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  “Not really.”

  “Oh? Why not?”

  “Well, we never get to test the things we create.”

  “That seems odd.”

  “Well, that’s another division. They bring them back to me with field test results and I just have to fix them.”

  “So, what are you working on now?”

  “I can’t really talk about it. Sorry. Company policy.”

  “Of course, I understand.”

  “But I do have this one device I created on the side that I can tell you about.”

  “Oh, really? What is it?”

  “Well, do you have kids, Mr. …?”

  “Murphy. Cal Murphy.”

  “Nice to meet you, Mr. Murphy. I’m James Wishert. So, do you have kids?”

  “No.”

  “Married?”

  “Hopefully one day.”

  “Well, one day when you get married and have kids, you will learn just how devious kids these days are. Kids used to listen to their parents, but not any more. So, we have to keep an eye on them more closely than ever before.”

  “You mean like spying on them?”

  “Not exactly. But kind of.”

  “Well, what do you mean then?”

  “I have three teenage daughters and I’ve already caught two of them with boys in their rooms.”

  “How did that happen?”

  “Long story, but in short, you can’t expect a perimeter warning system to work that well when you’ve got the spawns of computer geniuses trying to hook up with your teenage daughters.”

  “I see.” Cal began to wonder just how protective this guy was of his daughters. Apparently, protective enough to install some sort of security system around the house.

  “Anyway, since I’m banned from going into their rooms, I created a device that works with an app I wrote. It can look through walls up to 50 yards away and determine how many people are in the room.”

  “Why would you need that?”

  “Don’t ask. I’ve only had the chance to test it from 10 yards away.”

  “Why are you telling me this?”

  “I don’t know. Didn’t I overhear you tell someone you were a reporter with The Times?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  “Well, maybe you can write a story about it and help me get out of working for this slave driver, Mr. Adams. You do know we were all required to be here, right? As in, I had no choice. Some guy is probably in my daughter’s bedroom right now.”

  James amused Cal. For the simple reason that this vigilant father wrote apps to spy on his daughter. Sure, it was a little over the top, but it was a nice diversion from the gigahertz and megabite talk floating around the room.

  “Well, good luck with that app, James.”

  “Would you mind trying it out for me? Maybe writing an article about it?” James pleaded.

  “I don’t know, James. I’m a sports writer. I don’t really cover tech stuff.”

  “OK, fine. Give it to your tech writer. Maybe he’ll want to try it out.”

  “All right, I’ll give it to him when I get back next week.”

  “Super. Here’s all you need to make this work.”

  James placed in Cal’s hand a small, black square headphone plug that would insert into an iPhone. He also gave Cal a card with instructions on how to download the app.

  “Thank you so much, Mr. Murphy. You have no idea how much this would mean to me.”

  “You’re welcome, James.”

  Cal ordered another drink and scanned the room for Kelly. He couldn’t see her, but he guessed she was somewhere in the middle of about twelve young men. They surrounded someone and it was either a tech superstar or Kelly. One of the men shifted to the side and Cal could see: it was Kelly.

  Cal walked confidently across the room and broke up the conversation.

  “You ready?” Cal asked.

  “Yes, let’s get out of here,” she said.

  Moans and groans served as the verbal protest from the Kelly fan club. But as much as she liked getting attention, Cal knew this was not her scene.

  “See you later, boys,” Kelly said, blowing them all a kiss.

  The rain was still coming down but there was a taxi waiting outside the building. Cal ran to the cab and found it available. He motioned for Kelly to join him.

  Cal gave the driver the address and then turned his attention to Kelly.

  “What was that all about?” he asked her.

  “What was what all about?”

  “Blowing kisses to those guys? You know that’s just wrong.”

  “Oh, Cal. I was just having fun. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were jealous.”

  Cal said nothing. He looked straight ahead, watching the rhythmic wipes working hard to clear the windshield.

  “You are jealous!” Kelly exclaimed. “I knew it. You didn’t like me talking to those guys.”

  “Let’s just go home. We’ve got a long day tomorrow.”

  Kelly smiled. She put her hand on Cal’s knee. Cal didn’t mind.

  * * *

  IT WAS 10:30 P.M. when Diaz’s cell phone rang.

  “Any news?” said the voice on the other end.

  “No, boss. They went to some party. I couldn’t get in, but it didn’t look like anything important. Just tech wizards and booze. I only saw three women go in the whole time I was watching.

  “Ha! Some party. Just keep me posted, Diaz.”

  “Sure, boss.”

  * * *

  KELLY TOLD CAL GOODNIGHT before kissing him on the cheek. She then got out of the cab and disappeared into the hotel. That was a first. She had never kissed him before. Cal’s emotions swirled. Maybe he had a chance with Kelly after all. Or maybe she was just being friendly. If she would blow a kiss to a bunch of personal space-invading nerds, how big of a deal was it that she gave him a peck on the cheek? It was probably nothing.

  Cal checked his watch. He figured he could be back in his room by 11 p.m. and have a few minutes to re-read the files Anderson had sent him ahead of an early briefing at the FBI’s Houston field office in the morning.

  Upon returning to his room, Cal began emptying his pockets and pulled out Mr. Wishert’s next big invention. He snickered. Then his curiosity got the best of him. He pulled out his iPhone and began typing in the address to download the app. Once he installed the app—one James called “X-Ray Vision”—Cal snapped the device into the headphone jack. After a couple of seconds, Cal’s iPhone became an infrared device. He decided to try it out by walking down the hall and seeing what was really happening on his floor.

  A quick trip to the ice machine and back let Cal know there were only six rooms with people in them. Two of the rooms appeared to have a single person asleep in them. The other four contained people engaging in evening exercise.

  This thing ought to be illegal. He removed the device from his phone and put it back in his pocket. Cal glanced at the time on his phone and realized he had lost 30 minutes playing with the device—but it was worth it. He got ready for bed and glanced through the files again before going to sleep.

  CHAPTER 20

  CAL MET KELLY THE NEXT MORNING in the lobby of the Four Seasons, and they waited there for an agent to pick them up. At 8:30 a.m., they were greeted by an FBI agent who led them to a black SUV. They piled into the vehicle and took off for the FBI offices.

  “I need some coffee,” Cal said, yawning.

  “You’re not the only one,” Kelly added.

  “There’s plenty at the office. Don’t you worry,” the agent assured them.

  The FBI offices were twenty minutes away, but it felt like it took longer as they waded through the traffic clogging up the Thursday morning commute. The extra congestion appeared to be the result of a rain-soaked highway and a hydroplaning mini-van that had plowed into the back of a semi-truck.

  Cal studied the scene carefully as they rolled past it. He couldn’t help but notice the driver’s nervous eyes reflected in the
rearview mirror.

  “Is everything OK?” Cal asked the driver.

  “Yeah. Why?”

  “It looks like you keep checking to see if someone is following us. Nobody is following us are they?”

  “I don’t think so. I’m always extra cautious though.”

  Cal slumped back in his seat. He nervously bounced his knee. Kelly put her hand on his leg. He calmed down.

  “Everything is going to be fine, Cal. Nobody is following us.”

  * * *

  DIAZ STRUGGLED TO KEEP up with the black SUV weaving in and out of traffic. It was such an unorthodox path that he wondered if he had been spotted. It was either that or Cal and Kelly were being driven by a professional. After 15 minutes he gave up. His mission in Houston was complete.

  He dialed Hernandez’s number.

  “Boss, it’s me.”

  “What is it, Diaz?”

  “This morning, a black SUV with government plates picked up Cal and his lady friend from his hotel. I was tailing the driver but he lost me.”

  “Very well then. Come back at once. I need you here. I’ll ready the plane for you.”

  Diaz hung up but he didn’t head for the airfield. He wanted to give his boss a special surprise.

  * * *

  AFTER FIVE MINUTES, Cal was finally convinced that his paranoia was getting the best of him. Nobody was following him. He was Cal Murphy, the little sports writer from Seattle. His life was insignificant. Killing him would serve no purpose. Neither would taking him hostage. All he had to do was pretend to be writing a story on Hernandez’s legitimate business, treat it like a real story, and gather some information for the feds so they could rescue Jake. It was simple. No one would get hurt. No one would know what he was doing.

  BAM!

  Cal lurched forward as did Kelly when the car slammed into them from the back. Tires screeched. Glass shattered. People screamed. In less than three seconds, Cal had gone from a courageous crime fighter to a discombobulated passenger. Kelly wasn’t moving. Neither was the driver.

  Cal scrambled to unbuckle himself and began looking for a gun. This couldn’t be a random accident. This was malicious. Cal grabbed the unconscious agent’s gun and crouched down in the back seat. He peeked over the seat and out the back window to see if anyone was coming. There was no one around.

  Clang!

  Cal jumped as he heard metal clinking against the pavement. Cal wondered if someone was outside the vehicle preparing for an ambush. He cocked the handgun.

  He decided to poke his head out the window and see if he could see anything on the ground.

  The next think Cal knew, he was being ripped from the vehicle and thrown across the pavement. The gun skidded across the pavement and under another car nearby. Cal looked up to see a hooded man looming over him. The man appeared to have no weapon, but Cal didn’t want to stick around to find out if he was right. There was only one reaction: run!

  Just as the man bent down to pick him up, Cal rolled out of arm’s length before leaping up and hitting a dead sprint four strides into the run. He reached for his pocket and pulled out his cell phone. He dialed 911 and put the call on speaker. In between rings, Cal could hear his attacker breathing hard several yards behind him. Once the dispatcher answered, Cal decided to yell out the pertinent information instead of waiting for her questions.

  “I’m being chased by a large Hispanic man going west on 43rd near the intersection of Antoine! I need someone to help me now! He’s trying to kill me!”

  By this point, Cal had changed directions and was now running along the sidewalk headed north on Antoine Drive. Being stuck in a residential zone could put others at risk if it became a hostage situation and Cal knew this wasn’t good for anybody. But at the moment, it simply felt like a hunting expedition—and he was the prey. He had to find a very public place. The more Texans he ran into, the more chance he had of finding someone with a gun who would stop the beast hunting him.

  Cal spotted a Whataburger restaurant and darted inside. He sat down and looked out the window to see if the man had followed him. He hadn’t. The man was gone. Cal gasped for breath as two young boys stared at him.

  “Are you OK, mister?” one of the boys asked.

  “I am now,” Cal said. Who knew how long it would be safe there or if Kelly and the FBI agent were safe. But for now, the busy fast-food restaurant served as a safe haven.

  Cal sat in a booth and tried to catch his breath. What had just happened? Who was that man and why was he trying to kill him? It had to be one of Hernandez’s men. Who else could want him dead? Or was it a case of mistaken identity?

  Before Cal could mull any possibility for very long, he heard a faint voice.

  “Hello? Is anyone there? Hello?”

  My cell phone!

  Cal fished his phone out of his pocket and began talking to the 911 dispatcher.

  “Hi, ma’am. My name is Cal Murphy. I’m OK, but I don’t know about my friends. I was riding in an FBI vehicle before we were rammed by someone and then attacked.”

  “Where are you?”

  “I’m at the Whataburger off Antoine Drive.”

  “OK, sit tight. Officers are on their way.”

  * * *

  THE NEXT TWO HOURS crawled by for Cal. As he sat in the parking lot of the Whataburger restaurant, local police and FBI asked him question after question about the events that unfolded. As a reporter, he was used to absorbing as many details as possible about the scene. It was important to setting up the story. But he was also used to writing about it once and being done with it, not retelling suit after suit what had happened.

  All he really cared about was Kelly. Nobody knew what had happened to her. Was she OK? Was she dead? Was she missing?

  Cal didn’t stop worrying about it until Kelly walked up to him.

  “You’re OK?” he said, hugging her tightly.

  “I’m fine. And you?”

  “That animal chased me down the street and I didn’t lose him until I slipped into the Whataburger.”

  “There’s a good headline in this story somewhere.”

  Cal wasn’t ready to laugh about it yet, but he managed a smile out of courtesy to Kelly.

  “What happened to you?”

  “I hit my head pretty hard. It stunned me for a few seconds, but I’m OK. I wanted to help you but when I got up and saw that guy attacking you, I figured my best chance at survival was pretending to be dead or unconscious.”

  “Thanks a lot.”

  “What? You seriously think I could’ve helped you?”

  “Not really, but it sounds bad when you say it out loud like that.”

  “Well, it looks like our driver is the only one that sustained any kind of serious injuries. He’s at the hospital now. They said he suffered a concussion, but he’ll be fine.”

  “That’s good news. So, do you know what’s next?”

  “I have no idea. I’m sure this isn’t how they planned it.”

  “Let’s hope not.”

  It was only 11 a.m., but the day felt complete already to Cal. Could he still go to Juarez? Would the FBI still want him to go?

  Another agent made eye contact with Cal and began walking straight toward him.

  “Cal?” the agent asked, offering his hand.

  “That’s me. And you are …?” Cal responded, shaking the man’s hand.

  “Agent Solterbeck. I’m running point on this investigation now since everything is shifting to our region. I’m still working with Agent Anderson in Vegas, but I’m calling the shots from here on out. I was also scheduled to brief you on the operation in Juarez a few hours ago before this untimely accident.”

  “You’re just calling this an accident?! Some guy yanked me through a car window and tried to kill me!”

  Solterbeck motioned for Cal to keep it down. “We don’t want the local police force knowing about this. Let’s keep this hush-hush. We think there might be a gang informant on the force.”

  “So,
you think this was gang-related and had nothing to do with Hernandez?” Cal asked.

  “We’re not sure what we know at this point. But what we think we know is that Agent Barber was being watched by a gang he’s been investigating for weeks now. We think they may have suspected you were his key witnesses.”

  “You think this was all a case of mistaken identity? I’m not sure I’m buying that.”

  Solterbeck lied. “That’s what it appears to be at this point. Did you get a good look at the guy? Think you could identify him again?”

  “He was wearing a mask, but he did have this funky Spanish tattoo on his arm. It said, ‘La Pelona.’ Never heard that word before. Does that mean anything to you?”

  Solterbeck lied again. “Nope, but I’ll have our team look into it. And listen, we still need you to go to Juarez if you’re up for it. It’s not like Jake’s life depends on it or anything.”

  Cal just shook his head. He looked at Kelly, her mouth gaping. Cal couldn’t believe that the FBI had truly pinned their hopes of saving Jake on he and Kelly’s fake interview.

  “We’re all you’ve got?” Cal asked. He couldn’t hide the incredulity in his voice.

  “You are for now, Cal. Let’s go. I’ve got a car waiting for you two over there.”

  Cal and Kelly started walking toward a car in the direction Solterbeck had pointed.

  “Can you do this after what you just went through, Kelly?” Cal asked.

  “I’m fine. I really want to help Jake get back to his dad.”

  “OK. As long as you’re OK with it, I guess I am, too.”

  They both climbed into the car and waited to be transported to the FBI offices just a few short blocks away.

  * * *

  “DIAZ, WHERE ARE YOU? The pilot has been waiting on you for over an hour?”

  “I got stuck in traffic, boss.”

  “OK, well hurry it up. I need you back here right away.”

  Diaz ended the call. It wasn’t the first time he had lied to Hernandez, nor would it be the last. But that’s why he liked to surprise his boss rather than make promises he couldn’t always keep. The boss bought his excuse. He’d be in Juarez in an hour. All would be forgotten. It’s not like he wouldn’t get another chance at the two journalists.