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

adrenaline coursing through his body, a glance at one of those back windows revealed that two of Munoz’s men were gaining ground on him. As he neared the checkpoint, he knew he wasn’t going to make it.

Then he saw a man ahead of him slow-walking a bike, laden with fresh produce. Cal didn’t want to inject the man into the chase, but he had no choice if he was going to make it to the footbridge before he got caught.

As he raced toward the man, Cal ripped the bike from the man’s hands and then rotated it and heaved it in their direction on the sidewalk. There was nowhere for the men to hide. They tumbled down and Cal spun toward the checkpoint, never looking back.

Prado stood at the gate with his passport out. He didn’t know what to do, but Cal noticed him drumming his fingers on the side of his leg.

Cal held up his passport and begged the border agent to let him through as he pulled Prado with him.

“I’m Cal Murphy and this is Vincente Prado—and DHS is looking for us,” he said.

Their names triggered a rapid response from the agent, who swung open the gate and pulled them inside. And not a second too soon, as Munoz’s agents had recovered from their fall and were bearing down on them.

When Cal reached the other side, he let out a long breath and slumped into a chair.

“We did it,” Prado said.

Cal nodded. “And I hope we didn’t exchange the frying pan for the fire.”

Prado looked at him quizzically.

“It’s an American idiom. It just means I hope we didn’t go from one bad situation to another bad situation,” Cal explained.

A faint grin spread across Prado’s face. “I understand.”

***

FIFTEEN MINUTES LATER, Cal and Prado were escorted to a waiting area where Kelly and Corliss sat. Kelly leapt out of her chair and rushed over to Cal. She gave him a big hug and kissed him.

“Thank you for coming back,” she said.

“Did you ever doubt me?”

She rolled her eyes as they both walked over toward Corliss. “Thanks for coming down,” Cal said, offering him a hand.

“Don’t thank me just yet,” Corliss said. “We need to talk.”

CHAPTER 57

CAL OPENED A WATER BOTTLE and sat down at a table next to Prado. He took a sip and eyed Tom Corliss directly across from him. He wasn’t excited about the prospect of an inquisition after all they’d just been through, but anything was better than being hunted by Munoz’s henchmen.

“What do you want to know?” Cal asked.

Corliss took a deep breath and interlocked his fingers behind his head as he leaned back. “I’m more concerned with what you saw, specifically what Prado saw the night he left Cuba for the first time.”

Prado withdrew and glanced at Cal.

“It’s okay,” Cal said. “Agent Corliss is a friend. You didn’t do anything wrong—and he’s not going to send you back. Tell him what you told me.”

Prado rubbed his face with both hands and took a swig of his water before he leaned forward, both hands clasped. “I saw a man who was my friend murder another man connected to the Cuban government. My friend’s name was Juan Garcia, though Cal told me he didn’t think that was his real name.”

Corliss nodded. “Go on.”

“There’s not much more to tell. My cousin and I were taking money from my uncle’s safe when I heard a commotion going on at the docks nearby. I ran outside my uncle’s office to see what was happening—and I was just in time to see Juan take the gun away from the other man and shoot him. The other man fell into the water while Juan ran away.”

“Did you go speak to Juan?”

Prado shook his head. “At first I was more concerned with the other man lying facedown in the water. I thought maybe he could survive if I helped him. It didn’t look like Juan was trying to kill him on purpose since the other man pulled the gun first.”

“I see. Please continue.”

“But that wasn’t the last time I saw him.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, on my most recent visit, I saw him step in front of several guards shooting in my direction. He was gunned down—and I don’t think he made it.”

Corliss nodded. “That would explain some things on our end, that’s for sure.”

“Other than that, I don’t have anything else to tell you.”

Corliss wrote a few notes down on a pad. “Good. This is what we needed to know.”

Cal shifted in his seat and cleared his throat. “Prado isn’t the only one who knew him.”

“You?” Corliss asked. “You knew him too?”

“Not exactly, but he found me at a baseball game and handed me something, something he said I should give you.”

“Me, specifically?”

Cal shook his head. “No, but someone who was affiliated with the federal government, so you qualify.” He reached into his pocket and fished out the flash drive. “Here you go.”

Corliss inserted the drive into his computer. After a few clicks on the computers, his eyes widened. “Wow. This is amazing. You guys did great. The Bureau is going to flip when they see this.”

“What is it?” Cal asked.

“Confirmation,” Corliss said cryptically.

“For what?”

“For something we suspected Cuba has been doing for years now—building a centrifuge to help enrich uranium and make it weapons grade. We had eyes and ears on the ground there—and reports about Cuba working with the Russians to construct this centrifuge and then selling the uranium to the Iranians.” He paused. “Did I mention, you can’t write a word of this in the newspaper? If you do, I’ll have you locked up.”

“Come on, Corliss,” Cal pleaded. “After all we’ve done for you and the Bureau.”

Corliss didn’t flinch, refusing to look up from the images on his screen. “I said, ‘No.’ End of discussion. Not one word. Do you understand? It’s a matter of national security.”

Cal nodded and muttered a resigned, “All right.”

“May God rest Agent Garcia’s soul,” Corliss said. “Or for those of us