Free Blood Oath by Christopher Farnsworth Page B

stench rolled out over them all.
    Zach turned and threw up his coffee, stomach acid burning in his nose and throat. Cusick and Hagan both stepped back, gagging.
    Only Cade didn’t retch.
    Hagan walked over to Zach, handed him a Kleenex from her jacket.
    “Thanks,” he croaked, wiping his mouth.
    “You never get used to the smell, do you?” Cusick said. Looking right at Cade.
    Cade looked right back. “No,” he said. “You never do.”
    Cusick gave his partner a look like, Can you believe this guy?
    Meanwhile, Zach got a good look in the container.
    Inside, hanging on hooks, like a cannibal’s meat locker, were rows and rows of body parts. Legs. Arms. Torsos. A chain full of hands, another of feet.
    All of them going purple and green with decay, buzzing with flies and maggots in the enclosed heat of the container.
    “So,” Cusick said. “I hope to Christ you know what this is about. Because I’ve never seen anything like it.”
    Cade didn’t answer him. Instead, he said, “Let’s talk to the driver.”
    It wasn’t a request.
     
     
    THEY ENTERED the harbormaster’s building, a collection of small offices and what looked like an employee lounge, with vending machines for soda and candy.
    They stood by the machines while Hagan gave them the trucker’s story.
    “He’s in there,” she said, pointing to a small office off the main hallway. The door was closed. “Guy named Andrew Reese. From Jersey. Said he was hired by a referral agency to make a pick-up here. And he says that’s all he knows.”
    She unlocked the door and they entered. Reese didn’t fit Zach’s image of a truck driver—an old guy, like a side of beef, in a flannel shirt and mesh-back cap. Instead, the trucker was about his age, wire-thin and wearing an OFFSPRING T-shirt. He glared at them from eyes that looked bruised from a lack of sleep.
    “About fucking time,” he snapped. “Do I get my cargo or what?”
    “Your cargo has been impounded,” Cusick said. “These gentlemen are the federal agents we were telling you about. Maybe you’d like to explain what we found to them.”
    Reese leaned back in his chair, unimpressed. “I already told you: I don’t have a clue what was in the container. I was hired to pick it up. Whatever’s on the manifest, that’s what I know about it.”
    “You just pick up whatever you’re told?”
    Reese shrugged. “A job’s a job.”
    Cusick got in his face. “And we’re supposed to believe you don’t know why we’re here? This is all just a huge mistake to you, right?”
    Reese stared back. “You know, I’m a good citizen and all. I want to help fight the War on Terror like anyone else. But I’ve had enough of this shit. You either arrest me, or I’m getting the hell out of here.”
    He stood, nearly bumping Cusick on his way up. Cusick shoved him back in his seat.
    Reese smiled. “Nice,” he said. “Now I can sue you for brutality. I could use a new big-screen TV”
    “Shut up,” Cusick snapped. “Or we’ll test your blood for meth.”
    Reese’s smile vanished. “I want to talk to a lawyer. Right fucking now.”
    Cusick was about to say something else, but Cade interrupted. “I think we need to take a moment. Don’t you, Agent Cusick?”
    They all trooped out of the room again, behind Cade.
    “Hey! What about my lawyer?” Reese yelled. No one answered him.
    They stood outside the door for a moment, not saying anything.
    “He doesn’t seem very cooperative,” Cade said.
    “Screw you,” Cusick shot back. “If you’d been here earlier, we might have had more luck.”
    Cade ignored him, again. “I’d like to talk to him alone.”
    Cusick was instantly suspicious. “Why?”
    Cade’s expression didn’t change. “Because I’d like to talk to him alone.”
    Cusick gritted his teeth and stepped back with exaggerated courtesy. “Of course. Excuse the hell out of me.”
    “Don’t worry about it,” Cade said, and went back into the room.
    Zach heard Reese talking,