Gringo Joe

by JD Davis

  “Very nice digs here, Gabby; you have excellent taste.”

  “Thank you,” she replied. “It was a mess when I bought it, but my dad, being somewhat of a craftsman, helped me restore it before I moved in. It was the eyesore of the street, so now I’m pretty popular with my neighbors.”

  As they climbed in and headed to the meeting, Joe looked at her and smiled.

  “He’s right, your home was beautiful and inviting —a rare combination. It’s obvious your dad knew what he was doing. I love woodworking myself and was very impressed.”

  “Thank you. I love my dad and think of him every time I smell sawdust.”

  “Well, better than wine I guess.”

  “Ahhh, yeah, I would say so. What the heck does that even mean?”

  “Oh, sorry, I grew up on a vineyard and I always equate the fragrance of wine and old oak barrels with my father.”

  Gabby furrowed her brow and glared back at him. “So, the wine in the restaurant, the bottle we had before we flew to Tucson, was that….”

  “Yeah, sorry, I didn’t want to sound snobbish.”

  “Good Lord, Chandler, will there ever be a day when you stop surprising me?”

  “Does it come as a surprise that I’m a little nervous about this meeting? For some reason, it feels more like an exit interview.”

  “Look, Joe, we lost our source right in the same room as us; then we were arrested carrying weapons in a foreign country. Piper and I may be out of a job and you might well be court-martialed. What are you worried about?”

  Without turning around, Piper said, “I heard that. Losing your job is overrated, Joe. I’ve done it several times and look at me—no worries.”

  “Oh, great!” said Oscar. “I thought ya’ll were heroes or something. There better not be any collateral damage or guilt by association. Look, man, I just got this job.”

  “We’ll be fine, everybody relax. As far as I’m concerned, I am in the company of heroes.”

  “Well, one for sure,” mumbled Oscar.

  They pulled to the front of the building where four MPs were waiting.

  “Boy, that don’t look good. Listen, good meeting ya’ll and good luck and everything, but please don’t mention my name when we stop.”

  “So much for new best friends,” said Piper as he climbed out.

  “Ms. Mendez?” asked one of the military policemen.

  “That would be me.”

  “Welcome home, ma’am. If you would please follow me, I’ll see you to your meeting.”

  Another MP asked for Mr. Longmire and, after verifying his ID, asked Piper to follow him. And it was the same for Joe, except he was escorted by the two remaining men. All three—Gabby, Piper, and Joe—were taken into the building then immediately separated.

  So, it’s going to be like this, thought Gabby. They want three accounts of the incident and see if the stories conflict or mesh.

  When it became clear, each account of Mexico was relatively identical; the three were reunited in a large conference room where there was a table of sandwiches, fruit, and chips. Finally, at 1:00 PM, they were ushered into the director’s office where Ralph Valenzuela and Lt. Col. Pike were already seated.

  “I’m very sorry about the welcome home you received this morning, but it is protocol and everyone wants to cover their asses. We had to write the Mexican government a pretty fat check that caused some hubbub over at State, but they’ll get over it. First, let me say that I’m thrilled everyone’s all right and safely back on American soil. It looks like you walked into a nasty situation down there and, everything considered, it could have been a whole lot worse. The colonel will fill you in, then I’d like to get back on top of this as soon as possible. Sergeant, it was a pleasure working with you and if the opportunity arises, I’ll be in touch.” The director stood, shook their hands, and exited the room.

  “Excuse me, Colonel,” asked Joe, “but it sounded as if the director was excusing me from the mission?”

  “You would be correct in that assumption, Sergeant Chandler, and I was just about to address that. As you can imagine, the Agency has taken some heat for stealing an active-duty Ranger, but since your MOS was intelligence, we fudged a little. However, as unfortunate as it is for us, I’m afraid our justification has run out, and to be determined by your superiors at the RSTB, you will be reassigned.

  “Gabby, you of course will continue to work this case here at Langley. And Longmire, until further notice, you will remain on this mission as well. I’m afraid we have to break up a good team, but such is the nature of our business.

  “I would like to add the obvious: we all hoped this would end with either the capture or elimination of Juan Espinoza, but instead he’s laid it right back on our doorstep. However, we are grateful for the work you did in Mexico, and we’ll just have to keep doing our jobs. I will excuse myself and give you folks a few moments together. Gabby, as I understand it, your presence is required in the situation room. Thank you all and it was a pleasure working with you.”

  After Lt. Col. Pike left the room, the three stared out the window.

  “Wow, just like it,” said Piper. “Sometimes I hate this stinking job. However, it was a pleasure, and Joe, I wouldn’t be surprised to see your smiling face again. You are a rare character, Mr. Chandler, and I shall look forward to our next visit.”

  Piper, knowing he was a third wheel, shook Joe’s hand and walked out.

  “Well, holy guacamole,” said Gabby. She and Joe enjoyed a good laugh at Piper’s expense, but they had both come to love and respect him immensely.

  “Listen, Gabby, I … well, I just wanted to say….”

  “Yeah, me too, Joe, but remember I work for an intelligence agency, so don’t try to hide.”

  Joe smiled at her; they hugged and walked out the door in opposite directions.

  “Hey, Joe….”

  He stopped and turned.

  “Don’t forget to pray for me, okay?”

  Joe smiled, nodded, and walked away.

  CHAPTER 25

  ROMEO

  The following morning with coffee in hand, as Mel walked toward her office, she was intercepted by Sarah, her admin.

  “Just a heads-up, boss: there’s a man waiting for you, and he’s very adamant that you see him.”

  “Any idea who he is or what this is about?”

  “None whatsoever, but he says it has to do with Mr. Crivelli. Oh, and he’s Hispanic and really cute.”

  “Oh, well, as long as he’s cute,” snipped Mel.

  The man was seated in a small waiting room and stood when Mel approached. He was wearing an expensive suit and carrying a worn black leather briefcase. Mel introduced herself and asked how she could be of help.

  “Ms. Randle, my name is Romeo Banderas and, if you have a few minutes, I would like to speak with you regarding a matter of concern to both of us.”

  Well, of course, your name is Romeo, thought Mel. “I’m afraid I have a very busy day, Mr. Banderas, but I can spare a few minutes. Why don’t you come into my office? Would you like some tea or coffee … water perhaps?”

  “No, thank you, I’m fine. But if you don’t mind, it’s a delicate matter and I wonder if you’d mind closing the door?”

  Mel stared at the man from across her desk, opened a drawer where she kept a CZ 9-mm pistol that Joe had given her, then pressed the intercom asking her admin to come into her office.

  When Sarah walked in, Mel said, “Sarah, this is Mr. Banderas. He was about to show you some identification.”

  Romeo smiled, pulled his wallet from his briefcase, pulled out a business card and ID, and handed both to Sarah who read them out loud.

  “Yes, it appears that Mr. Roman Banderas lives in Guadalajara, Mexico, and is a senior partner for the firm of Banderas, Colon, and Munoz.” She handed the ID back to Mr. Banderas and the card to Mel. “Is there anything else, boss?”

  “That will be all, Sarah; please close the door on your way out and tell the sheriff I
will be with him shortly.”

  Romeo smiled. “I admire a wise and cautious woman, Ms. Randle; well done.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Banderas; now what is this all about, exactly?”

  “Ms. Randle: some time ago, a good friend of yours did a great service for a client of mine, and now he wishes to return the favor. My client was quite impressed with the character and wisdom of your friend and now considers him his friend as well. You see, Ms. Randle, my firm represents the Holy Roman Catholic Church in Mexico and my client’s name is Archbishop Dominic Antonio Gonzalez Iglesias. Your friend would remember him as Father Gonzalez.”

  “Yes, Mr. Banderas, I have heard my friend speak very fondly of the monsignor, but isn’t this a conversation you should be having with my friend?”

  “That is an excellent point, Ms. Randle; however, once I explain, I believe you will understand why I have come to you first.”

  CHAPTER 26

  GABBY

  For the past forty-two months of his enlistment, Sergeant Joseph Chandler had served his country with distinction. Given his choice of any duty station he preferred, he was assigned to the Defense Language Institute in Monterey, California. He co-taught common Arabic and lectured at a community college when invited. On a foggy November morning, forty-five days before his discharge from the Army, he answered his cell phone and recognized a familiar voice.

  “Got time to buy an old friend a cup of coffee?”

  Joe met Piper at an espresso bar on Lighthouse Avenue. They exchanged a few pleasantries but Joe could see the weight on Piper’s shoulders.

  “What brings you to the West Coast, Piper?”

  “Joe, it’s Gabby. She was shot and killed three nights ago. It hasn’t hit the wires yet and I didn’t want you to hear about it on CNN.”

  The three of them had stayed in touch by email or the occasional phone call. The previous Christmas, Joe and Gabby had agreed to meet at his parents, but duty called and she’d been forced to cancel at the last minute. She apologized and told Joe she’d come see him right after she chased down some promising leads.

  The color went out of his face and his eyes clouded with tears. Nothing was said for several moments as Joe tried to find his voice.

  “How, when, and where, Piper?”

  “Look, Joe, I don’t need to tell you how restricted this damn case is. Seriously, bro, this thing is buttoned-up tight. The only reason I know about Gabby is because I flew her up to Oregon once and, technically, I was still part of the mission.”

  “Oregon? I didn’t know the case was taking her to the northwest. Come on, Piper, I have the same clearance you do.”

  “Okay, pal, but you didn’t hear it from me. Apparently, she figured something out—something big and it had to do with someone from Oregon. She was presenting her report to the director the following morning when someone shot her in her driveway. She’d just driven home from the airport and it was late and … well, they were waiting for her. Of course they took her briefcase, phone, and laptop. A neighbor saw the interior light of her car and came over and found her. I’m very sorry, Joe. I know how fond of her you were.”

  “It was someone she knew,” said Joe.

  “What do you mean, pal?”

  “Gabby was nervous; she told me she felt like she was being followed and was worried about who she could trust. She used the term ‘billions’ and said this thing was bigger than anyone could imagine, and promised me that she was being careful. It had to have been someone she knew. There is no way anyone else would have gotten the drop on her. She was too good, Piper; she was too dang good.”

  The funeral was at Arlington National Cemetery and was well attended. Joe stood next to Piper and Colonel Pike. Because of the tremendous backlog at Arlington, Gabby’s funeral was a week after Joe’s discharge. In an age of the forty-eight-hour news cycle, two months was enough time for some to forget, and the rest were just too damn busy. On the other hand Joe would never forget, nor would he forget those who were responsible.

  He went home to Segundo Vida Vineyards, where he grieved the death of his dear friend. His parents, whom he had seen on the occasional holiday, embraced him and showed him immeasurable grace. It was only weeks after New Year’s, the vineyard was dormant and there was little for him to do. Joe came to an agreement with his father: he would spend a day or two each week at the vineyard, but he wanted to open an espresso bar and bakery. Gabby’s death was eating away at him, and he needed something to do to channel his anger and keep him sane. Drummer and Lizzie gave him their blessings. Occasionally, however, Joe would leave to “buy coffee.” He had made a promise to find those responsible for his friend’s murder.

  CHAPTER 27

  PROVIDENCE

  Mel read the letter again, and a cold chill ran down her spine.

  “This is not possible; it just can’t be. Oh my God, it just can’t be.”

  Romeo Banderas watched Mel’s hands tremble as she read the letter a third time.

  “I understand your grave concern, Ms. Randle, but perhaps now would be a good time to invite Mr. Chandler to our meeting, do you not agree?”

  Joe read the letter from his good friend, Father Dominic, now the Archbishop of Guadalajara, for a second time.

  Joseph, my dear son, I miss our talks and it is my prayer that you are able to come to visit me one day soon. I would like to say more on this matter, but there is some disturbing information that has providentially found its way to me. I asked God to forgive me for breaking the confidence of a repentant soul.

  There is a wealthy and powerful man in my diocese, one who makes generous donations to help the poor. This man requested an audience, which I granted, and he made an unusual request. He asked if I could, “wash away the filth of the Americans.”

  I told him God was merciful, but I must admit that I was curious, much too curious for a confessor.

  It is Mexico, my son, and it is not uncommon for a priest to hear the confessions of such men, so I told him to bare his soul and tell me everything.

  The man explained that he had a business arrangement with a group of powerful Americans—dangerous men who were not afraid to “dispose” of people who got in their way.

  It was difficult for him but he spoke of a recent meeting in California. He was asked to “encourage” certain farmers in Mexico to stop raising their prices. He said he would encourage them and they would listen.

  Then, one of the Americans suggested that a “second obstacle” needed to be removed. When I asked which American he looked at me, knowing that it was a question I should not ask. I simply shrugged my shoulders and a moment later he said it was her teacher, the one from the university in Palo Alto. This professor wrote down a woman’s name, a young district attorney from Oregon. When I asked what he knew about the first obstacle, he was very defensive. He said he had nothing to do with the woman in Virginia; it had been the gringo. When I asked about this gringo, he crossed himself and said he was the angel of death, and a man he feared. He did not mention any names or elaborate further.

  The news of Señorita Mendez’s death was late coming to my ears, but I grieved and prayed for her soul. I prayed for you as well, knowing how fond of her you were.

  It was Romeo who looked into this matter and discovered the name of Ms. Randle—a recent Stanford graduate working as a district attorney in Oregon. I would not think it a difficult task for her to discover the professor’s name.

  I believed you would find this information helpful, as I know you to be a man who still does God’s work. You remain dear to my heart and I remain your servant.

  Father Dominic

  “So, there is no doubt about the information then?”

  “Señor Chandler, you of all people know how careful the archbishop is in these matters. It is why there was no phone call, no email, or use of your postal system. It is a very grave matter, señor, and it is why I am here.”

  “Oh my God, Joe, I called Professor Trudeau a few weeks ago. I told him about my
suspicions and he seemed very eager to help me, and he insisted I keep him updated. He even told me to be careful whom I confided in, and to bounce everything off of him first. I called him again last week, and when he asked if I had any names, I mentioned Bill Crivelli and possible associates of his. Oh my God, Joe, what have I done?”

  Joe and Romeo finally got Mel calmed down and explained how fortunate they were to have this information.

  “Look, Mel, this is the big leagues, maybe as big as it gets, and I don’t blame you for being scared.”

  “Scared, I’m not scared, Joe—I’m pissed. Someone who was once very dear to me just ordered my execution. And right now, it seems likely that he and his associates may have had your friend killed as well.”

  “Mr. Banderas,” said Joe. “I cannot thank you and Father Dominic enough. I would say it was providential indeed, and now we must get busy to exploit this information. Fortunately, I have a few powerful friends as well.”

  CHAPTER 28

  DR. JOHN

  While Dr. John Grossman may have disgraced himself as a congressman and slipped out of town in the middle of the night, he landed on his feet. As a respected medical doctor and unabashed liberal, he won a seat in the House, representing the sixth congressional district of Oregon. He had beaten out a brilliant conservative economist by painting him as a gun-toting, bigoted Christian who hated gays, trees, and the environment. One such ad denounced him as a racist, but seeing that he and his Asian wife had adopted four African children the spot was pulled, but the damage was done—Dr. John had shamelessly stolen the moral high ground and was swept into office.

  He served four terms and made a name for himself as a proponent of euthanasia or, as he called it, “peaceful pass.” During his second term, he coauthored an unsuccessful bill for the nationwide legalization of medical marijuana. Then, redeeming himself, Dr. John very quietly orchestrated a referendum that quickly thwarted an effort by conservative Republicans to end the exemption of House members from the questionable services of the Affordable Care Act, or Obama Care, for which he received the accolades of members from both sides of the aisle.