Border War - Hardcover

Dobbs, Lou; Born, James O.

Hardcover

ISBN 10: 0765327716 ISBN 13: 9780765327710

Verlag: Forge Books, 2014

Inhaltsangabe

Border War is a timely thriller about the struggles of US law enforcement officers on the Mexican border by TV broadcaster Lou Dobbs.

The border is a tough place to work, especially for FBI agent Tom Eriksen. With a history of violence, he cannot afford any on-duty screw-ups. So when an investigation ends in a bloody shootout and the shooting is deemed "questionable," the bureau reassigns Eriksen to an office known as "the Island of Misfit Cops": a resting place for those who have screwed up enough to warrant being dumped in El Paso, Texas.

But when his partner is murdered, Eriksen must take charge and solve the case, wading through corruption and betrayal to discover the truth. Only after he teams up with a resourceful and gorgeous NSA agent, Kat Gleason, does his luck change. As they slowly put the puzzle pieces together, the investigation points to a powerful cartel lord and a shadowy US computer company.

As the web of deceit and betrayal tightens, the body count grows. Eriksen must deal with the mayhem caused by the cartels while racing against the clock to stop an assassin whose target is someone very close to him.

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Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

LOU DOBBS, the host of Fox Business Network's Lou Dobbs Tonight, is a legendary broadcaster, bestselling author, and one of the most respected and insightful voices on politics, economics, society, and business.

JAMES O. BORN is an award-winning author of seven novels. He is a former U.S. Drug agent and Special Agent with the Florida Department of Law Enforcement (FDLE). He has been involved in investigations in such areas as organized crime, serial crimes, economic crimes, drug cartels, and public corruption.

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Border War

By Lou Dobbs, James O. Born

Tom Doherty Associates

Copyright © 2014 Lou Dobbs and James O. Born
All rights reserved.

ISBN: 978-0-7653-2771-0

CHAPTER 1

"It would do my stress level some good to punch an asshole smuggler really hard. Hearing you bitch about how this surveillance sucks doesn't help."

FBI Special Agent Tom Eriksen withheld a smile from his older partner and instead said, "I didn't say it sucks, I said it stinks. This place physically stinks. Just a comment, not a complaint." Behind him was one of the safest cities in America, and in front of him the little highway that ran southeast of El Paso next to the Rio Grande River. He had no idea what caused the odor he was currently battling, but it did seem to be traveling on the light southern wind just to slap him in the face. It smelled like a mix of industrial chemicals and poor waste disposal.

His partner, John Houghton, a veteran agent of Homeland Security, said, "Sure it stinks. That over there is Juárez — just as deadly as El Paso is safe. Figured you'd be used to the stench of corruption after spending three years in D.C." John's dark face was barely visible in the ambient light.

The terrain was nothing like the grassy hills near Baltimore where he had grown up. This hard, rock-covered ground looked like it couldn't support weeds, let alone the giant cacti and bushes that sprang up everywhere. The uneven ground provided cover while they looked down on the low valley where they expected trouble.

Eriksen was happy to smell something other than the alcohol on John's breath as he looked over the scrub brush and scanned the road and trails in this isolated industrial area. Technically it wasn't part of El Paso, but there was nothing else around to call it. He couldn't even see the reflected light from the city. Another half mile east were the well-guarded grounds of TARC, the Technology and Research Center; a few miles to the west, residential areas started to spring up. This was a favorite spot for Mexican coyotes to smuggle undocumented people across the border. Plenty of access points and room to flee if needed.

John Houghton sighed loudly.

Eriksen said, "C'mon, John, where would you be if not out here on this?"

"At home watching Bill O'Reilly."

"That's what a hotshot federal agent does with his free time?"

Houghton smiled. "The smart ones do." He checked the ridge they were watching one more time. "Besides, he's a Harvard man like you. I'd think you'd like him."

"I do, but scheduling is a problem." Now he checked the ridge and stared in wonder at the Texas landscape he still wasn't used to.

Tom Eriksen didn't care how dusty it got here, how much it stank, or how many nights he had to work, he'd still take it over Washington, D.C., anytime. At least under the circumstances he'd faced before his transfer.

John said, "Why you bitchin', anyway? I thought you were a real cop, not the typical FBI college boy. You can do more than read spreadsheets, can't you?"

"College boy? You went to college, too."

"Yeah, if you can call ASU a college. Not a super-special Ivy League school like you went to. Besides, I'm a black man working for the Immigration and Customs Enforcement. That gives me the right to bitch. Not enough brothers to have any power and too many to claim discrimination. No one pays any attention to me. That's why I drink so much."

"You do okay. Last I checked you were at the top of the pay grade. GS-13, topped out, you gotta be pulling in about a hundred and thirty grand. Somehow I think you'll survive."

"You'll get there. The feds rely on longevity to make money. Just takes time. Besides, having a degree from Harvard makes people take notice."

"Not too much notice. I'm still sitting here on the border with you."

His partner smiled, filling out the laugh lines on his fifty-three-year-old face. "Look at me. I was a Customs agent for fifteen years till that day they merged us into the goddamn Homeland Security and I became an Immigration and Customs Enforcement agent. Now I'm technically an agent for Homeland Security Investigations and looking for illegals on a stupid task force, in a shitty town, with a whining partner." He held up his hand and said, "I know, I know, the term 'illegal' is no longer politically correct, but that's what we've used for years, and it'll take an old-timer like me some time to correct it. That doesn't change the fact that my talents have been wasted."

Eriksen had to laugh out loud at that one.

John continued, "It's a crime. A damn bureaucratic crime. Someone should go to jail for wasting our talent out here like this."

Tom Eriksen just nodded at his partner on this border task force he'd been exiled to. But John was right. It wasn't the stress of violence that ruined most cops, it was the bureaucracy. He felt like the FBI had been trying to kill him for the past two years. It was a long way from what he dreamed of doing.

Eriksen stretched his arms and looked over to the three Border Patrol agents sitting with them. They were all about his age, in their late twenties and close to his six feet. One was pudgy, one looked like he spent too much time in the gym and liked to show off his biceps in a tailored shirt, and the last one had a lean runner's look like Eriksen. The radio crackled, and then Eriksen heard one of the Border Patrol agents in the other group, a few hundred yards south of them, say, "We got movement."

Tom Eriksen liked the Border Patrol guys. They were tough and smart and worked hard at a job seemingly no one wanted them to succeed at. He'd heard more than a few senior ICE or HSI guys say all federal agents should have to start their career in the Border Patrol. Be assigned an impossible job, informed they wouldn't be allowed to actually secure the border, and told not to apprehend too many undocumented people or risk their careers if they tried. Their bosses took care of the real bullshit: keeping a straight face while the politicians told the public what they wanted to hear, that the border was finally secure. The Border Patrol bureaucracy tended to weed out the weak. At least they learned to speak Spanish, and the ones who survived and then moved on to another federal job appreciated what they had. He knew most of the FBI agents and even some of the HSI guys thought they were too good for this kind of duty. Not his partner, John Houghton. He just wanted to work. He would prefer to work something more substantial, at least in his mind, like narcotics or money laundering, but if they assigned him to a task force to cut off the flow of people entering the country improperly, he threw himself into it as best he could.

Eriksen admired that. His father had instilled the need to work hard in all of his children. Eriksen's sister was at the Johns Hopkins University School of Medicine. His older brother was a federal prosecutor in Baltimore, and his younger brother was finishing up his business degree at Columbia. They all worked hard and they all felt sorry for Tom. He would've preferred to be working hard by fighting terrorists, but now he was just glad to have a job. Punching a supervisor usually turned out worse. Thank God for the FBI's desire to maintain its public image.

Now, looking through binoculars, he saw some movement by the supposedly secure culvert that ran under the highway. Smugglers had dug hundreds of tunnels along the border, and many connected directly to storm sewers. Here the Rio Grande kept that from happening, but they had still found a way over. His heart beat a little faster even though he dreaded the idea of chasing fleeing...

Details zur Ausgabe

• Verlag: Forge Books
• Erscheinungsdatum: 2014
• Sprache: Englisch
• ISBN 10: 0765327716
• ISBN 13: 9780765327710
• Einband: Gebundene Ausgabe
• Auflage: 1
• Anzahl der Seiten: 336
• Kontakt zum Hersteller: Nicht verfügbar
• Verantwortliche Person: Nicht verfügbar