As if it had a mind of its own, his thumb depressed the door latch, and he took a breath before he yanked it open.
43
LINA CIRILLO CRINGED FROM THE CIGARETTE BREATH OF LÁZARO Staub. She had strategically placed a small, round table between them as she sat in a corner of the room.
He had acted a little odd since entering, like he might be about to put the moves on her again. She knew some Latin guys just couldn't accept that a woman wasn't into them. Especially a man like Staub who had power and was not unattractive.
In a way she was flattered he thought she was interested in him and that he thought enough of her to respond. Because of her build and profession, she was often mistaken for a lesbian. Boy, was that an incorrect assessment. She was also a little sensitive about her nose and crooked smile. Both were the result of her repeated attempts to earn a black belt in karate, which she had but only after three broken noses and a jaw injury that made her look like she was out of alignment.
Staub said, "You know, the other night?"
"Yes."
He leaned closer, apparently hoping she would, too. His hands were not in front of him, so she didn't think he was going to try to molest her again.
She leaned in slightly and he said, "I am not used to women refusing my advances."
She smiled weakly. "You're in the big leagues now."
"How very American of you."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
He seemed to flex slightly, but was as startled as she was when there was a knock on the door.
Staub said, "Don't answer it."
"Why not?" She called to the door. "One second."
He seemed to sag back into his chair as she stood up and strode to the door quickly. It was getting a little weird in here.
She opened the door to a sheepish Félix Baez. "Can I come in?"
"Why?"
"So I can apologize for acting like a dick."
She looked him over, noticing the nice long-sleeved shirt and contrite demeanor.
"Join the party," she said, as she stepped out of the doorway so he could see her other guest.
As Félix stepped inside, Staub stood up. "There is plenty of room. I have another commitment. I am sorry. I was just saying my goodbyes. I will be leaving New Orleans soon to return to Panama."
Lina turned and said, "It's been a pleasure to work with you."
Even Félix added, "Yeah, you were a big help." He had to add, "In Panama."
Staub nodded and shook Félix's hand, then turned and gave Lina a kiss on the forehead.
He said, "I'm sure I'll see you again, soon."
Alex Duarte stood next to his hotel door with his pistol raised when he jerked it open. A man dressed in a sport coat and a woman in a business suit stood completely unfazed by Duarte's actions.
Even with the SIG-Sauer trained on them, the very attractive woman, in her late thirties, said, "Are you done?"
Duarte stood straight and lowered the gun slightly.
The woman made a show of slowly reaching into her giant purse and pulling out a black ID case and letting it fall open. "Meg Ruley, FBI."
He looked at the ID and lowered the SIG-Sauer.
The woman continued, "This is Tom McLaughlin with the Department of Energy."
Duarte said, "This is about the particle spectrum, right?"
"You're pretty smart," said the female FBI agent. Then added, "For an ATF agent."
Duarte didn't bite.
The woman said, "May we come inside and talk to you about this?"
"Do I have a choice?"
She just smiled, and that told Duarte everything he needed to know about her. She was a veteran, knew her stuff and didn't waste words when she didn't need to. In short, she was the real deal.
He stepped aside and watched her as she led in the taller man from the Department of Energy. Even in a drab FBI business suit, this woman was attractive. She had neat, brown hair and a body that said she wasn't afraid to work out. The way she moved told Duarte she was confident and that he was about to be thumped by a very competent agent from another Department of Justice agency.
Once they were in the room, the man said, "Those were most unusual readings from the sample." He had a light Southern accent. His glasses obscured heavy lids over brown eyes.
"In what way?"
"It was enriched U-235."
Duarte stared, hoping not to have to admit his ignorance.
The man picked up on it. "Fissionable uranium. Weapons grade."
"A bomb?"
He held up his hands. "Possibly a dirty bomb. We don't believe that a drug smuggler would have the technical capacity to arm and detonate an actual warhead. We still need a lot of info."
"Who is 'we'?"
The man and Agent Ruley from the FBI exchanged glances, and she said, "NEST."
"NEST?"
"Nuclear Emergency Search Team."
He looked back at the man. "And you work for the DOE?"
"And Lawrence Livermore Labs."
"This is serious."
"Could be. We can't take any chances."
Duarte remained silent.
Then the FBI agent, Meg Ruley, said, "It took a little time to track you down through the ICE idiot in the Port of Palm Beach, then your friend, Ms. Brainard."
"Is she okay?"
"Yeah, just in debriefing with our guys in West Palm. They all knew you and said you were okay. I was contacted to find out just what the hell is going on. As I understand it, we have an agent here, too, and someone dropped the ball."
Duarte tried to assess the woman's intent, but, being a seasoned veteran who was also smart, she gave no sign of her intentions.
Then Agent Ruley said, "I know the container had pot in it, but it had something else, too." She looked directly at Duarte. "What was it?"
He said honestly, "I wish I knew."
William "Ike" Floyd had all three of his new assistants out of the hotel room. That was a start. The younger of the three, Chuck, had left a few hours before and was just walking back to the other men standing by the big Ryder rental truck.
Ike said, "We're going to have to go our separate ways."
Charlie said, "Why? I thought we was helping you?"
"Turns out you guys have no skills."
The youngest of them, the one that had just rejoined them, said, "That's bullshit; we got plenty of skills."
"Like what?"
"Didn't you even notice me drive back in that Ford F-150?" He pointed across the parking lot of the Jacinto Arms toward the big, two-door truck with a long bed and full camper top. He added, "I got that so we could sleep in the back if we needed."
"It's set up with beds?"
"Not yet. But I wanted to show you I got skills. I can start any car in the world. As long as someone leaves the door open and a key hidden someplace simple like under the bumper or in the glove compartment, I can start the fucking vehicle." He slapped a high five with his two buddies.
Ike just stared at the scruffy younger man. What the hell was he bragging about? These idiots were really starting to embarrass him. He didn't think he could let Mr. Ortíz even meet them.
Ike just looked at them, hoping they'd take the hint and go to their newly stolen pickup and disappear.
Charlie said, "You been pullin' our chain since you met us."
"How you figure?" Ike didn't like being called a liar.
"You ain't on no big-time mission. You're probably moving some furniture or paper. You're full of shit."