IN THE EARLY HOURS OF Friday morning Ashley grabbed her backpack from her cubicle on the first floor of the Field Office, and took the stairs two at a time to the third floor. She saw a dim light at the end of the hall in Kent’s office and found Walter lying on the office sofa with his eyes closed and a phone on his chest. She sat on an adjacent chair two feet from the sofa, and made only enough noise to test how deep his sleep might be. His eyes opened.
In a soft voice she said, "Its one a. m. officially morning. Any word from DC?" Walter touched the phone on his chest with his right hand and took her hand with his left.
"Nothing new. The task force is in position. No word from Cebeck.” He swung his legs around and sat up, dropped the phone next to him and ran his hand through his hair. "Johansson can't contact Cebeck."
Ashley nodded. "He's probably asleep. He put in a long day.” She paused, then pulled at his hand to get his attention. "I've done everything I can do here. I feel the need to be down there, near the action."
"You're not alone. Johansson wants me down there, too. It's not that he doesn't trust his task force, he feels we should be in on the kill since we–that's you and I–opened this case."
"It's a long drive." She was pleased Walter included her.
"No. About ten minutes."
She looked at him and raised both eyebrows. "It's over 250 miles."
"More like five," he said with a sly grin, "to Kirkland Air Force Base across town." She didn't speak, but her expression asked–what? "Leo Adornetto has a long reach. He called the Secretary of Defense. That opens many doors. We have a Beechcraft Turboprop at our disposal."
"I trained in a Beechcraft years ago during my college days when I learned to fly and became a flight instructor.”
“Are you still current?”
“Yes, but just barely.”
Walter let go of her hand. "Time to move out." He stood, then walked to his desk and centered the phone on the seat of his chair. "Your old buddy Mark Ramirez will be here to take over communication in a few minutes. He'll find the phone because I know he'll sit in my chair."
KIRKLAND AFB OPERATES out of the Albuquerque International Sunport, a joint civilian and military airfield. Lieutenant Colonel F. Avery met them in the main lobby of the airport. "Special Agent in Charge Walter Kent?"
"Yes, Colonel Avery, this is Agent Kohen," he replied, reading the Colonel's nametag. "Sorry to disturb you at this hour, but I don’t control the timing.”
The colonel nodded. "No problem, sir. Follow me. The aircraft is standing by." The twin engine King Air sat positioned on the tarmac. Major R. Henderson, the copilot, stood by the aircraft, its door dropped to allow entrance. After brief introductions, they climbed aboard. Twelve minutes later, at 1:45 a.m., they were cleared for takeoff
With the cockpit door closed, Ashley moved next to Walter. He took her hand. "Better get some sleep, it will be a long day," She nodded and snuggled against his shoulder.
About an hour after takeoff, the King Air touched down on runway 12/30 at the Artesia Municipal Airport. Colonel Avery taxied to the general aviation building, and idled the aircraft. Major Henderson unlatched the portside door and dropped the stairs. "We radioed ahead," he yelled, over the engine noise. "There will be a ride waiting for you around in front of this building at three hundred hours–about now. Have a safe trip."
Walter dipped his head, "Give my regards to the Colonel. Smooth ride."
They walked around the darkened terminal building and spotted a Humvee with running lights on. It came equipped with a burly man in army fatigues who appeared half awake. "Are you Walter Kent?”
"Yes."
"Very good, sir. Hop in. Assault Leader Davis is expecting you."
They drove thirty-two miles east on Highway 82, then turned south on a dirt road. The Humvee bumped along for two miles then stopped at the temporary field center for Red Dog Unit–the western half of the Joint Terrorism Task Force. In the vehicle's headlights they saw a straight walled tent. When the driver killed his lights, a glow inside the tent became visible. A man stepped out of the tent as they exited the Humvee. "Good morning, Mr. Kent. I've been expecting you. Who is that with you?"
"Lead Investigator Ashley Kohen."
"Come inside, please. I'll brief you on current conditions."
Unlike the old canvas field tents, this one was made of polyester and could be erected in five minutes. Assault Leader Davis stood lean and tall with a touch of gray in his hair. He offered them folding chairs. On a plastic storage box, he rolled out a mapped layout of the target house and the JTTF positions. "The subjects of interest are less than two miles from our position. We are well out of their sight. Both my unit and Alpha Unit, east of here, have forward observers with eyes on the two-story dwelling. Your man, Agent Cebeck, has the closest vantage point. So far he hasn't reported anything since midnight." Davis tapped his iPad. "These are infrared images of the house. Our drone took them. As you can see lights-out about one hundred hours."
Ashley and Walter studied the images and the drawing. She asked, "What's your plan?"
"Our orders are to report any movement or overt actions. We know there are four men inside and assume one or more people were already in place before their arrival Thursday night, a few hours ago. If they leave, we will close in on them when ordered."
Walter asked, "Any chance of approaching tonight and mounting a listening device?"
"We thought of that, but DC said no. Director Johansson doesn't want any chance of discovery until we know more about what's going on in there. I understand we have a man on the inside."
"Yes," Ashley confirmed, "An experienced man from headquarters."
Davis nodded. "It's a wait-and-see game right now. I don't expect any change until after sun up." He noticed dark circles under their eyes. "Sorry about the accommodations. Best I can do is a couple of sleeping bags. You're welcome to catch a few hours in the back of the Humvee parked outside."
Ashley gave Davis a tentative smile.
The clear night sky allowed the moon to cast faint shadows on the desert landscape. Bright pinpoints of starlight pierced the upper atmosphere like tiny snowflakes on a black canvas, their contrast sharpened by the clear dry air of the desert.
The choice between sleeping in the Humvee or on the ground was an easy one to make. The ground offered a flat surface and space for unrestricted movement, something the military designers failed to stress in their modern version of the Jeep. What the ground didn't offer was protection from the elements. Ashley scrunched her face into the sleeping bag to avoid the desert insects and debris.
With the sunrise came a low-pressure system that stirred the winds and brought scattered clouds that soon thickened into a gloomy overcast blanket, allowing temperatures to moderate. Ashley checked the time: seven o'clock. Walter lay asleep a few feet away. She took a long look at this man who held a strange attraction for her. Strange because she had never had this kind of warm feeling for any man.
Assault Leader Davis interrupted her contemplation. "Good morning Agent Kohen. I trust you slept well?"
From the ground she answered, "Like a baby."
"Must be the desert air."
Walter rolled over and squinted up at the tall lanky form of the leader. He immediately wriggled out of his sleeping bag and stood facing Davis. "Any new developments?"
"All's quiet on the eastern front," he answered with fake seriousness. "Agent Cebeck checked in a few minutes ago. No visible movement in or around the house. Our observers report the same." He offered Ashley a hand up. "I have some hot coffee in the tent. Doughnuts are on the way."
THE HARDEST PART of directing a field maneuver from Washington DC is having to rely on status reports before decisions are made. Johansson found the lack of activity in or around Maljamar an annoyance. He paced back and forth in his darkened Command Center while keeping an eye on all the large monitors displayed on the wall overhead.
At 8:30, Mark Ramirez relayed a report from Agent Cebeck to Johansson and both field units of the JTTF. His report said Bashir had exited the front of the house and removed items from the one of the cargo units on top of the Suburban. He then drove the vehicle around to the side of the house where he parked it, and carried the items inside. Cebeck's next report came later that afternoon at four o'clock. A large, older man had stepped out on the front porch and looked around a few minutes, then reentered the house. Johansson continued to scrutinize every scrap of intelligence.
In his pocket his phone rang. The first call was from his daughter. His brother in Maryland called an hour later. He didn't have time for personal calls. He turned off his phone. He had more important things to think about than family matters.