Patton scooted his chair closer to the table. “I’m working undercover for the Drug Enforcement Administration. I’ve been tasked with finding a person—high up in the Marshals Service—who’s been trafficking illegal arms to Mexican drug cartels.”
Devlin’s eyebrows shot upward before she could control them. She recovered and folded arms over her chest.
He noticed her response. “I know this is difficult for you to take in, but I assure you. My superiors have solid Intel that the traitor is in your organization.”
“What’s the Intel?”
“For weeks now, we’ve been working to stop the flow of drugs from the Juarez Cartel...into the U.S. We’ve set up sting operations and raids. All of which have come up empty. At one point, we were even able to track Escobar Juarez’s cell phone to a specific location. When agents arrived, he was gone. He was tipped off. Someone,” Patton jabbed a finger at Devlin, “high up in your agency, told him we were coming.”
“How does this point toward,” she poked her chest with her thumb, “my agency’s involvement? Where’s the proof?”
Patton held out his arms as wide as they could go before the chains stopped him. “Do you think I’m going to carry that around with me?” He pumped a hand toward her. “Trust me. The people above me have all the evidence...and it leads to someone in the Marshals Service.”
Devlin was stoic.
“Oh, that’s right. I forgot. Trust isn’t your strong suit, is it? How about this? About a month ago, we intercepted a shipment of small arms—AR15 rifles, nine-millimeter pistols, and magazines and ammunition for both. The tech gurus at the DEA followed the money trail to a couple of cutout buyers. They said their contact person was,” Patton hesitated, “a United States Marshal.”
“What was the name of the marshal?”
“I can’t tell you that.”
“Why?” Devlin shot back, showing him her palms. “You want me to trust you, but yet you won’t—”
“I can’t tell you, because I wasn’t read in on that information.”
Devlin stood and resumed her spot near the window, peering at the woodlands, her mind overflowing with questions. Is he telling the truth? Is there a traitor in our ranks? Cupping an elbow, she rubbed her forehead with her free hand.
“Look, I know this is a lot for you to process right now. One of your own is dirty. People are shooting at you. And your partner was kill—”
“Don’t,” Devlin whirled around and took a step toward Patton, “don’t you dare go there.”
He leaned away and showed surrendering hands. “Too soon...I get it.” He nodded. “My apologies, Marshal Devlin.”
“And will you stop calling me that? I’m a deputy marshal...deputy marshal.”
“I’m sorry. I assumed those terms were interchangeable.”
“They’re not.” After a minute of glaring at the floor, at nothing specific, she wandered back to the table. “All right, Patton,” she let out a heavy breath, “even if I were to believe you—which I don’t—how was the DEA planning to find this crooked marshal?”
He cleared his throat. “Well, first of all...in the spirit of full disclosure...my name isn’t really Simon Patton.”
Devlin arched her eyebrows.
“I’m Special Agent Noah Randall.”
She shot out a puff of air. “I guess I shouldn’t be so surprised. You’ve been lying to me from the beginning.”
“Not,” Randall lifted a finger, “lying...necessary subterfuge. Working undercover requires a scant amount of truth, and much subterfuge.”
Devlin rolled her eyes. “Whatever...what was the plan?”
“I assumed the role of Simon Patton who—as I’m sure you know—embezzled money from the company he worked for and fled the country. I was to get myself arrested in Mexico and claim I had high-level information on illegal weapons coming out of the States. I was to tell what I knew in exchange for a lesser sentence.”
She turned her head and partially closed an eye at him. “How was that going to find the traitor?”
“The United States Marshals Service handles all prisoner exchanges with for—”
“Foreign countries...I know. I’m a deputy marshal. Get to the part that explains all this.”
Randall chuckled. “Right. Once I—Simon Patton that is—started shooting off my mouth about corruption in the Marshals Service, whoever was leading the illegal gun smuggling operation would have to do something. He—or she—couldn’t take the chance of being exposed.”
Devlin looked away, nodding. “They would be forced to silence you.”
“That’s right. And, when they tried...to silence me...our people would capture the perpetrator, and we’d have our first lead on uncovering the man—or woman—in charge of the whole thing.”
Devlin faced him, gritting her teeth. “My partner and I...and two other deputy marshals...were unwitting pawns in this ruse of yours.”
Randall lowered his gaze. “I realize that.”
“My partner and those two other agents are dead right now.”
“Again, I’m sorry for your loss. My bosses honestly didn’t think a move would be made on me until after I was stateside.”
“So that’s it? You throw out a ‘sorry for your loss’ and,” she snapped fingers, “all is better...all is forgiven? We just move on like nothing happened?”
“I’m not trying to trivialize the situation. What happened to those good people was a tragedy. I get that. I really do. But you know as well as I do...that they died for their country. They died upholding the law.”
“They died,” Devlin fast walked around the table and confronted Randall, her voice rising two notches in volume, “picking up a man who, from what you’re telling me, wasn’t even a criminal. Tell me how that...constitutes upholding the law?”
“Okay,” he lifted a hand, “I can see where you might have a problem with that...bad choice of words. But you need to see the bigger picture here, Marsh—” he shook his head, “Deputy Marshal Devlin. When we end up taking down this corrupt official, your partner and those other agents will have given their lives for a greater cause, for justice.”
Devlin ambled to the window behind him. She huffed. “Justice.” Her mind envisioned Hawkins and her late husband. Good men are dead while the criminals go free. “What does that even look like these days?” Seeing a branch move, she touched her sidearm.
“You have to believe me. I’m telling you the truth.”
She drew the Colt. “Shut up.”
“Oh,” his voice grew louder, “so now you’re done listening to me?”
“No. I mean,” she darted to the other windows and peeked outside, “keep quiet. I saw movement in the woods.”
∞=∞=∞=∞=∞=∞=∞
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