Kitabı oku: «Mission: Christmas», sayfa 3

Chapter 3

“Damn, it’s cold,” Dallas griped to Murdoch as they climbed into their intrepid Cessna. The November winds whipped past them, spitting rain—life-giving moisture that was always welcome in arid countries. The sky was slate-gray, with shreds of white stratus clouds hanging low on the horizon.

“Ah, you desert rats always have thin blood,” Mike teased as he pressed the Velcro closed on his Kevlar vest and harnessed up. He noticed Scotty waiting patiently, chocks in hand. It was 6:00 a.m. and barely light. But that’s when the bad guys took off, because they didn’t have all the radar to fly at night.

Giving him a grin, Dallas settled her helmet on her head, strapped in and shut and locked the door. “Yeah, must be my Israeli blood showing. Israel is nothing but desert.”

Mike handed her the preflight checklist and they quickly went through it. Everything was in order. When he took the list back from her, their fingertips met. Murdoch relished the chance to touch Dallas. Ever since he’d grabbed her on the tarmac and she’d thrown him to the ground with her krav maga techniques, he’d been both wary of and fascinated by her. It had taken two months for them to adjust to one another. They worked well together, like a team. But Mike couldn’t help wishing for more contact. For now, he pushed the thought from his mind.

Dallas was pilot today. Since her first confrontation with Murdoch, he had cleaned up his act. He’d never again come on the tarmac drunk. He’d even stopped his hard drinking and partying in Nogales.

Dallas watched Scotty give her the signal, then she started up the engine. The Cessna coughed and sputtered.

“Even the plane is cold today,” she remarked, listening to the motor catch and take hold. The prop whirled, and she eased off the rudders, letting the craft trundle to the end of its short runway, then turn around, ready for takeoff. Dallas paused there, waiting for a sudden rain shower to pass.

“Every plane has a personality,” Mike agreed. “You want some coffee after we get airborne?”

“You bet.”

He’d come to enjoy their intimate patter, their chance to be alone in the air. On the ground, Dallas was in charge. He couldn’t be caught using such familiarity. But here in the air, their professionalism facade dissolved and they’d become like best buddies. Mike wanted more, but she seemed immune to his subtle suggestions. He’d sometimes touch her shoulder when they were teasing one another, or he’d crack a joke, and she’d laugh huskily in return. Whenever his fingers met hers, a pleasant ribbon of warmth flowed up his hand and arm.

The Cessna rolled down the runway after the squall had moved by. The aftermath of a hurricane that had started in Mexico on the Pacific side was making the skies dicey. In Arizona, the storm had already been downgraded to a low frontal system.

Once they leveled off at three thousand feet, the air was much less turbulent. Murdoch pulled out the large metal thermos from the net pocket, quickly poured Dallas half a cup of steaming black coffee and handed it to her. Another chance to touch the beautiful, remote Dallas Klein.

“Thanks,” she said, gripping the metal cup. The warmth felt good to her fingers.

Mike dug into his net pouch for a second cup and poured himself some. Today, they were headed deep into Mexico, to Hermosillo. Mexican federales had located a secret airstrip outside the beautiful city, and the two of them were going to investigate. With a fading hurricane in the vicinity, rain would be falling off and on all day. It would do no good to hunt bad guys along the border because they would be grounded by the weather. Dallas had predicted that, and Mike agreed with her. The druggie action would come after the hurricane moved north. Right now, central Mexico enjoyed sunshine and clear blue skies, just the ticket for druggies to climb into their Cessna Stationairs, and Dallas hoped to intercept them. It was a solid tactical plan.

“Hey, how come I never see you with a dude?” Mike asked, keeping his tone light and bantering. Dallas grimaced and took another sip of her coffee. He had tried all kinds of ways to find out about the enigmatic woman’s personal life but had failed. Yet was he really ready to hear she was in a relationship?

“Murdoch, you’re a terrible tease.”

Shrugging, he said, “Hey, you’re not exactly an open book, you know. I’m just trying to find out if you have a relationship right now.”

Chuckling, Dallas said, “My parents work for the Mossad. Did you expect me to be an open book? I grew up with two spies. They taught me well.” She flashed him a grin.

Undeterred, Mike drawled, “Okay, fair enough, but I’m the guy that has your six. Can’t you level with me?”

With a quizzical glance, she retorted, “Is it safe? You know, the first month you were a snarly dude. I was afraid you were going to bite my hand off.”

Mike snorted. He couldn’t help watching those luscious lips, curving sweetly upward in the corners. If he confided to Dallas he dreamed of her almost nightly, and mention what they did together in his dreams, she’d blush crimson and probably retreat even deeper into herself. “Listen, you’re my X.O., and keeping things professional and detached are fine at the BP station. But this is me. I’ve changed. You can see that. You were right—I was snarly because of my divorce.” He frowned. “And losing Randy, my partner.” Dallas gave him a sympathetic look. “But stop feeling sorry for me, okay? I’d really like to know you personally.”

“Hmm,” Dallas murmured. “Why?”

“Because you’re single, as far as I know, damn good-looking, and I’m a single guy myself.” There, the truth was out. Mike wondered how she was going to handle it. Might as well find out.

Dallas finished her coffee and handed the cup back. “First of all, I am single. And no, I don’t have a steady guy in my life right now.”

“You used to?”

“Yes, back in Cuzco. He was a Peruvian medical doctor.” Dallas shrugged. “Things got complicated. I was in a black ops, and he was a renowned heart surgeon. Between our two schedules, we rarely saw one another, and even then, if I got called back to BJS for an emergency, I was gone. His family put a lot of pressure on him to drop me, and eventually, he did.”

“Families can do that,” Mike agreed. He felt elated she was sharing with him. “Now, my family is very laid-back. I’m the oldest, with two younger sisters, Julie and JoAnn.”

“Laid-back. Hmm. Like you, right?” Dallas chuckled.

Mike smiled back and scanned the gray sky and scudding clouds. Rain splattered across the cockpit window, but less and less frequently the farther south they flew. “I’m laid-back, too.”

“Oh, right. Mr. Intense. You lock on to a druggie through your binoculars, and you’re like a laser-fired rocket.” She laughed wryly. “Give me a break, Murdoch. You’re the least laid-back dude I’ve ever known, a bloodhound on a scent!”

“So, you don’t like intense dudes? They’re a turnoff? A surgeon isn’t exactly a laid-back sort, either. They are well known type A personalities.”

A smile lurked on her lips. “Murdoch, you’re fishing. What’s this all about?”

“Well…” he sighed, sitting back, sipping his coffee. “I wanted to invite you out to dinner tonight after we get back. I know a really nice Mexican couple in Nogales who’ve been friends of mine for years. I thought you might like to have some good home cooking, Mexican style. Since you spent six years in Peru, I thought you’d probably enjoy Latin food.”

“Now that’s a provocative invitation,” Dallas said, trying to look serious. She noticed his black, straight brows moving downward. “Good food is always a draw for me.”

“You mean you’d come along for the food? And not because you’re with me?”

“You’re incorrigible, Murdoch.”

He grinned wolfishly and added, “Maria is a damn good cook. Her husband, Alfredo, is a businessman. He owns a trading post on both sides of the border. I think you’d enjoy them. They’re very intelligent, compassionate people with big hearts. Did you know that at Christmas, they take thousands of dollars worth of gifts to orphanages in Sonora? Alfredo likes to dress up as Santa Claus, and Maria becomes Mrs. Claus. They’re a hoot, the two of them.”

“They sound like really nice people,” Dallas said. “Yeah, I’d love to have dinner with them.”

“How about with me?”

“Oh, Murdoch, will you stop?”

Feeling pleased, he decided not to push her anymore. Dallas had colored prettily beneath his cajoling. She looked even more desirable with pink cheeks and that softness in her golden eyes. “I guess I can stop goading you,” he said, “since you’ve agreed to have a date with me.”

“It’s not a date.”

“What would you call it?”

“Just two friends having dinner with other friends.”

“I guess I’ll let you get away with that definition—for now.”

Seeing her smile elated Murdoch as never before. He was curious. Why did Dallas refuse to call it a date? Was she drawn to him at all, or did she really see him as just a friend? That wasn’t a status Murdoch wanted with her.

The plane bumped then leaped about fifty feet upward as it hit an air pocket. Dallas quickly stabilized it. She was a damn fine pilot, but so was he.

“You know,” he said, putting the cap back on the thermos and getting down to business, “you and I have the best stats for October. We made five busts. Just think, about 4,500 pounds of marijuana and coke aren’t gonna hit U.S. markets.” He pressed his hand to his chest. “Does my heart good.”

“Yeah, we are a good team,” Dallas told him. “Better than I thought, given our rough landing when I first got here.”

“That’s over,” Mike assured her. “I apologized. I had my nose bent out of joint over my divorce.”

“I don’t ever want to divorce. I want to fall in love and have it last forever. Maybe that’s idealistic in a world where half the marriages crash and burn, but my parents are still married. That’s what I want.”

“Ahh, now I get it.” Mike touched the center of his forehead and closed his eyes. “Great seer that I am, the reason why you want me only as a friend is you’re afraid I’ll dump you somewhere down the road, and you’ll be alone with no hope of a forever marriage.”

“Get real, dude!”

Chortling, Mike opened his eyes and shared her laughter. He loved the fact that every time they flew, Dallas opened up to him a little more. At last he felt as if he’d touched the real core of her, and not the X.O. who was his boss. “Hey, I’m a responsible kind of guy. I like long-term.”

“Yeah, sure you do. How long were you married before, Cowboy?” That was his nickname in the Border Patrol.

“That’s not fair.”

“Sure it is. I’m a forever kind of gal. You’re not, judging from your track record.”

“Don’t shoot me down so fast, darlin’.” He saw her eyes go wide then grow warm over his endearment. Mike had discovered that Dallas needed male attention in small dollops. She didn’t like brutish men, that was for sure. He never saw her go to the Nogales nightclubs to dance and drink. She stayed at the base or went to her apartment nearby, but never partied. He’d often wondered why, but now, knowing that she was incredibly responsible, dedicated to her career, and looking for a long-term relationship, he began to understand her actions.

“Hey, to me, a divorce is a sign that two people can’t work out their differences. If you couldn’t do it in your first marriage, Murdoch, why should I look at you as serious stuff?”

“Well,” he said, eyeing her intently, “maybe you don’t know the whole story behind my divorce. Maybe they don’t all happen because two people are too lazy or selfish to work things out.” He opened his hands. “My parents have been married since they were both eighteen, and they’re fifty now. Have they had tough times? You bet. Did they struggle? Oh, yeah, I saw it. But the one thing that kept them together was that they loved one another. It’s the glue that’s gotten them through a lot of tough times.”

“Precisely. That’s what I’m talking about—commitment based on love.” Dallas scanned the clearing sky. Between the gray, horizontal stratus clouds were hints of blue. In another hour they’d be out of the remnants of the hurricane and into sunshine as they made their way to Hermosillo.

She shot him a dark look. “So, if your parents are forever people, what happened to you, Murdoch?”

Okay, it was his turn to be vulnerable. Mike was uncomfortable with her flat stare, but he wanted her so damn bad, in every way, that he decided to lay the truth on the table between them. “I wanted a forever marriage, too, Dallas. I didn’t plan to get married young—I figured if I married when I was older, I’d be better able to handle the rigors of it all. About five years ago, I met Galina Baranova, who was an interpreter for the Border Patrol. She was a recent immigrant from Moscow and a whiz at languages, speaking at least five fluently. I was stationed in El Paso, Texas, when I started working with her. I fell in love with her on the spot. But she wasn’t who I thought she was.”

“Oh?” Dallas gave him a worried glance and saw his expression go sad.

“She was with the Russian mafia.” He sighed. “To make a long story short, she was an ace of a con artist. She’s a genius, really. She became a mole for the Russian mafia back in Moscow. In her job as translator, she flew all over the Southwest and had access to many of the deep, dark secret records the BP kept on drug smuggling movements coming up from South America and Mexico. She was able to let her cohorts know well ahead of time when certain drug shipments were being watched, and they would change course, and we’d lose track of them. This went on for two years, until I started getting suspicious. One time, I found by accident a piece of paper in Galina’s purse. I’d been digging for money in her billfold, because I was out of cash and needed some before I went to work. The paper was a list of drug smuggling operations, and she’d made a notation in one corner—the name of her contact in Mexico. We got the FBI on it, and they apprehended the dude and interrogated him back in D.C.” Grimacing, Mike said quietly, “About two weeks later, the FBI came to our house and arrested Galina. They hadn’t told me beforehand.”

“I’m so sorry,” Dallas said. She reached out and gripped his hand. “That must’ve been tough.”

Her palm was warm and soft. Greedily, Murdoch laced his fingers with hers and gave them a gentle squeeze. This was the first time he’d ever shown his affection to Dallas. Would she realize what she meant to him? As he released her hand, he saw her blush. There was such innocence to her, despite her being a combat veteran. That was the part he wanted to access, to know, to care for, to love and cherish—forever.

The realization of how he felt slammed into him, and he tried to come to grips with it. Ever since Dallas had shown up in his life, he’d desired her. Sure, at first he had only wanted to get her to bed. But then, over the course of the last month, he had started yearning for a lot more from her. His dreams, although torrid, were about more than just sex. What he felt was much deeper than that, he realized now.

“Hey,” he called softly. When Dallas turned, he saw a velvety quality in her eyes he’d never seen before. Instantly, his heart opened even wider. That mouth of hers was begging, just begging, to be kissed. Her attraction was clearly written across her suddenly very vulnerable features.

For the first time, Mike saw the real Dallas Klein. And, God forgive him, he just about died and went to heaven. “Don’t feel sorry for me, darlin’. What I would like is a clean slate between the two of us. I think we cleared some important hurdles at three thousand feet here, don’t you?” He flashed her an impish grin, having found out a long time ago that humor could frequently soothe a fractious confrontation. And right now, if he was reading Dallas correctly, he could see her reassessing him. Maybe even thinking about a possible relationship with him. Never had he wanted anything more.

“I’m glad we cleared the air, Mike. I didn’t know the details about your divorce. That had to be horrible on you. The shock…If you entered that marriage with the idea it was forever…Well, what a heartbreaking situation.”

“That’s why I was hitting the Nogales nightclubs when you arrived. I was drinking to stop the pain I was feeling,” he admitted quietly. After looking around, which was his habit as a copilot, he returned his gaze to her. “And you really snapped me out of it that first day we flew together.” Giving her another boyish grin, he said, “Thanks. I needed that.”

“What? Being laid out flat on your back on the tarmac?”

Murdoch chuckled. “Yeah, I’d been drinking heavily, almost nonstop, for two weeks. It wasn’t like me, but I had to do something to dull the pain.”

“Helluva way to do it,” Dallas commented, searching the airspace below them. The sky was lightening up even more. The Cessna chugged like the stalwart workhorse it was. “Sometimes we all have to hit brick walls, Mike. Maybe I was your wall.”

“Yeah,” he murmured wryly, “but your wall has a door, and I’m knockin’ to be let in, darlin’.”

Chapter 4

Dallas was sitting in her office on a cold, early December morning when Mike sauntered in. She glanced at her watch and realized time was slipping away from them. As usual, he was in his rumpled flight suit, but he made it look pulverizingly male. What was there not to like about him?

“Hey, I heard some scuttlebutt from Thomas Boyce at the BP headquarters in D.C.,” he said, closing the door quickly to keep in the heat. He couldn’t help but stare. She was wearing a ponytail at the nape of her neck. He fantasized about removing the rubber band that held her thick, shining hair and then running his hands through it. He knew the rose-scented locks would feel like sleek, raw silk.

“Yeah? What kind of scuttlebutt?” Dallas asked, picking up her morning coffee.

Mike leaned lazily against the wooden counter where all the flight plans were created. “That you are landing us another flight team. Are we going to get in more personnel? God knows we’re working 24-7, and we need the help. Our C.O. was never able to pry loose more pilots and planes from the Border Patrol because of the budget.” Mike eyed her. “Is all this true?”

Grinning triumphantly, she eased back in her chair. “Sure is.” She liked the way he glowed with happiness at her comment. “I’ve been here long enough to see that the four of us are going to be driven into the ground by the work demands.” She pointed to a map behind her desk that had red pins all across the state of Sonora. “You and I have been working seven days a week since I got here.”

Resting his elbows on the counter, he held her gaze. “Yeah, I can’t even get a date with you because of our killer schedule,” he griped good-naturedly. “That night you agreed to go to dinner with me? Our flight that day ended up lasting far past my friends’ dinner hour, and it was scrubbed. When have we had time for dinner together? Much less with my friends?”

A shaft of heat moved through her. Dallas didn’t tell him she was glad that long mission had happened. A part of her had been looking forward to having dinner with Mike and his Mexican friends. But another part had been reluctant. Murdoch was a macho guy who, if he saw something he wanted, went after it with no apology. While Dallas liked that kind of assertiveness in their trade, working against drug smugglers, he was moving way too fast for her on a personal front. She liked him but wasn’t ready to commit to anything. Not yet. “Well,” she drawled with a smile, “all in good time, Murdoch. Some things are worth waiting for. Did your parents ever try to teach you patience?” She chuckled.

“Not one of my greatest attributes, is it, Ms. Dallas?”

They were alone, and Dallas enjoyed their repartee. Mike was the biggest jokester in Nogales, and he made her laugh even at grim times chasing the druggies. “No, it’s not, but you have others.”

“Oh?” He perked up and placed his hands on his hips. “Like what?”

“Oh, no,” Dallas said, holding up her own hands and laughing, “I’m not going there! Your head is swelled enough, Cowboy.”

“I know, my arrogance is becoming. Even appealing to you. Isn’t it?” Mike liked the way her cheeks grew pink. He knew how to get beneath her armor.

“At times,” she said, holding his penetrating gaze and trying not to respond physically. Did Murdoch know how damn virile he was? Dallas suspected he did. Even though he’d shaved that morning, a hint of stubble already grew, making his face seem slightly dangerous. That kind of danger Dallas liked, and she quelled her yearning for him. She had to settle in as X.O., not to mention she had a number of jobs to undertake to keep this small flight unit functional.

“Well,” Mike said, “since the rumor is true, where did you scrounge up these extra bodies? The C.O. has never been able to force Washington to give us relief pilots so we could have a weekend off.”

“I got one pilot,” she told him. “Captain Alexander. She was due for rotation out of the Black Jaguar Squadron. I knew that in advance, so I made a phone call to an influential U.S. Army general back at the Pentagon.” Dallas handed him the summary orders. It was an excuse to touch his hand. The moment their fingertips met, warmth flowed into her. She savored the sensation.

“Thanks,” Mike said, taking the paper. He stared down at the new orders for the pilot. “Nike Alexander?”

“It’s pronounced ‘Nikee.’”

“Interesting. Wasn’t there a Greek goddess by that name?”

“Sure was. Nike Alexander was named after the goddess of victory. She was born in Athens. And she likes to tell everyone that the goddess was created when the god of war, Ares, consorted with a mortal woman. Nike was the child created by their love.”

“She sounds like she’ll be real aggressive in the air,” Murdoch said, handing the sheet back to Dallas. “And if she was named after the goddess of victory, then it sounds like you picked a real winner. We want aggressive pilots around here.”

“You got that right. There isn’t a woman at BJS who isn’t air combat aggressive, and from my experience around here, that’s needed in spades. Those drug smugglers in Sonora are the worst bunch I’ve ever run into. And I believe Nike can help us make a difference.”

“What about a copilot for her? You got one yet?”

Dallas shook her head. “No. I’ve got some pull in the Pentagon, and I’m working that angle right now. With the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq, pilots are rare as hen’s teeth. But I’ve got a lead on one, and I believe we can get him.”

Rubbing his hands, Mike said, “You’re an accomplished, crafty woman, you know that?” He was proud of her abilities. The more he knew about Dallas, the more he admired her.

“That’s the X.O.’s job,” she parried, putting a number of items on her desk away. It was time to get going on their morning mission. “I like what I do. All the chess moves to get what we need around here. The C.O.’s thrilled pink we have Nike assigned to us.”

“I’m sure he is. Jake and Bob are gonna be jumping up and down over this change, too. They’d like to have some time off with their families.”

“I know,” Dallas said, frowning. “This work is demanding. We can’t be fresh and alert when we’re working 24-7, either, so that’s another reason to get a third flight team in here.”

Giving her an intent look, Murdoch said, “You know, I got a funny feeling about you. Why do I think you aren’t going to be around here forever?”

She smiled slightly as she put Nike Alexander’s orders in a personnel folder, which she tucked in the file drawer on the left side of her desk. Her heart twinged at the thought of leaving Mike, and that was new for her.

Normally, Dallas considered herself a tumbleweed, moving from one assignment to another, no strings attached. But after learning of his heartbreaking marriage, she had begun to see him in a new light. A better one. And a part of her wanted to stay here and not move when the new orders came in shortly from the Pentagon. Looking up, she said, “There’s that word again—forever. Mike, you know in our business change is guaranteed. You might not be military, but even the ATF will switch you to another spot eventually. I’m aligned with the U.S. Army, so about every two years I’ll be rotated to another base or mission.”

Frowning, Murdoch took the orders for the day, which lay near his elbow, but didn’t look at them. “Yet you believe in forever marriages.” The idea that Dallas might leave sooner rather than later knotted his stomach. A grim feeling snaked through him, twisting his gut. For once, he wished his intuition was wrong. There was so much about Dallas that was secret or off-limits to him, even now. She had learned to trust him in the last month, and Mike couldn’t fathom going up against the drug smugglers without her. She was a damn fine pilot, fierce in combat and someone he could trust to cover his back when things heated up. But it was more than that, and he tried to wrestle with the shock of her possibly walking out of his life—forever.

“Yes, but that’s not a job, that’s a way of life.”

“I agree.” Murdoch grinned. Dallas didn’t seem to realize how affected he was by the thought of her leaving. But then, he’d never kissed her or really told her how he felt about her. When had there been time? Opportunity? For once, Murdoch was unhappy about the seven-day-a-week job. He wished for a day off with Dallas.

She grinned back. “Marriage should be something great to build on. That doesn’t mean there won’t be problems to surmount, but at least they’re tackled as a team.”

“On that, there’s no argument.” He held her gaze. “You didn’t answer me. Do you know something we don’t? Are you gonna pull a disappearing act on me?” That was the last thing Mike wanted, and when he saw her hesitate, his heart squeezed. She did know something.

How he wanted a relationship with this enigmatic, powerful woman. Mike knew he could be her equal. But did she?

Dallas shrugged. She knew she couldn’t divulge the black ops orders that would be issued by the Pentagon. “Does it look like I’m going anywhere?” She pointed to the stack of tactical assignments on her desk. “There are all our December missions. That should tell you I’m hanging around.”

“Humph.” He pointed at their current mission. “Speaking of that, I see we’re going back to Hermosillo.”

“Yeah, our favorite place,” Dallas said wryly. Getting up, she smoothed out her flight suit, picked up her helmet bag and knee board, and gave him a smile. “Ready, Cowboy?”

A prickling heat of pleasure moved through Murdoch. He liked the way she said his nickname. Throwing her a mock salute, because he was a civilian and didn’t have to salute any military person, he said, “Ready, ready now…”

Murdoch was commander for the flight that day. As they snaked among the Sierra Madres looking for smugglers, Dallas scanned the terrain below. The Sonoran state, with its steep, rugged valleys, was a perfect place for low-flying drug planes to hide. They would pop up to cross a shrubby shoulder of mountain, then dive back undercover of another one. The smugglers rarely crossed into U.S. space. Instead, they’d fly to a dirt strip twenty or thirty miles south of the border and off-load their cocaine or marijuana to awaiting men, who would go by truck, horseback or foot into the USA.

Mike and Dallas had been flying for six hours by the time they neared Hermosillo. Murdoch figured they’d find something there. They always did.

“Got one,” Dallas crowed, binoculars fixed on a yellow-and-white Cessna crossing a steep canyon below them. “Don’t need to verify this one with authorities,” she murmured, watching the plane. “The dude has the numbers on the fuselage covered over with duct tape.” The Sierra Madres made an ideal place to grow marijuana, cut it, package it and then stow it on board a smuggler’s plane.

“A dead giveaway he’s in the trade.” Tipping the wing a little, Mike spotted the plane. “Let’s watch where he goes. He’s heading northwest. Call los federales. They can get one of their twin-engine Cessnas up in the air to follow him, too.” Their ATF unit frequently worked with Mexican authorities, who were learning how to hunt and capture the air smugglers, too. The U.S. had given their southern neighbor a fleet of Cessnas, twenty-six Schweizer 333 helicopters and ten refurbished Huey helicopters to aid in stopping the drug trade.

“Chances are he isn’t going to one of the ninety official airports in Sonora,” Dallas joked, following the smuggler’s progress.

Murdoch ratcheted up the throttle to 160 miles per hour to keep up with the hedge-hopping druggie below them. “No,” he drawled, “he’s probably headed for one of the thousand illegal landing strips we’ve thus far identified.” Mike smirked evilly. “Or maybe he’ll show us yet another airstrip we didn’t know about.”

Of course, the Mexican government sent in troops to destroy the airstrips as soon as they were located. The soldiers would dig horizontal ditches across them, so planes couldn’t land without crashing and tipping over on their noses.

“Nothing surprises me anymore, given their constant creativity,” Dallas agreed grimly. Setting the binoculars aside, she radioed the Mexican authorities, giving a description of the smuggler’s aircraft, plus latitude and longitude. After signing off, she said, “They’re putting a Cessna Citation on this one.”

Murdoch nodded. The U.S. had armed the Citation jet with radar.

He looked around. The day was sunny and clear, with no clouds to hamper their view. He wondered if the pilot knew they were on his six, two thousand feet above. Probably not. Often, they orbited a smuggler and let him land, and then took him on. Because they never knew where the plane would put down, it wasn’t often that the federales could be there when they captured a smuggler.