Honorable Lies (A Titus Black Thriller Book 6) Page 12

  “You need any help?” Besserman asked.

  “We’d rather not have any,” Black said. “The tighter the circle, the better our chances are of catching the terrorist and interrogating him. If the border patrol were to catch him, he’d just be sent back home without a second thought. So, we’d like to pose as border agents. Do you think you can make this happen without raising any red flags?”

  “If you run into any trouble, don’t hesitate to call me, okay?” Besserman said. “And good luck.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Black said.

  Blunt stood up and grunted. “I appreciate you making a call to the president. I promise not to disappoint you for sticking your neck out for me.”

  Besserman smiled and shook his head. “When have you ever disappointed me, J.D.?”

  Blunt shrugged. “I’m not sure, but I don’t intend to start any time soon.”

  Chapter 22

  Dante B. Fascell Port

  Miami, Florida

  TITUS BLACK LAY PRONE on the rooftop of a warehouse facility as he watched the SS Cortez Canyon complete its docking procedure. Studying the scene through his binoculars, he took note of all the people awaiting the ship to begin its unloading process. Men scrambled into position as a set of cranes wasted no time in grabbing cargo containers and stacking them on the dock. But Black was more concerned with the conversations taking place between the ship’s crew and the customs agent.

  “Find anything interesting?” Shields asked over the coms.

  Black continued to survey the scene. “Not yet. So far it looks like a bunch of old friends catching up.”

  “That’s not surprising,” she said. “This ship has docked here six times over the last year.”

  “Hardly seems conducive to building a relationship.”

  “You’d be surprised,” Shields said. “I had friends who worked at the docks in Savannah when I was growing up, and it was like a party when a familiar crew came to town. And that seemed to happen every week.”

  “Are you seeing any unusual activity?” he asked.

  “Not on my end, so I’m going to turn this over to Jana and join you in a few minutes.”

  “Jana,” Black said, “are you doing all right?”

  “I think so,” she said. “I’m just wrapping up here.”

  “Roger that,” Black said as he watched her scampering stealthily across the deck through his binoculars. "Just keep us posted in case anything changes.”

  Earlier in the afternoon, Black and Shields had posed as inspectors, roaming the docks to look for structural integrity issues. During that time, they’d covertly planted cameras to capture any potential illegal activity, primarily customs agents looking the other way.

  Fifteen minutes after the ship had arrived, Black spotted the boarding agent approaching the crew. He collected some paperwork and appeared to be waiting for the customs agent.

  “I’m almost there,” Shields said. “Anything interesting going down?”

  “At this point, just standard operating procedures,” Black said. “And no sign of the customs agent.”

  “I wonder if they gave the guy a night off,” Shields said.

  “That would make our jobs much more difficult.”

  “No kidding. I’m not sure we’re prepared to handle a situation like that.”

  Shields grunted as it sounded like she was climbing up something.

  “Are you all right?” Black asked.

  “Yes, just dealing with a fence,” she said as a loud thud punctuated her comment. “But we’re good now.”

  “So, should we go over everything we know about tonight’s customs agent, provided that he decides to show up?” Black asked.

  “Wouldn’t hurt,” she said. “His name is George Diaz.”

  “Ah-ha,” Black said. “And I think I see him walking in the direction of the boarding agent.”

  “Good. Now if you have to approach him, remember the details. His wife’s name is Maria, and he’s got three daughters. He plays soccer every Wednesday night at Palm Park. He blew his knee out his senior year of college while on scholarship at Indiana University, ruining his chances at a professional career. He’s also a very skilled classical guitar player.”

  “Still boggles my mind that this guy is a customs agent,” Black said, shaking his head. “He sounds quite talented.”

  “Maybe it’s the talents you don’t know about that are making him rich.”

  “You have a point,” Black said as he pulled out his directional mic. Shields eased next to him as they listened in on Diaz’s conversation with the boarding agent.

  “Hola, amigo,” the boarding agent said, offering his hand for a high-five.

  Diaz slapped it and the two men grinned.

  “How’s Maria?” the boarding agent asked.

  “Better,” Diaz said. “She’s had a rough recovery from surgery, but she’s getting back to normal.”

  “Maybe this will help,” the boarding agent said as he palmed multiple hundred-dollar bills into Diaz’s hand.

  “Muchas gracias,” Diaz replied before pocketing the money. “Every bit counts.”

  Shields looked at Black. “That was slick. They made it sound real in case anyone was watching.”

  “Are you sure it’s not real?” Black asked.

  Shields shook her head. “I mean, come on. You think there’s any shred of truth to that.”

  “Better make sure so we don’t get egg on our faces.”

  “Roger that,” Shields said, pulling out her phone.

  Black’s eyes widened. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m calling Maria Diaz.”

  After a brief conversation, Shields hung up.

  “Well …” Black said.

  “She hasn’t had any procedures in the past fifteen years unless you count her c-section for her youngest Lupe six years ago.”

  “That’s all the confirmation I needed to hear,” Black said. “Let’s go meet Mr. Diaz.”

  They climbed down from their perch and strode up to the dock. Diaz furrowed his brow as he saw them approaching, cocking his head to one side.

  “I’m sorry but this area is restricted until we’ve cleared the ship,” Diaz said.

  Black and Shields both revealed the FBI badges they used in these situations. Diaz stared at them a minute, unsure if they were real.

  “If you’d like to call my supervisor, Mr. Diaz, I’ll be happy to provide you with his number,” Black said. “Although I can promise you that he doesn’t like being interrupted at this time of night.”

  Diaz drew back. “There’s no need for that. What do you two want?”

  “We need to speak to you,” Shields said, pausing for effect. “Alone.”

  She glared at the boarding agent and the other crew members standing around. They scattered, catching Shields’ drift.

  “What’s this all about?” Diaz asked. “Nobody told me the FBI would have agents on the docks tonight.”

  “There’s a reason for that, Mr. Diaz,” Black said.

  “It’s Agent Diaz.”

  “After that stunt you pulled tonight, it’s gonna be inmate Diaz,” Shields said.

  “What are you talking about?” Diaz said with a growl.

  “We just captured you on video taking a bribe. That’s not exactly going to endear you to your superiors.”

  “I did no such thing,” Diaz bristled.

  “The boarding agent just gave you a handshake full of Benjamins,” Black said. “You want to dispute the veracity of video evidence in court, go right ahead. It’s a losing proposition.”

  “Randy McMichaels is the boarding agent and a good friend,” Diaz said. “He heard about my wife’s operation and wanted to contribute. I never took a bribe.”

  “Huh,” Shields said, studying him closely. “Maybe we should get you on charges of fraud then.”

  “There’s been nothing illegal happening here tonight,” Diaz said, his nostrils flaring.

  “Except that you
r wife Maria didn’t have a surgery, did she?”

  “She most certainly—”

  Shields put her finger to her lips. “I’d stop talking if I were you. I just spoke with her a few minutes ago, confirming your deception. So, that may have been a way to throw off someone watching you, but not a way to throw off this someone.”

  Black chuckled and shook his head. “Looks like you’re in a bit of a predicament, Mr. Diaz. Any suggestions on how we should proceed?”

  Diaz looked at both agents and appeared to be considering their question. However, he didn’t acquiesce the way Black had hoped.

  “Let me see those badges again,” Diaz demanded.

  “I already told you that you can call my boss, even if he won’t be happy,” Black said.

  “I want to see them now,” Diaz said with a sneer.

  Black and Shields forked them over. Diaz studied them for a minute before saying anything else.

  “What’s that number?” he asked.

  Black shrugged. “It’s your career.”

  “Damn right it is, and I’m not about to let two people who I have never heard of wander onto one of my ships. Homeland Security protocol requires you to notify our office ahead of time if you want to see what we’re doing.”

  “I see,” Black said. “So, you’re going to play hardball, are you?”

  “This is called doing my job,” Diaz said, his eyes narrowing.

  “If you’d been doing your job the right way, you wouldn’t have allowed terrorists in the country,” Black said. “So spare us the self-righteous lecture and your indignation.”

  “I suggest you leave right now, or I’ll call the port authority on you,” Diaz said.

  Black didn’t move. “Be my guest. I’m not going anywhere. And any time now would be great.”

  “What did you say?” Diaz asked.

  Black glanced up at the ship. “I said,” before raising his voice several notches, “any time now would be great.”

  A few seconds later, an explosion rocked the ship. Black and Shields ran onto the boat and raced up to the deck to see what had happened. Diaz stayed on their heels, calling after them, and warning them that they need to exit immediately. Just as they reached the top, the floor shook when another incendiary device went off. A fire spread across the top.

  “We know what’s going on here,” Black said. “Where’s the container with all the people?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Stop acting obtuse. I know you know where it’s at. Mr. High and Mighty here isn’t just going to sacrifice them, is he?”

  Diaz sighed before hustling across the deck toward one of the containers. He shielded his face from the heat emanating from the fire that had spread rapidly.

  Jana is almost too good at her job.

  The pyrotechnics display Jana pulled off had a short life, but Black was banking on it being long enough to get Diaz to cave. And he did.

  Diaz motioned for one of the crew members to open the container. When he did, Black saw about two dozen young girls huddled together in an attempt to stay warm. He motions for the girls to come out.

  “Stay with them,” Black tells Shields.

  “But—”

  “I can handle whoever else is inside.”

  Once the girls were gone, Black turned on his flashlight and scanned the container. He pulled his shirt up over his nose, a feeble effort to blunt the stench emanating in the cramped space. In the far right corner, he noticed a bucket and a black trench coat draped high over it. At first Black wasn’t sure what he was looking at, but then he figured out it was a man hunched over on the bucket with his back to the doors.

  “Sir,” Black called. “I need you to come out.”

  The man didn’t budge.

  Black nodded at one of the crew members. “Go check on him, will you?”

  The man sighed before shuffling along the filthy floor to reach the person in the back.

  “Amigo,” the crewman said. “That man—”

  He stopped and staggered backward, clutching his stomach. After only a few steps, he fell down and began moaning in pain.

  Black stared at the person in the shadows.

  “Hands up,” Black said, “or I’ll shoot.”

  The man spun around and gave a guttural shout before charging at Black. As soon as his flashlight fell on the oncoming man’s eyes, Black turned and ran.

  He didn’t make it far before an explosion far greater than any charge Jana had set sent tremors along the deck floor of the SS Cortez Canyon. Black stumbled forward, his ears ringing with an intense pain and searing heat raging all around him. Then he crashed down again, this time not moving.

  * * *

  SHIELDS USHERED the emaciated girls off the boat. They followed orders, marching as one down the stairs Shields led them to. In less than a minute, the entire group had reached the docks. That’s when she heard a violent explosion.

  One man tumbled headlong over the side, smacking the dock with a sickening thud. He didn’t even twitch after making the long fall.

  A few girls screamed, adding even further trauma to the long voyage they’d just entered.

  “It’s gonna be all right,” Shields said, doing her best to calm their fears. When no one responded to her, she decided her efforts were in vain.

  They probably don’t even know what I’m saying.

  Shields was so immersed in crisis management mode that it took her a while to realize what had just happened.

  “Was that one of your charges, Jana?” she asked.

  “Unfortunately, not,” Jana said.

  “Then where did it come from?” Shields asked.

  “I have no idea, but it’s not a good situation on the deck.”

  “Black!”

  Shields took off running toward the flight of stairs leading to the top. “Talk to me, Black. How are you doing?”

  Nothing.

  “Come on, Black. This isn’t the time for games.”

  Still nothing.

  When she emerged, she saw the container where they’d pulled the women from ablaze. Scanning the area for Black, she finally found him. He was lying face down on the deck, his eyes closed.

  She didn’t hesitate, sprinting straight toward his lifeless body.

  Chapter 23

  Washington, D.C.

  BLUNT EASED DOWN the steps of Off the Record, one of his favorite bars to discuss pressing issues with busy people. Situated in the basement of the Hay-Adams Hotel in downtown, Blunt regularly met up with former colleagues and other members of the intelligence community in the posh setting. He ambled to his preferred booth in the back and waited for his friend Gary Franks to arrive.

  Franks, a senator from North Carolina, served on the intelligence committee with Blunt before he left politics. They engaged in spirited debates over whose state had the best barbecue as well as the best sauce. With all that was going on, Blunt would’ve enjoyed such a conversation, something to get his mind off the looming danger. But discussion about southern delicatessens would have to wait. What they needed to discuss was far more important.

  When Franks reached Blunt’s table, the North Carolina politician removed his fedora and slid into his seat.

  “Why, J.D., it’s been far too long?” Franks said. “I don’t think I’ve seen you since your funeral.”

  “Well, you didn’t really see me there either,” Blunt said, referencing how he faked his death a couple of years earlier.

  Franks smiled. “Now that you mention it, the casket was closed, wasn’t it?”

  “I could’ve killed off half of the people attending if I flipped up the casket door and sat upright.”

  “Now, that would’ve been a riot, and wouldn’t have surprised me at all.”

  Blunt chuckled. “Yet I probably wouldn’t have made it out of the church alive.”

  “Oh, the irony,” Franks said as he snatched the drink menu off the table and perused Off the Record’s specialty drink offerings. Onc
e he decided, he ordered a drink called “The Side Sweep.”

  “Good choice,” Blunt said. “I approve of any drink made from bourbon.”

  Franks nodded in agreement. He leaned forward, clasping his hands together and resting them on the table in front of him.

  “It’s great to see you again, J.D. But I gotta know what’s so urgent that you called me up out of the blue to meet you here tonight?”

  Blunt studied his drink as he swirled it around. “There’s some crazy stuff goin’ on right now that I need to get to the bottom of.”

  “What kind of crazy stuff?”

  Blunt drew in a long breath and exhaled slowly. He looked up at the ceiling, unsure of how much he wanted to divulge to Franks, even though he had been trustworthy. Despite their friendship, Blunt wanted to tread carefully, lest he get blindsided again by a longtime colleague.

  “Come on, J.D. Just spit it out. It’s me you’re talking to.”

  “I know,” Blunt said before scanning the room. “It’s just I’m still trying to figure out the best way to navigate all of this.”

  “Tell me what you need to know.”

  Blunt stroked his chin and then leaned in close. “I think the Fullgood Initiative is still alive and well.”

  Franks chuckled. “You always have trafficked in conspiracy theories.”

  “Theories that were proven true, I might add,” Blunt said, raising his index finger.

  “The Fullgood Initiative was completely dismantled, not to mention that its power was exaggerated,” Franks said. “And don’t forget that Col. Marshall had the book thrown at him.”

  “And where is he now? Serving out his sentence in some posh prison that looks more like an overnight spa?”

  “He’s out of the picture, J.D. You don’t need to worry about him anymore.”

  Blunt shook his head. “I’m not concerned with Col. Marshall, but I am worried about those who he might still be able to influence or have his wishes carried out.”