was calling from the Arizona barricade.
“What’s up, Ron?”
“We’ve got reports of an explosion at the Denton Motel. You know anything about that?”
Boy, was that a great question. That’s where Nick’s team was staying, but he had no idea whether they were there at the time. “I don’t,” Walt said.
“Well, you want us to head down there early?”
Walt looked at the clock on the wall. They were inside of two hours from Nick’s time limit. “Listen, Ron, how far are you from Denton?”
“Forty miles.”
“Okay, take one team down there with you. Drive an undercover car. No markings. Drive the speed limit.”
“All right,” Mantle said. “What about the rest of the crew?”
Walt chewed on his fingernail, then spit out a sliver. “Tell them to wait until the deadline.”
“Got it.”
“And, Ron.”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t cross the border, no matter what. You understand?”
“Whatever you say.”
Walt pressed the end button not sure if what he’d said was right or wrong. He’d lost sight of that line long ago. Now it was a matter of survival. How many lives could he save while keeping his team alive? He’d finally felt the weight of his decisions and dropped down into his chair; every limb was exhausted.
He leaned back and placed the phone to his forehead. “Please, guys. Just tell me what’s going on.”
Nick moved around the room, examining the contents, looking for something to tell him he was on the right track. His heart was running a little quick and he took a deep breath while searching for clues.
The guy who Chizek smacked was holding the side of his face, blood trickling between his fingers. Nick gestured to Stevie and he pulled something from his bag to take care of the guy’s wounds.
Bracco kept lurking around the pool table, his eyes darting left and right.
“What exactly are you looking for?” Chizek said, suddenly looking smug about the security of his facility.
“I won’t know until I find it,” Nick said.
“Well, the Border Patrol was just here a while back,” Chizek said. “They spent two days, scrutinizing every inch of this place. They had dogs and guys with black bags like him and you want to know what they found?” Chizek made a circle with his index finger and thumb. “Zilch.”
Nick kept looking. “Yeah, well, maybe you were tipped off ahead of time. Maybe the Border Patrol agents weren’t searching where they should’ve.”
Chizek chuckled. “Agent Bracco, you’re wasting your time as a government employee. You should be a fiction writer.”
The room was still while Bracco got on his knees and examined something on the floor near the base of the pool table. Something about the table bothered him. It sat on a wooden platform which served no purpose. The floor was cement, so there was no need to protect it from scrapes or scratches. He squeezed his finger under the platform and felt a crack in the cement. Maybe a forced break, maybe not.
He looked up to see Chizek acting casual, like he was having a cup of coffee with friends. Matt just kept staring at the guy, dying for him to do something stupid.
“He okay?” Bracco asked Stevie, working on Chizek’s henchman.
“He’ll be fine,” Stevie said.
“Good. Tie him up.”
Stevie sat the guy on a stool against the counter and pulled his hands behind his back and began taping him up.
His partner seemed to focus on a set of lights which stood out among the desert landscape. Garza’s complex.
“That’s Mexico,” Chizek told him. “No need to look over there.”
Matt said nothing, but Nick knew what his partner was thinking. There it was, beckoning him like a meteor being pulled into the earth’s gravity.
Nick was fighting time now. Within a couple of hours Garza would see the cavalry coming and scurry back into his hole. He’d be out of reach and untouchable. Nick wanted to lure him over the border and snatch him up before he was warned. Especially since Nick and Matt were now considered dead.
Nick found a remote control sitting on a side table next to Chizek’s beer. He held the device for a moment, then walked over to Stevie and handed it to him.
“Look at this,” he said.
Stevie removed a microscope from his black bag and placed it on the pool table. Then he slid the remote under the lens.
Chizek didn’t seem to like that move, but he wasn’t lawyering up, so he must’ve felt comfortable with everything so far.
“Three digits,” Stevie said, while staring through the single eyepiece. “That’s how many buttons are depressed routinely.”
“Good,” Bracco said. “That means there’s only six combinations of that sequence. Try all six.”
Stevie picked up the device and tried pushing the three numbers all different ways.
Nothing happened.
Chizek smiled, looking more confident with every minute that passed. “Do I need to be here while you do this?” he said. “I could use some beauty sleep.”
“You’re a funny guy,” Nick said.
Stevie kept playing with the remote while Nick pulled out his mini-flashlight and found a set of tracks on the floor leading to the garage doors on the north side of the room.
“You have a lot of mining equipment on this floor?” Nick asked.
“Nope,” Chizek said. “This is strictly the administrative wing of the building.”
“I see,” Nick said, following the tracks to the massive door and shining the light outside. “What’s the loading dock for then?”
Chizek hesitated before answering that.
Nick looked at him.
“We throw parties sometimes,” Chizek shrugged. “We need a wide access for our deliveries. Sometimes we’ll have a band play for the Christmas party.”
“Now who’s the fiction writer?” Nick said.
Chizek’s face became even wider, showing Nick a mouthful of teeth.
Stevie was back at the microscope, eyeing the remote again. “I think I know what’s going on,” he said.
“Yeah?”
“I think it’s a four digit number, but the first three are the same, that’s why they’re so worn. The fourth number is different for each command.”
Chizek’s smile vanished.
“Go on,” Nick said. “I’m listening.”
“Well, if I’m right about this,” Stevie said, taking the remote and holding it out in front of him. “I simply need to find the correct sequence for the first three digits, then keep trying a different fourth until I come up with a match.”
Chizek lost his enthusiasm altogether. He seemed to be checking out an exit strategy, but Matt was paying close attention.
Stevie played with the remote, pressing a sequence of numbers, then glancing around the room for activity.
Nothing.
“You look worried,” Nick said to Chizek.
The man stood there like a trapped squirrel.
Stevie tried a new sequence.
Nothing.
Nick pointed to Chizek and said to Matt, “Get him wrapped up, so we don’t waste any time.”
“You’re playing with fire, Agent Bracco,” Chizek said, taking a step back.
Chizek’s henchman also seemed concerned, but kept still.
“You need to work on your threats,” Nick answered, examining the room for movement every time Stevie tried a new sequence.
Matt secured the large man to a stool, wrapping his legs around the legs of the stool, then needing both arms to drag his bulk along the cement floor until he reached the refrigerator. He handcuffed the man to the handle of the fridge, then followed Stevie’s attempts.
Stevie held out his arm each time he imputed a new series of numbers. Now, he held it out and said, “Shhh.”
“What?” Nick asked.
“I hear something.”
Stevie repeated the sequence into the remote, then stood still. There was a distant creaking noise. Chizek pulled at his bindings, making noise as he rubbed the handcuffs against the refrigerator door.