River of Ruin

by Jack Du Brul

  Bruneseau let the insult pass, watching Mercer’s reaction.

  Mercer had yet to respond to this explanation because it seemed off somehow. Until he and Lauren could speak alone, he let it pass. “How does all this involve me?”

  “To answer that I need to explain a few things. In the years since your country turned over the canal, Panama has been bought up bit by bit. It started small, a few businesses, a couple of deals, but the pace has accelerated. The principle telecommunications company recently sold a forty percent stake to a Chinese firm. Only Chinese companies are given mineral exploration rights. An American railroad corporation was forced out of their ownership of the trans-isthmus line by Hatcherly Consolidated, who are also about to complete an oil pipeline that runs from coast to coast. Hatcherly has even muscled a quasi-legitimate Hong Kong firm for control of one-third of the Balboa container port.”

  “Quasi-legitimate?”

  “The company’s called Hutchinson Wampoa. There are unsubstantiated rumors that they are controlled by the government in Beijing. Who knows? However, there are no such rumors about Hatcherly. Their ties to COSTIND, and thus China’s military, are well documented. Another fact not in dispute is when mainland companies invest in a country, those nations soon switch their diplomatic recognition away from Taiwan in favor of the communists.”

  “You see that happening here?” Mercer asked.

  “Never would have happened under former president Ochoa. He was a rabid anti-communist. No one is sure about Quintero because no one knows who really engineered his suspicious election. We can’t ignore that the promise of free markets hasn’t reached the poorest and most disenfranchised and that Marxism is on the rise in Latin America all over again because of this. Perhaps Quintero may yet lean that way.”

  “So you’ve established that China is showing a lot of interest in Panama and that the United States has done very little about it. That still doesn’t explain why you involved me.”

  “Because for months I never knew who was pulling the strings here. Up until Hutchinson Wampoa was forced to give up part of their harbor, I thought they were behind the systematic expansion. Afterward I realized it was Hatcherly. Liu Yousheng is China’s point man.”

  “So you concentrated your investigation on him?”

  “Precisely. By the time I knew it was Liu, he’d already made overtures to buy the journals from the family who owned them, just weeks before the auction. We had to scramble, which was why the operation in Paris got away from us. We had to get Hatcherly to show themselves in such a way to start an aboveboard criminal investigation, trapping Liu’s agents in France as a way of exposing him in Panama.”

  “Using me as bait.”

  “Monsieur Derosier said you could look after yourself. Also we had agents at the gallery and at the Crillon Hotel where he said you normally stay. When you told Derosier that you had different lodging, the best I could do was follow you.”

  “When the punk tried to steal the journal you knew it was Liu’s men making their move.”

  “Correct. I also didn’t think you’d catch him so I shot him.” That answered one of the many questions that had dogged Mercer since that night. But still dozens more swirled in his head. Bruneseau continued, “Before we could secure the area, you’d ducked into the catacombs trailed by the Chinese assassins. I wasn’t aware that you’d survived the sewers until your name was flagged at Charles de Gaulle airport when you left France. I assume the gunmen are . . . ?”

  “Down the drain.” Mercer’s deadpan joke was lost on the spy. “How did you know those men came from Liu and Hatcherly?”

  “Because we’d followed them from Panama. Liu’s interest in old journals and diaries was something we couldn’t explain. It was an anomaly in his actions that we felt was somehow important. Honestly it was just a guess since all other attempts to infiltrate his empire have been disasters.”

  “Are the journals important?” Lauren asked.

  Bruneseau gave a Gallic shrug. “We don’t know why he wanted them or what he’s done with the ones he bought. Like I said, his organization has proved to be impenetrable.”

  “Not exactly,” Mercer said, rubbing in the fact that he and Lauren had gotten in.

  The Frenchman’s voice darkened. “We managed to get two men into the terminal two weeks ago. One’s corpse was fished out of Lake Gatun by a sightseeing boat and we think the other had already washed into the Pacific. We’ve kept their facility under observation, which was why we were there tonight to rescue you. I still don’t know how you managed to get in.”

  “Locked ourselves in a container at the rail yard in Cristobal and had an inside man let us out when the train reached the port.”

  “Clever,” Rene replied after a moment’s consideration. “And what did you learn?”

  “Not so fast,” Mercer said. “You still have a lot to answer for. You explained how you used me in Paris, but not why. Why me and not one of your own people?”

  “We didn’t have time to establish a legitimate cover, and in discussions with Derosier he mentioned that you would be there to buy the Lepinay journal for a friend already in Panama, a Mr. Gary Barber.”

  “Who you know is dead?”

  “Yes, we understand you discovered his body and helped organize his funeral.”

  That statement told Mercer that Bruneseau didn’t have all the answers he thought he did. He hadn’t been at the funeral, but the agent would have thought so if his dinner conversation with Maria Barber had been overheard. Which the spy had already admitted had happened. He realized that the French had certain pieces of the puzzle and he and Lauren had others. He had to decide if he wanted to share, and to do that he had to slough off his feelings over how he’d been treated. Mercer wanted nothing more than to tell the spy to screw himself and walk out the door, but his heart told him that getting to the bottom of Gary’s death was more important than his anger.

  He and Lauren exchanged a silent glance. The brief moment their eyes locked asked and answered the question of trust. They didn’t have a choice. “I lied at dinner,” Mercer said. “I never went to the funeral. Lauren and I were trapped on a lake above Gary’s camp by a helicopter belonging to Hatcherly Consolidated.”

  It was gratifying to see he could unsettle the Frenchman. Bruneseau shouted to the back room. “Foch, get in here!” A few seconds later one of the Legionnaire commandos entered. He was a little older than the others Mercer had seen, and while he wore no rank on his black uniform, Mercer guessed he was the officer in charge of the detachment. He had sandy hair and watchful blue eyes, and a European kind of good looks that better suited a model than a soldier. “Lieutenant Foch, this is Dr. Mercer and Captain Vanik of the U.S. Army. Foch is my number-two man. Tell us exactly what happened at the lake.”

  Mercer hesitated, wondering if telling them everything was the right thing, and then he plunged in, recounting the entire story from his arrival in Panama to the discovery of the gold bars in the Hatcherly warehouse and how they assumed they were part of the Twice-Stolen Treasure. Lauren added a few details he’d forgotten. By some unspoken agreement neither mentioned Roddy Herrara or Harry White.

  “Can you use the agent at the port again?” Lieutenant Foch asked when the story was done.

  “No,” Mercer said at once. “For one thing I won’t risk him, and after tonight whatever Hatcherly’s hiding will be gone. There’s no reason to reenter the facility.”

  “You think we should track the gold?” Bruneseau was into his fourth cigarette.

  “If Hatcherly has an Achilles’ heel in Panama, it’s that. I think whatever they’re up to here revolves around the treasure. Checking out the lake again is an obvious place to take up the chase. I haven’t had a chance to read the Lepinay journal but it’s clear Liu believes something in it is important.”

  “You have the journal with you?” Foch asked.

  “It’s in my hotel. I can get it anytime.”

  “No, you can’t,” Bruneseau
said. “You left Panama this morning.”

  The statement was baffling. “Excuse me?”

  “After some of my men derailed the ex-Dingbats following you out of the restaurant by smashing into their car, I had a soldier who resembles you take a flight to Miami once he was certain he was being followed by Liu’s people. We weren’t the only people eavesdropping on your conversation. They picked up his trail near where you told Maria Barber you were staying at a hostel.” Rene shifted in his seat. “Also, I read the journal in Paris before Derosier turned it over to you. There’s nothing in it.”

  Impressed by the French agent’s thoroughness, Mercer still scoffed at this final pronouncement. “And how exactly do you know that? Do you have an engineering background? Geology? Hell, do you even know who Godin de Lepinay was?” Bruneseau’s silence was Mercer’s answer. “I didn’t think so.”

  Foch tensed at Mercer’s tone while Bruneseau remained impassive. A silent minute passed before the spy cleared his throat and leaned forward. “You believe there may be something in the journal I missed?”

  “I’m saying it’s possible.”

  “Are you willing to share whatever you learn from it?”

  “If you’re willing to back me up when I return to the lake.”

  “When we return to the lake.” Lauren touched Mercer’s leg in a gesture of solidarity.

  “I suppose I owe you,” Rene said with an undercurrent of resignation in his voice. His investigation into Hatcherly had gone nowhere and Mercer was offering a new way to restart it. “I can’t pull too many men away from Hatcherly’s container port so I will give you two plus Foch and myself.”

  Mercer nodded. “Fair enough. When?”

  “We can leave tomorrow afternoon. You two can spend the night here.”

  Mercer whispered to Lauren if she had a cell phone on her. She said it was at home. “I’ve got some things to take care of first,” he said to Rene. “We’ll meet back here at noon.”

  “You can’t return to the Caesar Park Hotel. Liu’s people may think you’ve left Panama but it’s an unnecessary risk returning to such a public place.”

  “We’ll sleep at Lauren’s apartment.” It was the first she’d heard of this and her eyes widened.

  “Okay. As far as we know, Liu isn’t aware of her involvement. It should be safe. One of my men will drive you over and pick you up at noon.”

  “Until tomorrow, then.” Mercer stood. He was filled with an urgency that hadn’t been there only moments before, buoyed by a sudden inspiration that he needed to check out.

  Forty minutes later, Lauren twisted the key into the lock of her apartment, located in a high-rise building that overlooked the Bay of Panama. Since the government paid the rent, her apartment was on a lower floor and the windows faced landward.

  “Are you going to tell me why you needed a phone?” she asked.

  “In a minute.” Mercer went straight to her telephone and dialed the Caesar Park, asking the operator to connect him to Harry’s room. As he waited, he studied Lauren’s living room. The furniture looked like it came with the place and Lauren had put out only a few personal items, family photos mostly, including one of her in scuba gear wearing a one-piece swimsuit that showed the muscular curves of her body. He turned from the picture before she saw his interest. Harry picked up on the fifth ring. “How’d it go?”

  “You were supposed to wait by the phone for my call,” Mercer complained.

  “I was in the crapper. Food down here is killing me, I think my assho—”

  Mercer cut him off before Harry could get any more graphic. “I get the picture.”

  “So how did it go?”

  Sketching out the details, Mercer summed up by asking if Harry and Roddy were willing to do a little work.

  “Whatcha got in mind?”

  “The dump trucks. The armored car is long gone, I’m sure, but I want you and Roddy to follow one of the dump trucks. Their presence at the port doesn’t make any sense and I think they’re connected somehow.”

  “Roddy’s here right now and his car’s down in the hotel garage. We’re on it.”

  “Before you leave, check out of the Caesar Park and find another hotel.”

  “Why? I like it here. This place is a palace and I must say it suits me.”

  Mercer laughed. “Hate to tell you this, pal, but you’re even outclassed by a roach motel. It’s obvious that both the Frogs and Liu Yousheng have been watching me because my dinner with Gary’s wife turned into a spectator sport. Yet somehow neither group knows about you and Roddy and I want to keep it that way.”

  “So I’m going to be the ace in the hole, huh?” Harry liked the idea.

  “It’s a step up from your normal role of a drunk in the gutter.”

  “Hey, I only passed out in the gutter that one time coming back from Tiny’s,” Harry protested. “Do you have to keep bringing it up?”

  “Payback for the thing at the hospital.”

  “Then we’re even?”

  “Not even close,” Mercer said with a grin, hanging up after Harry said he’d move in with Roddy’s family for a few days. He’d keep the journal until after Mercer came back from the River of Ruin.

  “ ‘A drunk in the gutter,’ what is it with you two? Are you ever nice to each other?”

  “That was being nice.” Mercer sank onto Lauren’s couch with an exhausted sigh. “Now you know why I wanted to make the call away from the safe house?”

  “You didn’t want Bruneseau overhearing. You don’t trust him?”

  “There aren’t too many spies I do trust. Present company excluded. Once we reach the lake and I’ve got evidence that Hatcherly is plundering a Panamanian archeological site I don’t want anything to do with him. And as far as China taking the canal? It was a mistake years ago for the U.S. to give it away so I couldn’t care less what happens to it now.”

  “Bullshit!” Lauren spat, not letting his lie hang in the air for even a second. Mercer cocked an eyebrow, secretly pleased that she had seen through him. “I’ve been watching you for the past few days,” she went on, “and I think I know what makes you tick. Bruneseau has dangled another challenge in front of us and you can’t wait to take it up.”

  “Am I that obvious?” Mercer smiled at her fury.

  “Why else would you have sent Harry after those dump trucks? You’ve already guessed Hatcherly is up to something beyond gold smuggling. You said that crap about not caring what happens to the canal because you want to drop me the same way you’re going to drop Bruneseau.”

  “This isn’t your fight,” Mercer said seriously.

  “Don’t try to push me aside because I’m a woman,” she returned hotly. Unlike many women who mask their sexuality by defensively crossing their arms over their breasts, Lauren stood with her hands on her hips, her chest out proudly. “This is as much my fight as yours.”

  “I want to keep you out because you are a commissioned officer in the United States Army who could lose everything by helping me.” Mercer raised his own voice to match hers. “Not because you’re a woman. I’m trying to protect your career, not your gender.”

  Lauren glowered then suddenly backed down because she saw that he wasn’t lying. Mercer wasn’t the type to step over the line between chivalry and chauvinism. Her voice softened. “Thank you for that, but it’s my career. Besides, I have a secret weapon to get me out of hot water with the army.” She paused, a little embarrassed. “My father is a general.”

  The admission came as a surprise, as were the implications. He couldn’t resist teasing her. “And you’re not above crying, Daaaddyyyy!”

  She bristled, having spent her career dodging rumors that her father had paved the way for her promotions. Knowing it wasn’t true and with nothing to prove, she had still taken tough postings to stifle her detractors, deliberately staying away from duties that would have fast-tracked promotion. It rankled that she’d been forced to sabotage her own career because her father happened to be a general.r />
  Then she saw that Mercer wasn’t serious, and couldn’t possibly know what was said behind her back. Her expression turned sheepish. “I’ve never needed to but the option’s always open. And if you repeat that to anyone you’ll be digesting your teeth.”

  Mercer realized he’d hit a sore spot. He could imagine the hell she’d gone through being the daughter of a general, like being a student in a school where a parent was the principal. Only this wasn’t school. This was her entire life. He wished he’d held his tongue. “Deal.”

  Lauren nodded and something silent passed between them. She knew one of his deepest secrets and now he knew the root of her pain. It was more than either expected to share and yet they had. She turned away before she blushed. “Give me fifteen minutes in the shower and the bathroom’s yours. I think I’ve got a couple beers in the fridge if you want one.”

  The sting of the shower slowly washed away the exhaustion that cramped her muscles and caused her joints to stiffen. She luxuriated under the spray, soaping and rinsing her entire body twice and digging her fingers through her hair until her scalp went numb. Even as her entire being craved sleep, she thought about the man in the other room. He was unlike anyone she’d met before. Handsome, yes, but that wasn’t what she found so compelling. It was the way others listened to him. People sensed his confidence and responded automatically. Bruneseau was a trained spy but by the end of their talk he was taking orders from Mercer, a geologist. Her father was a little like that.

  Where’d that thought come from? Stop it, Lauren, she chided herself, thinking a Freudian would be having a field day with that idea.

  She recalled the way he’d looked at the picture of her in a bathing suit and how she’d liked how it made her feel. With a quick gesture, she twisted the tap to cold, and the thermal shock on her skin scattered any further thoughts in that direction.

  By the time she had toweled off and stepped from the bathroom to tell Mercer the shower was his, he was asleep on the couch, still smelling of sweat and combat. Lauren pulled a spare blanket from a linen closet and draped it over him. Even in sleep his jaw was firm. She resisted the urge to touch his face, to feel the rasp of his thirty-hour beard. She killed the lights and went to her own bed.