Part 49 (1/2)

'Follow those tankers,' Dwight said.

'They're in Mexico,' Lance said.

'So?'

'So we're supposed to respect Mexico's sovereign immunity.' They all enjoyed a good laugh.

'Who the h.e.l.l is that?'

On the screen, a pickup truck followed the last tanker across the riverbed, far enough back that it was obviously following with the intent of not being spotted.

'Someone with a death wish,' Grady the co-pilot said, 'following a cartel s.h.i.+pment into Mexico.'

Book hit the speed dial on his cell phone. After a few rings, a groggy voice came over.

'Book?'

'Henry, it's me.'

'This is early even for you, Book.'

'Sorry. I'm about to lose cell service.'

'Why? Low battery?'

'Because I'm crossing into Mexico.'

'That doesn't sound good.'

'Henry, listen. Nadine Honeywell, my intern, is in the Alpine hospital.'

'Why?'

'Long story. If you don't hear from me by eight, I need you to drive to Alpine and take her home to Austin. Will you do that for me?'

'Sure, Book. But where will you be?'

'Dead.'

Nadine Honeywell woke with a fright. Sweat matted her body; her heart beat rapidly. Fortunately, she was no longer hooked up to the machines, or the entire nursing staff would be on top of her by now and putting those paddles on her chest and screaming, 'Clear!' She gathered herself. It was just a nightmare. She checked the clock: 4:33.

'It was just a dream,' she said to the empty room.

The professor and Carla were running from a wall of fire she had been running with them in spirit, hence the sweat-but they weren't fast enough. The fire had taken them. She shook her head. A wall of fire. How silly. Right now the professor and Carla were probably doing the dirty in that El Cosmico teepee. That's where they were. She felt better now. She breathed out all the tension she had awakened with. But still- It had seemed so real.

Dwight Ford stared at the screen as if watching an action-thriller movie. His pulse had ratcheted up a notch and not because of the cold coffee he was drinking; because something bad was fixing to go down in the desert. People would die. Real people, not actors playing dead. South of the Rio Grande was a killing field. The drone banked south and the camera followed the tankers. They drove on a dirt road along the Rio Conchos deep into the Chihuahuan Desert.

Book steered the pickup carefully due to the dust kicked up by the tanker trucks. Through the dust cloud he saw the trucks' brake lights come on just as they crested a low rise in the desert. Book pulled over on the north side of the rise. They got out. The wind had picked up and carried the scent of smoke; the distant sky now glowed orange.

'Wildfire,' Carla said. 'Ignited by the lightning.'

'Wind's blowing our way.'

'Yep.'

'Let's get this on tape and get out of here.'

Carla took her camera; Big Rick donned his night-vision goggles and grabbed the AR-15. They snuck through the brush and crawled up the low rise. They lay flat on their bellies and observed the scene below. The trucks had backed up to a wide gulch. A group of armed men-'Cartel soldiers,' Carla said-had apparently been waiting for the trucks. They greeted the drivers as if they were compadres. The men opened the drain valves on the tankers and dumped the flow-back fluid into the gulch. The men then drank and laughed as if they were at a party.

'Lot of bad guys down there,' Big Rick said.

Carla captured the event on tape. The scene was lit up by the lightning strikes, which were almost nonstop, and the glowing sky from the wildfire. It was closer now.

'Arroyos,' Carla said. 'They lead to the Conchos and then to the Rio Grande. And down to the Gulf of Mexico.'

'I do believe that's an environmental crime.'

'Yep.'

'You got it on tape?'

'Yep.'

'Let's get out of here.'

Big Rick aimed his rifle at the Mexicans.

'What are you doing?' Book said.

'I'm going to take out a few Mexicans before we leave.'

'Don't.'

'Why not?'

'They have a lot more guns than we do.'

'True. But, d.a.m.n, this sure is fun.'

A shot rang out. Big Rick fell back to the ground with a bullet hole in his forehead. They turned and came face to face with two Mexican men wielding AK-47s.

'No se mueven!'

'They shot him.'

Air Interdiction Agent Dwight Ford stood in front of the flat screen. He talked to the pilots.

'Zoom in on those figures.'