Hard To Forget

One

Eleven Years Later

The staccato sound of her heels striking the polished floor echoed down the hallway, causing Elena to wince. She felt the need to tiptoe as she followed the directions she’d been given to attend a nine-o’clock meeting at the Quantico, Virginia, headquarters of the FBI.

This was not the part of the building where she’d worked as an intelligence analyst for the past seven years, and so the area was unfamiliar to her. She had no idea why she’d been requested to attend a meeting here with Douglas Wilder and his group. If nothing else, her curiosity had been aroused.

She glanced at her watch and decided she had time to stop at the women’s restroom to make certain she looked as professional and competent as possible when she met with Wilder.

Special Agent Wilder headed a team of field agents, people who had trained intensively to work with and around the public. She, on the other hand, was more comfortable working with facts, figures and raw data. She’d made it through the academy all right and had been relieved when she was assigned her current position.

Elena had discovered a long time ago that she was more comfortable being an observer than a participant in life. She enjoyed searching through information to find patterns, to make sense out of various bits and pieces of information and to put it together to explain what illegal activities might be going on in the country. She was used to working alone. Since receiving the phone call at home last night, she’d been unable to come up with any idea why Special Agent Wilder would want her to be in today’s meeting.

She pushed open the restroom door. Ceramic tile covered the floor, as well as the lower half of the gray walls. A frosted-glass window allowed natural light to flood the area. The small room, with its three stalls and four sinks, was empty. She sighed with relief. She wasn’t ready yet to see anyone this early in the morning.

Elena took a deep breath and forced herself to release the air in her lungs in a slow calm manner. You can handle this, she reminded herself. Maybe there was something in one of her reports that needed further explanation in person. There was no reason to panic. She was competent in her job. She just wasn’t used to working in a group.

She ran cool water over her hands and wrists, then carefully dried them on a paper towel from a nearby dispenser. She stared into the mirror that ran the length of the sinks, inspecting her image one last time.

After she straightened the collar of her white blouse, she adjusted the belt of her black slacks. Her lightweight cotton jacket matched her slacks.

Only her hair detracted from the professional and competent look she wanted. The thick wavy mass had always been the bane of her existence. Today she had forced it into a not-so-tidy knot at the nape of her neck. Unfortunately there were strands already escaping and curling around her ears. She felt a trickle of nervous perspiration slide down her spine.

Elena peered into her green eyes, deliberately narrowing them in an effort to look tougher. Her long thick lashes were no help at all. She’d been told that she had sultry eyes. Sultry! That was the last thing she wanted to hear from anyone.

Another glance at her watch told her she needed to get to the meeting. She tucked a curl behind her ear and made certain there was no smudge of lipstick on her teeth. With another deep breath she opened the door into the hallway and proceeded to the room where the meeting would be held.

She paused in the open doorway and looked around. She counted seven agents—all men—only one of whom she recognized. Chris Simmons. He glanced up from the coffee machine where he was filling a cup and saw her standing there. He smiled with an obvious look of surprise. He filled a second cup, then walked over to where she stood, greeting her with a big grin.

“Well, hello, stranger. Welcome to our little part of the world,” he said, offering her one of the cups he held.

So he remembered her strong dependency on coffee to get her day started. Today of all days, his offer was greatly appreciated. She’d skipped her second cup of coffee this morning for fear she’d be late.

She returned his smile. “Thanks, Chris,” she said. The aromatic brew was just what she needed to settle her jumping nerves. She inhaled the lovely fragrance and took a hasty sip.

He nodded. “You’re quite welcome. It’s good to see you. It’s been a while. Come on in and find a place to sit.”

She followed him into the room and looked around. It looked like every other government conference room she’d been in, with its large oblong table in the middle, surrounded by unpadded wooden chairs.

“So what brings you to our neck of the woods?” Chris asked. “I thought they liked to keep you and the other brains away from the rest of us poor working slobs.”

Since Chris had aced all his tests at the academy, she wasn’t buying into his “dumb me” act.

“I have no idea,” she replied with a shrug. “I was told to show up this morning, so here I am.” She glanced around the room. The other agents were either in the process of getting coffee or already sipping from their cups. They milled around the table until they each claimed a chair and laid out their pads and pens. With a hint of hesitancy she added, “I just found out last night that I was to be here.”

Chris motioned for her to sit, then took the chair next to her.

They had been friends since they’d graduated from the academy together. They’d dated for several months back then before recognizing that they enjoyed each other’s company but weren’t interested in pursuing a more intimate relationship, which might come between them and their careers. Elena had never been sorry about that decision.

She enjoyed Chris’s blond good looks and the fact that, although he took his profession seriously, he never took himself seriously. He had been one of the few men in their class who had actively supported her efforts during their training.

He leaned back in his chair. “You know, seeing you again reminds me that we haven’t gotten together in months. How about catching a movie tonight?”

She nodded. “I’d like that, unless this meeting has to do with an assignment and you’ll be sent out of town right away.” Since Chris spent most of his time away from headquarters, she knew the odds were good that he wouldn’t be here for long.

Before Chris had an opportunity to respond, Douglas Wilder walked into the room carrying a thick file. He sat down at the head of the table. The two agents still standing quickly found seats.

Doug Wilder was in his midfifties, tall, unabashedly gray-haired and all business. He glanced around the table, and when he spotted Elena, he said, “Thank you for coming this morning, Ms. Maldonado. I know you were given short notice.” He quickly made introductions around the table.

She nodded to each of the agents before returning her attention to Wilder.

“Okay, here’s what we’re dealing with, people,” Wilder began. “The Immigration and Naturalization Service has asked for our help to resolve a delicate situation going on along the Texas-Mexico border.”

As one, the male agents burst into laughter. One of them asked if today was April Fool’s Day. In truth, it was the middle of May.

Elena knew that the fierce rivalry between various government agencies made the idea of asking for help appear ludicrous. The last thing any agency wanted to admit was that they couldn’t handle a situation without outside help.

Wilder’s furrowed brow eased somewhat, and Elena could almost imagine she saw the hint of a smile on his narrowed lips.

“Glad I can provide so much entertainment for you this early in the morning.” He flipped open the file and began to pass around stapled pages to each of them. “Just for that, you’re going to get a brief history lesson so that you’ll understand what the government is up against in that region.”

The agents settled back into their chairs. Elena knew enough of Wilder’s reputation to know that he wasn’t one to waste his breath. Whenever he chose to talk, everyone around him stopped to listen. Today was no exception.

“There has been an upsurge of traffic these past few years from Mexico into the United States along our shared borders from Texas to California. Despite the beefed-up patrol of the border, too many illegal drugs and aliens are moving into the United States.

“We understand the problems in their country—the devaluation of the peso, the continued drought that has affected Mexico, as well as our Southwestern states. However, we cannot ignore the problem in hopes it will go away.”

As Doug continued to review the present situation, Elena reviewed what he was saying. She knew all too well what he was talking about. Santiago had originally been a farming community. When she was small, the migrant workers moved there early in the growing season and continued northward as the season progressed. The last time she’d gone home to visit her mother, Sara had mentioned the problems the area was having with illegal drugs and aliens being brought across the border. What she was hearing wasn’t new to Elena.

Wilder continued. “The high incidence of drugs and aliens successfully crossing the Texas-Mexico border in the past eight months or so has become a black eye for the Border Patrol, the local arm of the INS and the Drug Enforcement Agency working that particular area.”

From the back of the room Sam Walters asked, “And they think we can do their job better?”

Wilder looked at Sam from beneath his bushy brows. “We’ve been asked to join a task force to find out why those two agencies are not making more arrests. The word is that some of the agents may be taking money to look the other way. I received word late yesterday that we need new faces to work the area, people who are unknown to either of the two agencies. None of us likes to think about an agent who has turned, but it happens. I have handpicked each of you to work on this. We’re going to find out if any INS or DEA agents are on the take, and if they are, we’re going to remove them.”

He looked around the room to make certain everyone understood. Then he nodded at the papers lying in front of each one of them. “What I’ve handed out here is general background material on what has been done by the two agencies up until now. Here’s the plan. I requested a list of possible suspects who may be involved in the smuggling operations—people who were arrested and let go for lack of evidence, people whose behavior is suspicious, people who need to be watched by agents who can be trusted.”

For the first time since he had introduced her to the group, Wilder looked at Elena. “I’m sure you’re wondering why you’ve been chosen for this team.”

She tensed, recognizing that the knot in the pit of her stomach had been forming as she slowly realized that she wasn’t there to interpret information. Douglas Wilder intended to use her on this assignment. She smiled, hoping to cover her nervousness. “Yes, sir. The thought did cross my mind.”

“If you’ll look at page fourteen of the handout, you’ll notice that a significant increase in activity has been narrowed to an area in and around Santiago, Texas. Santiago is located between Rio Grande City and Laredo right on the Texas-Mexico border. A new bridge was opened there about eighteen months ago to facilitate the movement of factory products from Mexico into the United States. Several suspects listed in these handouts live near there.” He glanced around the room. “Fortunately I believe we’ve discovered a secret weapon right here in our own agency, gentlemen. You see, Santiago happens to be Elena’s hometown.”

Elena quickly turned to the page in question and began to read in order not to make eye contact with the other agents.

Wilder continued, “As soon as I discovered that we had a trained agent from that area, I knew we were already ahead of the game. We’ve got an agent familiar with the area who will be able to mingle with the locals without causing any suspicion.”

He looked around the room. “Are there any questions so far?”

No one spoke.

“All of you will be working undercover. Elena, obviously, will be our insider, feeding us as much information as she can while we work the other border towns in that general vicinity. Our plan is to have Elena spend the next few months getting reacquainted with old friends, neighbors and schoolmates and collecting as much local information as possible. We’re counting on her being able to get close to some of the people we think might be masterminding these runs. We’ll also be working on finding out which U.S. agents are feeding the smugglers information that keeps them from being discovered.”

One of the agents raised his hand. “But won’t those people know she works for the government?”

Elena answered with the information Wilder already knew about her from reading her personnel file. “When I first came to work here, I decided not to tell anyone back home who I worked for. Instead, I told them that I’m an accountant for a small firm in Maryland.”

Wilder went on, “Her cover will be that her firm was bought out and she was let go with a generous severance packet. There would be nothing unusual in her choosing to go back home for a while before she decides where to apply for her next job.”

He looked at Elena as though to confirm that this scenario would work for her. She nodded, unable to come up with an alternative.

Wilder said to the group at large, “Study the workup on the list of suspected smugglers. They live in towns from Brownsville to Laredo. I want you to learn their history and get to know as much about them as you know about your own brother. Or sister. You’ll see there are some women on the list.”

He waited while the agents scanned the pages. Elena spotted some familiar names. “How do you want this handled, sir? If I’m working inside, I won’t be able to communicate much with the others.”

“Sam Walters will be heading up the group down there, reporting directly to me. Chris Simmons will be your immediate contact. My suggestion is that you make regular shopping trips into San Antonio where you’ll meet with Chris for status reports. He, in turn, will stay in touch with Sam.”

Wilder looked at the others. “What we’re hoping is that you’ll hear or see something that might hint at a coming shipment. You’ll be doing utility work—electric, cable, gas, telephone—in order to have a reason to be in rural areas at odd times of day and night.

“Do what you have to do to blend in and become a part of the various small communities in the area. Each of you will have a different area to cover, some south of Santiago, others north. The main thing is not to have any run-ins with the local authorities, because you won’t be able to tell them why you’re there. Keep your noses clean and your eyes and ears open.” He paused and looked around at each of them. “Any more questions?”

Wilder’s voice faded into the background when Elena flipped to a new page and saw the name listed at the top. A photo, a detailed description and background check were all there, but she couldn’t get past the name and photo.

For a moment she thought she was hallucinating. This couldn’t be real.

Joseph Sanchez. Joe Sanchez lived in Santiago now? Since when? She couldn’t believe what she was seeing. He was listed as one of the suspects.

She scanned the report. Twenty-nine years old. Received an honorable discharge from the army as a major. Currently residing in Santiago, Texas.

His black eyes stared out of the photo without expression. His hair was much shorter than she remembered, but the stubborn jaw, the dent in the chin, the slight scowl that drew his black eyebrows to a V were very much the same. There was no mistaking him.

His shoulders appeared wider and more heavily muscled than she remembered, which wasn’t surprising. She knew she had changed considerably in the past eleven years. Her changes had been more than physical.

Someone asked a question; then others added their queries. Their words washed over her without making any sense. She tried to focus on the discussion, but all she could do was stare at the photograph, aware of her heart pounding heavily in her chest.

She hadn’t thought of Joe Sanchez in years. She hadn’t seen him since they’d graduated from high school. It had been her devout hope at that time that she would never ever see him again.

Joe Sanchez was a horrible reminder of the most humiliating time in her life. She’d been so shy around boys while she was growing up, not at all certain she could trust them. She’d seen how her father’s behavior—his drinking and the accompanying lies he’d told with charming sincerity—had so often upset her mother. She’d grown up not trusting anything her father said.