Dead Man's Land by Jack Patterson (digital e reader .txt) 📕

Hampton, who rolled his eyes. “This ought to be fun.”

Waller answered the call and put it on speaker. “Yeah.”

“Do you have them yet?” his supervisor asked.

“Don’t you think we would’ve called you by now?”

“Just checking. Things are starting to heat up on this story and we need to get some answers fast.”

“Things are starting to heat up? What do you mean?”

“The Seafarers reported Prado as missing after an attempted bus jacking.”

“And this is heating up because—”

“Because it’s starting to get picked up by some national media outlets.”

“It’s not even morning yet. How does anyone know about this?”

“It was all over local law enforcement scanners in Baker City. I’m sure someone there first reported it—and it’s just continued to spread like wildfire.”

Waller turned to Hampton and mouthed “local law enforcement” and then growled. “What do you want us to do?”

“I want you to do the same thing you were supposed to do from the very beginning of this assignment—bring in Vicente Prado.”

“It’s only two of us, boss. We’re not superhuman.”

“Better find a way to do it fast. It’s my job on the line at this point.”

“We want nothing more than to make you proud.”

“Good. And one more thing—”

“What’s that?”

“There’s a reporter who is allegedly with Prado. A guy by the name of Cal Murphy.”

Waller stared out ahead at the empty road. “I’ve heard of him. Does he write for The Times?”

“He does. He’s some hotshot journalist. But we don’t know if he went with Prado voluntarily or if it was a hostage situation.”

“Why would Prado want a hostage?”

“Who knows? Why does any criminal do anything when they feel threatened? It’s always about survival. We can’t confirm that Murphy went with him on his own volition or if he was coerced, but both men remain missing.”

Waller took a deep breath. “So, what you’re saying is that we might be able to appeal to this Murphy character if he went with Prado on his own accord?”

“Exactly. Just be careful how you go about it. It could be a dicey situation.”

“Don’t worry. We won’t let you down.”

“Better not. I’m counting on you succeeding. I’ve only got six months to retirement and I don’t want to give anybody an excuse to fire me.”

Waller smiled at Hampton. “We’d never let that happen, boss.”

“Good. Call me when you’ve got an update for me.”

“Will do.” Waller hung up. He turned toward Hampton. “Got any ideas how to flush these guys out?”

“Well, they don’t know we’re looking for them. We at least have that advantage.”

“So you want to just shout as we ride along the road that we’re federal agents and we’re here to help?”

Hampton sighed. “I’ll try anything. If you think that’ll work—”

Dawn finally started to break, but Waller still required the use of his headlights. He slowed down. “What’s that up there?”

“It looks like two guys on foot.”

Waller grinned. “Get ready to run them down.”

CHAPTER 12

TORRES FINALLY CAUGHT UP with Ortega, who was bent over with his hands on his knees. Between panting breaths, Ortega took his right hand off his knee and pointed into the woods.

“Over there,” Ortega said, still struggling to catch his breath.

Torres, who wanted to dress down Ortega first, instead turned on his flashlight and pointed the beam in the area Ortega directed. He couldn’t see anything at first—or hear much of anything either other than the faint rustling of leaves from the trees overhead.

Ortega stood upright. “I think they’re hiding over—”

“Sshhh!” Torres held his hand up in the air and leaned toward the area where his flashlight shone, straining to hear any sound.

“They’re gone,” Ortega said.

As soon as the words left Ortega’s mouth, two deer leapt up and bounded off deeper into the woods.

Torres’s jaw held firm as he turned both his body and his flashlight slowly toward Ortega. “You saw two deer? That’s why you took off running and alerted everyone in this godforsaken forest that we were here? I ought to tie you to a tree and leave you right here.”

“It’s dark.” Ortega’s voice went up a couple of octaves. “I thought it was a couple of dudes.”

“If you saw two dudes running on all fours, we need to be the ones running from them.”

Ortega shrugged. “It was an honest mistake.”

“A mistake is misspelling a word or giving someone back too much change. Mistaking two deer for humans is stupidity.”

“Hey, now. Hunters get shot in the woods all the time because other hunters think they’re deer.”

“And there’s no intelligence test for you to purchase a gun in this country either. I stand by my statement. Now let’s get back to the car and get out of here before that crazy man shoots us—and claims he thought we were deer.”

As they walked back toward the Hummer, Torres’s phone buzzed.

“Yeah,” he answered.

“Where’s my money?” a man asked.

Torres sighed. “Look, I’ll get it for you as soon as I can. I’m working on having it to you in a few days.”

“Where are you?”

“Where I am isn’t important. What’s important is that I’m out working to get your money.”

“You better not be messin’ with me, Torres. I know where you live.” He paused. “Even better—I know where your mother lives.”

“Hey, now you leave her out of this.”

“I’ll get to her first—and then I’ll track you down. You’ve got five days. The clock’s running. Tick tock.” He hung up.

Torres grunted as he shoved his phone back into his pocket.

“Who was that? Gallego?” Ortega asked.

“Yeah. And he wants his money.”

“Let’s hope we can find Prado by then and get him back to Cuba.”

“We might have a chance—as soon as you stop chasing deer through the woods and firing off your gun. We need to keep a more discreet profile, especially now that he knows we’re onto him.”

They finally arrived back at their vehicle and got inside. The early morning light was starting to illuminate the backside of the mountains to the east. It cast a bright glow, one Torres hoped was a sign that things were about to turn in