The Hive Solution

Chapter 8

It was late afternoon when Mason finally got in his car to head home. It had been an arduous journey getting back to the motel as Mexican police seemed to be everywhere. He followed the dried out river bed until he was about 3 miles from the city then ditched the bike under some dried brush and made his way on foot into the outskirts. By the time he'd got back to the motel he was exhausted and covered in dust and he toyed with the idea of delaying his trip back across the border for a couple of days to rest and let the heat die down. But he really wanted to get rid of this package, obviously this is far more important than Danny or his client had ever realised and what had started as a simple courier job had turned into a game of cat and mouse with the Feds.

Mason slowly drives back to the border and joins the back of a long line of cars waiting to get through the U.S border check point. He takes the sachet from his pocket and slips it into the open bag of potato chips hoping it won't be searched. It's an old trick he's used before and it never seems to fail. The line slowly creeps through the check point but his hopes drop when he spots a couple of federal agents stood next to the guard house watching on as the border police conduct their searches. For an instant he makes eye contact with one of them, a guy maybe in his mid thirties, slim with sandy blond hair and dark sunglasses. Mason looks away casually scratching an imaginary itch on his cheek but in the corner of his eye he can still see the agent staring at him as Mason creeps the Camaro further forward, now only three cars back from the front of the line.
Desperate times need desperate measures he thinks to himself as takes out a potato chip together with the sachet, slips both in to his mouth and swallows. The agent doesn't seem to notice Mason's sly move and he starts to relax, hoping that he's got away with it.
But when he reaches the front of the line the other agent steps to the driver side window, "could you please shut off the engine and get out of the car sir" asks the tubby agent. Mason shrugs his shoulders in an indifferent manner and climbs out. In an instant a border guard climbs in his car and Joe feels the grip of a hand around his arm as he's roughly pushed in the direction of the guard hut.

"Hey, what the f...!" He starts to say to the blonde agent before being shoved again.

"Don't struggle, we just wanna ask some questions" says his fat partner as he pushes open the door and blondie shoves Mason inside.

*

Silas watched the whole thing unfold in front of him as he was queuing just a few cars back from the black Camero. When he saw the boy pulled from his car he knew immediately that it was the same guy he saw on the motorcycle that morning. Sure, he'd cleaned himself up and was dressed differently but it was definitely him. As he suspected that kid must be working for the Englishman, and, no doubt he's been caught by the Feds with the merchandise. If the kid had got through then the game would be over but now he's been caught there's an opportunity to take back the prize. It'll be difficult and they'll be a lot of risk but the money and gratitude of his employer would make it worthwhile. As he reaches the border check point the guards check over his bike and search him before handing back his passport and sending him on his way. I'll come back tonight and get what's mine he thinks to himself as he speeds off back toward San Diego.

*

"Answer the question!" yells the dark haired fat agent. He's about 5' 10" with dark rough unkempt hair and by the smell of him he hasn't showered in a few days either. He stands over Mason, trying to intimidate him. Blondie's leant against the wall in the corner, still wearing his suit jacket with his sunglasses neatly placed in his shirt pocket. He watches on while chewing some gum, so far he hasn't said anything.

"I've already told you, I was here sightseeing, I got in my car yesterday and started driving and found myself at the border, I stayed the night and decided to head home today, honest" says Mason with an innocent pout.

"Bullshit, why were you at the factory in Baja this morning!"

"What factory, I have no idea what your talking about" he answers calmly, shrugging his shoulders.

"We both saw you, on a motorcycle"

Mason screws up his nose "Nah, that weren't me friend, you got me mixed up with someone else"

Blondie chuckles from the corner of the room, smiles, turns and goes out the door, shutting it behind him.

"You're in big trouble Mr Mason, why don't you just tell us the truth, what did your Mexican friend give you?"

"I really have no idea wh....."

The rest of Mason's sentence never gets a chance to leave his mouth as the fat agent punches him hard in the face causing Mason to topple back off his chair and land hard on the floor. Before he even has a chance to realise what's happened he gets kicked in the stomach, once, twice. Mason's completely winded and lies on the ground choking as the agent keeps yelling at him.
"We saw you, where's the fucking envelope, who are you working for? answer!" He says as he kicks Joe in the stomach again, this time Mason feels a rib snap and a sharp pain causes him to flinch.
"Get away from him you piece of shit!" yells blondie as he comes back in the room.

"He ain't tellin' us nothin' Colvin, he needs softening up" says the other agent as he backs up toward the far wall.

"And we're not gonna find out shit if he ends up in a fucking hospital!"

"She's calling for answers Alek, we've gotta push him and get the stuff back"

"Leave me with him a minute, let's see if I can get what we need before you kill him!"

The fat agent swears under his breath and stomps off out the room, slamming the door behind him. Blondie comes around the table and pulls Mason to his feet, then rights his chair and sits him down.

"You wanna drink, something to eat maybe?"
Mason doesn't answer and just shakes his head as the blood runs from his nose, the pain in his side from the broken rib starts to make him slouch in his seat.

"My name is Alek Colvin Joe, I'm an agent with the FBI. Do you know what that means?"
Mason nods, "So what's the story with you two, is it a good cop, bad cop kinda thing?"

"You could say that I guess, Phillips has a.....different way of getting what he wants, sometimes it's useful, but we both know you took something that doesn't belong to you, we have proof" he says smiling.

"I didn't take anything" Mason says quietly through gritted teeth.
Colvin says nothing and places two photographs on the table in front of Mason. Both were taken from security cameras and the first shows a young guy sat on a dirt bike across the road from the factory, the second shows the Mexican handing Mason the envelope before he made his getaway. In both pictures you can clearly see that it's him.
He says nothing and leans back in his chair as Colvin shrugs at him.

"Pretty conclusive evidence huh"

Mason continues his silence.

"I also saw you swallow the pouch with those potato chips, an old trick Joe, I've seen them all"
Mason just stares back at Colvin, realisation setting in that he might of actually reached the end of the line.

"I'll tell you what I'm gonna do Joe. Go and get some rest in one of our cells for a while and think it over, get some sleep. And we'll talk later when you're maybe a little more helpful, and don't worry, I'll try and keep my asshole of a partner away from you"

Mason gets taken to an adjoining cell which only has a single mattress spread out on the floor, a toilet in the corner and a sole light bulb hanging from the ceiling. The mattress smells of stale urine but he lays on it anyway, the pain in his side too much for him to care. In a matter of minutes Mason drifts off into some sort of pain induced slumber, images come to him, his parents and sister, friends from his childhood in the UK, images from the accident that killed his parents. His body feels hot and he's bathed in sweat before the shivers start as a fever takes hold. He wakes and starts to lose control as muscular convulsions set in, foam builds around his mouth as he vomits and passes out on the floor.

*

By the time Silas had gone back to his trailer, collected his weapons and made it back to the border it was already too late. Watching from some distance with the aid of binoculars he watches as the boy is stretchered into the back of a waiting ambulance. Silas lowers his binoculars and curses to himself. Time to change my strategy, alter my plan, he says to himself.