The Colombian Rogue

by Matt Herrmann

  “You poor thing,” Cali said. “Need a tissue?”

  Juan tilted his head back and squeezed some drops into his eyes. He was glad he still had the bottle in his pocket from the other day. His vision was getting clearer now, and the pain wasn’t so bad anymore.

  Sam pointed at the dead man currently being inspected by a coroner. “You know the stiff?”

  “I think I knew him from when I was undercover. I can’t remember,” Juan said.

  “Witnesses saw you threatening the man’s life,” Sam said.

  “I wasn’t threatening his life. I was . . . talking with him about something I thought he did.”

  “What did you think he did?” Sam asked.

  “I don’t know. My memory is so foggy.”

  “Okay,” Sam said in a complete dismissal of the issue that surprised Juan.

  Rockwell approached them after putting a hand on the girl’s shoulder and saying something Juan couldn’t understand. “Paul, can I talk to you?”

  Juan reached up behind his neck and scratched his head. They walked off to the side. The prostitute walked past them and smiled. Juan didn’t know which of them it was meant for, and really didn’t care.

  “Look, I’m not always going to be around to pull your ass out of the fire. Is this dead guy related to your brother?”

  Juan nodded.

  “How?”

  “I think Paul killed him. Must have been a needle. Had I not backed out of the way before he reached us, I’d be the one lying here dead.” Juan watched as the coroner drew a vial of the dead man’s blood. “They’re not going to find anything in his blood.”

  “And you think it was Paul?”

  “I’m almost certain of it.”

  “Certain like you were that Boraita got the jump on you at the witness’s house?”

  “That was different. There’s two different people after me. It was Paul.”

  Rockwell looked at the ground. “I believe you. We’ll say it was Paul. But just because he’s trying to kill you, you can’t kill him. You have to bring him in alive.”

  Juan met Rockwell’s eyes. “Why do you care so much about him?”

  “What do you mean? He’s the best damn operative I’ve ever worked with. We watch out for our own.”

  “Yeah I get that. But if Sam or Cali went rogue, would you be as concerned about their safe return to the fold?”

  Rockwell was silent.

  “I didn’t think so. There’s too damned much you’re not telling me, and I’m getting tired of trying to operate on my own while in the dark. I need to know more about this ELEPHAS group, and I think you know something. If all you’re going to do is keep giving me the same bullshit excuses, I’m out.”

  “It’s not that simple.”

  “Then simplify it.”

  Rockwell’s eyes twitched—a bad sign, since Rockwell was usually a master of concealing his reactions. “Give me till tonight to figure it all out. In the morning, before the Vaquero trial, I’ll have a plan of action. Meanwhile, you four take the afternoon off—I’ll clear it with Aguilar. Rest up for Vaquero’s hearing tomorrow. Aguilar will want you all to bring your A game.”

  “What are you going to do tonight?” Juan asked.

  “I’m going to get some things straight. I promise I’ll have all your answers tomorrow morning before Aguilar’s briefing. Get there early.”

  “Fine,” Juan said. And then, “Aren’t you going to ask who the dead guy was? Why I was meeting him?”

  “Not my business,” Rockwell said, and walked to his car.

  “Wonder what they’re talking about?” CG said as he played with a loose brick against the side of a store front. Lately he had noticed some aggression between Paul and Rockwell that hadn’t been there before Paul had gone undercover.

  “They’ve been at it a while,” Cali said.

  Sam crossed his arms. “Can’t you guys see? There’s something going on between the two of them.”

  “Like an affair?” CG asked, puzzled.

  “They’re lying to us. At the very least, there’s something they’re not telling us. I think they’re trying to cover something up.”

  CG pushed the brick back in place with his shoe. “I don’t know . . .” He suddenly remembered finding Paul and Rockwell whispering in the storeroom of the command room.

  Sam looked at Cali. “You can’t say you haven’t noticed something very different about Paul ever since we extracted him from the docks.”

  “Well . . . It’s the amnesia. He just can’t remember how he used to be.”

  “I think you know there’s something wrong with him, but you’re overlooking it because you like the new Paul better.”

  “What are you trying to say?” Cali said, her face flushed, her fists clenched at her sides.

  “You know what I’m trying to say. You like him.”

  “As a teammate.”

  “I’m not dumb, Cali.”

  “I don’t like what you’re insinuating,” Cali said.

  “I’m saying you don’t want to see anything wrong with Paul. You’re fine with your blindness. You’re too close to this.”

  “Too close?” Cali fumed. “You’re the one who’s too fucking close. Paul—the best friend who’s not there for you right now.”

  “Oh, go to hell,” Sam said.

  “What’s going on between you two?” CG said, stepping between Sam and Cali. “Cali, you like Paul?”

  Sam and Cali both shoved CG back, and he tripped and fell to the sidewalk. Picking himself up, CG looked up at them both and, possibly for the first time in his life, was speechless. Then he looked down at his palms, which were both skinned up.

  “Man, I got a video game tournament coming up,” he said.

  “Guys, what the hell is going on here?” Paul said as he stepped toward them.

  Cali met Paul’s eyes and then stormed off down the street.

  “I’ve got the key,” Sam said, jingling the key to the police car they had taken to the scene.

  “Sam, what just happened?” Paul said.

  “Oh, just a little spat.”

  “I’d say it was a little more than that.”

  Sam shrugged. “Difference of opinion. You’ll have that in a team from time to time.”

  “Cali. Wait,” Paul said. He raised a hand and then began to squint and rub at his eyes.

  “I think you need to sit down,” CG said.

  “I can sit when I’m dead.”

  “Uh. I don’t think that’s how it goes,” CG said.

  “You guys ready to head back to the joint ops center?” Sam said. “I’ll drive.”

  Paul squeezed some more drops into his eyes. “Rockwell actually said we have the rest of the afternoon off.”

  CG’s eyes widened. “Serious?”

  “Yeah. He said to relax before the trial tomorrow. He’ll clear it with Aguilar.”

  “Sweet,” CG said. “You guys want to hang out? I know just the place. Supposed to have the best burgers in the city.”

  “Sure, why not?” Sam said sarcastically.

  Paul seemed less than thrilled, which CG had to admit, did appear suspicious. CG gave him a pleading look. “Come on Paul. You said you’d help me talk to girls, and there’ll be girls there. Besides, I sense mucho tension in this group. It would be good for us. Call it a team-building exercise.”

  Paul opened his mouth, then shut it. A moment later he smiled weakly. “Sure.”

  CG clasped his hands together and beamed. “Alright! I think it’s going to be a great night.”

  25

  Guys

  They met at the outdoor restaurant CG had recommended. After spending the afternoon taking a train back to Barranquilla to retrieve his gray car, Juan drove separately. CG picked up Sam, who had paid a tow company to bring his own car back from Barranquilla and had already bought a new set of tires for it.

  “Guys’ night out!” CG said. He raised his glass. Sam and Juan raised theirs as well. “To the tea
m!”

  CG and Sam sipped their beers. Meanwhile, Juan drank his water and looked up at the festive red lightbulbs strung above them and at the tent-like awnings of colorful umbrellas placed at the center of the patio tables around them. He couldn’t deny the pleasant ambiance that seemed to float about the place.

  “It’s a shame Cali couldn’t make it,” CG said. “She wouldn’t answer your calls?”

  “No, I tried at least seven times.”

  “Weird. You and her are always texting,” CG said with a wink at Sam.

  “What? No we aren’t.”

  “I’ve seen you two texting at work,” CG said. “And you sit only diagonally across each other in the office.”

  “Well . . . if we got up and talked to each other all the time, wouldn’t that be distracting?”

  “The pinging of your phones is distracting,” CG said. “Why do you think I wear headphones?”

  “I just figured it was because you like to play computer games at work,” Juan said with a grin.

  “Shh,” CG said. “I don’t play that often at work. Okay, sometimes. Mostly I’m doing my job.”

  “Sure,” Juan said, and raised his glass again for another toast. Sam and CG tapped glasses with him. “There’s nothing going on between us. We’re just friends.”

  He watched as CG nudged Sam’s arm. “Hey, I saw that.”

  “Saw what?” CG said.

  “That nudge.”

  CG threw up his hands. “What can I say? I’m a nudger. I nudge . . . when I’m drunk.”

  “You’ve had only one beer so far,” Sam said.

  CG smiled and puffed out his cheeks. Then he blew out, spraying the table with spittle. After laughing uncontrollably for a few seconds, he straightened up and finished his glass so that he could get another one.

  CG reached for another slice of bread. “Man, this is good. What did you say it was called again?”

  “Arepa,” Juan said. “It’s made with cornmeal, and it’s heavenly with butter on top.”

  “You ain’t shitting. Shit, I could eat this for my meal,” CG said as he stuffed his face.

  Besides nudging people with his elbow when he was drunk, apparently CG liked to say ‘shit’ a lot. Juan grinned. It had been so long since he’d been out with the team like this in a relaxed setting. The last time had been a party at a safehouse in the jungle while he was recovering from the wounds he received during his extraction. Mika had been there . . .

  Juan buttered a slice of arepa bread and chewed it slowly to relish every morsel. It was a perfect night, he reflected as he looked up at the tiny red lights strung up around the patio dining area. Everywhere he looked, friends and family members gathered around tables where they smiled and laughed and enjoyed each other’s company. Turning his attention back to his own table, he realized that even Sam was in a good mood, and that was a rare occurrence as of late.

  The man had seemed uncharacteristically carefree from the moment they had sat down, as if some great burden had been lifted from his shoulders. Juan supposed that maybe he should be suspicious, but he was too tired for that. Instead he was grateful. Throughout his years, he had learned that some things you just shouldn’t question. There was one thing that was bothering him, though.

  He wished Cali was here.

  Juan was about to reach for another slice of bread when his phone chimed. He glanced down and saw a message from Cali. It read Hi! :) which was odd since Cali never used emojis. Juan, on the other hand, used them whenever he could when texting her because he knew it irritated her.

  He sent back Hello? and waited for her response, but he didn’t see the three dots light up to signify she was typing back. Setting the phone back on the table, he looked up at his friends’ stares.

  CG nudged Sam’s arm.

  “What?” Juan said, but CG only laughed.

  “I’m going to go up to the window and order a burger,” CG said. “Anyone else want anything?”

  “Well if you’re paying, go ahead and get me one, too.”

  CG made a face. “I didn’t say I was paying for it.”

  “Make it medium rare. I want to see some blood.”

  “Gross,” CG said, and joined the line leading up to the restaurant window where guests placed their orders.

  Back at the table, Juan laughed and rested a hand on the back of the empty chair next to him. “You think he’s drunk enough to talk to girls yet?”

  Sam sipped his beer and grinned. “I reckon so.”

  Again, Juan felt that something was off about how lax and easygoing Sam was acting. He wanted to call Sam out on it, but he also just wanted one night where they all got along, even if it was feigned. Besides, as per usual, Juan didn’t really know what to say.

  Luckily, Sam spoke first. “You worried any about that lookalike trying to murder you here with all these people around?”

  “I’ve been keeping an eye out.”

  “You think any of these people here are cult members?”

  Juan’s pulse tried to quicken, but he succeeded in calming it. “I don’t think so. None of them have been looking at us.”

  “How does it end?”

  “What do you mean?” Juan said.

  Sam shifted in his chair. “Well, say this cult wants to throw the world into chaos or pull off some terrorist attacks. It’s difficult to kill an idea. How does it end?”

  “I haven’t thought that far ahead yet.”

  “Well, think about it. If this thing gets too big, it could turn into the next ISIS.”

  “You really think so?”

  Sam shrugged and took another sip of beer. “So how do we win?”

  “We start by taking out the head, the Kingsnake.”

  “Okay,” Sam said, considering. “But what about when he’s dead? He wears a mask for a reason.”

  “What do you mean? He wants to keep his identity hidden.”

  “The mask is important because if he dies, another can take his place. There can’t really be any triumph on our side because we didn’t really take out their leader, we took out an anonymous figurehead. It’s no different than if that Juan Santiago smuggler wound up dead. How would anyone know he was truly dead if no one knows who he really is? Another man could just take his place and continue business as usual. It’s an ingenious idea, really.”

  Juan’s stomach turned cold.

  Does Sam know? Has he figured out that I’m Juan Santiago?

  Music filled the air as speakers all over the brick patio burst to life. Scattered applause and cheering broke out as girls started to stand up and dance at their tables.

  “Well, this is cool,” Sam said as he sat back in his chair and watched the show.

  Juan, sensing the moment was gone, tried to relax as well. He jumped when he felt a hand placed upon his back.

  “They started the music early,” CG said, yelling in Juan’s ear to be heard over the lively pop music flooding the patio.

  Juan pointed at a table a few yards from theirs, where two women CG’s age were shaking their hips and laughing. “How about one of them?”

  CG squinted. “I don’t know, Paul. They might be out of my league. They’re nines or tens.”

  Juan shook his head and told CG to take a seat. He placed a hand on CG’s shoulder like Paul would do. “There’s a common misconception about asking out women in bars and public places. You’re actually more likely to have better results if you try to go after the nines and tens because most guys think they wouldn’t stand a chance with them. Instead of even trying to talk to them, they go straight to the sixes and sevens and eights, who end up having a line of guys trying to win their attention.”

  “Really?” CG said.

  Sam grinned. “That’s the first Paul-like thing I think I’ve heard you say in a long time.”

  Juan glanced at Sam and then back at CG. “Yeah. Try it. Go on up to them and ask them how they’re doing. How’s their night going? What’s their names?”

  CG took a long si
p of beer. “Okay.”

  “He doesn’t stand a chance,” Sam said as he and Juan watched CG go.

  “Maybe he’ll surprise you,” Juan said.

  CG approached a woman in a yellow sundress. He tapped her on the shoulder, and she turned to face him with a startled yet expectant look on her face. Then she looked at her friend and laughed. Not long later, CG walked back to the table.

  “What happened?” Sam said.

  “They said they already had dates. I didn’t see any, though.” CG sat down and almost missed his chair. Juan caught him by the shoulder and steadied him. “I think they were lying.” CG took another sip of beer, and Juan took the glass from him and placed it out of CG’s reach. “Uhh, hey now . . .”

  “I think you’ve had enough to drink for a while,” Juan said. “Let me go get you a water.” He got up and walked toward the back of the order line. As he was about to pass, he smiled at the woman in the yellow sundress that had turned down CG, and she smiled back. He was going to say something when his phone chimed again.

  Cali: Drinking wine alone. Wish you were here . . .

  What the hell? Juan thought. Why was she being so forward? Had her argument with Sam earlier pushed her over the edge?

  He replied back with, Are you okay? And waited, but again, he didn’t see her immediately responding. He turned back to the woman in the yellow sundress, but she was no longer looking at him, so he got in line.

  When he came back the table with the water, CG looked at him in utter disbelief. “I saw her smile at you. What’s your secret, Paul? You’re lucky so much . . . I mean, so lucky so much. I mean, you’re a guy so lucky. Damnit. Can’t talk straight.”

  Sam slapped a hand over CG’s shoulder. “It’s okay. It’s just us guys. We look out for each other.”

  Is he sending me a message?

  Juan looked over at the woman in the yellow dress. She smiled at him again and nudged her friend on the shoulder. The two of them laughed, and Juan looked back at CG.

  “It’s like you’re magic,” CG said as he rotated his head from side to side and set it on the table and closed his eyes. “I’m tired.”

  “Millennials,” Sam said.