"Great. Got it," said Riggs. "We'll stake out the box."

"Just so you completely understand, let me clarify. No matter how long it takes for one of the Gleasons to show up, your team owns this post office box."

"Sure," said Riggs. "What if n.o.body ever shows up?"

"Then you're all dead men," said Flagg. "And just so I'm clear-I did mean all of you. If either of your colleagues decides to cut his losses and make a run for it, I will place a permanent, tier-one contract on his head. The same goes without saying for you. Are we all on the same page, gentlemen?"

Tex and Ross acknowledged Flagg's query with uncharacteristically crisp replies in the affirmative.

"Excellent. Check out of the Travelers Inn at a normal time in the morning, to avoid suspicion, and relocate to the address I've pa.s.sed to Miss Keane. The location is residential, with a two-car garage. Nissie will have the entry codes. Nice touch ditching the Tahoe, by the way. I haven't completely lost faith in your abilities, Chris."

"Thank you, sir."

"Last thing. I need you to drive to the airport in Helena to pick up two new rental cars. The rental offices open at six a.m., and it's a two-hour trip each way. Plan accordingly. Obviously, this will require at least two of you. One of you will need to stay behind and watch the post office. PO boxes are accessible twenty-four hours a day at this location."

Tex lowered his rifle and silently mouthed an obscenity.

"We're on it, Mr. Flagg," said Riggs. "We're gonna fix this. I made a really bad call back at the town house."

Tex shook his head and rolled his eyes.

"Water under the bridge. All we can do is move forward," said Flagg. "Last thing. Miss Keane's team is off-limits. She didn't reach out to me with any of this."

The satellite phone chirped, indicating that the call had ended. Riggs verified that they were no longer connected, giving them a thumbs-up.

Ross whispered, "Power the phone down."

Riggs removed the battery. Tex and Ross did the same with their phones.

"That went better than I expected," said Tex. "Even though we're still f.u.c.ked."

"We've been in tougher spots than this," said Riggs.

Ross nodded. "I'm still thinking about shooting you. This PO box thing is a long shot."

"We can work around this if n.o.body shows up," said Riggs. "Somebody in town knows Scott Gleason."

PART IV.

CHAPTER 32.

Nathan's helmet knocked against the bullet-resistant window, jolting him awake. The car was drifting to the right over the median, into the leftmost northbound lane. He looked at David, who glanced at him for a second.

"I'm good," he said.

"You were halfway into the oncoming lane."

"There's no traffic on either side."

"That's not the point."

He checked his watch-5:03 a.m. He'd been asleep for around eighteen minutes. He knew that because David had almost driven them off the road at four forty-five. Nathan had sworn to himself that he'd keep an eye on him, but the jolt of adrenaline had worn off much quicker than he'd expected.

"I'll be fine once the sun comes up. The sky is changing," David said, pointing past him.

Nathan raised his visor, not sure how anyone could make that determination looking at a synthetic daylight image, and stared into the darkness. As his eyes adjusted, a thin strip of blue framing the low hills to the east became visible. David was right-about the sun coming up, not his ability to drive. Once they crossed into Arizona, they had to stop somewhere to grab some sleep. All of them. They faced a full day of driving to reach Las Vegas. Probably twice that, with the detours around Tucson and Phoenix.

"We'll stop and rest on the other side of the border," said Nathan.

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"It's better than driving off the road and killing everyone. I'm even thinking we might be better off lying low for the day and heading out again around nightfall."

"We need to keep moving north," said David.

"Who's going to drive? Me? Them?" He pointed at his sleeping family.

"I'll be fine," said David. "What does that sign say?"

Nathan examined the green-and-white road sign ahead. "Aeropuerto eleven kilometers," he read aloud.

"We're getting close to the Route 150 connector."

"We don't want to miss that," said Nathan, settling into his seat to watch David.

A few minutes later, barely able to keep his own eyes open, he watched David's head lower slowly. They were definitely finding an out-of-the-way motel on the other side. He gripped the wheel with his right hand and nudged David with the other.

The Marine bolted upright, shaking his head. "s.h.i.t. Sorry."

"That's it. You can't keep your eyes open for two minutes," said Nathan, tapping his watch. "I don't think a few hours of shut-eye is going to kill us."

David inhaled and exhaled deeply. "We'll see if we can find a safe place to stop."

A lighted highway sign, spanning the two northbound lanes, appeared in the distance. The sign didn't contain any highway numbers. The left side read RECINTO FISCAL NOGALES III-FRONTERA USA, the other AEROPUERTO-NOGALES CENTRO.

Nathan said, "Stay left and follow anything that reads 'Frontera USA.'"

"How far to the border from the split?"

Too tired to remember the calculation he had made earlier, Nathan had to take the map out again. Fortunately, he had scribbled the distance on the map. "About eight miles. Takes us west of Nogales proper," said Nathan. "I still find it hard to believe the border crossing here isn't manned. If it is, we're screwed."

"I don't think Jose would have sent us here if there was any doubt."

"They drove us into a very dangerous situation back in Sonoyta. What if the United States military's shut down the Nogales crossing and left snipers behind there, too?" David sighed. "Knowing what we know now, I would have routed us south, away from Sonoyta."

Now it was Nathan's turn to sigh. "It doesn't matter at this point. Stay left. Looks like it splits ahead."

The SUV eased into a long, winding curve that took them onto an overpa.s.s. An artificial orange-scale glow lit the sky to the northeast, competing with the rapidly approaching sunrise.

"That must be Nogales," said Nathan.

"I'm surprised it's lit up. From the look of it, you'd think nothing was wrong here."

"I read that Mexicali was pretty quiet in El Chapo's days. Before California started squeezing the flow of drugs coming through the border there. A peaceful place, if you can believe that. He kept the violence to a minimum in that city, so it didn't attract attention from either side of the fence. Police officials from Tijuana kept their families there, commuting back and forth on the weekends. Maybe Nogales is the new Mexicali."

"I'm not stopping for a breakfast burrito, if that's your angle," said David.

Nathan chuckled. It was good to hear David crack a joke. He'd been all business since their worlds had collided three days ago. Three days felt like an eternity, and their journey was far from over.

"I'm not that hungry," said Nathan. "Time to wake up the crew."

He reached back and shook Keira's leg. She barely stirred. A second shaking didn't improve the situation, so he pinched the inside of her thigh, just above her knee.

"What the f.u.c.k!" she yelled, jerking upright.

Owen mumbled and shifted in the seat, leaning against the backpacks instead of Keira's shoulder.

"I tried to wake you up using more conventional methods," said Nathan.

"What was next, light my pants on fire?" she said, shoving his hand away.

"Sorry. We're coming up on the border."

She rubbed her eyes and squinted, looking around. "The sun's coming up," she said, checking her watch. "How long was I out?"

"Two hours?"

She took a long sip from her CamelBak hose. "I could use about ten more."

"We're going to stop on the other side and get some rest. n.o.body is in any condition to drive at this point."

"Is that a good idea? Jose was pretty specific about getting as far north as possible," she said.

"Tucson is less than a hundred miles north, and there's nowhere to stop in between. Alpha made it clear we need to skirt the city, which will slow us down. We need to be sharp if we're taking side roads, and we need to find somewhere to gas up. We're down to a hundred miles until empty. We rest, refuel, eat-hit the road running."

He purposely withheld the part about possibly waiting until nightfall, hoping David would forget he'd said it. He'd let them sleep as long as they needed, even if it meant burning up most of the day. Getting across the border was the important part. Even if the cartel had turned on Jose by this point, they'd be tucked away safe and sound. The more he thought about it, the more sense it made. n.o.body would expect them to slow down or stop.

Nathan was so deep in thought-or half-asleep-that he didn't realize David had started talking. "-awake for the past hour," he was saying. "I'd like to keep moving, but I agree with Nate that the risks outweigh the benefits. A quick nap is all I need to recharge. If they have a hot pot or a microwave, we can make some coffee. I have a Ziploc bag filled with Starbucks ready brew in my pack."

"You had me at Starbucks," said Keira.

The first indication they had reached the border came a few minutes later, when the two northbound lanes opened into three lanes separated by parallel running concrete barriers. A long sign suspended over the lanes had been hastily spray-painted white, obscuring the directions separating traffic.

"Any guess which lane we should use?" said David.

"I don't think it matters anymore," said Nathan, checking the map. "This isn't the border."

"Kind of looks like the border," said Keira.

"I know, but we haven't been on Route 150 long enough. Maybe this is some kind of tariff station? Who knows."

They entered the far left lane, which ran for a mile before they reached what looked like an inspection point. A tall pole and beam structure rose across the highway, covered by a wide corrugated metal roof. Underneath, the road widened to accommodate four lanes, none of which contained an inspector station. To their right, just beyond a chain-link fence, a similar structure sheltered narrow booths. From what Nathan could tell, the booths appeared unmanned.

"Looks like we picked the express route," said Nathan as the SUV shot through the middle opening.

"I hope the border is this easy," said Keira.

"I suspect it will be," said David. "This isn't a border anymore."

"All that congressional bickering about losing jobs to Mexico and ending NAFTA, and the cartels open the border to free trade," said Nathan.

"Free trade in drugs," said David. "I don't see any eighteen-wheelers packed with produce heading north."

"We haven't seen a single vehicle, period," said Keira.

"Mexico ships everything overseas now," added Nathan.

A second unlit station appeared in the distance, resembling what tollbooths used to look like on American highways. Nathan raised his rifle and took a closer look. Dented steel barriers protected each reinforced concrete booth. The faces of the booths looked like they had been used for target practice, the paint chipped and concrete cratered in hundreds of places. He saw neither gates blocking their pa.s.sage nor people in the booths. As the image clarified, he saw the pattern of a faded, spray-painted symbol. Libre. Free.

"What are we looking at here?" said David.

"This must be the tariff station. Looks clear."

They crossed into the United States through a similarly bullet-riddled, graffiti-covered, and thoroughly abandoned tollbooth island. The only difference was the sign greeting them at the US Customs station. WELCOME TO THE UNITED STATES had been spray-painted to read WELCOME TO MEXICO.

CHAPTER 33.

Keira peered between the front seats, examining the motel as they turned off Mariposa Boulevard. Nothing stood out as particularly worrisome at first glance. Like the rest of the town, it looked neglected by time. Well worn, but still functional on the outside. An empty sh.e.l.l. She didn't like it.

"I don't know about this," she said. "Maybe we should get back on the interstate and head north."

"David's about to drive us off the road," said Nathan.

"Why don't you drive?"

"I'm not doing any better. We just need a few hours of sleep."