Fischer finished briefing his replacement, then came out from behind the desk that displayed feeds from the five surveillance cameras on the premises. “What can I do for you?”

“I hoped you could give me a few minutes to discuss a security issue.”

“Of course. After what happened to you Thursday, I imagine safety is top of mind.”

“Yes, it is. Since this is a private matter, would you mind if we talked in my office?”

“Not at all.”

Fischer followed him back, and once inside, Zeke closed the door and took the chair behind his desk. “Please . . . have a seat.” He motioned across the expanse of polished mahogany. “I’m going to share some information that I trust you’ll keep confidential.”

“I deal with confidential matters every day. Believe me, after all my years in this business, I know how to be discreet.” He settled into one of the chairs.

“I have no doubt of that.” Zeke pulled out his credentials, flipped open the case to display his badge and ID card, and set it on the desk between them. “My real name is Zeke Sloan.”

The man stared at the official ID. Lost several shades of color. Lifted his gaze. But he managed to hold on to his composure. “You’re a DEA agent. Undercover.”

“Yes.”

“Why are you here?”

“I think you know.”

“I have no idea what you’re—”

“Will—let’s not play games. We know the barn here is being used as a transit stop for drugs from Mexico.”

“What are you talking—”

Zeke held up his hand. “We know about your gambling debts. We know you came into a chunk of money a few months ago that allowed you to repay those debts. We know you instituted night patrols here, and that you have a special interest in the barn area. We know the security tapes for the camera on the road that leads to the barn have been altered on delivery and pickup nights. You have no police record, so we assume you’re being blackmailed to cooperate by whoever gave you the money to pay off your debts.”

The man laced his fingers together in his lap. “I think I should get a lawyer.”

“That’s your choice—but we’re on a tight timeline and we’re willing to offer you significant consideration for your cooperation. If you tell us what you know about the activities taking place here—and the people involved—that will factor in to how your case is handled.”

“I don’t know anything.”

“You don’t know anything—or you’re not willing to share what you know?”

“I don’t know anything.”

Not what he wanted to hear.

“Why don’t you tell me what you do know—and how you got involved?”

Will massaged the bridge of his nose.

Ten seconds ticked by.

Twenty.