Undercover Warrior

“And your heart?”

“I guess mine doesn’t sing loud enough.” She gave him a hesitant smile, then placed the plant in the windowsill next to her desk. “Hank almost killed it, but I took it from him before he could toss it in the trash. Since then, I’ve done everything I could to make it grow and bloom, but so far nothing.”

“I’ll speak to my brother, but I’m sure it’ll be okay if you want to take it with you.”

“Thanks,” she said, wiping away her tears with a now muddy, gloved hand. “I can’t seem to stop crying, but I’m okay.”

He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped her face. “You’re a strong woman, Erin, but you reached your limit. It happens.”

“To you?”

“It did—once,” he said.

She tried to force herself to swallow so she could stop crying, but her eyes continued to fill with tears. She didn’t dare blink.

He placed a hand on her shoulder and gave it a squeeze, but she moved back. “Let’s get back to work. Tell me what you need.”

“How about a list of company employees, starting with the ones who live here in town?”

“I can access payroll, but I’d have to use my computer. Is that okay? They never touched it.”

“Keep your gloves on, but go ahead,” he said. As she sat down, he added, “Do you always issue checks to your employees, or do some get paid in cash?”

Her eyes were brimming with tears and it made the numbers on the screen swim but somehow she pulled herself together. “No cash. Most of the money is deposited directly into the employees’ bank accounts, but for a few, we still cut checks. Payday is every two weeks—next Friday is the next one,” she said, pushing the cell phone she’d left on her desk out of her way as she reached for paper. After loading it into the printer, she looked up at him. “Should I put my cell phone back in my purse?”

“No, that has to stay,” he said. “We’re still looking for Hank’s cell phone, too. You sure it was at his house?”

She stared at her desk, lost in thought. “That’s what he told them, but if it’s there, it could be anywhere. Last time he lost it, he ended up finding it in his laundry hamper.” She paused. “But maybe he didn’t go straight home last night after his flight arrived... He has a girlfriend.”

“What’s her name?” Kyle asked, just as Preston came in.

“Frieda Martinez. He met her about two weeks before he left for Rota, Spain. She was good for him. Though he’d been irritable at work, his whole attitude would change whenever she called. I think he was falling in love with her, not that he would have ever admitted it.”

She printed out the complete list of company employees, then handed it to Kyle. “Should I look around inside Hank’s office now to see if anything there catches my eye?”

“Go ahead,” he said.

“Those are the newest things in here,” she said, pointing. On top of Hank’s desk were two opened cardboard boxes he’d addressed to himself and mailed here from Spain.

As Kyle came up and took a closer look, he recalled following Hank to a municipal post office in Rota. At the time that had struck him as odd because the base had excellent postal facilities. “Do you know what was inside these?”

She shook her head. “They arrived yesterday, but they were addressed to Hank, so I just set them aside. When I came in this morning they were open, but we never had a chance to talk about it.”

Kyle took a pen from his pocket, pulled back the flaps, then stirred up the foam peanuts inside.

She looked over his shoulder. “That’s strange. Those are volt meters, but...”

“Looks like they’ve been gutted, but what did he do with the electronics that were inside them?” Kyle continued to sort through the box. “They’re not here. All I see are the outside shells and a few of the metal screws used to hold them together.”

“I can’t answer that. I don’t know,” she said.

“Did any of the men who came for him show any interest in these boxes?” Kyle asked.

“No. Their attention was on Hank and me.”

In addition to the dismantled volt meters Kyle saw other disassembled plastic and metal electronic devices, including stud finders and other sensors. “Lots of packing material in here just to protect what looks like junk.”

“What about that padded envelope?” Preston said, coming in and pointing to the top of the file cabinet.

“That arrived this morning.” Out of the corner of her eye, Erin saw Kyle remove a small, familiar-looking cylinder from the shipping box and slip it into his jacket pocket.

Before she could comment, Detective Bowman tore open the envelope and dumped its contents on the desk. Stacks of one hundred dollars bills held together with rubber bands came tumbling out. “Apparently he also mailed this to himself from Spain.”

“I have no idea why he’d be mailing cash back home,” Erin said. “Of course it’s possible he carried the cash over there originally to pay contractors or something... But why mail currency? It would have been easier to just transfer funds from the base to the bank here, or bring it back in his carry-on.”

As Preston’s phone rang, he hurried back outside. Once alone, Kyle’s gaze stayed on her. “If that amount of cash had been withdrawn from his business account, you would have noticed it while balancing the books, correct?”

“That didn’t come from any of the accounts I handled,” she said.

“It looks to me that there was a part of your boss’s business you knew almost nothing about.”

All she could do was shrug. “Had you said that to me a few hours ago, I would have told you that you were crazy. Now, I’m just not sure.” As another thought suddenly occurred to her, her eyes widened. “The men didn’t get whatever it was they were after, and now Hank’s dead. What’s to stop them from coming back and trying to get answers from me next?”

“Me.”

He’d said it without any particular inflection, and that’s what made it so scary. That edge of danger, that toughness nothing seemed to pierce, was as much a part of him as the gun he carried on his belt. Yet she’d seen another side of him when he’d realized she was crying. He’d been gentle and kind then, the opposite of the deadly warrior who’d initially come to her aid.

Preston poked his head back into the room. “We’ve found Leland’s cell phone through its GPS chip. Let’s move.”

“Do you want me to wait here?” she asked Kyle as he was striding to the door.

“No. Stick with us, you’ll be safer. We’d also like your help looking through Leland’s home.”

“But I’ve only been there a few times. I’m not really familiar with it.”

“You still have the advantage over us,” Kyle said. “We’ve never been there. Let’s go.”

Chapter Four

“A word?”

Kyle recognized Preston’s icy tone and knew what was bothering him. Preston seldom missed much. Despite that, he decided to play it out. “What’s up?” he asked, stepping away from the SUV.

“Don’t give me that bull,” Preston growled. “What did you find in the box, and why the hell didn’t you turn it over? NCIS has given us the job of processing evidence, and it’s not up to you to pick and choose. Are we working together or not?”

“Your department’s cooperation is crucial, but I have to treat what I found as classified for reasons of national security. You in?”

Preston nodded.

Putting his latex gloves back on, Kyle pulled the small device he’d found inside the box out of his pocket. “I really doubt there’ll be any usable prints on this, except maybe Leland’s partial, but based on the markings this is an electrical detonator manufactured in Spain. You can’t get hold of something this sensitive in the U.S. without shoveling through a truckload of grief, and maybe not even then.”

“So that’s why you want to search Leland’s place ASAP. You think he shipped detonators hidden in those dismantled electronics and overlooked this one.”

“So now we need to find the rest of them,” Kyle said.

“How long have you had Hank Leland under surveillance?”

“Since he was spotted in Rota, Spain, meeting with a man on the watch list, a freelance bomb maker with ties to Spanish ecoterrorist groups. That was two weeks ago. I watched him land at the airport last night, get his luggage and pick up his Silverado. After that I followed him to his office. He stayed here for a while, which I suppose is when he unpacked the box, took the tools apart, and found the detonators.”

“Where’d he go next?”

“He got into his pickup and headed home, which is ten miles south, off highway 281. He took the old road so I had to give him plenty of room. It was pretty much deserted that time of night, and his house is all by itself out there.”

Preston nodded. “I know. I checked. You can spot vehicles for miles.”

“Once he got home, he pulled into the garage and never left again. No other vehicles drove up, either. I maintained surveillance until 3:30 a.m., then drove back into town and checked into the Chamisa Lodge. After catching a few hours’ sleep, I returned to his place at 6:00 a.m. There were lights on inside—still no other vehicles—and there was only one set of tracks leading into the property. Leland left for work at seven, and was still there when I went to meet you for breakfast.”

“So, let’s assume these terrorists are looking for their detonators. What’s their target?”

“I don’t know and that’s a problem,” Kyle said.

“Let’s go to Leland’s house and look around for his cell. We need to find out who he called after his return,” Preston said. “I’ll also get hold of Joe Pacheco. He’s a former police detective, and keeping his eyes and ears open is second nature to him.”

“Don’t ask him about the detonators directly,” Kyle warned.

Preston got the number from Erin and dialed as Kyle walked over to where she was waiting.

“We’re still working out a few details,” Kyle told her. “We’ll leave in a minute.”

After his call, Preston motioned Kyle over. “I asked Joe about the type of explosives used by Secure Construction. He said they use a proprietary mix of ammonium nitrate, but they pick it up from Zia Limited as needed. He also said that they use fuses and blasting caps instead of electrical detonators.”

“All right, let’s get rolling,” Kyle said, started to walk away, then stopped and looked back. “Anything on either of the dead kidnappers?”

“Nothing yet. The Office of the Medical Investigator processed their fingerprints, but there’s nothing on record—they’re ghosts. We’re using facial recognition software and running that through the database, and checking with Interpol, but it’ll take time. I have a feeling they’re foreign nationals—Spanish, most likely, for obvious reasons. The truck they used for the hit on the ambulance was stolen and they avoided cameras at that intersection. One more thing. The one who shot himself...those bruises on his face predated his death by at least a week. That’s based on the medical investigator’s preliminary report.”

“Get Daniel up to speed on this. He’s got clearance,” Kyle said.

Daniel Hawk, their foster brother, owned the largest security firm in the Four Corners. Level One Security protected more than half the high profile businesses and state government installations in Northern New Mexico.

“Once we identify the terrorist group we’re dealing with, Daniel may be able to suggest possible targets in this area—facilities or personnel,” Kyle said.

“Good plan.”

“I’ll take Erin over to Leland’s house. Let’s see if on the way there, I can get her to tell me something we don’t already know.”

* * *

THOUGH KYLE’S GAZE was on the road ahead, he was aware of everything about the woman beside him. Erin intrigued him. She accepted her own vulnerabilities instead of trying to conceal her fears, and held it together when it mattered.

Hearing the incoming-call tone, Kyle glanced at the phone display and saw Preston’s name. He connected the call and said, “I’m here.”

“I just got a report from the officer watching Leland’s residence. Someone drove up and slipped inside through the back. I told the officer to wait for backup unless the suspect gets back into his vehicle and tries to leave.”

Kyle pressed down on the accelerator. “Back up your officer and cover the rear. I’ll take the front and block the driveway.”

After he ended the call, he glanced over at her. “When we get there, stay inside the SUV and duck down. This thing is built like one of your safe rooms, and no one can get in once it’s locked.”

“IRS, huh? I don’t think so,” she muttered. “Who are you, really?”

“Your best friend while this investigation is ongoing.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

“You saw my badge and you know the Hartley P.D. trusts me. That’s all you need.” He made a hard left that had her groping for the armrest.

“How long have you lived in this area?” he asked Erin as they were forced to slow down almost to a crawl. Up ahead, several steers had wandered up to the shoulder and were eating tall grass fed by runoff. Two ranchers were busy trying to get the animals back through an open gate into a pasture.

“Practically all my life,” Erin answered. “There’s plenty of work, with all the oil and gas companies. I earn a decent salary, so with luck, in a few years I’ll have the stake I need.”

“To do what?” He moved to the right shoulder, eased past the men and the cattle, then was able to pick up speed again.

She sat back in her seat, adjusting to the sudden acceleration.

“I’m going to buy some decent farmland and grow chiles,” she said. “I’ve got a green thumb, and love getting my hands dirty and working with the soil. Farming...that’s my dream. One day it’ll be more than that—it’ll be a fact.”

There’d been no wavering and, for a moment or two, she’d reminded him of himself. He’d worked hard to get to where he was. Nothing had ever come easy, but he’d stuck to his dream and achieved what he’d set out to do. He had a feeling she would, too.

“Hang on!” Kyle made a sharp turn to the right off the highway, through an open gate and down a gravel lane.

Her eyes widened. “Are you trying to kill us?”

“Relax, I’ve got this.”

“And you expect me to believe you’re an accountant? Sure, and there’s a glacier in that arroyo over there,” she grumbled.

He didn’t answer, but slowed even further as the road narrowed into a pothole-ridden pathway. Ahead, he could see the fading rooster tail of dust trailing behind Preston’s vehicle.

Kyle slid to a stop behind the Ford pickup, which had been backed up and parked in front of the garage, its tailgate next to the overhead door.

“He’s blocked off now. Grab my keys out of the ignition, and lock up,” Kyle said, jumping out.

She reached for the keys just as he shut the door.

Hand on the butt of his holstered weapon, Kyle raced toward the front porch in a crouch, looking through the windows of the single-story ranch-style home. If anyone opened the garage door, he’d hear it and turn back.

Stepping silently onto the porch, he opened the screen door, then reached for his lock pick.

Just then he heard a click and the door swung open. Kyle found himself face-to-face with a big man wearing sunglasses and a baseball cap.

Kyle slipped halfway inside before the intruder could shut the door. Pinned for a second, Kyle gave it all he had and shoved. As the heavy door flew open, the man stumbled backward across the foyer. He bounced off a small deacon’s bench and fell to the floor, losing his sunglasses.

The intruder recovered quickly, scrambling to his feet and racing toward a door just beyond the kitchen area.

That door suddenly opened and Preston moved in, another officer right behind him.

“Damn.” The man ducked left toward a long hall.

Kyle dove across an easy chair and tackled the big guy waist-high. They both fell to the floor of the hall, Kyle on top.

“Police!” Preston yelled, running over. “Give it up!”

Kyle pinned the guy’s arms and placed his forearm at the man’s throat. Up close now, with no sunglasses and the intruder’s cap lost in the struggle, the face looked eerily familiar.

As the uniformed officer moved in and placed the man in handcuffs, Preston read him his rights. He then checked the man’s wallet for an ID. “You’re Bruce Leland, Hank’s brother?”

“Yeah, and I’ve got a right to be here. Call Hank, he’ll tell you. Get these cuffs off me before I press charges.”

Preston nodded to the officer, and as Bruce was uncuffed, Kyle focused on the man’s face. The photo on file looked much younger, but it was the same man.

“Bruce!” Kyle heard Erin’s voice behind him.

Kyle glanced at her. “I told you to stay in the SUV.”

“Once I saw the window sticker for casino parking, I realized who you were chasing.” She glared at Bruce. “What do you think you’re doing, breaking into your brother’s house?”

“I just came to return that power drill,” he said, gesturing to the one next to a bookcase under construction. “I didn’t have my keys, but I remembered Hank told me that all the back door needed was a credit card in the lock and a good shove.”

Kyle glanced at the drill, noting the handle was dusty. From the looks of it, it hadn’t been touched in weeks.

Bruce gave Erin a quizzical look. “What are you doing here, Erin? Don’t tell me you saw my pickup and called the cops?”

“No,” Erin said, but before she could say more, Kyle interrupted.

“We need to speak to you, Mr. Leland.”

“Who’s we?” he asked, fear making his voice rise.

Preston flashed his badge, and Kyle did the same.

“You’ve got a gold badge,” he said, looking at Kyle. “What are you, FBI?”

Kyle didn’t answer. “We need to search your truck. You can give us permission or we can get a warrant while you remain in custody. Your choice.”

“Go ahead, search all you want.” He looked back at Erin. “What’s going on?”

“Mr. Leland, we have some bad news for you about your brother,” Preston said.

Kyle saw the fleeting, panicked look Bruce gave Erin. Maybe they were both involved in what was happening. Hadn’t she mentioned needing money for her future?

Too many questions, not enough answers. He intended to fix that—and soon.

Chapter Five

As Preston gave him the news, Bruce, now standing, swayed slightly then caught himself. “Murdered? That can’t be...” he said, shaking his head.

Preston gave him the details.

Bruce clamped his mouth shut so tightly, his lips turned pale. “This has something to do with you, doesn’t it,” he said, glaring at Erin. “My brother trusted you, but you’re still alive and he’s dead?” He stared at her, as if trying to process the unthinkable. “What kind of trouble did you get him into?”

“I had nothing to do with what happened to your brother,” she snapped.

He gave her a disgusted look, then glanced at Preston and Kyle. “Look at her, she’s beautiful. Erin had my brother under her thumb. Hank was a good man. Nobody would want to hurt him,” he argued. “Not so much with Erin. She’s the one who decides who gets a raise and who doesn’t, she hires and fires. If anyone has enemies, it’s her.”

Kyle watched them with interest. As the two of them finally lapsed into an uneasy silence, he spoke. “You had that much influence at the company, Erin?”

“There’s no way my job had anything to do with what happened!” she said, glaring at Bruce. “This was never about me,” she added, appealing to Kyle, then Preston. “I told you, their attention was on Hank this morning. I just...got in the way.”

“And made things worse, no doubt,” Bruce said. “What’d you do, piss them off even more?”

“You think Ms. Barrett was involved?” Preston asked. “If so, what’s your explanation for the second kidnapping attempt, the one where your brother’s ambulance was ambushed on the way to the hospital?”

Bruce tried to sit, but his legs suddenly buckled and he fell down onto the sofa cushions with a dull whomp. “I don’t know. Finish the job they started?

“You’re a federal cop,” Bruce continued after a beat, looking at Kyle. “My brother just came home after spending two months in Spain. What are you really, CIA?”

“No, I’m not CIA,” Kyle answered. “That agency has no directive to work within the U.S.”

“So then you’re FBI or Homeland Security.”

“I’m a federal agent investigating some business irregularities that track back to your brother, among other things,” Kyle said. Bruce seemed to accept his answer, but as he glanced at Erin, he could see the open skepticism on her face.

“Agent Goodluck is currently coordinating his investigation with the Hartley Police Department,” Preston added.

“So now what?” Bruce said. “Am I under arrest?”

“You’re free to leave—after you give your statement,” Kyle said. “In addition to explaining what you were doing here, we’ll need you to account for your whereabouts during the past twenty-four hours.”

“What about me?” Erin said. “Am I free to go?”

“No, sorry. I’ll need you to stick with me a while longer,” Kyle said.

As Bruce left the room with the uniformed officer, Erin shook her head. “Hank was nothing like his brother,” she said, “but in all fairness, I seem to bring out the worst in Bruce.”

“Why’s that?” Kyle asked.

“Hank set it up so Bruce had to go through me to get to him. Bruce couldn’t con me, so my job was to screen his visits and keep him at bay unless it was absolutely necessary that Hank speak to him.”

“Okay, have a seat. I’ll be right back.” Kyle went to the back room where Preston was looking around. Standing in the hall so he could keep his eye on Erin, he spoke softly. “NCIS obtained a warrant and placed some listening devices in this house. A team took care of that a few days before I arrived in town.”

“Have you listened to the audio?”

“No, not yet, but others in the agency have,” he said, “I’m going to check with my bosses right now, so I’d like you to keep an eye on Erin for me.”

Kyle went outside and pulled out his satellite phone from his jacket pocket. A few moments later, he got the answer he expected, but before he could end the call, his supervisor, Martin Hamilton, got on. He wasn’t happy.

“All I’ve heard is bad news. What have you got so far, Agent Goodluck?”

He gave his boss the short version. “I’m on the trail, sir, but I’ve been back less than twenty-four hours.”

“Yet you’ve already got three bodies stacked up, including a naval reserve officer who was clearly in trouble up to his ass,” he said. “We need answers.”

“Yes, sir, I’ll be in touch.” Kyle muttered a curse as he went back into the house.

As he entered, Preston was shaking his head. “There’s nothing of interest here, except an expensive strand of pearls, a present meant for Frieda Martinez, based on the attached card.”

“Frieda mentioned wanting a strand and he decided to buy it for her, though personally I thought it was much too soon for that kind of gift,” Erin said, coming over.

“I’m getting the idea you didn’t like Frieda,” Kyle observed.

“No, it’s not that. Like Hank, I barely knew her.” She paused, then continued. “There’s something you should know about Hank. Business was good, and for the first time in years, Hank was bored and restless. Then he met Frieda and his whole attitude changed. He was crazy about her, but as I said, they’d only known each other for a few weeks.”

Kyle listened carefully. To him, Hank was beginning to sound like a man going through a midlife crisis and looking for excitement. Maybe that’s how he’d been recruited. Money wasn’t always the motivator.

“Did you ever meet Frieda face-to-face?” Kyle asked.

“Yeah, a few times when she came to the office to meet Hank for lunch,” Erin answered.

“And?” Kyle pressed.

“She was polite to me, but not friendly.”

“Any chance she’s from Spain?”

“I don’t know. She has a faint accent, something I associate with English as a second language, but that’s all I can say for sure.”