Terror Rising: Book 0 – The Insurgence (9 page)

“
Shut up,” Sutherland said, walking
alongside them.

They could have been anyone from around the
area, but Angela was pretty sure they weren’t locals. An aura of
mystery surrounded them, and Angela was eager to find out who they
were, and what they had on Martinez.

A man at the front lifted his head with a
panicked expression. “What have we done? We have done nothing.”

“
Well, you’re trespassing, for
starters,” Sutherland said. “This abandoned outpost still belongs
to the federal government.”

The man lowered his head, saying nothing in
return. Thaxton stood in the corner of the room, observing the area
and keeping to herself. Angela walked around slowly, studying the
room, hoping to find a clue, anything, but the floor and the
ceiling, like the walls, were largely barren.

“
Go ahead and get them up,” Sutherland
said to the other agents. “We’re taking them in.” The day was only
getting hotter, and everyone wanted to get moving.

The FBI team returned to the Del Rio Border
Patrol station shortly after the bust. Their six suspects had been
taken to a secure holding room. Martinez was still MIA, and the
men’s capture only added more questions. The already tense
atmosphere of the station was compounded by the detainees’ arrival.
Nearly every agent on site believed they had something to do with
the truck explosion and the death of Agent Dawson.

Guards were posted outside the holding room
to keep Border Patrol agents from interfering with the
investigation. A crowd had formed outside the room and was largely
made up of uniformed agents trying to get a look at their suspects
through the one-way Plexiglas window.

Inside, the six men sat on a single long
bench against the wall, now handcuffed and saying very little to
each other. Even though they couldn’t see beyond the window from
inside, they appeared to be aware that they were being watched and
listened to.

The number of onlookers outside the room
grew to about twenty border agents, all staring in through the
window as though they were at the zoo.

“
Are we going to charge these assholes
or what?” one mustached agent asked with his face burning with
anger. He took a step forward and was rebuked by one of the guards
standing by the door.

“
That’s close enough. Border Patrol
are not allowed entry into holding by order of the FBI.”

The mustached agent took as step back and
threw his arms in the air. “Ah, what do they know? They can go back
to D.C. for all I care.”

A short female agent stepped forward to join
the protest. “It wasn’t one of theirs who was killed yesterday, it
was one of ours!”

The crowd shouted out in agreement.
“Yeah!”

The guard, a Border Patrol agent like
themselves, raised a hand, asking for calm. “Not our call. Now
please, go about your business and let the FBI do theirs.”

But the crowd remained. No one looked as
though they were going anywhere. The capture of the six men was
blood in the water, and after years of bureaucratic red-tape that
had made their jobs harder and harder to do, the Border Patrol
agents wanted retribution. And the only things preventing them from
taking action were two guards and a thick pane of Plexiglas.

Amid the commotion, Angela found herself
back in Chief Drake’s office with Assistant Director Thaxton and
Special Agent Sutherland. So far, she had an insider’s view to the
investigation that none of her colleagues had been privy too. Chief
Drake seemed concerned with her involvement, but beholden to the
whims of the FBI. But had it not been for Captain Martinez’s
disappearance, Angela knew she wouldn’t have been welcomed in the
room.

The television in the corner played clips of
the Chief’s earlier comments to the media in a hastily put-together
press conference. The story wasn’t going anywhere. It’s all they
were talking about on the news. Drake stood in front of a banner
displaying the border agent seal and spoke at a podium with several
microphones sticking out like a bouquet of flowers.

“I can’t release all the specifics on this
incident, but I can say that HAZMAT teams conducted a sweep of the
area and found no evidence of chemical agents released,” Drake
said, adjusting his glasses. “We’ve cordoned off the area
temporarily to conduct the investigation, but we want to stress
that the surrounding communities are not in danger.”

A reporter in the back shot his hand up,
speaking eagerly and out of turn. “Sir, what info can your agency
release about the suspected terrorists who left the scene?” The
reporter paused and then looked down and spoke as if reading from
his notes. “The Starr County PD reports that they issued an APB on
a blue station wagon connected with the vehicle explosion.”

Taken aback, Drake backed away from the
microphone and placed both hands on the podium. He then leaned
closer, zeroing in on the reporter. “Nothing has been confirmed at
this moment involving a vehicle that fits that description or the
activities of the Starr County PD.”

Chief Drake stepped in front of the
television and muted it with a remote. “That son of a bitch. Did
you see what he just did to me there?” he asked the room, turning
around astonished.

Assistant Director Thaxton leaned against
the front of Drake’s desk casually with her arms crossed. “He’s
doing his job,” she offered without sympathy. “Just remember, Chief
Drake. Things are going to get a whole lot worse before they get
better.”

Drake walked back to his desk, tossing the
remote across several open files lying about. He pulled his chair
out and sat, sighing, as Thaxton stood up and walked to the window,
examining the full parking lot. Angela sat in one chair across from
Drake’s desk as Agent Sutherland stood by the door, turning toward
the chief.

“Sir, the assistant director is right,” he
said. “There’s a lot of loose ends out there, and someone has to
tie them up.”

Drake placed both hands on
his desk and leaned forward, notably perturbed. “Tell me
what
your
team is
doing here then? My people are supposed to be protecting the
border, not fighting terrorists.” His eyes shifted directly to
Angela as though he were sending her a message.

Thaxton calmly strolled from the window
toward his desk. “To answer your question, Chief Drake, we’re only
getting started.”

Angela said nothing, despite the questions
swimming around in her head. She felt no closer to the truth, even
with the recent bust. Something felt off-kilter, and each moment
that passed made it seem as if she were being dragged further away
from finding Martinez.

Drake then voiced his concerns on that very
topic. “Where is Captain Martinez?” he asked Angela directly. “His
wife has been calling the station all morning. He won’t answer his
cell phone. He hasn’t been seen since last night.”

“He’s gone rogue,” Thaxton answered. “And we
were hoping that his partner could help us find him.” There was a
hint of something accusatory in her voice.

Drake looked at Angela and then rubbed both
hands down his drained face. “I’m aware of why you have her tagging
along, but I thought you’d have heard from him by now.”

“We haven’t,” Thaxton said.

Angela spoke up for the first time, trying
to get everyone back on track. “What do we know about the men
apprehended today?” All eyes suddenly turned to her, even
Sutherland’s, who had seemed preoccupied with his phone. Angela
paused, taking notice, and then continued. “IDs? Vehicle
registration. They had to be doing something out there. That
outpost was unlivable by any standards.”

“We’ve run their information,” Thaxton said,
surprising Angela with a direct answer. “They’re Syrians here on
education visas.”

“Guess class was canceled today,” Sutherland
added with a chuckle.

Thaxton moved in closer, inches from Drake’s
desk, looking at him with urgency. “We have only a small window
here to question the men before Customs and Immigration and
Homeland get involved.”

Drake set aside a file he
was looking at. “Okay? So what do you want
me
to do about that?”

“Just keep your agents at bay,” Thaxton
said. “And let us do our job.”

Drake glanced over at his TV in the corner
where they were still showing scenes from his earlier press
conference. He held out both hands, giving up, and asked Thaxton if
there was anything else.

“Let’s go, Agent Gannon,” Thaxton said,
walking toward the door.

Drake’s head jerked up. “Hey, where are you
taking her?”

Sutherland opened the door as Angela stood,
frozen, caught between her boss and the assistant director.

Thaxton said, “I told you that Agent
Gannon’s assistance is crucial to this investigation.” She took a
step out the door, and then turned around. “At least until we hear
from Captain Martinez—our man in the woods.”

Angela looked at Drake for confirmation.

“Very well,” he said, looking down. He then
pointed at Angela, speaking forcefully. “But I want to know
everything that you’re doing. You’re to brief me periodically.
Understand?”

“Yes, sir,” Angela said.

He dismissed her, and she walked out with
Thaxton and Sutherland at her sides. Offices and cubicles flanked
the carpeted pathway before them, and standing outside their doors
were Border Patrol agents, who turned in unison with their eyes on
Angela.

She continued past them as conversations
died out, leaving behind a vacuum of uncomfortable silence. There
was much suspicion in the air. No one seemed to know why Angela was
so important to the FBI all of a sudden, and the frustration of
being left in the dark resulted in rumors and speculation.

Angela tried to make eye contact with her
colleagues, even smiling at Captain Reynolds, who looked back at
her stone faced. For the most part, she just kept her head down and
continued walking.

Up ahead, however, the holding room came
into view, where even more Border Patrol had gathered. It was time
to investigate the first piece in the intricate puzzle they were
desperately trying to solve.

Discovery

Angela followed Thaxton and Agent Sutherland
into the holding room, entering as a group. Many of her colleagues
had gathered at the window, watching, though once inside the room,
she could not see them. She wished they would all go away, but such
a scenario wasn’t going to happen. All attention was on the
suspected terrorists. On top of it all, the FBI had planted their
own flag and set up camp.

The nearest FBI headquarters, in Houston,
was more than three hundred miles away, and Angela knew they were
in Del Rio for the long haul, or at least however long it took to
find whatever it was they were looking for.

“
Okay, gentlemen,” Sutherland said,
walking into the room as Thaxton closed the door behind Angela.
“Who’s the leader here?”

Sitting in line on a bench against the wall,
the six men looked down, still handcuffed. No one was speaking.
Sutherland walked down the line, close to the men’s feet, staring
each one down, his long white sleeves rolled up and red tie
swaying.

He was about Angela’s age. His freshly
trimmed blond flattop looked similar to any military cut. With his
booming voice and direct nature, Angela wondered if he had a
background in military service like she did.

Thaxton took a seat on the empty bench
across from the men and beckoned to Angela. As Angela sat next to
her, Thaxton handed her a small notepad and pen. The implied task
was clear: Angela was to take notes—anything, she supposed—to
satisfy the curiosity of her colleagues about her role in the FBI’s
investigation.

“
No one, huh?” Sutherland said,
spreading both arms wide as if to embrace them. His pistol rested
snugly in his side holster, his cell phone in the other. “Just a
bunch of like-minded individuals meeting up along the Rio Grande
border.”

The men remained silent. Angela scribbled
into the pad, noting that the suspects were recalcitrant.
Sutherland seemed to be lost in thought, pacing, as Thaxton kept a
careful eye on the men. The men stared down at the white tile
floor, defiant, with deep, angry frowns on their faces.

“
What’s wrong?” Sutherland asked the
man at the end of the bench. He had dark hair and a thin goatee,
and when he raised his head, he refused to make eye contact with
the two women in the room.

He answered in a thick
Middle Eastern accent. “It is an insult to be asked these questions
with
them
here,”
he said, briefly pointing across the room.

“
You’re just going to have to deal
with it, all right, Mahmoud. Unless you want a one-way ticket back
to Syria in the next five minutes.”

The man’s eyes widened, and he slunk back
toward the wall, surprised that Sutherland knew his name and where
he was from.

“
Do I make myself clear?” Sutherland
asked, leaning down right in the man’s face.

“
Yes. We will talk. But please.” He
stopped and signaled toward Thaxton and Angela dismissively. “Not
with them here.”

Sutherland turned to
Thaxton, waiting for her response. She shook her head, not saying a
word. He then turned back to Mahmoud. “Sorry, Charlie. They stay.
You see, that woman there is the assistant director of the
FBI.
She’s
my
boss. And she’s the one calling the shots here. Not you. Not me.
And certainly not your friends here.”

Mahmoud looked away with a sullen defeated
expression. His friends appeared just as despondent.