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

cap made him seem like an egomaniacal fool. Try as he wanted to hide them, he couldn’t—they just fanned out like a peacock and he never resisted the temptation to strut when they were in peak bloom.

As many times as he and Hampton had bungled the case, he deserved to miss out on the personal glory this time around. But in the past he’d missed well-deserved chances at praise, too. Undue adulation for this case would only serve as justice—at least, in his mind.

When he arrived on the bridge, he checked in at the front desk. They told him to report to the management waiting area.

“Who are you looking for?”

“I’m waiting for a man named Vicente Prado and another guy named Cal Murphy.”

The man shook his head. “Wow, they must be some high priority assets for you guys today. You’re the second agent to ask me about them specifically.”

Waller’s eyes narrowed. “Who was it that asked about them?”

“I believe I sent the gentleman to the management waiting area. It was only a few minutes ago.”

Waller didn’t say a word, choosing instead to dash down the hall in the direction the man behind the counter had pointed. He rushed into the room only to find a sharply dressed FBI agent thumbing through old copies of Sports Illustrated magazines.

“You Corliss?” Waller said, offering his hand.

Corliss nodded. “Who’s asking?”

“Gas Waller, Miami office.”

“Nice to meet you, Waller. What brings you down here on this fine morning?”

“Same reason that you’re here—Vicente Prado and Cal Murphy.”

Corliss didn’t flinch, continuing to flip through the magazine as if interested in its contents. “Who told you that?”

“News travels fast around here—especially when two FBI agents from different offices are trying to detain the same people.”

“I’m not leaving without them,” Corliss said, refusing to look up as he licked his thumb and turned the page.

Before Waller could respond, a stocky border patrol agent walked into the waiting area. “Gentlemen, you have some visitors.”

Waller hustled behind the agent, ignoring Corliss altogether.

They’re mine.

When he entered the room with the agent, he only found three people—Torres, Ortega, and Kelly Murphy.

“Where’s Vicente Prado and Cal Murphy?” Waller demanded.

“Not here,” Corliss said. “But I suspect they’ll be here shortly.”

“I’m not going anywhere without them,” Waller demanded.

Corliss shrugged. “Suit yourself, but my office has precedence on this case. And from what I’ve read in the case files, you guys don’t even have clearance to know what’s going on. My unsolicited advice to you would be to take these two thugs and get out of here with a win. I’ll make sure Homeland Security gets what they want out of Prado.”

Waller’s eyes narrowed. “Like hell you will.”

“This isn’t a negotiation,” Corliss countered. “This is me being considerate. I could take all of them in and leave you with nothing, but that wouldn’t be very nice to you, considering all the difficulty you’ve had trying to apprehend these two men.”

“Why you self-righteous, arrogant—”

Corliss continued. “And here they are, just walking in the front door of your office, surrendering to you.”

Waller scowled. “I have half a mind to deck you where you stand—”

“I’m trying to help you out, Agent Waller. Really, I am. Take these guys in,” Corliss said, gesturing toward Torres and Ortega. “Get a win out of this.”

Waller started to pace around the room, his pulse quickening. He clenched his fists, wanting desperately to draw back and deliver a vicious punch right between Corliss’ eyes. He was pondering his response when Hampton stormed into the room.

“Oh, good, you’ve got ’em,” Hampton said. “I got a call and I was beginning to get worried that you weren’t here or something else happened.”

Waller looked over his shoulder at Corliss. “Pretty boy here—”

“It’s Agent Corliss.”

“Agent Corliss here suggests that we take Torres and Ortega and get out of here since we aren’t authorized to handle the questioning in this case beyond a few simple questions. But I’m about ready to cram my fist down his throat—”

“Let’s take ’em and get outta here,” Hampton said, unwilling to listen any of Waller’s further ramblings. “This is who we really came for—the guys who made us look foolish. Now they’re the fools, surrendering to us. Let’s book ’em and be done with it.”

Waller stopped. “Don’t you think it’s strange that they would simply turn themselves in rather than remain in Mexico?”

“Not all criminals are idiots,” Hampton said. “Besides, they’d probably be dead by morning if they did something to Munoz’s boys, so it’s likely a safe play on their part. Isn’t that right, boys?”

Torres and Ortega nodded and said nothing.

“I don’t like this,” Waller said.

“What’s not to like? We’re going to get medals for apprehending these thugs.”

Corliss smiled. “Good decision, Agent Hampton. I trust your partner will exercise that same wisdom in agreeing with you.”

Waller sighed. “Okay, fine. Let’s get out of here before I change my mind.” He turned toward Corliss. “Good luck getting your man. Those two are slippery.”

“I always get my man,” Corliss said. “Always.”

CHAPTER 56

CAL POUNDED ON THE BACK of the passenger seat, urging the cab driver to go faster. He glanced over his shoulder at the truck bearing down on them. Inside were several angry members of Munoz’s cartel. The margin for error had moved from scant to non-existent.

“Tell him to stop up there,” Cal told Prado as he dropped three twenty-dollar bills on the passenger seat.

Prado followed his instructions and the cab driver nodded.

“You ready?” Cal asked.

Prado nodded.

The moment the car skidded to a stop, Cal and Prado flung open their doors and sprinted down the footbridge of the Gateway International Bridge, spanning the Rio Grande. For a moment, Cal considered jumping into the Rio Grande, though he wasn’t sure he’d have such an advantage in the river’s murky waters.

Just don’t look back.

Cal pumped his arms and used the back windows and polished surfaces of cars to serve as mirrors for him. He lagged behind the more fleet-footed Prado, but not by more than a few meters.

“Keep going,” Cal shouted.

Despite the