The Colombian Rogue

by Matt Herrmann

  “What are you doing here? You’ve got witness protection duty.”

  “I switched with one of the guys who flew in from Bogota. I told Rockwell you might need me as backup, and he cleared it with Aguilar.”

  Juan nodded, not at all surprised. Rockwell had insisted he take someone with him, but he had handled himself just fine at the rendezvous aside from Marta’s suicide. Maybe he could have stopped her from jumping if Sam had been along.

  It had all happened so fast.

  “Look at all the single women here. This is where we need to bring CG.” Sam chuckled.

  “College campus nearby.” Juan figured it would be best to catch Sam off guard before he asked too much about what Juan had been doing all afternoon, and he had just the topic lined up. “You been dating anyone since your divorce?”

  Sam looked stunned. “What? Nah, I don’t have time for women right now. I get my satisfaction from doing my job. It’s good for me. Women . . . complicate things.”

  “How so?” Juan said, watching the door.

  “You know. You’ve got to plan things around them. They don’t like to do everything you like, and then you’re both wanting to do separate things when you each get home from work. You both want to watch different TV shows. You both want to eat different kinds of food. Relationships suck.”

  “Sounds like you just haven’t found the right woman yet. There are girls out there that share some of your preferences. The hard part is finding them.”

  A young Colombian woman stepped up to the table and flashed an attractive white smile at Sam as she asked what he wanted to drink.

  “Do you have Colombiana?”

  The woman nodded, the neon glow from the lights above the bar highlighting her ponytail of shiny dark hair. She was trim and fit and had her shirt hiked up and tied tightly behind her lower back like a tail. A tattoo peeked out from under her shirt on the flat of her bare stomach.

  “Sure thing,” the woman said, turning sharply and walking slowly and sensuously back to the bar.

  “Estar buena,” Juan said with a whistle. “How about her?”

  “What about her?”

  “She’s fit so she could probably keep up with you. And she’s a looker.”

  “So?”

  “And she doesn’t have a ring on her finger.”

  “I’m not looking to hook up with a bartender in a college bar,” Sam said.

  “Well, you don’t have to hook up with her. I’m just saying maybe you could talk to her when she comes back. Your Spanish is quite good. Get her name. Ask her what she likes to do for fun. Talk to her.”

  The woman came back with a bottle of Colombiana soft drink. She bent over and popped the cap off and handed it to Sam.

  “Thanks,” Sam said. “Are you Carmelita?”

  The woman gave an attractive laugh and touched Sam’s shoulder with her index finger. “No. Josephina. What’s yours?”

  “Sam.”

  She leaned the front of her thighs against the table. Juan could see a sort of teardrop birthmark high on her cheek, but instead of diminishing her beauty, it only accentuated her seductive grace. “Well, Sam, anything I can get you to eat?”

  “Nah, I’m not—” he started to say, when Juan cut him off.

  “He’ll have two hotdogs with potato chips and pineapple sauce on top,” Juan said, kicking Sam under the table.

  Sam forced a smile. “Sure. Yeah, I’ll have that. He’s just my buddy. I’m not gay or anything.”

  Josephina grinned and walked off again, her hips swaying from side to side.

  “What the hell?” Sam said when the bartender disappeared into the kitchen.

  “Trust me, you’ll like it. Besides, I need to finish my tamale, and we’re just waiting anyway.”

  “What exactly are you waiting for?” Sam asked.

  “Not sure. I’ll know it when I see it, though. Was Aguilar pissed when you told him you were skipping out on your shift?”

  “Rockwell was going to tell him. And I’m on Aguilar’s good side because I’ve been training his men. Maybe he doesn’t like you because you’ve only led a couple sessions.”

  Juan shrugged. “I’m not on Aguilar’s bad side.”

  “Man, I’ve seen the looks he gives you. He glares at you during briefings sometimes.”

  “I think you’re overreacting.”

  What if Sam asks Aguilar about me and they do their own digging? Juan thought. He knew both men suspected his identity as Paul.

  “Anyways, maybe you should start helping out with the simulations again. Build up some goodwill with the man.”

  “You forget that I got shot during a training simulation a few months ago? There’s still a mole in the joint ops center.”

  “I know,” Sam said. “But you can’t buy their trust unless you train with them and get to know them.”

  “You have any suspicions?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Agostino?”

  “Hell no. That man’s clean. He believes in what he’s doing, believes he can make captain someday. Why would you even suspect him?”

  “I’m just throwing out ideas. Maybe it is him, and you’re too close.”

  “I’m not green. I can read people, Paul.”

  “Well someone switched out the paint rounds for live rounds, and any of us could have been killed that day. Cali’s head would have been taken off had I not pulled her out of the way.”

  “You really care about her, don’t you?” Sam said as he leaned over the table onto his forearms.

  “Yeah. As a friend and teammate.”

  “No. There’s more to it. You used to be all over her back in the day.”

  “What do you mean?” Juan said perhaps too quickly, but he’d always wondered just what exactly Paul’s relationship had been with Cali. Sometimes she was flirty with him, and sometimes she seemed irritated by him.

  “Nice try.”

  “What? I really can’t remember. Were Cali and I ever a thing? Did we ever kiss? Hook up?”

  “It’s your love life. How would I know?”

  Juan slapped Sam on the shoulder as he continued to lean forward. “You’re my best bud. That’s why,” he said. “I would have told you.”

  Sam stared at Juan. Then he relaxed and sat back in the booth. “You wanted her so bad it was kinda sad to watch,” he said. “You both kissed at some smoky bar in Kandahar after a successful mission, but she didn’t let you get any farther. After that, you both acted like it never happened. I think she was put off by your drinking.”

  Juan swallowed as he tried to process everything being said. “I got a little out of hand, didn’t I?”

  Sam scratched his head. “We drank a little too much sometimes, and occasionally you’d get a little too loud, but you never meant anything by it.”

  “Did Rockwell hang out with us?”

  “Sometimes, yeah. He really sees something in you.” Sam sat back as Josephina set a red plastic basket in front of him with two hotdogs covered in a yellowish sauce with crushed potato chips on top.

  “Look good?” she said with a downward tilt of her head.

  “Looks great,” Sam said.

  “I’ll leave you to it, then.”

  She was about to leave when Juan caught her attention. “You seem to be really busy. Don’t you have any help?”

  A worried expression flitted across her face as Sam picked up one of the buns and took a bite. His eyes lit up.

  “We’re a bit short tonight,” she said. “Have been for the past couple nights, actually.”

  “What do you mean?” Juan said, watching her facial expressions closely.

  “I don’t really want to talk about it.”

  She’s scared.

  “I heard that people keep disappearing in the area. Is it anything to do with that?”

  Josephina’s seductive confidence caved in to fright, and she took a deep breath. Turning around to glance at the bar, she grabbed a chair and pulled it up to the bo
oth. She kept her voice low as she leaned in. “Where’d you hear that?”

  Juan pulled his temporary police badge from his shirt pocket.

  Her nerves seemed to instantly calm. “You’ve got to help me. The owner . . . he . . . he deals in drugs. First his men started disappearing, and then some of my coworkers who knew them.”

  “Silvia and Rosalin?” Juan said.

  Her eyes flashed wide like the sockets of a skull. “How did you know?”

  “I know Marta. She mentioned them.”

  “You know Marta?” She sighed. “That explains some things. She skipped town a couple days ago. Said she was going to get help. I guess she meant you. Diego, right?”

  Sam, who’d been doing his best to eat in silence, gave Juan a look and received another kick under the table.

  Juan nodded.

  “Is she okay?” Josephina asked. “I saw her this morning, but she left in a hurry again around lunch.”

  Juan swallowed. He didn’t know how to tell her, but he knew he should if they were close. “Were you close to Marta and the other two girls?”

  “Like sisters. We all live at the same apartment. Me, Marta, Rosalin, and Silvia. Except Rosalin and Silvia have been gone for days. They’re close to the owner of this place, though, and he claims they’ll be back. He says he’ll hurt me if I get the police involved. You must be able to do something. I can’t afford to lose my job. We’re . . . falling behind on our rent, and I’m the only one bringing in any money right now. Do you know anything about my friends?”

  “I did meet Marta this afternoon . . .”

  She leaned forward. “What happened? What did she say?” A sudden shouting behind the bar brought her face up. “Shit, I’ve got to get back to work. I’ll be right back, though.”

  She left, and Sam looked up. “You’ve really got some explaining to do.”

  “I know. How’re the hotdogs?”

  “What is this yellow stuff on top?”

  “The pineapple sauce. Pretty good, huh?”

  “It’s not the quality I was used to from my ex-wife, but this is amazing.”

  “They’re not burnt either,” Juan said with a chuckle.

  “Ha ha.” Sam said something else, but Juan didn’t hear him. His eyes were on a man who had just entered the bar. While a hat was pulled down over his face, Juan thought the posture seemed right. The man walked up to Josephina from behind and tapped her on the shoulder. Off to the side, the band was getting set up.

  “Just keep pretending to talk to me,” Juan said. “I’ll nod and play the part. I think we might be done waiting.”

  “Want me to call the rest of the team?” Sam said between the final bites of his first hotdog.

  “No. It might be nothing.”

  Juan watched as the guy spoke with insistent gestures to Josephina and then put an arm around her shoulder as she started to sob. When he turned to corral her toward the door, Juan saw the face.

  It was Paul.

  “That’s our cue,” Juan said. “Time to leave.”

  He left enough money on the table to cover both of their meals, and they pushed their way to the front door. Sam could see Josephina being ushered out the door, but not the face of the man guiding her. Taking his second hotdog with him, Sam followed Juan toward the door. It was difficult to maneuver because the college crowd was starting to grow thick inside the small building. People were standing and talking wherever there was empty room, waiting for the band to start.

  As they were leaving, a stocky bouncer was walking to his post at the front door. Juan also saw a stamper and a case of inked foam.

  “You look different,” a young girl who might have been twenty-one said to him as he squeezed past her. “You were just wearing different clothes.”

  Juan shrugged and walked out the door.

  A black car was backing out of the gravel parking lot.

  Juan looked at Sam. “Where are you parked?”

  “Out on the road.”

  Juan knew his car might have some trouble getting out of his parking spot; college kids, it seemed, didn’t know how to park. “You comfortable tailing someone?”

  “I’m going to pretend you didn’t just ask me that.”

  They dashed to Sam’s car, a midnight blue coupe, as the black car peeled out and drove past.

  Sam pulled away from the curb and followed at a distance. “You want to tell me who just kidnapped Josephina?”

  Juan didn’t know what to say. If the real Paul saw Sam, he’d be able to win Sam over since he knew things that Juan did not.

  “Is this about the guy who looks like you? The one who’s killing Colombian drug traffickers?”

  Juan bit his lip. He couldn’t risk lying to Sam—if he got caught in a lie, it could all be over. He was treading on thin ice. “Yeah.”

  Sam slowed the car even more so to seem less suspicious to the car up ahead. At least it was dark outside. “Thought so. Why don’t you talk to me about it? We’re buds. Even Rockwell won’t talk about it, although I’ve asked him about it. How is the team supposed to help out if we don’t know anything?”

  “I don’t know,” Juan said lamely. “I guess I was trying to get the man myself since he has the gall to wear my face. What if you, me, and him got separated and found ourselves in a three-way gunfight? How would you know who I was?”

  “I would know,” Sam said. “That’s a pretty weak argument. Is there another reason you want to keep us away from it? I’ve noticed you and Rockwell having secret chats before and after Aguilar’s briefings.”

  “I don’t know what to say,” Juan said. “I wanted to do it all myself. I wanted to be the hero.”

  Sam shook his head and laughed. “You and your damned hero moments. Are you sure you’re feeling okay?”

  “Never better.”

  “That cough of yours. I haven’t heard it since you got back from being undercover. I guess it got better?”

  “It’s like it was never there.”

  “Good. I was a little scared after that nuclear warhead incident in China.”

  “You’re telling me,” Juan said, and then chuckled. He had read an after-action report of the incident in Paul’s files. “Look. You’re here now, and I’m glad for it. There’s a bad guy out there with my face, and he’s in that car ahead of us with Josephina, and we’re going to stop him. We’ll take him alive no matter what so we can find out what’s really going on here. There—you and I are on the same page now.”

  “Okay,” Sam said, and focused on the dark road up ahead.

  Juan, meanwhile, was trying to figure out what his next move was when they confronted Paul. His armpits had broken out in sweat. As much as he had expressed to Rockwell about possibly killing Paul when he found him, Juan didn’t really want his brother dead. There were things he wanted to ask him. Two separated brothers should be able to just talk to each other.

  And if Paul had really turned Dark Side, Juan would improvise his plans as needed. Maybe the two of them could even form a working partnership and Juan could get back into the smuggling business.

  After a half hour of following the car through the streets of Barranquilla, Sam cursed. “He knows I’m back here, but I’ve done everything right. I’ve stayed back far enough.”

  “It’s not your fault. This guy is good, and we have only one car. Only so much we can do.”

  As Juan said it, the black car pulled off to the side of the road in a darkened part of town. There seemed to be no lights on in any of the houses or outside on the street. Sam realized it, too. “Blackout?”

  Juan drew his gun and racked the slide. “Stay alert.”

  “Always.” Sam pulled the car off to the side and parked in front of a darkened storefront display of naked mannequins in various poses.

  They sat there waiting about fifty yards away. It was difficult to see in the darkness, but from the dome lights of the black car, they saw two figures approach the vehicle, open the door, and pull out Josephina’s body; sh
e appeared to be sleeping.

  “Shit. You think she’s still alive?” Sam said, his knuckles tight on the wheel.

  “I think so.”

  Paul wouldn’t kill again so easily, would he?

  “What do they need her for?”

  “I don’t know.”

  The driver of the black car got out and turned to face Sam’s car. He held a flashlight and toggled with the switch, flashing the light on and off a few times in that direction.

  “Wait a minute,” Sam said. “That’s a signal you used to use for danger.”

  “Put your hands in the air,” a rough voice said from the darkness outside Sam’s open window.

  “You too, asshole,” another voice said from outside Juan’s passenger window.

  There came the sound of two guns being cocked.

  18

  Fight Club

  “We’re just two guys going for a drive,” Sam said.

  “Yeah, right. Not here. Not at night. You’re not from around here, gringo.”

  The man punched the barrel of his gun into the small of Sam’s back to keep him moving down the sidewalk. Sam stumbled on a piece of loose sidewalk; there were no street lamps to light the place, and even though the moon was full, the buildings in this part of the town blocked its light, casting Sam, Juan, and their two assailants in shadow.

  “We’re from Cartagena,” Sam said.

  “Well you should have stayed there. We don’t like outsiders here.”

  “Why’s that? Because you kidnap women?”

  “It ain’t like that, asshole.”

  The man behind Juan jabbed him in the back, too, just under the rib cage.

  “How much farther?” Sam said. “I’m afraid of the dark.”

  “You’re afraid of the—Pablo, you hear that? This prick’s—”

  Sam and Juan turned in unison to the right, swiveling and knocking the guns off their backs. They each grappled with their attackers’ guns and threw elbows back at the two dark clad men who cried out and reached up to defend their faces. It was not long before the two men were unconscious and resting in an alley, their arms sprawled across the pavement in the dark.

  Only one of the guns had gone off, and they figured they had better leave before backup arrived. However, the scurry of feet coming from the shadows told them they were too late, and Juan and Sam found themselves ringed in by four or five men in what appeared to be flowing black robes.