Blindside - By Gj Moffat Page 0,48

at Cahill and saw that he was now at the immigration desk as well.

Whitaker handed Logan his passport.

‘Welcome to Denver, sir. Have a nice stay.’

Logan smiled and said thanks, his heart beating hard enough to bruise itself against his ribcage.

He walked past the desk and over towards the US citizens desk to wait for Cahill. When he got there, Cahill looked over and winked. Logan was amazed that he looked so calm.

Logan went to the far wall and leaned against it, propping his bag up and closing his eyes. He felt exhausted, but knew Cahill was right about beating the jet lag. He couldn’t afford to go to sleep now – or in the next few hours.

When he opened his eyes, Cahill was at the immigration desk. The officer was speaking into a radio mike attached to his shirt. Logan came off the wall and felt his pulse start to accelerate again. What if they took Cahill and left him? He didn’t know much about US law – had visions of Cahill being transported to Guantanamo Bay in an orange jumpsuit and made to sit on the ground outside all day with a bag over his head.

But the officer finished his radio conversation, looked at Cahill and smiled before handing over his passport.

‘See,’ Cahill said as he walked up to Logan. ‘Piece of cake.’

‘I’m glad. Orange isn’t your colour.’

Cahill frowned, not understanding.

‘Never mind,’ Logan said, grabbing the handle of his bag. ‘Let’s get out of here before they change their minds.’

7

There was more Native American art on the walls of the main terminal building when they came out of the customs hall. Cahill pointed to a sign suspended above them indicating the way out.

‘Let’s go find a cab,’ he said.

Logan nodded and followed after Cahill. They went down a short, wide corridor to automatic doors leading out of the terminal concourse. Logan was suddenly aware of two DHS uniformed officers behind them. He couldn’t be sure, but it felt as if they were being shadowed by the two men.

‘Are we being followed?’ he asked Cahill.

‘Yeah. You just noticed?’

‘For how long?’

‘Since we left the immigration desks.’

‘But why didn’t they detain us there? I mean, wouldn’t that have made more sense?’

‘Maybe they want to wait. See what we’re going to get up to.’

‘You don’t believe that.’

Ahead of them, a dark car pulled up outside the exit doors.

‘No, I don’t,’ Cahill answered after a pause.

‘So what’s up?’

‘I reckon it’s the FBI that is involved with this thing with Tim. So the DHS guys are probably just keeping an eye on us until the Feds show up. They’ll want to take us to the local field office rather than get stuck out here. That’s their comfort zone.’

The door of the car facing the terminal opened and a Hispanic man in his early thirties got out. He was wearing a dark suit. Another man got out of the other side of the car. They both had dark hair parted neatly on the side.

‘And here they are,’ Cahill said.

The men walked forward as Cahill and Logan stepped through the automatic doors. Logan could see the flat expanse of the land beyond the airport, with the sun still high in the clear sky. The air was pleasant, but with an underlying chill as the day wore on. Snow was visible on the Rocky Mountains to the west.

Logan turned to look for the DHS officers and saw them standing inside the doors.

‘Mr Cahill?’ one of the suits asked, stepping up to within a few feet of them.

‘That’s me.’

‘You must be Mr Finch.’

Logan nodded.

The man reached into his jacket and took out a leather wallet. He showed his identification.

‘I’m Special Agent Martinez and this is Special Agent Ruiz. We’re with the FBI.’

‘You don’t say,’ Cahill said.

Martinez cocked his head to one side, like he didn’t understand what Cahill had said.

‘Would you come with us, please?’

Ruiz opened the rear door of the car.

‘What’s this about?’ Logan asked, stepping in front of Cahill. ‘I mean, we’re not under arrest, are we?’

Martinez looked at Logan, then at Ruiz.

‘No, sir,’ Ruiz said.

‘We’re hoping you could help us with our inquiries,’ Martinez said, turning back to face them.

Cahill stayed quiet, content for Logan to take the lead.

‘Can you tell us anything else?’

‘We can speak more comfortably at our office in town, sir.’

‘I’m a lawyer and I’d prefer to know what this is about before I get into that car.’

Ruiz spoke again and Logan began to wonder if he was the more senior of the