by Robin Mahle
“Mr. Santiago.” Fisher offered his hand. “Thank you for agreeing to meet. I can’t imagine how difficult this must be for you.”
“Difficult, yes, but not unexpected.” Santiago turned on his heel. “Please, follow me.” He led the way to his office. “Have a seat. I must apologize for the accommodations. We are but a small newspaper.”
“It’s fine, thank you.” Kate offered her hand. “I’m Agent Reid.”
Santiago returned to his desk. “So, I understand you have left the investigation regarding the murder of my reporter in the hands of a corrupt civil police inspector. I would have expected more from the United States FBI.”
“I’m afraid this is well outside our investigatory jurisdiction.” Fisher adjusted in the uncomfortable chair. “That said, since our arrival here in Rio, we have faced unexpected challenges and considering we were asked to assist, as you can imagine, it has come as a bit of a surprise. We’ve already sent three of our team home due to safety concerns. In fact, I’m not entirely sure those of us who remain are safe.”
“You are not. Make no mistake.” Santiago retrieved the article and slid it across his desk to Fisher. “And if this were to be published, you would not make it out of Rio alive.”
“You understand what would happen if our government was forced to intervene?” Kate said. “Which they most certainly would.”
“Oh yes. I understand. And that is why I have agreed with Agent Cain not to publish this final piece of journalism that cost my reporter her life.”
“Can you tell us, Mr. Santiago, who the last person was who saw or spoke with Ms. Ortiz?” Kate asked.
“Rosella frequented the popular night clubs where she received word that an American celebrity had returned for the summer. She acted on that tip without my knowledge. Although, it was something that would not normally require my approval. That is a mistake I will be forced to live with.”
“You don’t know who she went to see?” Fisher asked.
“I do not. It was not usually the sort of thing I kept track of. Rosella had a job to do and did it with little oversight.”
Fisher pursed his lips in disappointment. “Can we view her schedule or her laptop. Anything that might give us an indication of where she went?”
“The civil police have beaten you to the punch, as you say. It has already been turned over to them in Gávea. I was not in a position to deny them. No one ever is.”
“There was no cell phone found near her body,” Kate said. “We would like to request her phone records.”
“I will have to discuss that with the authorities. You said yourself, Agent Reid, this is no longer your investigation. Why the concern?”
“Mr. Santiago, we suspect your reporter was murdered by the same person who killed those four women discovered in the hills of Rocinha. I would assume you would want to know that for fact, especially considering the primary person of interest is suspected to be an American.”
“I agreed to this meeting to discuss the article. We should come to an agreement on that.”
Kate knew exactly what this man was getting at. He wanted money in return for his silence.
“What will it take, Mr. Santiago?” Fisher asked.
He wrote down a number on a piece of paper and pushed it toward Fisher.
Fisher glanced at it and turned it so Kate could see. She peered at him with disgust. “And this is the figure you presented to Agent Cain?”
“That was hours ago. This is the new figure.”
“I’ll need some time, but we can make this happen.” He folded the paper and placed in his shirt pocket.
“Good. Then I think we are done here.” Santiago stood. “Once this is settled, the article will be destroyed.”
“What guarantees can you offer us that you will follow through on your end of the bargain?” Kate asked.
“Guarantees? I can offer none. My word is all you will have.”
“We are done here, Mr. Santiago.” Fisher pushed off the chair. “We’ll get back to you as soon as possible.” He started toward the door with Kate only steps behind. “Oh, and when we do find the person who killed Ms. Ortiz, we’ll be sure to let everyone know how forthcoming you were with information.”
The two stepped out into the corridor and made their way outside. Fisher shook his head. “Jesus. What kind of place is this?”
“I’m starting to wonder why we’re even here,” Kate said.
“You and me both.”
Their original safehouse was deemed compromised the moment Varela ensured there were no bodies left at the coroner’s office. Agent Cain was forced to relocate the team. The temporary accommodation was just ahead as he spotted the small, abandoned building on the outskirts of another favela. While Rocinha was the largest, there were others that were not as dangerous but also didn’t have the infrastructure. Running water was scarce and indoor plumbing was even more so. The request from the International Ops division to set up secure satellite phones and a dedicated satellite for internet access, was granted and it was a good thing. There was no internet here either. Despite its shortcomings, this was the best place for them to remain covert in their efforts to get the vital samples out of Brazil.
Scarborough stepped out of the car and started toward the building. “This is your safe house? I’m not sure it’s even safe to occupy. He peered at the crumbling exterior and boarded up windows.
“This is probably the safest place for us to be right now without holing up at the US Consulate.” Cain inserted a key in the lock and opened the door.
Scarborough followed him inside and noted the interior was in worse shape. The walls revealed exposed brick, the ceiling was covered in rings left from water stains and the floor was concrete with enormous fissures running through the slab. “As long we aren’t exposed.”
Cain flipped a switch and two fluorescent lights flickered on. “Your team should have arrived in Brasilia by now. I want to make sure the arrangements for their flight home have been made.”
“I thought the plan was to get them the samples to take with them?” Scarborough began. “How are we going to doing that?”
“We don’t have that kind of time. I want them on a plane in the next couple of hours.” He picked up a phone. “This is a secure line. There are people who can help us get the samples out. People who are on our side.”
“CIA?”
He only responded with a nod. “They have plenty of assets who they trust and we can make a drop. After that, we’ll arrange a commercial transport to move the samples along with other deliveries which will make it less likely to be inspected.”
“You must believe the corruption goes all the way to the top.”
“I wouldn’t put it past this government. Even their former president was charged with corruption. Trust me, Scarborough, there’s no one here in law enforcement we can trust. I thought Varela could be, but clearly, I was wrong. Pedro Sosa must’ve been the last of his breed and now he’s dead too.”
“So we get out the samples with a commercial carrier and when my people get back to Quantico, they get them in their hands and to our labs.”
“That’s the plan. We have a lot of ground to cover so we should get started.”
“What about Fisher and Reid? I want them here as soon as possible.”
“They don’t have secure phones.”
“Cain, we need to get word to them.”
“Not from here. I haven’t fully vetted the location myself. You know where they are. The only way to be sure the call isn’t being monitored is if you get far away from here and that would only mean wasting more time.”
“They’re my responsibility. I’ll find a place to make the call and get them back. You do what you need to do to get these samples out of Brazil.”
“The AdA and the government have eyes everywhere. I can’t say for sure you won’t be followed. But if this is what you need to do, then go.”
Scarborough nodded and caught the keys Cain tossed him. �
��Thank you.” He walked back out into the afternoon sun before stepping into the car. He worried for Kate. He worried for all of them, but she was at the top of his mind. She always was. There were feelings he couldn’t control when it came to her. And now it had forced him to reexamine his leadership. Maybe Quinn was right. Whatever was going on between Quinn and Kate appeared to have culminated into something possibly irreparable. He began to wonder if he’d damaged not only his career, but hers as well.
Several miles along the road, Scarborough reached a part of town that appeared to be a heavy tourist spot. He realized he was near the Christ the Redeemer statue. He gazed up at the massive monument to Christ and reflected on the idea they might not make it out of here alive. And it would be his fault.
Scarborough shook off the negative vibes and retrieved his phone. He made the call to Fisher. “Where are you two?”
“Leaving the newspaper. We got jack squat. All Santiago wanted was money. He says we’ll have to trust him not to publish the piece but gave us nothing in regard to where his reporter was last seen. I don’t think he cared, in all honesty.”
“How much?” Scarborough asked.
“Ten grand.”
“Could be worse.” His eyes caught sight of a row of shops across the street. One of the places appeared to be a bar. “Look, um, Cain set us up somewhere else. Safer, from what he said. I’m going to send you the location.”
“Are you there now?”
“No. I had to move away because this line isn’t secure and he didn’t want anyone to trace me back to where we’re holed up. I’ll text you the coordinates. I want both of you to get there as soon as you can. Cain’s working on getting our samples out of the country by tonight.”
“Without the editor’s cooperation, what’s the plan here, boss?” Fisher asked. “Are we still going after this killer or what?”
“Let’s get these samples out and have our team push them through the system. I want an ID before we consider leaving. If he’s here, I want to find him.”
“Then we’re in agreement. We’re too vested in this to give up now.”
“How’s Reid?” he asked.
“She held her own. I expected nothing less. I’ll wait for your coordinates and we’ll be there as quickly as we can. Fisher out.”
Nick sent the information and exhaled as he reluctantly peered again at the hole in the wall cantina. He recalled the days in his not so distant past. Sitting in a bar during a case, becoming numb to the horrors of the death that surrounded him. He had grown so tired of the depravity that he witnessed in the killers he chased. It was the reason he wanted to go back to Quantico. But it seems it was something he could not escape. Not without giving it up all together. But Kate. She thrived in this environment. She was made for this work and maybe there would come a day when she too would grow tired, but not yet. She hadn’t peaked yet. Quinn must’ve seen that and feared it.
Even she wouldn’t be able to prevent the thoughts swimming in Nick’s mind as he gazed forth, his mouth watering with desire for a drink. “Not now. There isn’t time,” he said to himself. But there was. It would only take a moment to relieve his anxiety and pull was strong.
16
The plane touched down on a remote runway shorn from the dense green terrain. Controlled by the FBI’s International Operations, the airstrip was a designated landing zone for clandestine operations and was also utilized by the CIA.
Levi Walsh peered through the window of the plane. He noticed a man who leaned against an old minivan that was parked at the edge of the runway. The man’s arms were folded and his legs crossed as he watched the plane roll to a stop. “I’ll bet a dollar to a dime he’s CIA.”
Duncan viewed him from her window. “No way am I taking that bet. Suppose he’s our ride?” Duncan asked.
Walsh eyed the front of the plane as the flight attendant approached. “Any idea who the man out there is?”
“I’m sorry, sir. I don’t know. The captain will come out and speak to you all.” She returned to her seat.
The captain soon emerged from the cockpit. “Senhors, Senhora, I have been asked to relay to you that you are to exit the plane and immediately enter the vehicle that awaits you. The man outside is an American and will be taking you from here.” He turned the handle and opened the exit door as a staircase arrived. “Please, you must hurry.”
“You heard the man.” Walsh stood in the aisle, hunched over in the small aircraft. “Duncan, let’s go. You too, Quinn, you’re next.” And then it was his turn. Walsh looked back at the captain. “Thank you. I hope your efforts weren’t in vain.”
“So do I, sir. Goodbye and good luck to you all.”
Eva Duncan stepped off the staircase and hurried toward the gentleman next to the minivan. “It might be a good idea for you to tell me who you are before I get inside.”
“Bryce Lambert. I can only tell you that I’m on your side. Please, you need to get in.” He pulled open the sliding passenger door.
Quinn and Walsh jogged to catch up to her when Walsh began. “You’re one of the good guys, right?”
“That’s what they tell me,” Lambert replied. “It’s time to go.”
With the agents inside, Lambert pulled away from the plane and exited the private airport. Walsh sat next to him and looked in the back row at Quinn and Duncan. They appeared to reach a silent consensus and Walsh nodded. “Lambert—CIA Officer Lambert, I assume? I want to thank you for your help, but it’s imperative I get word to the rest of our team.”
Lambert kept his eyes on the road ahead. “Word’s reached them already.”
“Uh huh. Where are headed to then?” Quinn asked.
“To another airstrip where another plane is waiting to take you back to the States.”
Again, we are grateful you’re facilitating this effort, but we’d feel a whole lot better talking to our agent in charge who is still in Rio. I think that’s going to need to happen before we get in the air again. I don’t suppose you have a phone we can use?” Walsh said.
“Here,” Lambert tossed him his cell phone. “It’s secure. Make the call, but unless whoever you’re calling is on a secure line, you’ll be putting them at risk.”
Waalsh glared at the man. “CIA or not, we aren’t getting on that plane unless we talk to our people. So either you make that happen, or we’ll all be sitting on that runway for a long time.”
Lambert snatched his phone again and dialed a number. “Get Cain on a secure line and have him contact me ASAP. I got some stubborn ass FBI agents preventing me from getting my job done.” He ended the call and turned back to Walsh. “Happy now?”
“Very.”
Scarborough pushed through the doors of the cantina and walked outside to his car—Cain’s car, actually. His eyes watered from the glare of the setting sun and he realized that at least an hour, maybe longer, must’ve passed. “Shit.” He slipped into the driver’s seat and started the car. When he retrieved his phone from his pocket, he noticed several missed calls. Cain, no doubt, wondering what the hell had happened to him and if he was still alive. Then he noticed the time. Three drinks in an hour. That’s how long he’d been inside. The voicemail notification light flashed on his phone. He knew he had to check it, he just didn’t want to. With his phone to his ear, he listened.
“Where the hell are you, Scarborough? Your people are here and you’re not. The rest of your team is in Brasilia and are refusing to leave without talking to you first. Get your ass back here. Don’t make me come find you. I swear, if you’re dead I’m gonna be pissed.”
Yep. Cain was pissed. “Damn it.” Three drinks for a man who’d been sober for a year until blowing it the other night had hit him hard. He knew he shouldn’t be driving and was now 0 for two in poor decisions this week. He slammed the gear into reverse and pulled out, whipping the car ahead and making his way toward the new safe house. “She won’t forgive me for this.”
Scarborough felt like he’d made a wrong turn somewhere and
now couldn’t remember the way back. While he’d felt more clear-headed; roaming this city alone as an FBI agent was his third bad decision. Any more and he might not make it back at all. He was going to have to call Cain for help.
“It’s me. I got lost. I need help getting back,” He said as he held his phone to his ear.
“Where are you? Give me some sort idea,” Cain replied.
Scarborough surveyed the area in search of a landmark or road marker. “I see a sign ahead. Hang on.” He squinted for a better view. “Says Bem vindo a Los Guava.”
“Are you shitting me? Get the hell out of there, Scarborough. You do not want to be there,” Cain replied. “Make a U-turn. I’m going to track your cell signal and help you back.”
“Are Agents Reid and Fisher with you? Are they safe?” Scarborough pleaded.
“They’re safe. Now we need to get you safe. What the hell took you so long? I told you to get back as soon as possible.”
“I got lost. Really…lost.” His face masked in shame.
“I’ve locked the signal. I’m tracking your whereabouts on my computer. Jeez, you really did go adrift.”
While Cain relayed instructions on how to get back to the safe house, Kate listened and eyed the monitor. Something had gone wrong. Nick wouldn’t just get lost like that. Not now when their lives were at stake.
Fisher must’ve picked up on her apprehension. “Are you okay? Cain will get him back here. He’ll be fine. It’s easy to get turned around in a strange place.”
“Yeah, I know. He’s been lost before and has found his way home. I just didn’t expect it to happen again.” Her words conveyed a deeper meaning than Fisher could know.
“Is there something you want to say, Reid? It’s just me here.”
She and held his gaze for a moment, considering his request. “No. I’m just worried for him. I want him back here.”
Cain continued to guide Scarborough. “You should be pulling onto the street now.”
