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Tuesday, May 31
Pecos, Texas
Flint flew the helicopter expertly, battling exceptionally strong winds from Austin to Marfa and then along US 67 south to Presidio, Texas. Kim kept her jaws clamped shut and controlled her breathing to make sure her stomach contents stayed where they should be.
There was no direct road to travel. The flight path cut at least an hour off the ground travel time. Maybe more.
The last sixty miles of US 67 was mostly flat, open sunbaked land with more cattle than people.
“If your car broke down on this road, you’d wait a long time for someone to find you,” Kim said into the headset.
Flint craned his neck to take a wider look. “Yeah. There’s a bit of traffic. But not enough to depend on, that’s for sure.”
“Have you seen any homes since we left Marfa?”
“Not many. A handful. No gas stations, either. They’d better fill up before they make the trek, for sure,” Flint replied.
When they came closer to Presidio, she began to see a few trees and scrub dotting the tan ground here and there. She counted ten surveillance towers with high-tech cameras used for digital security placed around the perimeter of the town.
“How far do you think they can see with those things?” Flint asked.
“Probably read a license plate from a mile away. Cuts down on border personnel and it’s more effective,” Kim said. “The cameras record what they see, which can eliminate mistakes, too. The records are stored and can be reviewed later.”
“So Cooper could find Elana and Javier on those recordings?”
“In theory, I guess. I mean, first he’d need to narrow the time frame. We don’t know when they entered the country. Then he’d have to spend a few hours watching video.” Kim shrugged. “None of that’s likely to happen. But the task force guys might do it, if we can give them a firm lead.”
After a few minutes of silence, Flint asked, “How about a short observation tour of the place before we land?”
“Please.”
At this point, Kim noticed, the Rio Grande was narrow enough to cross from one side to the other with little difficulty.
The U.S. Customs and Border Protection Point of Entry was obvious from a significant distance. Never-ending ultraviolet radiation on border agents and personnel was a serious problem along the border, particularly in places like Presidio where there was no natural shade at the entry point. Various forms of tactical infrastructures had been developed by the US government to manage the various impacts of the ultraviolet border.
A security canopy had been constructed to cover the Presidio station and protect people from the unrelenting sun. A long line of vehicles waited to pass through the checkpoint and cross over the river at the two-lane bridge.
Inside the canopy, an array of surveillance cameras hosting facial recognition software for biometric processing were constantly gathering data on people passing through the checkpoint.
“Seen enough?” Flint asked.
“Yeah, thanks. We need to get on the ground,” Kim replied, adding the data from the checkpoint cameras to a long mental list she’d pass along to Gaspar and to Cooper.
Flint circled again and headed north along US 67. As they approached the tiny Presidio Lely International Airport, which was not much more than a nicely paved runway surrounded by dirt, Kim tightened her grip on the armrests.
Flint grinned. “Don’t worry. You’ve held onto your stomach this far. You won’t lose it now.”
Kim didn’t bother to argue. She wasn’t afraid of flying. She was properly cautious about all of the possible pitfalls, that’s all. No point in explaining that to him again.
He landed the helo as gently as possible, which she appreciated.
Flint began shutting the helo down while Kim reconnected the burner cell phone that connected her with Gaspar via a secure satellite.
He’d sent three texts. The first had been copied to Flint and he probably picked it up earlier.
The first text gave coordinates for the Presidio airport and helipad. They were sitting in the exact spot now.
The second text confirmed the SUV’s position in the parking area nearby.
“Gaspar came through. Our SUV is in the lot. I’ll meet you there,” she said as she removed her headset.
Flint flashed her a thumbs-up.
She settled her sunglasses on her nose, climbed out of the cabin, and set her feet on solid earth. Finally. She exhaled a pent-up breath.
The oppressive Texas heat was supplied by the unrelenting sun blazing almost directly overhead. The forecast high temperature for the day was one hundred ten degrees.
“Dry heat,” she reminded herself, as if it mattered. A hundred and ten degrees was hot regardless of the humidity levels.
Kim grabbed her laptop case and left her travel bag in the helo. The extreme heat would probably melt her toiletries, but there was nothing she could do about it.
She headed around the building to the parking lot.
There were a few vehicles parked together. The black SUV waited exactly where Gaspar had said it would be.
There was a security keypad placed under the door handle. Kim punched in the code Gaspar provided and heard the door locks pop open.
She stashed her laptop case in the back and moved to open the driver’s door.
The temperature inside had to be hot enough to fry an egg. She touched the leather seat with the palm of her hand and pulled it back fast, as if she’d been burned.
Kim wondered how long a human body would last when confined inside a space so hot. She certainly felt like she was melting.
She leaned inside and started the engine and cranked the air conditioning to full blast, circulating cooler air. She left the front door open for a couple of minutes, allowing some of the heat to escape. She hoped.
Kim climbed into the driver’s seat, which felt hot on her ass even through her pants.
Whoever delivered the SUV had been a much larger person. She adjusted the seat and the mirrors.
She closed the door and pointed the cool air vent directly at her face.
She retrieved the phone and read the third text from Gaspar again.
Martin Weber’s residential address. He’d also included Weber’s duty schedule. She punched Weber’s address into the GPS system. A ten-minute drive, according to the maps.
“Weber is working the early shift today. Gets off at three. We have time for lunch before we connect with him,” Kim said when Flint opened the passenger door and joined her.
“Fine by me.” He settled into his seat.
When he touched the hot metal of his seatbelt buckle, he yelped and dropped it back into the retractor.
“How do people live out here? It’s impossible to breathe the air. It burns your windpipe all the way down to your lungs,” Flint said, sucking on his burned thumb.
“Can’t argue with you there.” Kim hadn’t buckled up either and for the same reasons. “Let’s find a burger somewhere that has air conditioning. We’ll leave the SUV running while we eat. Maybe it’ll cool off in less than an hour.”
“Sounds like a solid plan,” Flint said, still examining his sore digit.
She rolled the SUV out of the parking lot and onto the pavement on US 67 headed south to the center of town.
Heat radiated from the pavement, shimmering above the blacktop. Even wearing polarized sunglasses, the shimmer distorted her view.
The first eatery they found was a fast-food joint.
“How about this?” Flint said, sticking his thumb toward the giant neon burger advertising a drive through option. “We can’t get a beer, but we can eat without leaving the cool air again.”
“I don’t drink at lunch when I’m working, but I would like to find a couple of locals to question. That parking lot looks deserted, though,” Kim said as she drove past.
“What are you going to ask the locals? ‘Seen any killers lately?’” Flint teased.
Kim nodded. “Yep. That’s my opener. We should have this case wrapped up before lunch.”