by Robin Mahle
“I will, indeed. However, I will leave the investigating up to you folks. You’re the experts in this situation. Inspector, should we make our way out of here and show these folks what’s what?”
“Sim, senhor.”
8
Inside the densely populated favela of Rocinha, it was an easy task to spot an outsider. Driving along in the white unmarked SUV was synonymous with waving a big American flag and shooting off rifles in the air. It would be an impossible task to stand out any more as the SUV navigated through the dangerously narrow streets.
Investigator Sosa and Inspector Varela were in front of them in their civil police patrol car, further spotlighting the group and heightening speculation as the onlookers fixed their gazes upon the vehicles.
Walsh peered through the rear passenger window, with an awkward crinkling of his mouth, as though he suffered from embarrassment. “You ever feel like the one person wearing a costume to a party where no one else is?”
“I had no idea there were places like this in Rio,” Kate said. “It looks like a third-world country.”
“It is,” Cain replied. “You can walk a few miles and find yourself among mansions and beachfront properties. Here, it’s a different world all together.” He followed Varela as they wound through the favela to the top where the bodies were discovered. “I don’t want you folks staying here any long than necessary. So, get your photos and samples and whatever else and let’s get the hell out.”
“You’ll get no argument from me,” Fisher said.
They arrived at the top where vehicle access ended.
“This is the place.” Cain stepped out and climbed up the remaining several feet before reaching the cordoned off area. He was out of breath and beads of sweat formed on his brow from the physical exertion to which he was clearly not accustomed.
The others joined him among the verdant grounds where the hole that had been excavated from the hillside seemed incongruous.
Varela and Sosa appeared behind them and Varela began. “This is the place. There is another crew expected soon to finish the dig, once the grounds are stabilized.”
“Do you expect to uncover more victims in this location?” Eva Duncan moved toward the burial ground.
“That would be the worst of all outcomes. I hope this is the last we will find of any victims,” Varela replied.
“What about the others on your wall, Investigator Sosa?” Scarborough asked. “You have several missing persons’ cases on your docket.”
“If they are connected, I suspect we could find another of these killing grounds.”
“We should get started,” Scarborough began. “We’ll document the location. Let’s set up a string to get some measurements. Photograph tire tracks, footprints. You all know the drill. We’ve got a lot of work so let’s do this before dark settles in.”
Kate approached Investigator Sosa. “You mentioned an anonymous tip brought you here. How can you be sure the tipster isn’t the killer?”
Sosa shrugged his shoulders and appeared confused.
“Agent Reid, I’m not sure Sosa gets your meaning.” Cain approached them. “I’ll translate.”
He proceeded to tell Sosa what she said.
“Ah,” Sosa began. “The tipster, as you call him, identified those he saw here. And then there was the mobile phone. This boy was just that. He is no killer and was simply on his morning jog, which he did daily.”
Kate surveyed the grounds ahead. “This doesn’t look like a running trail.” She walked back to the area where the team had begun to document the scene and approached Duncan. “This site’s been picked clean. I think whatever they have is in the file. I’m not sure what more we can accomplish by being here.”
“We don’t know what kind of evidence they discovered here and we don’t know if they’re withholding any from us. I know Cain trusts these people, but I’m not sure I do. I would rather be here and examine this first-hand,” she replied.
Kate nodded. “Maybe I’m just looking to get out of here as quickly as we can. I’m not picking up a good vibe.”
As daylight neared its end, the team was driven to the coroner’s office where the four victims were held. Dr. Duarte was responsible for conducting the autopsies and waited behind the double doors ahead.
“The man in there.” Cain pointed at the doors. “He’s the one we need to speak to, but I wouldn’t get my hopes up.”
“Why is that?” Fisher asked.
“You’ll see. Come on.” Cain pushed through the doors and led them inside. “Looks like you two beat us to the punch,” he said to Varela.
“Pedro knows a short-cut, isn’t that right, Pedro?” Varela patted him on the back.
“Sim. Sim.”
“This is Dr. Duarte,” said Varela.
The doctor appeared not long out of medical school. He raised his gloved hands that held an instrument. “My apologies for not offering a handshake.”
“Your English is very good,” Duncan noted.
“Thank you. I attended medical school in Texas.”
“Have you completed your autopsies on these victims?” Scarborough asked.
“I have, senhor. Unfortunately, I did not find enough forensic evidence that could be sent to a lab.”
“No prints. Fibers, DNA. Nothing?” Fisher asked.
“I wish that were not the case. However, you are more than welcome to read the reports and maybe they will shed light on your investigation.” He paused. “Can I ask? Why are the Americans interested in these victims?”
“I can answer that,” Inspector Varela began. “A person of interest in the investigation could be an American. That is why they are here.”
“I see.” Dr. Duarte appeared concerned. “Well, should you need anything more, please contact me. I will make myself available to you.”
“Can we view the bodies, please?” Kate asked. “It’s important for us to establish a baseline for markers on the victims.”
“Certainly.” Duarte approached the steel holding refrigerator and opened two of the doors. Large metal trays rolled out until they were fully extended. “Be my guest.” He gestured for Kate to approach. “Is your background in forensic medicine?”
“No, I’m a profiler. I look for patterns and clues left behind that help us create certain details about the killer.” Kate examined one of the victims. “Who is this?”
“I’m afraid I have not been able to establish an identity.”
She turned to Sosa. “I thought one of them was Adriana Santos?”
“Sim.” Sosa approached another tray. “She is here.”
Quinn walked toward Kate while she observed the girl. “This one wasn’t beheaded. Why some and not others? She has been strangled, though.” He pointed to her bruised neck before pulling down the sheet to her legs. “Bruising here on her inner thighs suggests sexual assault.” He turned to the doctor. “Did you use a rape kit?”
Duarte furrowed his brow. “No. We do not have materials like that.”
Quinn shot a glance to Scarborough. “Can we get a kit here asap?”
“You’d better believe it.”
Sosa turned to Inspector Varela and in their native language, began to whisper. “The doctor has been compromised.”
Varela raised his hand. “Not here.”
Kate, however, noticed the exchange, and so did Scarborough. This was the red flag they should be concerned with. She knew DNA databases had been set up world-wide to process these rape kits. Brazil would absolutely have access to such technology. “I understand your limited resources, Dr. Duarte. That said, would it be acceptable for us to bring in a medical examiner to confirm your findings?”
“I think that would be wholly inappropriate, Agent Reid. This is not America and you and your team have no jurisdiction over this matter. Forgive my boldness, but these are Brazilian citizens and as such, fall under our laws.”
“I believe what my colleague is suggesting,” Cain began. “Is that because we have exten
uating circumstances in this situation, and according to the Extradition Treaty with your country, if this is the work of an American, we would be allowed limited participation in this inquiry.”
Duarte appeared agitated. “This is something that will require approval of my superiors. Until that happens, all I can give you are the reports.”
“I guess that’ll have to do,” Fisher stepped in. “We’ll take what we can get for now. Thank you very much for your cooperation.”
“We sure do appreciate your time, Dr. Duarte. I’m sure we’ll see you again real soon.” Agent Cain led the team outside. “I told you you’d find out for yourselves. Happens every day around here.”
“What the hell is going on? Do these people not want to know who’s killing their citizens?” Duncan asked.
“There’s an unwritten code here and in all the favelas,” Varela began. “It’s called the law of silence. It’s what keeps you alive.” He walked outside into the parking lot as the sun plunged below the horizon.
“I guess this means we’re leaving,” Fisher said.
Varela continued toward the vehicles as he spotted the others approach. “There is still another place I want you to see. In Gávea.
Sosa caught up to his boss. “The nightclub?”
“Yes. I need them to see the power the wealthy have around here as well as the connections inside the AdA and other groups. They will have to understand what they will be up against.” He turned to Scarborough. “I think it is wise to only ask the senior agents on your team to accompany us. There are too many of you and you will be easily marked.”
Scarborough and Fisher traded glances before he continued, “Fisher and I will go with you. The rest of the team can begin to analyze the crime scene photos as well as the autopsy reports. There is far more work ahead of us. We can tackle this from all sides.”
Cain nodded. “I’ll help get your people settled in so they can do their work. You’ll be working out of your hotel rooms, I’m sorry to say. I can’t risk you staying at the police station. I have you set up nearby. Inspector Varela, you take care of these gentlemen and see to it they return safely.”
“Sim, senhor.”
Cain drove to one of the city’s most luxurious hotels. Resting atop the white sands of a long stretch of beach, the hotel appeared like it belonged to another world far away from the favelas.
Walsh gazed at the splendor of the resort as they approached. “Better than the 3-star digs we’re usually stuck with. I admit, though, I do feel a little guilty after what we just saw. You weren’t kidding about the disparities.”
“It’s beautiful here and it’s easy to forget all about Rocinha in a place like this. So don’t feel bad. Just remember why you’re here.”
Inspector Varela pulled into a nearby parking spot next door to the nightclub. “It’s early yet, but I’d like to go in and give you a lay of the land. There are some important people you should be made aware of inside. Oh, and we had received another anonymous tip, we assume from someone who works here. He gave a description of a man who was supposedly seen with Adriana Santos. Sosa wasn’t able to get any more information, though we suspect the call came from the bartender, who he had questioned previously.”
Scarborough peered back at Fisher. “I don’t mind chatting to some of the locals to get a feel for the scene.”
“Right behind you.” Fisher stepped out of the car and stood on the sidewalk fronting the building. “Nice place.”
“It is well-known for supporting the habits of the wealthy, if you understand my meaning,” Varela replied.
“I think I do.” Scarborough fell in behind the inspector.
They entered the night club where it appeared at about half its capacity at the early hour of only 10pm. The team had traveled some 5,000 miles and hadn’t slept in almost two days. Scarborough pushed through the urge to close his eyes.
“This is where you will find a lot of tourists, visitors. Not many locals come here, mostly because they cannot afford it,” Varela said.
Sosa caught up with him and pulled him aside. “Senhor, why are we really here?”
“These Americans need to understand the hierarchy if they are to uncover the perpetrator of the crimes.”
“You want them to meet with the AdA?”
“It’s a start. I know one of the higher-ranking members will be here tonight, possibly de la Costa. We must satisfy the AdA that these American agents will not bring attention to them. It is the only way to ensure their safety.”
Sosa nodded. “Maybe you should have told them that was the reason.”
“I will—before the night is over, if they haven’t come to understand that themselves.” He turned to Scarborough. “Would you gentlemen like a drink?”
“Soda water for me,” Scarborough replied.
“I’ll take a beer.”
The men sat down at the bar and turned around to face the dance floor. Several people danced and the music was louder than it needed to be for such a thin crowd.
Fisher leaned into Varela. “When does it get really busy here?”
“About another hour or so.” Varela set his sights to the front door. With a nudge to Sosa, he asked. “That looks like Ramos. I was hoping for someone higher on the food chain, like de la Costa.”
“Yes, it is him. Should I go?”
“No, let me do it.” Varela stood from the barstool. “If you gentlemen will excuse me for a moment?” He headed toward the entrance where a wiry man, 40-something and sporting a bespoke suit had just arrived. “Senhor Ramos. Inspector Gustavo Varela.” He offered his hand. “Is Senhor de la Costa with you tonight?”
“I know who you are. Why are you here, Inspector? And why are you asking about de la Costa?”
“The crime scene I discussed with him. I wished to update him on the progress. I wasn’t sure if you were aware of the situation with the Americans.”
“I am aware.” Ramos continued inside and was shown to a large round booth that appeared to be reserved for him.
“I relayed to Senhor de la Costa that the Americans are here only to investigate the murders because of the evidence that suggests and American culprit.”
“And?” Ramos sat back in the deep booth and crossed his legs.
“In an effort to avoid any confusion for those who might see them inside Rocinha, perhaps an introduction is in order?”
Ramos smiled. “You want to be sure no one kills the Americans.”
“That is a concern, Senhor.”
“Bring them here. I will meet them, and you will have my word they will not be harmed.”
Varela nodded. “Excuse me then. I will bring them over.” He started back to the bar. “Gentlemen, I would like for you to meet someone. Someone with the power to ensure your safety while you are here.”
Neither Fisher nor Scarborough were armed. They were forced to leave their weapons in the patrol car for fear of any misunderstandings. Now, Fisher felt naked and unprepared. “You want us to meet with a known gangster? Sure, why not?” He eyed his partner. “Scarborough, you game?”
“I’m game.”
They followed Varela while Sosa remained at the bar alone.
“Gentlemen, I would like to introduce you to Alejo Ramos.”
Ramos remained in his seat with an imperious smile on his lips. His assertion of power was not lost on either of the agents.
“I’m Special Agent Nicholas Scarborough. This is my partner, Special Agent Cameron Fisher.”
“FBI.” Ramos accepted Fisher’s handshake but did not stand. “I feel like I am in the movies, yes? FBI, freeze!” He held both his index fingers and thumbs in the shape of guns. “Pew, pew.” He laughed.
“That’s us.” Fisher smiled in return with humorless eyes. We’re assisting on an investigation.”
“Of course. Americans never cease to amaze me with their over-reaching powers.” He adjusted his suit and returned to his relaxed position. “Inspector Varela says we should meet to ensure there is n
o confusion inside Rocinha. I say that is a wise decision. Although, I cannot say you will be completely safe from harm. There are many people inside the favela. I do not control them all. However, now that we have met face to face, you will not be in put in a situation which you cannot get out of. I give you my word.”
“Thank you. Your cooperation is appreciated,” Scarborough let slide the jab against Americans because, well, he wasn’t armed, and he was in a foreign country speaking to a powerful drug trafficker. Not the time to split hairs.
“Sit down, please. You are making my neck sore. We should drink to our alliance.” He snapped his fingers and a waiter appeared. “Tequila shots for everyone. Yes?”
Scarborough’s heart pounded in his chest. He glanced to Fisher who appeared unfazed, but then, he wasn’t the one with the problem. His mind raced to find a way out, any excuse would do, but he couldn’t think of a single legitimate reason to reject the offer without raising concerns. When the waiter returned with the shots, he reached for one with a forced smile and held it between his fingers. Surely, his anxiety was on full display.
Ramos raised his shot glass. “To my new FBI friends.” He tossed it back.
Scarborough’s mouth dried in an instant. He watched Fisher and Varela throw back their shots. He was the only one left and Ramos appeared to take note.
“Do you not enjoy tequila, Special Agent Nicholas Scarborough?”
Fisher’s expression hardened as he stared at his boss.
“I love it.” He tossed it back.
9
Silver trays holding empty plates and crumpled napkins lay atop the large table in the meeting room set up at the luxury resort. The sun was set to rise in a matter of hours and a team going on 2 days without sleep had just finished scrubbing the autopsy reports and other pertinent files obtained to date.
“I don’t know about you folks, but I have got to catch some shut-eye.” Cain yawned and raised his arms in an exaggerated stretch. “I have no idea how the hell you all are still functioning. We ought to call it a night.”
