Ricardo continued to pace.
“Sit down, man. You’re stressing me out,” said Carlos. “Sanchez needs us. He stopped manufacturing. His supplies are low. There’s no way he’s not going to make a deal with us.”
Carlos didn’t seem worried. He leaned back against the couch, stretching out his arms.
“Look, we need protection from the Le Gent,” said Ricardo.
Carlos cackled then looked over his shoulder as if he was wondering what was taking the woman so long with his drink. “Le Gent can’t touch us.”
“They aren’t going to stop, Carlos. They think they’re protecting the people from bad men like us.”
“I’ll talk to Marco and get him to increase the security around here.” The woman returned with Carlos's drink and handed it to him. He took a big slurp of his drink and patted his lap for her to sit. “Would that make you feel better?”
“It’s a start. Especially for Saturday. I’d feel a lot better with extra protection while we’re entertaining customers.”
Carlos smiled. “No problema, hermano. You got it.” He put his drink down and pulled the strap of the woman’s bikini top down off her shoulder, nipping at her where the strap had been. She giggled as he worked his way up to her mouth, planting kisses along her neck as he went. “Mmm,” he said, taking her hand, both of them standing at the same time. He smacked her ass as he led her out of the living room and down the hall.
Ricardo fell back on the chair that sat opposite the couch. How could Carlos think about booze and sex at a time like this? If they failed, they died. There was no starting over. In their business it was life and death every day. He better come through with the extra security. Maybe he’d have a chat with Marco himself. Carlos wasn’t thinking straight. Hell, he wasn’t thinking at all. Stupid hijo de puta. If Carlos wasn’t his brother, he’d have gotten out of the business a long time ago.
He stood and walked to where Carlos had left his drink. He swiped at it, knocking it to the floor, the tinkling of broken glass echoing against the ceramic tile. Unlike Carlos, he knew how to clean up a mess. He continued into the adjoining kitchen and took a towel from the drawer next to the sink then opened a cupboard and pulled out a dustpan and mini handheld broom.
A woman rushed into the room. “Everything okay, señor?” It was Sara, one of the women that worked at the house.
“Everything’s fine,” he said, lying to her. He didn’t need her to clean up the mess. What he needed was someone to straighten out his business. He didn’t trust Carlos to get it done, and he knew he’d have to find a way himself.
With the towel and the broom, he cleaned up the broken glass. He’d always been a firm believer in doing things himself if he wanted a guarantee they’d be done right.
Chapter 4
Maggie peered out the window as the almost-four-hour flight from Miami prepared to land in Bogota. She was anxious to stretch her legs after having her five-foot-eight frame crammed in the airplane seat. Before joining the CIA, she would have guessed they got to fly everywhere on private jets. That wasn’t the case. At least, not this time. They didn’t even get to fly business class.
The lush green jungle butted up against the dull brown and grey of the city. It was ironic how the two seemed to exist side by side. Not unlike the Patriotic Union and the cartel. As the plane descended, parts of the jungle appeared as they were engulfed by the city and vice versa. Is that what was happening here politically as well?
“What do you think?” Garcia asked, from the seat next to her, tapping her arm with the back side of his hand.
“It’s like a puzzle,” she said, still staring out the window. “How the jungle and the city fit together and co-exist, you know?” She turned to face Garcia.
He nodded. “That’s a good way of putting it.” He raised his eyebrows as if he wanted to say more, but since the two of them, and Williams, were flying commercial, they couldn’t risk talking about their assignment until it was safe.
They needed to establish contact with the CIA agent already on the ground in Bogota. Williams had made a stink about the CIA having to work with the DEA on this, but McKay had told him to suck it up. In the end, neither the CIA nor the DEA wanted the cartel running Bogota. At the rate drugs were being smuggled into the United States, it would only mean bad news for Americans.
“Who are we supposed to look for?” Williams asked as they disembarked at the airport with the rest of the passengers. He’d been surprisingly docile the whole flight. Wouldn’t surprise Maggie if he was afraid of flying. The macho ones were always pussies inside.
“Our driver,” answered Garcia. “He’ll be holding up a sign with ‘Sanchez’ on it.”
Williams nodded. Their “driver” was Emilio Morales, a CIA agent McKay had recruited years ago while in Colombia on a fact-finding mission. Morales was on friendly terms with two undercover DEA agents who had established contact with the cartel months ago and were willing to help. Morales had already started working with them.
Maggie and her team entered the baggage claim area. “There he is,” said Garcia, gesturing to a short Colombian holding a sign that read “Sanchez.” None of them had any luggage other than the bag—or suitcase, for Maggie—they’d brought on board the plane with them. Everything else they needed was sent ahead and would be waiting for them at the safe house. Maggie didn’t like that idea, but she wasn’t in a position to propose an alternative.
Since they were in public, they skipped introductions. McKay told Maggie he had prepped Morales and told him he’d be meeting two men and a woman. He’d also likely sent him personnel files which included photos, so Morales probably had an idea of what they looked like.
“May I take that for you?” Morales asked Maggie, gesturing to her small suitcase. Since he was playing a part—and so was she—she allowed him to take her case, something she normally wouldn’t do. Maggie placed a pair of dark, oversized sunglasses over her eyes as they followed Morales through the parking lot to a black SUV.
“Here we are,” he said, opening the back and placing Maggie’s suitcase inside. Garcia and Williams tossed their bags in next to Maggie’s.
Once everyone was safely inside the SUV, Morales turned and faced Williams who’d taken the front seat, of course. He extended his right hand. “Emilio Morales.”
Williams accepted his hand and introduced himself, as did Garcia and Maggie.
“You must be tired after your trip. I’m sure glad to see you.” He started the SUV, put it in gear, then pulled out of the parking spot. “I’ve got months worth of intel for you back at the safe house as well as the rest of your bags, surveillance equipment, and your weapons.”
Maggie was happy to hear her bags had arrived safely, but it was the mention of the weapons that had caught her attention. She hadn’t needed a weapon for the photograph analysis she’d been doing at headquarters. Her stomach fluttered. It was nice to finally be out in the field, but she couldn’t help feeling like she was vastly underprepared for what she would be dealing with. Hopefully, her gut was wrong this time.
The safe house was an apartment building overlooking the city. It was at the edge of the jungle yet just a stone’s throw from the city. The best of both worlds.
“Geez, you’d think the CIA could spring for something a little fancier,” said Williams as Morales let them into their new apartment and gave them their keys. Maggie didn’t mind the apartment. It was average and as nice as she’d ever had. A lot roomier than the dorms at Georgetown. She could have done without Williams and Garcia for roommates though. Garcia she could have handled, but rooming with Williams was going to take some getting used to. At least they all had their own rooms.
“Whatever, Williams. You ever had a place with a balcony before.” Garcia brushed past Morales and out onto the small deck. Every apartment in the building appeared to have one.
“You call that a balcony,” said Williams. “I call that a place to piss into the bushes.”
Maggie would n
ever get used to Williams and his mouth. “You better not,” she said, joining Garcia on the balcony. She rolled her eyes when she made eye contact with Garcia. She guessed he could do without Williams for a roommate too.
The view was incredible. To the right was the sprawling city that seemed to go on for miles, but to the left were the lush emerald greens of the jungle. A slight breeze blew, refreshing Maggie after the flight.
“Wow,” Maggie gasped as she surveyed the surrounding area. They were on the fifth floor, but the apartment building was on a hill, a location likely chosen for its vantage point.
Morales stepped onto the deck. Apparently three people was maximum capacity for the little balcony, because Maggie felt as though she could barely turn around. Morales’s arm flew up and nearly made contact with her chin.
He pointed to a mansion to the left down the hillside from the apartment building. Even from the distance they stood, Maggie could tell it had white stucco exterior. The roof was classic terracotta clay tile, like many of the historic buildings in Bogota.
“Is that—” Garcia started to ask, but Morales interrupted.
“The Ceiba mansion,” said Morales. “This apartment building was chosen on purpose. Prime viewing with binoculars.”
Garcia nodded.
“I’m in the apartment downstairs,” Morales said, heading in off the deck. “So, no monkey business.” He eyed Garcia and winked. As if anything would ever happen between Maggie and Garcia. There had been one night during training that they’d both regretted the next day. Their friendship meant too much to each other. They’d only ended up in bed together due to the volume of tequila they’d each consumed.
“Once you’re settled in, we can go over the intel for tomorrow night,” Morales said over his shoulder. Williams had already claimed his room. The biggest one with the best view. It appeared he’d already passed out on the bed too. Snoring echoed throughout the apartment.
Maggie grabbed the bags that had been sent ahead and carted them off to the nearest room. As long as she had privacy, she didn’t care how big the room was or what the view was like. She was here to work, not have a good time.
Chapter 5
Ricardo lowered the binoculars from his eyes and set them behind him on a side table on the massive balcony that overlooked the jungle. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”
“Again with the bad feelings. You worry too much, hermano.” Carlos handed Ricardo one of the crystal highball glasses he’d carried out onto the balcony. “Let’s toast,” he said, swirling the amber liquid in his glass then holding it out to clink glasses with Ricardo.
Ricardo rolled his eyes and let out a long sigh as he touched his glass to Carlos’s.
“You’ll see,” said Carlos. “Everything will work out fine. We’ll get the new business and the Ceiba cartel will be bigger than ever.” It’s almost what Ricardo was afraid of. Carlos was already so power hungry. He couldn’t imagine what he’d be like if the expansion and partnership with Sanchez went through.
“If Le Gent doesn’t screw it up for us.” Ricardo downed his drink in two big gulps. Le Gent was a group of concerned citizens who wanted nothing more than to run the cartel out of the city.
“Piece of cake,” said Carlos. “I’ve got it covered.”
“What do you mean, you’ve got it covered?” Why was Carlos always making decisions without him? It wouldn’t be so bad if they were good business decisions, but they rarely were. Carlos was the type to pull the trigger before he had all the information.
“I’ve got some extra men coming in for tomorrow night to watch the perimeter during the party.” Carlos looked out over the balcony. “Le Gent won’t bother us, and if they do, we’ll never know. They’ll be handled before they even get close.”
“That’s what I was afraid of. Handling violence with violence is just going to create more problems for us.”
Carlos let out a sinister chuckle. “Not if there’s nobody left to talk.”
Ricardo shook his head. “Sanchez won’t partner with us if he sees the unrest around here. He doesn’t like things complicated. He likes them simple. He’ll run screaming like a little girl.”
“Relax, hermano.” Carlos grabbed Ricardo’s glass then poked his head back into the mansion. “Hey, Consuella. Another drink for Ricardo.” He held the glass out as Consuella walked toward him and took it. When she turned to leave, he smacked her ass and the sound reminded Ricardo of a whip hitting flesh. He pursed his lips and eyed Carlos.
“Ay,” yelped Consuella then she flashed Carlos a sly smile, her cheeks deepening in color.
He supposed if she didn’t seem to mind, he shouldn’t, but he couldn’t resist saying something. “Hey, I like this one. Try to be nice.” They’d had several women helping them over the last few years, but they never seemed to last long with Carlos and his innuendos and incessant womanizing. No doubt he’d promised them something to make them give in to his demands, but when they realized he had no intention of making an honest woman out of them, they always left. Some figured it out right away, others put up with him for far too long.
“I’m always nice,” he said, flashing that smile all the women fell for.
Consuella returned with Ricardo’s drink and handed it to him. “Thank you, Consuella.” He dipped his head in appreciation for the woman. When she turned to leave, Carlos pulled his hand back, preparing to smack her ass again, but Ricardo grabbed his wrist and glared at him, subtly shaking his head.
Carlos had always looked up to his older brother, always listened, but lately he was getting more difficult to control. No matter how well coca sales were going, he always wanted more. He was always trying to broaden their reach, not seeming to care who they partnered with. Ricardo preferred to be more strategic and deliberate in how they grew the business. He’d seen too many operations get sloppy and trust the wrong people. Too many people wound up dead or in prison. That wasn’t going to happen to them if he could help it, but Carlos acted as if they were invincible. Ricardo knew differently. Carlos’s arrogance was a major weakness.
“Okay, so are you all clear on your roles?” asked Morales as he and the three CIA officers sat in the apartment. Maggie couldn't help glancing out the glass doors that exited onto the balcony. He had the same view as they did from their apartment upstairs. He’d be watching their every move while they schmoozed with the Ceibas tonight at their party.
Maggie nodded. “Let me officially express my disappointment in my role as an ‘offering’ to these criminals.” The way McKay made it sound back in America, she was going to be leading the operation. She felt like little more than a streetwalker.
“Oh, here we go,” said Williams, rolling his eyes.
“It’s nothing personal, Mags,” said Garcia, shooting Williams a dirty look. “It’s how they do things around here.”
“Some fake brother you are, handing me over so easily.” She punched him in the arm.
Garcia laughed. He’d be playing the role of Julio Sanchez, a big-time cartel head from Medellín. “What happens if the real Sanchez shows up?”
Morales shook his head. “There’s no chance of that. We’ve got eyes on him in Medellín. If he makes a move, we’ll know about it.”
Garcia nodded, understanding it made the most sense to base his role on an actual cocaine dealer whose reputation would have preceded him. His operation was at least as big as the Ceibas’, if not bigger. They’d be hungry to make a deal with him and expand their operations.
“Williams . . .” Morales glanced over his shoulder where Williams stood on the balcony eyeing the Ceiba mansion with what looked like a high-powered telescope. “You clear on your role?”
“Yeah, I’m Sanchez’s way into the US. A Texan from Miami. Tonight, I’ll be driving and guarding the Sanchez siblings.” He rolled his eyes again and plopped a cowboy hat on his head. Maggie had to look away to keep from snickering at him. “You could have come up with a better cover name than Tom Jones, though. Seriously,
man.”
Morales held up his hands. “Hey, don’t look at me, that all came from headquarters.”
“Uh-huh.” Williams didn’t seem convinced. He stuck a toothpick in his mouth and started gnawing on it, already seeming to play his part.
While McKay was in charge of the operation overall from Washington, with Morales’s local experience, McKay trusted him to handle the day-to-day operations. Barnes, Garcia, and Williams were to check in with McKay only if Morales was unreachable.
Morales opened a standard looking briefcase and pulled out some tiny microphones attached to wires. “Here are your wires.” He handed each of the CIA officers a wire. “We can hear you, but you won't be able to hear us. We’ll be here watching and listening.”
Maggie's heart raced and her palms started to sweat. She’d seen a wire before, but the reality of her first undercover mission was sinking in. What if she wasn’t convincing? What if the Ceiba brothers saw right through her?
“Barnes.” Morales said, and she snapped back to attention. “Where did you go there?”
“Nowhere. I’m good.” She took the wire from Morales.
“Tonight is just an introduction. The Ceibas want Sanchez to make a deal, so they’ll pull out all the stops to show why it’s worth your while to partner with them. Women, drinks, and blow will be shoved in your face. Be prepared.”
Maggie took a deep breath and slowly let it out.
“McKay chose you three for a reason, just like he chose me for a reason all those years ago when he made me an agent. We got this.” She couldn’t let her team down. As unsure as she was about playing the role chosen for her, she had to trust that McKay knew what he was doing.
Chapter 6
Alone in her room, Maggie put on a cropped tank top she’d purchased from a shop in the city. The clerk assured her, it—along with the matching red skirt—would be perfect for tonight’s party. Of course, Maggie hadn’t told the clerk where she was going, just that it was a fancy party.
Maggie's Mark (Ceiba Cartel Book 1) Page 2
