by Trevor Scott
12
The cop with a bruised face and ego swished his gun and told the bartender to get lost. Which he did, in a hurry.
Jake tried not to make any quick movements. Law enforcement officers worldwide knew that was a sign to pull the trigger.
Instead, Jake swiveled around with his hands clearly visible. “I had no idea you were policia,” Jake said. “But you did attack me.”
“Shut your mouth, asshole,” the one with a puffy left eye said.
A short time went by and Jake wondered if the two of them were contemplating how to shoot him or where to bury his body. The cops whispered to each other, but Jake couldn’t pick up what they were saying. They could just walk him to the canal and cap him in the back of the head, letting his body drop into the water. Clean and easy.
Finally, the first guy said, “Why are you here?”
“You mean in general? Existentially?”
The two of them whispered again.
“In Buenos Aires?” Jake asked.
“Let us start with that,” bruised ego said.
Jake shrugged and the phone in his pants buzzed. “I heard you had great Malbec here. I’m retired, so I thought I’d come and drink my way through Argentina.”
“Jacob Konrad,” asshole cop number two said. “What does a security consultant from Austria have to do with a missing Spanish officer with Centro Nacional de Inteligencia?”
Okay. These guys had somehow found out Jake’s fake persona via the customs entry system. To get into Argentina, officially, one had to pay a fee of over a hundred and fifty U.S. dollars for a ten-year pass. Jake had been flagged at the private airport entrance. But why? He had never used this Austrian persona to travel in Argentina.
Time to come clean, somewhat. “The woman in question is an old friend of a friend. When she disappeared, I said I’d take a look and see if I can find her. Chances are the woman is shacking up with some Argentine boy toy.”
The two cops seemed confused. Then they both laughed. Jake took this opportunity to pull his gun and aim it at the one whose credentials had identified him as an inspector. The one with the bruised ego and jaw.
Now they were at a standoff. But Jake was still at a disadvantage—two to one.
He felt his phone buzz in his pants. This would be the second time he would ignore the incoming texts.
“Put that gun down, asshole,” the inspector said.
Jake concentrated the sights on the man’s face. “You first. How do I know you’re real cops?”
“You saw my badge and identification.”
“I can buy one of those online for fifty bucks.” Jake was stalling.
He expected to see Sirena come out the back door any second. But she didn’t. Instead, it was Antonia, her gun already drawn and pointed at the back of the two cops.
She started saying something to the two of them very quickly, but Jake could only pick up some of the bad words. If she had slowed down Jake might have been able to pick up at least a small fraction of what she was telling them to do. Whatever she said, it worked. The men lowered their guns and returned them to holsters inside their jackets.
The two cops wandered away with their shrunken dicks between their legs. Antonia had not just dressed them down. She had nearly emasculated them.
Once the men had rounded the outside of the building, Antonia lowered her gun and slid it into her purse. “Are you all right?” she asked him.
“Just great,” Jake said, placing his gun in its holster under his left arm. “A bit parched.”
She looked confused.
“I could use another beer,” he explained.
“Oh.”
“Where is Sirena?”
“Reeling in the old guy. What did you learn from the bartender?”
Jake explained what the bartender had said. Then he added, “Something’s not right here. Those cops didn’t follow us here. They were coming here for another reason.”
“But what reason?”
“I don’t know. But they knew my name and my former profession as a security consultant in Austria. They also asked me why I cared about the Spanish officer.”
“What did you tell them?”
“Mostly the truth. I’m a friend of a friend.”
“This could be a problem.”
No kidding.
“If they are involved and they have taken Maria, then she is in grave danger.”
“Exactly,” Jake said. If she was still alive.
Jake got another text and he pulled out his phone to read it. It was from Sirena saying to meet her at the car. Instead of going back through the bar to the front parking lot, the two of them rounded the outer edge of the building like the two cops had just done.
When they got to the car, Sirena was outside leaning against the back quarter panel holding the keys.
“Are you two done making out?” Sirena asked.
“That was for show,” Jake explained.
“Right. I saw the two cops scurry away like rats leaving a burning building. Everything all right there?”
Antonia said, “Yes. How about you? Did the man tell you anything?”
“I think he’s going to talk,” Sirena said. “But he decided to take a little nap. He is getting old.”
Jake pointed to the trunk. “You have him tied up in there?”
“Drugged,” Sirena said. “I ordered what he ordered and then swapped drinks. I think he wanted to do bad things to me while I took a nap. That’s just wrong. Why not pull a corpse from the morgue and do her?”
Antonia grabbed the keys from Sirena and said, “All right. I know a place where we can question him.”
She drove them to a safe house on the western edge of Buenos Aires. A place remote enough so the neighbors wouldn’t hear screams. But Jake didn’t think this guy would need that kind of persuasion. On the way to the house, Jake called in the man’s name to Kurt Jenkins, who took less than ten minutes to background the guy.
“The guy is a PR hack and a lobbyist,” Jake said.
Sirena leaned forward and said, “That was fast.”
“There’s more. The guy was already on the Agency’s radar for influence pedaling.”
“Isn’t that the nature of their work?” Sirena asked.
“True. But this guy seems to have crossed the line. And there’s another connection. His name popped up with the Oregon senator and the Danish politician. Turns out they both attended an economic summit in Uruguay about a month ago.”
Sirena slapped Jake’s shoulder. “That’s where they got the honey trap photos and videos.”
“Honey trap?” Antonia asked.
Jake explained the term to his Argentine friend.
“And you think that is what this is all about?” Antonia asked. “Use the girls to entrap politicians?”
“Not just politicians,” Jake said. “Anyone with influence and something to lose. I would guess that includes judges, company CEOs, law enforcement officials. You name it.” He didn’t want to mention this, but it could have been the real reason Carlos Gomez had hired him to investigate this case.
“This could just be the tip of the iceberg,” Sirena said.
They had barely gotten the guy into the safe house and lashed to a chair when Jake got a call from Kurt Jenkins. He stepped away from the two women and the asshole lobbyist to pick up.
“Yeah,” Jake said.
“You got the guy?” Kurt said.
“Yeah, why?”
Kurt cleared his throat. “The Agency wants you to let the guy go.”
“What? Why?”
“This is bigger than just him.”
“No shit.” Jake glanced around the corner and watched as Sirena slapped the man across the face. She wasn’t wearing gloves yet, so he still had some time.
“He’s part of a larger scheme,” Kurt said.
“Meaning he’s a CIA asset.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Kurt, come on. You’re not dealing with so
me rookie officer right out of college.”
“No. I’m dealing with a retired officer.”
“Hey. You got me back into the game. And I believe you are officially retired as well.”
“Good point,” Kurt said, in almost a whisper. “But you still need to do this for me.”
Jake thought it over, but it made no sense at this point. “Listen, if we simply release the guy now, how in the hell would that look to him? He would know that we know he’s working with the Agency.”
“I didn’t say he was working with them. I said he was under their influence.”
“That’s bullshit, Kurt. You know, I think you spent too much time in the Director’s chair. I’ve got missing girls to deal with, and this dirtbag seems to be right in the middle of everything.” Jake had no reason to believe this for sure, but they would find out the truth tonight.
Kurt let out a deep breath of frustration. “All right. But don’t break the man too much.”
“Yeah, I’ll make sure we don’t break a nail on some asswipe who uses young kidnapped girls for sex and extortion. Glad we have our priorities right.” Jake was about to hang up.
“Wait. You need to turn him over to an Agency officer tonight.”
Now Jake shook his head. “This could take a while.”
“Then let Sirena deal with the man and you take the meeting with our Agency man.” Kurt hesitated and then added, “We need to continue to work with our old organization if we expect the kind of cooperation we’ve been getting.”
Jake knew his old friend was right. He had depended on intel that could be nearly impossible to get without the help of the Agency.
“All right,” Jake said. “We’ll treat him as a dirtbag and not a terrorist.”
Kurt gave Jake the location and time for the meeting.
“This isn’t some lame-ass Harvard douche bag, is it?” Jake asked.
“No. The guy is from Duke. He was on scholarship with them as a fencer.”
“White picket or barbed wire?”
“He’s been with the Agency for five years. A stellar record. Be kind.”
Jake tapped off the call and shoved his phone back into his pocket. Then he went back into the interrogation room and found Sirena pacing back and forth, with Antonia sitting in a chair against one wall.
“Your stock broker?” Sirena asked.
“You think I would actually pay someone else to manage my money?” Most of what Jake had was in cash and gold hidden away in half a dozen tax shelter countries, which needed no management whatsoever.
The man looked like he was about to return to the real world soon, so Jake pulled both of the women out to the outer foyer by the front entrance.
“What’s up?” Sirena asked.
He wasn’t sure how much he could say in front of Antonia. But she had been a great help so far in Argentina, so he decided to give her some of what he knew.
“The guy is an Agency asset,” Jake said with a shrug.
“What does that mean?” Antonia asked.
“It means we need to let the asshole go,” Sirena said.
“No,” Jake said. “Not yet. But we already know he’s involved. He’s not an Argentine. He’s from Uruguay.”
“I could tell that he wasn’t a local from his speech,” Sirena said.
“Well, he has protection from his government.”
“Diplomatic immunity?” Antonia asked.
“He’s officially a trade representative,” Jake said.
“We know what he trades in,” Sirena provided.
“I know. But instead of asking about that, it might be better if the man thinks we are part of the organization that he works for. Let him know that certain people are concerned with his activities, based on the death of the Danish diplomat and the Oregon senator.”
“You think that will work?” Antonia asked.
“We know he’s from Uruguay and he attended a trade conference with the Dane and the U.S. senator. Don’t give up much more than that. Let him tell you about more from that country. For all we know, that’s where they’re holding the Spanish girls.” He hesitated and concentrated on Sirena. “And your Spanish friend.”
Sirena nodded. “All right. We got this. I take it you’re going somewhere.”
“I’ll need the car.” Jake reached out his hand for the keys from Antonia.
“That’s my personal vehicle,” Antonia said. “Be gentle.”
Sirena said, “Don’t worry. Jake would never damage a vehicle.” She smiled at him with that smart-ass smirk that always endeared Jake to her.
Before Jake left, he asked, “Did you get anything from your friend’s computer?”
“Sorry. I forgot to tell you. Unless I missed something, the only thing she had on there was her photos and music. And when I find her, I’m going to have to question her on her musical taste.”
“What about the jump drive?” he asked.
“I didn’t get time for that,” Sirena said.
“You might want to see if Maria had anything on this guy that could help with your interrogation,” he said.
“Good idea. I’ll check that out first.”
Jake headed for the door, but Sirena grabbed his arm.
“Be careful,” Sirena said.
“He’s a young officer,” Jake assured her.
“I understand. I mean don’t hurt him too badly for harboring a girl-trafficking extortionist.”
“Got it.”
Jake left and walked out to the car parked down the street. Part of him wanted a part of the interrogation. But the other part of him, the logical and practical side, knew that it was better for all parties involved that he stays out of this one. Especially now that he had a young daughter of his own. There was no telling just how rogue Jake would go.
13
Jake got to the meeting with the Agency officer about ten minutes late. On purpose. The meeting was in downtown Buenos Aires on the corner of Avenue 9 de Julio and Avenue Corrientes, in the shadow of the tall obelisk, less than half the size of the Washington Memorial in D.C.
Avenue Nine July was the major shopping street in Buenos Aires. This location was at a crossroads above ground, which led to the surrounding government buildings, and underground, where two metro lines crossed. Maybe this Agency officer wasn’t a complete dimwit. From this location, he could move anywhere in the city with a few steps to the metro lines.
Jake had been given a crappy photo and description of the CIA officer, but that had not really been necessary. He had already seen this man in the car outside of the Spanish intel officer’s safe house. He had sped away while Jake took care of a couple of potentially rogue policia officers.
The CIA officer still looked like he could fence in the Olympics. He sat upright in his chair with his back to the wall at the far end of the bar, with an advantageous view of the bar and the entrance. He stood as Jake approached and extended his hand to shake. Jake turned the shake into a man hug long enough to push the man into the chair with the second-best view of the room.
Jake took the man’s seat and watched the much younger guy sit down against the other wall.
“Thanks for keeping my chair warm,” Jake said, and then shoved the man’s pale beer across the table.
“I was told you could be a total bastard,” the CIA officer said, his southern accent seeping out.
“Listen, kid. No offense, but I’m here out of courtesy to an old friend.” Jake hesitated long enough to ask a passing waiter for a rum list. The dandy-looking waiter smiled, nodded, and went away.
“I understand,” the officer said. “My boss said you have connections at the highest levels of the Agency.”
“By the way,” Jake said. “I’m not technically a bastard. I’m actually an orphan. As far as disposition goes, I can be a touch brusque at times. Some confuse that with being a total dick. But if I was a total dick, I would have come in and given you an old-fashioned knuckle sandwich.”
“Why?”
; “For trying to follow and surveil me with my friends, and, most importantly, failing so miserably. Someone needs to send your ass back to school.”
“Only one in a hundred would have caught me in my car.”
Jake shook his head. “You give yourself too much credit. I first caught you at the airport hanging out like one of those loitering fools who take tourists for a ride and rip them off. Then, once we started rolling, you kept back at a reasonable distance. But we made so many unconventional turns, there would have been astronomical odds that a car like yours would have made it to the same street as us. Plus, I memorized and ran your plates. Yeah, I’ve got an app for that.”
The waiter handed Jake a folder with a list of wine, beer and other spirits. Jake held the waiter until he found what he was looking for and said, “Nothing from Nicaragua?”
The waiter shrugged. “That is everything.”
“All right. I’ll take the Dominican rum straight up.” Jake handed the man the folder and turned back to the Agency man, who seemed a bit defeated. Good. That’s the way Jake liked the young guys. Nothing like making them remember that their shit does stink. “You gonna drink that pussy beer? Or let it go warm and stale in the glass? Maybe I could call back the waiter and order you a white wine spritzer.”
The young officer shook his head. “Odious and obstinate.”
“Wow did you learn those big words at Duke, or for SAT prep in your WASP nest?”
“We were country folk in rural North Carolina,” he said. “My daddy. . .” He stopped when he realized he should not give away any personal information. “Can we get to the point?”
Jake glanced around and finally saw the waiter coming with his drink. “The point is I need my rum first.”
The waiter set a glass in front of him with his rum soaking in ice. He started to walk away, but Jake grabbed the man’s arm and pulled him back.
“Strait up in every country in the world means without ice,” Jake said. “You just fucked up some very good rum aged to perfection for more than ten years. Now, walk back there and bring me the actual bottle and a fresh glass. I know I’m speaking English, which you appeared to understand.”
