by Jack Davis
“Tommy, you need a hand?”
Brown, now sweating, set his load down and repositioned the items. He picked up the pastry boxes, his soda and walked out the door.
Morley picked up the files and followed the huffing little man waddling awkwardly down the hall.
By the time the two reached the conference room, it was 0806 hours and Brown was in a full sweat. SAIC Bruce Ferguson, his DSAICs, and all the NYFO GS-15s were already seated.
“Sorry I’m late, I couldn’t find some files.” Brown nodded toward Morley, using his subordinate as an excuse. “I took the liberty of grabbing doughnuts on the way in this morning.”
Morley saw Kensington roll her eyes. He gave her a what-can-you-do look and shrugged.
As PJ turned to leave, Brown got in one last barb, “PJ, close the door behind you?” He turned to see his portly supervisor brushing powdered sugar from his upper lip and Kensington trying to suppress a laugh.
Shortly after lunch, Morley received a text: should talk when u have time. MAK
Five minutes later he knocked on the door frame of Kensington’s office.
“C’mon in, and close the door behind you.”
Morley laughed at Kensington’s playful jab.
As he entered, he noticed…apple pie. She changed the scent in the diffuser to match the season, nice touch.
As always, the office was immaculate. The pictures of Kensington with presidents and dignitaries hung symmetrically with great care. Anyone entering the office of Mallory Anastasia Kensington, Mak to her friends, called by others, The Ice Queen, could see time and attention had gone into the arrangement of everything. They would also have a good snapshot of what she had done in her career. The office layout had been designed to impress; it accomplished its task.
Morley, who had worked for Kensington as the “Number-one Whip” on her PPD shift, expected nothing less. As long as he had known her, Kensington paid attention to detail. She was phenomenal at logistics, an area most agents struggled with and/or hated. Kensington had made her mark by being one of the best at doing that thankless task. Her talents were recognized in her first assignment in the LAFO, then on PPD, and finally in National Special Security Events (NSSEs) like the Democratic and Republican National Conventions. She had excelled at all levels. Her looks didn’t hurt her either. The five-foot-eight brunette had a subtle sexuality. She knew it, and her attire, while always professional, accentuated the positive.
The combination of intelligence, attention to detail, and good looks had helped her rocket up the promotion ladder. She had gotten her GS-14 with seven years on the job and her 15 shortly after her eleventh anniversary, unheard of in the Secret Service. And all by the ripe old age of thirty-five. She had been sent to the NYFO to prep for her next assignment, DSAIC for VPPD or possibly back to The Detail. Then she would be the heir apparent to the SAIC slot and beyond. Her career trajectory was straight up. Her success had produced many admirers, a cadre of enemies, but few true friends amongst her colleagues. Morley was her truest friend, on or off the job.
Kensington led off with a question. “Why don’t you like Brown?”
“He’s a self-centered soup-sandwich. He’s a mess.”
“Granted,” agreed Kensington. “But in the grand scheme of things he’s relatively benign.”
“He’s not benign. He’s an embarrassment. He’s a slob. He makes the rest of us look bad every time he walks out the door.”
“Don’t sugar coat it PJ, tell me what you really think. Bottling up your feelings isn’t good for you.” A broad smile came across Kensington’s face.
Morley returned the smile. “Everything is about him and how it will make him look. I swear he gets up every morning, looks in the mirror, says ‘me, me, me, I, I, I, self, self, self,’ then waddles out to start his day.”
Kensington burst out laughing.
Morley continued; his tone thoughtful. “I could live with all that if he were at least competent. But he’s not, he’s a clown. He sets a pathetic example for the young agents.”
“We can’t all be Superman,” said Kensington playfully.
“I’d settle for Jimmy Olsen,” replied Morley.
Kensington’s face went serious. “How about Lois Lane?”
Morley cocked his head, knowing where his attractive friend was headed. “Yes, as long as she can do the job.” He emphasized the last word.
“I know, I know. We don’t have to reopen that argument.”
Morley stood and stretched his back as he continued. “I’ll do my best to support him. I won’t run him down in front of my people or anyone outside the agency.” He stopped stretching and became grave. “Mak, I’m telling you, he’s dangerously stupid, and he’s gonna get someone hurt or killed.” Morley stopped and shook his head in disgust.
“If it makes you feel better, he’s not your biggest fan either. In the performance reviews…” Kensington searched for the correct phrase. “…you were, damned by faint praise. He downplays every achievement or award you have.”
“That’s at least one thing I can thank him for.”
Kensington gave Morley a confused look.
“Mak, all I want is to do is stay in New York and be left alone. If I have a great score, my name is going to be on Washington’s radar. I don’t want that. I don’t want HQ to remember I exist.”
“Well then you’d better start screwing up, because based on the comments from your squad, peers, and LE contacts, you’re a cross between Captain America and Pope John Paul,” joked Kensington.
“We both know better,” said Morley with a twinge of guilt.
“Yes…we do,” replied Kensington with a knowing look. “Oh, and by the way, tell Greere that, I would walk over hot coals for that man in the comments section is not necessary.”
Kensington came around to the front of the desk and sat on the edge. “Despite Brown, you’re going to have great numbers this year, PJ. The SAIC, DSAICs and all the 15s besides Brown think very highly of your abilities. I hope you’ll consider using your score to bid on something in DC.”
Morley shook his head lightheartedly. “How’d my guys do?”
“You’re not getting off the hook that easy.”
“Mak, how’d my guys do?” Morley leaned forward.
Kensington gave a resigned sigh. “Swann, Pencala, and Greere will come away with good points. I thought you wanted Posada instead of Pencala?”
“That lecherous pig,” said Morley. “I told him Swann, Greere, and Posada. He threw in Pencala…well, you know why.”
Kensington laughed. “Yeah, like the young lady who could have just about any man in the office, married or unmarried, would even give Tommy a second glance.”
“It just goes to what we were talking about earlier. Not only is he an embarrassment, he’s a…forget it.”
“Well, two out of three isn’t bad, and Pencala’s a good agent from what I’ve heard. There could have been worse outcomes,” said Kensington.
“There would’ve been a worse outcome if it weren’t for you.”
Kensington nodded. “I can’t disagree with you. But let’s get back to your career ambitions.” Her mischievous smile had returned.
“Thanks Mak, but I’m happy right where I am.”
“That’s the thing, you’re not going to be able to run the ECTF forever. You’ll be moved out within the next eighteen months.”
“Then I’ll move to Protection or one of the other crim squads.”
“So that’s what you’re gonna do for the rest of your career, bounce around AT slots in the New York Field Office?” Kensington clearly looked frustrated.
“I’ll bid on the 15s here and in Newark. Heck, I don’t see you staying here for more than a cup-a-coffee before they offer you something plum in DC. I’ll bid on your slot when you leave.”
“PJ, they’re not gonna promote you in-town. You know the rule. You are going to have to transfer to get a grade.”
“Unless you’re connected,” s
aid Morley, referring to Brown.
Kensington rolled her eyes. “Go down to DC, I’ll be back there in a year. We can do some good things, make changes. Things we talked about doing when we were on The Detail together. You know you’d like that.”
“Doing good things or working with you again?” asked Morley, making his slender colleague blush.
“Both.”
“Mallory, my priority is taking care of Sean and my mom. Since Dad passed, I’m all they have. As it is, I’m not spending enough time with Sean; what with three hours of commuting tacked onto a minimum ten-hour workday. I’m lucky I see him an hour or two before he has to go to bed. If I was in DC, I’d be traveling on top of everything else. I’d never be home; Sean would be lost.”
“PJ, there are some good slots in DC that have minimal travel, WFO for instance. And you’d be setting yourself up for the next step, in case you decide to take it later on.”
“There’s no position that’s worth uprooting Sean and dragging him somewhere new.”
“I thought you said Sean liked Virginia when we were on PPD.”
“It was different, my dad was around. He took a huge load off my mom. Sean wasn’t in high school then either. I appreciate you trying to look out for me career-wise, but your ample clout would be better spent helping someone else. I’m staying in New York.”
Morley knew Kensington was used to getting her way, especially when she felt she was right. He could tell she was prepared to continue the discussion when her desk phone rang. “It’s the SAIC,” she said as she picked up the receiver. “Yes, sir, be right there.”
Kensington squinted at Morley as she stood. “This conversation isn’t over.”
“They never are with you unless you get your way,” said Morley.
Kensington gave him a wry smile as she disappeared down the hall.
Part Three
7 | Alvaro’s Investigation
Mexico City, 09/23/09, 1505 hours
Alvaro Lopez arrived an hour early for the “Emergency!” meeting. He approached the gaudy cantina his boss used as an office and that everyone else called “the Store” with a little unease.
The day’s weather had long since transitioned from an uncomfortable heat to an unbearable heat, with the added bonus of humidity. Alvaro knew that the sauna-like conditions would just intensify an already-unpleasant situation.
Walking from the parking lot, he noted the neon signs for Corona and Dos Equis already lit up the red stucco façade of the building. Ready for the early dinner crowd, laughed Alvaro to himself.
“Pepe, when do sumo tryouts begin?” Alvaro asked as he stepped under the shade of the front door awning and patted the behemoth of a bouncer on the stomach.
“Varo. Good. Good to see you,” said the giant haltingly. A confused half smile contorted the man’s puffy face as he extended his oversized paw.
Alvaro liked Pepe. The colossus made up for his mental deficiencies through sheer strength and unquestioned loyalty. Invaluable qualities for members of the Latin Kings street gang. Pepe was a good soldier. He could be counted on to do anything from ejecting a drunk to decapitating a man with one machete stroke, as long as thinking wasn’t involved.
“You’re first,” said Pepe as he opened the door. He motioned with his head to the back, then unable to avoid stating the obvious, “Diamond’s in his office. In the back.”
Alvaro’s boss’s real name was Manuel Fuentes, but depending upon who was telling the story, his nickname, Diamond, was based upon a tryout with the Arizona Diamondbacks, or him killing a diamondback rattlesnake with his teeth. Manuel said it was because he resembled the actor Lou Diamond Phillips; no one else saw it.
The stale air of the bar embraced Alvaro when he stepped inside. He winced and walked slowly across the bar, partly to let his eyes adjust to the darkness so he didn’t trip on errant beer bottles, mostly to prepare himself enough to enter the next room.
By the time Alvaro reached the office door, he’d steeled himself for what awaited him on the other side. He knocked.
“Come in,” came a nasal bark from the other side.
Alvaro turned the handle and entered. The contrast was immediate and jolting to his senses.
The blare of salsa music battered his ears. His eyes watered as they went from semi-darkness to bright florescent light. But it was the smell that was the most painful.
The smell of stale beer in the bar was heavenly compared to the grotesque moist air that assaulted Alvaro’s nostrils in the office. The combination of sweat, cigarette smoke, beer, and worst of all, human gas, made for a putrid mix. Alvaro gagged slightly and tried to adjust.
“Varo, thank you for coming early my friend,” yelled Diamond over the music. As he stood, he turned toward a couch on which two men sat. “Turn that shit down!”
Immediately one of the two scrambled from his semi-permanent indentation in the sofa to lower the volume on the radio.
Alvaro extended his hand.
Diamond shook it heartily. “I never have to wait for you. I like that.” Then, with a twinkle in his eye. “Except one time.”
Alvaro’s smile matched that of his boss. “I had a good excuse.”
“Yes you did my friend, yes you did,” chuckled Diamond. “I want to talk to you before the others get here. Carlo, Lupe, and me have been wrestling with a problem.”
On the couch to his right, Alvaro saw Carlo Gutierrez and Jose Lupe” Martinez, the two men Diamond trusted most, nod in agreement.
Alvaro laughed to himself. Like Pepe, the men on the couch would do anything Diamond asked, except think. Alvaro knew that between the two they had about as much grey-matter as the pillows they sat on. Alvaro had long ago deduced that in Carlo, Lupe, and Pepe, Diamond had surrounded himself with three of the densest people in Mexico City, maybe the country. He’d reasoned his boss had done it based on his own intellectual insecurity. Diamond must have known his position in the organization was secure if all he had to do was outwit the two potted plants who seemed to have grown out of the couch.
This situation had worked in Alvaro’s favor, and he assumed it would continue to, as long as he didn’t overplay his hand. “What’s the problem, boss?”
“Both Carlo and Lupe had neighborhood kids stealing from stores in their territories. Stores that the people know we protect.” Diamond’s voice rose as he finished the sentence.
Alvaro was genuinely surprised. The Kings had never had that kind of affront to their authority before. Alvaro knew it could undermine the protection money portion of their business. For Lupe, Carlo, and the five other bosses who hadn’t arrived yet, that money accounted for up to a third of their monthly income. This was serious.
“Boss, when did this start,” asked Alvaro.
“Carlo told me about it last week and Lupe,” Diamond looked at the couch, “yours was last week too, right?”
A nod from the couch confirmed the timeframe.
Alvaro continued his inquiry. “What are they doing?”
Diamond again looked to the couch.
Lupe spoke, “The little bastards come running into the store, three or four of ’em, grab shit and run. They don’t get much, and the little bastards are fast. We can hardly catch ’em.”
“Hmm,” mused Alvaro. “You’ve caught some?”
“Yeah, we have three of the little shits chained up in the basement of my cantina right now. We’ve made ’em pay. Tonight, I’m gonna slit their throats and hang them upside down from the streetlight to send a message,” said Lupe with a note of triumph.
Alvaro now knew why he’d been asked to come early. Diamond needed to make an important decision and wanted more than “Dumb and Dumber” to bounce it off before he announced it at the meeting.
Alvaro turned his attention to Lupe. “What have they said?”
Lupe looked at Carlo, then back at Alvaro as if searching for the answer. “Nothin’. We gagged ’em so no one could hear the screaming.” He looked back at Carlo who shrugged in
ignorant solidarity with his partner.
Alvaro, not knowing where Diamond came down on the idea, took a second to decide how to say what he thought. He exhaled forcefully. “I like Lupe’s idea. It will certainly send a strong message. But I’m afraid it would hurt business.”
Diamond stroked a day-old growth of beard. “I think you’re right, Varo. It wouldn’t be good for businesses to have bodies hanging outside their stores.” He paused. “So we kill ’em and hang their bodies someplace else?”
“Boss, I think you and I are thinking the same thing.” Alvaro saw a familiar semi-confused look on Diamond’s face before he continued. “These attacks aren’t random. They’re coordinated. They started at the same time and they use the same way of doing things. Everyone knows this is our territory and is protected. No group of street kids have that kind of balls, or organization. This is planned by someone other than these kids.”
Alvaro paused to let the logic of his argument sink in. When he saw Diamond nod and get red in the face, he continued. “If you agree, I’ll go over to Lupe’s after the meeting and talk to the kids. I’ll get to the bottom of who’s putting them up to this.”
“I can handle—”
Lupe’s offering was cut off by Diamond. “Varo, I want you to use one of them as an example to the other two. Peel his flesh back little by little while the other two watch. That’ll make the others talk.” He paused to catch his breath and his face got redder. “If it’s MS-13, I’ll have them all hanging from light poles. I’ll cut their balls off and make them eat ’em. I’ll kill every last…”
Alvaro hated to cut his boss off in mid-rant, but knew this could go on for ten minutes if left unchecked. He also knew how to tame the savage beast in front of him. He pulled out a large stack of cash, Mexican pesos and US dollars, and placed it on the desk.
“My earnings from last week. We did well on the credit card numbers, the online purchases, and the vendor kickbacks.”
Diamond’s face softened as he picked up the two rolls of bills. “Varo, this is amazing. It’s more than last month.” He shook his head in disbelief. “You did all this with just the numbers, nothing else?”
