The Kill Season

by Robin Mahle

  Levi Walsh waited at Customs inside Reagan National Airport ready to sign for the case containing the samples that had just arrived. It had been well-packaged and should have survived the journey. He and the others had only arrived back in D.C. yesterday which meant Cain had to pull some serious strings to get the shipment here so quickly.

  He attempted to contact Scarborough earlier, but didn’t get through, which was alarming. All he could do now was wait until he picked up the samples and return to Quantico to make the call on a secure line.

  The idea that half the team was in Rio on their own gnawed at him. It was the only thing on which he and Quinn agreed. They should have all returned together, but what was done was done.

  A man in a U.S. Customs uniform approached the table where Walsh waited. “Mr. Levi Walsh?”

  “That’s me.” He retrieved his driver’s license and handed it to the Customs agent.

  “Just sign this for me here, please and I’ll let you be on your way.” He held out a clipboard with papers attached.

  Walsh signed the document.

  “Here you go, sir. Have a good day.”

  “Thank you.” Walsh picked up the small black metal case and started toward the exit of the airport.

  It would take nearly an hour in traffic to reach Quantico, but the case had been preserved with ice packs. If he ever felt like a covert operative, now was certainly the time. It was a strange feeling because he was supposed to be hunting killers, not subverting governments. That was the CIA’s job. But whatever he needed to do needed to be done quickly. Getting the rest of his team home was his first priority, even above capturing a killer.

  Walsh arrived at Quantico and headed into the laboratories where he was scheduled to meet with an old and trusted friend who would help him keep this off-book until the results were in. The investigation had been scrapped according to the Brazilian government and he didn’t want any trail left behind. “I appreciate you handling this discreetly.” Walsh handed the case to the lab tech. “Please only contact me directly when the results are in. And of course…”

  “You want it rushed,” he replied.

  “Yes. It’s a matter of life and death for those on our side.”

  “I’ll take care of it. You have my word.”

  And with a nod and a handshake, the case was now in the hands of Quantico’s finest technician. Walsh could walk away with the knowledge that the tests would be completed as soon as humanly possible and they could move forward with the case, whether the Brazilian government wanted to or not.

  Upon his return to the BAU offices, Walsh approached Unit Chief Cole who was in his plush corner office. “Knock. Knock.”

  Cole peered up from his computer. “Walsh. Come in. What news to you have for me?”

  He entered and closed the door before sitting down across from Cole. “I handed over the samples to the lab. We might know something tomorrow. He’s running the tests as quickly as he can.”

  “That’s good news. Have you informed Scarborough yet?”

  “I was waiting to return to reach him on a secure line.”

  “Good idea.” Cole pulled up in his chair and folded his arms against his chest. “I don’t agree with what Scarborough’s done, but he’s the team leader. And if he feels this was the way to go, I have to let him see it through.”

  “I understand that, sir. Sometimes we do things we don’t want to do, but if we can identify him here, they’ll be there to pick him up.”

  “What if it turns out he’s not an American? Or there is no match?” Cole asked.

  “Then they’ll have no choice except to walk away, but I don’t think that’ll happen, sir. I think we’ll find something. Whoever did this was extremely careless. He was being protected by crooked cops and figured he could get away with anything, including murder. That will be his downfall.”

  “There’s something I need to ask you, Levi, and I want you to be completely honest with me.” Cole paused a moment. “Have you noticed tensions between Scarborough and Quinn?”

  Walsh appeared to consider his reply. “There have been some, but then again, we’ve been in the middle of a deadly serious game and there’s bound to be tension.”

  “But it’s more than that, isn’t it? Even Scarborough has alluded to it. Quinn’s kept mum about it, so I haven’t pushed the issue, but I won’t have this team fracture. What can we do to nip this in the bud?”

  “I’ve known Quinn for longer than I’ve known Scarborough,” Walsh began. “They have distinct personalities and I think it’s going to take time for them to see eye to eye. There are things about Quinn, which I’m sure you’re already aware, that can make it difficult to work with him. He is an ambitious man. Not that that’s a bad thing, but it can rub people the wrong way. And I think it rubs Scarborough the wrong way. And maybe Reid too.”

  “Is their relationship becoming an issue? Scarborough’s and Reid’s?”

  “Not for me. Not for anyone else that I’m aware of.”

  “Not even Quinn?” Cole replied.

  “Maybe. Look, sir, I understand it’s your responsibility to see to it we’re one cohesive unit, and I do believe we will get there, in time. But right now, I just want to get the three remaining team members home without incident. And with Agent Cain and his CIA buddy, I think we’ll get there, but I need to be on my toes. I’d like to go do that, now, sir, with all due respect.”

  Cole nodded. “You’re right. We’ll deal with all this when they return. Go. Call Scarborough and see to it they’re updated on your progress. And keep me posted.”

  18

  Even the sunshine and blue skies couldn’t make Rocinha appear desirable. It was a dilapidated slum that the government largely ignored because it was under the control of ruthless gangs. And this was where Agent Cain stopped the car—at the crossroads of Rocinha’s entrance.

  “I’m not sure I’m fully on board with this, Scarborough. Talking to these people might just get you killed.”

  “I don’t see another way. Not right now and not until we get the labs back. Walsh said to expect them in another 24 hours. Well, you’ll excuse me if I’d like to try to get some answers sooner than that.”

  Fisher, who was in the back seat with Kate began, “I have to agree with you on that one, boss.”

  “Same here,” Kate started. “You’ve already established a rapport—sort of, so I think this is our best option.”

  “Fair enough. I know when I’m in the minority. Who’s going in?” Cain peered at the three of them.

  “I am.” Scarborough opened the door. “He knows me.”

  “Uh, I was with you too. They know me,” Fisher replied.

  “Stay here. If we team up on them, I think we’ll be asking for trouble. I go in there alone and they’re going to see I’m no threat.”

  Kate wanted to disagree with him on that point but wouldn’t because he was right. “Be careful.” Regardless of how angry she was with him right now, she still loved him and the idea he could be hurt or killed sent her nerves on end.

  “I’ll be okay. I know what I’m doing.” He stepped out of the car and made his way on foot to the known location of one of the AdA buildings. Varela, so far, was still cooperating, if not reluctantly, because he knew what would happen if any agents were murdered in Rio. The hellfire of the US government would be unleased upon the city and even he didn’t want that.

  He turned the corner and disappeared from view of the others waiting in the car. Nick was on his own and it was the way he wanted it right now. His shoulders weighed heavily with the burden of his mistakes from yesterday and he wanted to not only make it up to Kate but prove to himself he wasn’t a screw up like he appeared.

  The building was just ahead and as he stood in front of it, he knocked on the glass door. From the back, he noticed a large, angry looking man approach. Must have been one of the gang members seeing as the man had an AK47 strapped to his chest. Nick was unarmed.

  The door opened. “O qu
e você quer?” “What do you want?”

  Nick didn’t understand him, but it sounded like a question. “Senhor Ramos?”

  The man eyed him. “Americano?”

  “Yes.” He followed with a nod.

  The door closed and the man disappeared beyond the corridor. However, Scarborough didn’t wait for long. Another friendly looking gentleman appeared with a big gun and sporting a heavy beard. He waved for Scarborough to follow.

  “Gracias.”

  “That’s Spanish. The word you want is Obrigado,” the bearded man replied.

  “Sorry.” He walked inside.

  “Follow me.” The man led the way to another back room where he opened yet another door in this maze and spoke in Portuguese to the man behind the desk.

  It was Ramos. He’d made it this far and there was no turning back now. “Mr. Ramos, thank you for seeing me.”

  “FBI Agent Nicholas Scarborough, please sit down. I’m curious as to why you are here. It is not a safe place for you to be, senhor.”

  “I understand that more than you know. I’m here because I want to talk to you about Inspector Gustavo Varela and his investigator Pedro Sosa.”

  “I am aware. Investigator Sosa has recently perished. That is unfortunate. But what can I do about that?”

  “I think Mr. Sosa might have been murdered by people who work for you. Maybe as a favor for the Rio civil police?”

  “Be careful of your accusations, Agent Scarborough. They might get you in trouble.”

  “Unfortunately, I had agents with him at the time of his death and their lives were also in danger. Can you tell me what you know about that?”

  He laughed. “I know nothing more than you. Why are you here? Only to lob allegations?”

  “I’m here to get to the truth.”

  “This is Rio. There is no truth here. Only money and power and lies.”

  “I understand that you indicated to Varela you and your people had nothing to do with the deaths of those women found in the shallow grave at the top of Rocinha. And if that is the case, and I choose to believe you, then you must know who is responsible. You’re a smart man, Mr. Ramos. I imagine nothing happens here that you aren’t aware of. I want to leave Rio with my people, and the American who committed the atrocities. I’m sure that would benefit you and the people of Rocinha if we could capture this monster.” Scarborough understood that the man with whom he was speaking was also a monster except he was one who didn’t get his own hands dirty, in all likelihood. Now he was asking the gangster to go a step further and give up the American who probably paid him for his silence.

  “What can you offer me?” Ramos replied.

  “More than whoever is paying you to bury this, so to speak. I can assure you, I have the support of my government behind me and if an American is responsible, we will bring him to justice.”

  “American justice. Only for the wealthy, sim?”

  “I won’t argue with you there. But as far as I’m concerned, I don’t care who has the money, I want this man. I want him alive to face trial. Here or in my country. I don’t care.”

  “Okay, Special Agent Nicholas Scarborough, but I want something else in return, besides money.”

  “Name it.”

  “I want Varela gone.”

  Three folding tables had been pushed together to create a large one that would hold the cast of the television show starring Mason Wylder. It was time to read the season premiere episode and he felt invigorated to be back at work, even if it was earlier than he anticipated.

  “Welcome back, everyone.” The showrunner stood at the head of the table. “And to you, Mason, for cutting short your summer plans to join us. We appreciate that.” He instigated a round of applause.

  Wylder soaked up the attention and bowed to his colleagues. “Glad to be back.”

  “Good. Then we should get started. You’ll see your scripts are in front of you and this will just be a quick and dirty read-through so you all can go back to enjoying the beautiful hot and sticky New York summer day.”

  Wylder picked up his script and felt his phone vibrate in his shirt pocket. He retrieved it to find a text message from Scott. “It’s taken care of.”

  “Uh, Mason, no phones,” the showrunner said.

  “Sorry.” He slipped the phone back in his pocket and felt better than ever. It was his opening line and so the read began.

  With few interruptions, the table read was finished after about an hour. As Wylder stood up to leave, he spotted Scott in the doorway. “You’ll all excuse me for a moment?”

  “We’re finished for today, Mason. You can go on home if you’d like,” the showrunner said.

  Wylder nodded and walked toward the entrance. “Hey. We just wrapped up. You want to grab a drink or something?”

  Scott eyed him as he placed his hand on his shoulder. “Look, man. We need to talk. And not here.”

  “Fine. We’ll grab a drink then. Come on.” Wylder started into the hall and turned when Scott wasn’t following. “Dude? You coming or what?”

  With some reluctance, Scott followed him outside toward his car and stopped him. “Do you have any idea who that was?”

  “Who what was?” He clicked open the car doors.

  “Jesus. I knew you were crazy, but this is batshit crazy. We’re going back to my place. Now.”

  “Fine. Whatever.” He stepped into his car and waited for Scott to return to his. “What crawled up your ass?” Wylder peered through the windshield before pressing the ignition to start his Mercedes. And just as though today was like every other day, Wylder followed Scott back to his high-rise apartment, which was just a stone’s through from his own.

  Upon arrival, Scott inserted his key in the apartment door. “Just get inside.” He held open the door while Mason entered, closing it behind him. “What the hell is wrong with you, man? You don’t take risks like this. Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

  The apartment was much smaller and far less grand than Mason’s. Scott’s taste was more subdued as well, teetering between traditional and contemporary. Still, the place cost him over $8,000 a month.

  Mason made his way into the kitchen and grabbed a beer from the fridge. “Want one?”

  “No. I don’t want one.”

  “Suit yourself.” He twisted off the top and tossed half of it back. “Okay, what were you saying?”

  “Look, we aren’t in Rio anymore. You get that, right? There’s no one here you can buy. No one who will look the other way, you understand?”

  “Oh, I get it. This is about the girl. Yeah, I know, man. I got a little crazy. Shit won’t happen again. Not here. I get it.”

  “I don’t think you do, man. Do you know who she was? Does your brain comprehend who that girl was?”

  Mason’s face twisted and his lips raised into a menacing smile. His eyes blackened and his cheeks flushed. “I don’t think you want to be talking to me like this, bro. I did what I did. It’s done and it won’t happen again. That’s all you need to know. Understand? I don’t give a flying fuck who she was. She’s gone now. You took care of her. That’s what you need to remember. I’m the one who calls the shots, unless you forgot where you get your paycheck from.” He stepped to within inches of Scott. “So this conversation is over. Do what the fuck I pay you to do and we won’t have any more problems.”

  Scott watched as Mason’s smile turned genuine, his face returned to its normal color and his eyes were brown again. He was Mason Wylder again. But what Scott had just witnessed meant that he had fallen deep into another dimension and he wasn’t coming out again. It was either continue to cover up and hide and lie for Wylder or find himself dead. And if Wylder had a hand in it, it would be the worst kind of dead. “Okay. I said it was taken care of and it is. Problem solved.” He backed up several steps.

  Wylder appeared almost jovial in a stark and troubling about-face. “Good. Now are we going to go out or what?”

  He’d been in there for too long. Kate fi
xed her eyes on the road Nick had traveled and still there was no sign of his return. It had been nearly an hour. “We should get in there. I’m sorry, but I can’t sit here and not know what the hell is happening.”

  “Just give it a little more time, Reid,” Fisher said. “I get these guys are dangerous criminals, but they’d be crazy to do anything to a federal agent. You’re going to have to trust that Scarborough knows what he’s doing. I figured that wouldn’t be that hard for you to do, all things considered.”

  “What?” She whipped back. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Nothing. I didn’t mean anything by it. You’re starting to freak out, Reid and you need to reel it in, okay?”

  “Besides.” Cain pointed at the road ahead. “There’s your boy now.”

  Relief swept through her at the sight of Nick, unharmed and heading their way. “Thank God.” She turned back to Fisher. “I’m sorry. I was just feeling, well…”

  “I get it. You’re allowed to worry. But as you can see, he’s still in one piece.”