Jones stroking out seemed even more likely now as Gavin drove the Suburban out of the neighborhood where they had barely missed getting their hands on Scott Greene. Jones sat in the passenger seat, eyes closed, palms pressed against his temples, like he was literally trying to keep his skull from exploding.
"You all right?" Gavin asked.
"Yes," Jones said without moving.
"You don't...look all right."
Jones lowered his hands and took a few deep breaths. "I'm fine."
"Okay," Gavin said. "So now what?"
"I assume that train is headed to Mexico."
Gavin nodded. "That would be my guess." He pointed. "The border's only a couple miles by air."
"Or train," Jones said.
"Or train."
Jones picked up his iPad and studied the map display.
Gavin looked over and could see the flashing blue dot that represented their targets. The dot was getting closer to Mexico and farther away from them with every pulse.
"We need to get ahead of them," Jones said.
"World Trade Bridge is only two miles from here."
Jones nodded. "And get the bird in the air."
* * * *
Scott punched the button to end the call and handed the prepaid cell phone back to Benny.
"I can't believe you just did that," she said.
"I didn't do anything," Scott said. "That was an anony-mous call."
"An anonymous bomb threat."
"It was the only way I could think of to buy us some time."
They had climbed one train car back to the flatbed and were huddled under a tarp, next to a piece of equipment that looked like a gigantic steel valve, probably something to do with oil or natural gas wells. The train had just crossed the river into Mexico.
"You didn't tell them which bridge," Benny said.
"The first Monday of every month, I have to go to a meeting with representatives from every law enforcement agency in Laredo to be briefed by Homeland Security on the latest threats and contingency plans," Scott said. "I've al-ways thought of it as a huge waste of time, but I have learned a few things, like the protocol for a bomb threat to one of the bridges."
"What's the protocol?"
"Customs and Border Protection shuts the bridge down and conducts a complete search, and if the threat doesn't mention a specific bridge, they shut them all down."
"So you just shut down all four bridges?"
He nodded. "For at least two hours."
Benny closed her eyes and said a short prayer in Span-ish. Then made the sign of the cross.
"What did you pray for?" Scott asked.
"For God to help me save my daughter."
Scott nodded, but he wasn't going to count on divine intervention.
"And that he would not use her to punish me," Benny said.
"Why would he do that?"
"Because I'm a bad person."
"You're not a bad person," Scott said. "You're a good person caught in a bad situation."
Benny looked away.
Scott reached out and took her hand. She turned to him and looked up into his eyes. Then she smiled at him.
* * * *
An unmarked government sedan was stopped in the OFFICIAL USE ONLY lane at the World Trade Bridge in front of Gavin and Jones's Suburban, and the jackass driving it was jawing with the uniformed CBP officer in the security booth and wouldn't get out of the goddamned way.
"Blow the horn," Jones said.
Gavin gave him a look. "You really think that's going to work?"
"Try it and see."
"He's probably asking for directions to the donkey show."
Jones's only response was a grunt.
Then the CBP cop got a call on his radio.
Gavin's window was down. He could hear the squawk from the radio but couldn't make out the words. Whatever the words were they were pretty serious because the CBP cop turned all business and dropped the gate closed in front of the sedan.
"What the shit is he doing?" Jones said. Then he jumped out of the Suburban and strode toward the booth, chin jutting out like a drill sergeant. Gavin unassed the Suburban and jogged to catch up. Jones was wound pretty damned tight. Somebody had to keep an eye on him. Besides, these CBP dicks had guns and they were sticklers for the rules.
When Gavin reached the booth, Jones was waving a set of credentials in the officer's face and trying to talk over him. Still, Gavin heard the CBP officer saying something about a bomb threat.
"That's bullshit," Jones said, his voice rising with each word. "There's no goddamned bomb. There never is. Terror-ists don't warn you before they blow things up. Not since Gerry Adams sucked Bill Clinton's cock and cut the balls off the IRA." He pointed to the gate. "Now open that gate and let us through."
The CBP cop was in his mid-thirties. Not exactly an old salt, but experienced enough to know that his union contract didn't require him to take this kind of shit from another fed-eral bureaucrat. "Sir, someone called the central office and said one of the bridges was going to be blown up. Protocol demands that we-"
"One of the bridges?" Jones shouted. "You mean you don't even know which bridge was threatened?" When the man didn't answer, Jones berated him some more. "So for all you know it could be one of the other three bridges. Or none of the bridges. Is that right?"
The officer reached for the microphone clipped to his shirt. "Sir, if you want, I can call my supervisor here and you can discuss bomb threat protocols with her."
Gavin dragged Jones back to the Suburban before he got them both arrested. "What the fuck are you doing?" he said once they were both back in their seats with the doors closed and the windows up.
"Trying to get us across that bridge."
"You do realize those credentials you're so fond of flashing around are fake, right?"
"And that idiot knows the difference?"
"He's just doing his job."
"And I'm trying to do mine."
"I understood this was supposed to be a covert mis-sion," Gavin said.
"What's your point?"
"That throwing down with Border Protection isn't very smart."
"You think it's a coincidence the bridges are closed?" Jones snapped. "Right now, after Greene hopped a train back across the border?"
Gavin pointed at the gate. "You think he did this?"
"Of course, he did," Jones said. "Every time we turn around the son of a bitch is one step ahead of us."
"If you're right," Gavin said, "he's a lot more than one step ahead this time."
Jones took a deep breath and seemed to get control of himself. Like a switch had flipped inside his head. "What's the status on the helicopter?"
"Spinning up right now with my best man onboard to quarterback."
"Ground support?"
"Two four-man teams." Gavin pointed to Jones's iPad. "With you on the tracker and me handling comms, this time we're going to nail his ass to the wall."
Jones nodded. "And while all this action is going on across the river, what are we supposed to do?"
Gavin smiled. "Wait for the bridge to open."