by M C Rowley
She stood in front of us and spoke in Spanish. “Who sent you?”
Chapter Forty-One
Rose and Jean got to their computers on their desks at Langley and searched for Reynolds Shipping Co. And found it. In the port of Veracruz, Mexico.
“We should go,” said Jean.
Rose didn’t answer.
Jean’s phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out and saw “PAUL” on the screen and ignored it.
Rose was bent over his desk. “What’s he going to do with the money?”
“Does it matter?”
Rose shot her a look that said, Are you serious? “Of course it’s important. That money will move eventually. And we don’t even know where it is exactly right now.”
The phone started buzzing again. Jean went to silence it, but then paused. “Hang on,” she said, and answered it. “Paul?”
“Jean, I wanted to say thanks again. For the info.”
“You get a promotion?”
Paul chuckled. “Not quite, but I think that vacation request for the summer might go through now.”
Jean smiled. “You’re welcome.”
“Thing is,” said Paul, “I wanted to let you know. We busted a mountain of drug dealers today—big fish, small fish, all sorts.”
“Don’t rub it in.”
“I’m not. It’s just, all of them are saying the same thing. That the goods have dried up in the last couple of weeks. Nothing from Mexico. Ziltch, nada.”
Jean nodded. “Paul, I need a favor in return.”
“Shoot.”
“Can you access files on snitches?”
Paul scoffed into the phone, “Are you kidding me? You guys have a better shot at that.”
“What if the informant is dead, legally? Cold cases. Years old.”
Paul stayed quiet awhile, then said, “I guess I know a girl in Archives. I’ll give it a try.”
“Thanks.”
“What’s the name?”
“Robert Andino, American citizen. Worked as a snitch on the Sons of No One, around five or so years back.”
“What info do you need?”
“The name of his handler. And whether he or she is still active.”
“On it. And hey, Jean?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks again.”
Reynolds shuffled in his seat. Jairo Morales and Luciana had changed the arrangement. Smarter than he thought, perhaps. A small oversight with potentially huge consequences.
X04 shifted forward and backward, his hand gripping the driver’s headrest.
“What the fuck is going on?”
The driver stayed motionless and said, “Better arm up, Boss.”
X04 nodded and withdrew a large black pistol. Reynolds thought it was a Desert Eagle. It had diamonds encrusted along its shaft and purple details spiraling down the grip. The decorations made it look more like a sex toy than a lethal weapon, thought Reynolds. The cartel and their crudeness would never be separated.
There was a commotion up ahead. Not screams but shouts. Maybe ten cars down.
“Maybe it’s one of ours,” said X04.
The driver nodded. “Boss, let me get out and see what’s happening.”
“Ándale,” said X04.
The driver shifted right a little and opened the door and swung left out of it. He raised his own pistol—a more humble weapon—up to eye level and planted himself looking toward the commotion. Reynolds wished he had a gun, too. He hated deviations from the plan. Especially one years in the making.
Outside, the driver moved forward. He made it a meter before his head disappeared. The sound of the shot came after, maybe a full second after, but first Reynolds saw the driver’s head disappear and be replaced by a giant cloud of red mist.
“Shit,” said X04, diving down into the recess of the passenger seats. Reynolds followed and slammed his back against the front seat.
They waited and listened to the commotion getting louder and closer. Reynolds thought about trying to escape the vehicle and grabbing the gun, but he was frozen.
Then the commotion got closer. And then: quiet. For a second, then two, three, four. Five seconds passed, and then there was a tap on the window, on Reynolds’ side.
He looked up, and framed by the Suburban’s large window was the face of Jairo Morales. He motioned to Reynolds to open the window.
“Don’t do it,” said X04 behind him. Reynolds peered back 180 degrees and saw X04 holding his crude sculpture of a gun straight at Jairo’s gut through the window.
“The door is unlocked,” said Reynolds. “The driver did that when he got out.”
The bleeping sound of the door alarm came into focus for Reynolds. Ding-dinging again and again.
“I think we should get out,” said Reynolds.
X04 didn’t say anything. So Reynolds went for the door handle and nodded at Jairo to say, Okay, we’re doing what you want us to do. Don’t shoot.
Slowly, he pushed the door outward and Jairo stepped back, his rifle aimed steadily at Reynolds.
Reynolds slid out of the door. All around them, terrified people watched from parked cars.
“Get out,” said Jairo, looking past Reynolds to X04.
X04 kept the pistol aimed at Jairo. “Fuck you.”
As it was, X04 sat in the back seat of the Suburban, the door behind him closed. Between him and Jairo stood Reynolds. X04 had his own metal crab shell
Not part of the plan at all.
Jairo said, “You want your money. You need both me and Reynolds here to get it. Shooting us would be a dumbass move.”
X04 looked at Jairo, unmoving.
“Get out of the car.”
X04 went to move forward, but behind him the other door opened and the snout of another AR-15 was shoved into his head. Luciana held the gun.
“No choice,” said Jairo. “Get out.”
X04 shuffled forward and made it to the door, then slid his legs out first, keeping the gun aimed at Jairo, and stood up.
“Let’s move,” said Jairo.
Luciana came round the back of the SUV and joined Jairo. They pushed Reynolds and X04 in front of them and frog-marched them along the highway, past all the cars, back to the cause of the traffic jam.
“Get in,” said Jairo, pulling some keys from his pocket. X04 and Reynolds sat in the middle of the bench. Luciana sat shotgun, gun aimed at the men.
Jairo got into the driver’s seat, started the engine, and began turning the truck around. He unblocked the highway in less than a minute. In front of them was a clear road for miles; behind them, ten or so kilometers of traffic. Even though they had cleared the blockage and begun pulling away, the cars did not move.
Chapter Forty-Two
I stared back at the old lady.
She said again, “Who sent you?”
“Mr. Reynolds,” I said.
The lady ignored the answer. “You told those men outside you were looking for Jairo Morales. What makes you think he would be here?”
Eleanor spoke. “We know this is where you kept the children.”
The lady gave Eleanor a withering look. “Kept the children?”
“We know,” said Eleanor. “In my pocket. A photo. Take it.”
The lady stepped forward, untrusting, and walked to Eleanor, keeping her eyes on her. She slipped her hand into Eleanor’s pocket and pulled out the crumpled photograph of Jairo, Luciana, and their friend from years gone by. She looked at it. Nothing that resembled a human emotion crossed her face. She just looked at it and put it on the plastic table.
“What you do is evil,” said Eleanor.
The lady looked at her.
“You people took our baby son. What makes you think you have the right to bring up someone else’s child?”
The lady’s face did not move. But I detected something underneath her mask, like confusion or uncertainty. She had not expected us.
“Señora,” I said, “do you know our son, Jairo? We don’t mean you any harm
. But we need to find him and his daughter.”
The lady didn’t move. “Yes, I knew him,” she said. “But that was a while ago.”
Eleanor and I exchanged the slightest of glances.
“Do you know Mr. Reynolds?”
The lady stared at me with a look that sent me right back to primary school.
“He told me you might come here.”
So she had expected us.
“Okay,” I said. “Can you tell us where he is now?”
The lady shook her head. “He told me to give you a message if you came here. So I will do that.”
“Okay,” I said, praying she would fill the silence.
She didn’t at first, just kept stoic and disinterested. Then she spoke. “His problem is with your son. Not you. He said to tell you to forget about your son. That he would never be saved.”
“What problem?”
The lady shrugged her shoulders. “It’s too early,” she said.
“For what?”
“He said it would take longer,” she said.
I realized right then that this was going nowhere.
Chapter Forty-Three
The cabin of the truck was tight with four bodies lined up in it. Especially since Luciana had to keep her rifle pointed at their captives the whole time while Jairo focused on the eastbound highway. But the road surface was smooth and the going was easy—until now. They were getting closer to the coast, and the highway narrowed into a B road and the jungle became more ferocious at the sides.
“Here,” said Jairo, pulling the truck off the blacktop and onto the dirt at the side of the road. He killed the engine.
“Get down,” said Luciana.
Jairo got out first, leaving the door open for X04 to follow, then Reynolds. Last, Luciana with gun in hand.
X04 stumbled over the dirt mounds that had built up. The jungle was a wall of green.
Jairo pushed Reynolds in the back. “On your knees, cabrones.”
X04 did so but stared Jairo out the entire time. “Where is our money?”
Jairo flicked the snout of his gun at Reynolds, who was mirroring X04 and kneeling on the dirt next to him, one meter away. Jairo stepped back a foot, so his gun covered both X04 and Reynolds in a one-inch movement of his hand. To make the setup more secure, Luciana stepped up beside Jairo, also pointing her AR-15 at the two men.
“Your money?” said Jairo.
X04 snarled, “Yes, my money, cabrón.”
“How much does the cartel have left?”
For a second, the anger slipped from X04’s face. “Not enough.”
Jairo saw a thin smile creep across Reynolds’ face. He asked X04, “How many people are waiting for us at Veracruz?”
“I won’t tell you that. You’re a dead man.”
“How many?”
“Fuck you.”
Jairo stepped closer, aiming the gun at X04’s forehead. “How many? Tell us and we can do a deal.”
X04 stayed quiet, assessing his options. There weren’t many, considering the principal one was the end of an assault rifle in his face.
“Two hundred men,” he said. “Us, and some state and municipal police.”
“Your closest men?”
X04 nodded.
“Okay,” said Jairo, looking at Reynolds. “Thing is, neither Mr. Reynolds nor I have access to any money at this point. But there will be a transaction. A transaction you can be a part of, for a trade.”
“Go on,” said X04.
“Your cartel is falling apart. Without this money, you’re done. Apart from the number of angry civilians you have on your hands, your network is shriveling like a dead skunk on the side of the road. You have time, though.”
“Time for what?”
“To get yourself out, cabrón. Abandon ship.”
Jairo let the idea sink in for a bit. Money always carried its own weight and force. No need to over-egg it. Con el dinero, baile el perro—with money, the dog will dance. Jairo waited for the ramifications to formulate and play out in X04’s mind. Then he said:
“Five hundred million dollars.”
X04 looked up. “In exchange for what?”
“For you calling off your men and telling them to follow my orders instead.”
X04 went to get up and lunge at Jairo, but Jairo sidestepped and cracked the butt of his rifle into X04’s shoulder. There was a mighty crunch as metal met bone and X04 went down onto his side. Luciana stepped forward and poked her gun into his head.
“Easy there,” said Jairo. “You’re not exactly in a good bargaining position here.”
Reynolds remained silent, eyeing Jairo, then X04, one by one.
“Come with us to the docks,” said Jairo. “Call the men off. And then we do the transfers.”
X04 rolled over and propped himself up on his elbows. He was done. He knew it.
“Okay,” he said. “Puto.”
Jairo ignored the jibe and motioned for X04 to stand.
The four of them stood on the side of the road. A solitary car went past them.
“Let’s get this going,” said Luciana.
“Make the call,” said Jairo, pulling out a cell phone, unlocking it, and handing it to X04.
“Now?”
Jairo nodded.
X04 looked down at the screen. “I have my own phone. They won’t answer to this.”
Jairo nodded again.
X04 pulled a slick-looking black phone from his pocket, tapped it a few times, and held it to his ear.
“It’s me,” he said. “Tell them not to shoot anyone. Tell them the tanker with blue and white lines is not to be attacked…Yes, I’m with them.”
Jairo cleared his throat to get X04’s attention and pointed to himself. Tell them to follow my orders instead.
X04 nodded meekly. “Tell them that Jairo Morales is in charge.”
A longer silence followed as X04 listened to whatever consternation was being expressed at the other end.
“Just do it,” he said. “He’s one of us now…Okay. See you there.”
He hung up.
“Thanks,” said Jairo, and he leveled the rifle at X04’s forehead, right above the eyes, and shot him dead.
Chapter Forty-Four
Jean and Rose were back in the Suburban, hurtling through DC’s suburbs to meet the man who had been Robert Andino’s handler. Paul had gotten the information within the hour—a now-retired DEA agent named Craig Acosta. His address was on the outskirts of the city.
Rose drove fast, using the emergency lane where possible. They made it after 45 minutes. They pulled up outside a little suburban bungalow and killed the engine.
“Let him talk,” said Rose.
Jean nodded, and they walked to the door and rang the bell. They waited a couple of minutes and the door opened to reveal a tall white guy. He had a buzz cut—probably the same one he’d had for years, throughout his service as a DEA agent. His body hadn’t played ball, though; a large, bloated gut stuck out through his black polo and nestled above his belt.
“Yes?”
Rose stepped forward, arm extended, and shook Acosta’s hand.
“Agent Acosta?”
Acosta nodded.
“Agent Rose and Agent Santos of the CIA. You got a few minutes?”
Acosta frowned and then smiled nervously. “’Course. Come in.”
Acosta sat in an old green armchair—as, Jean suspected, he had done every day since leaving the service—while Rose explained the case.
“Yeah, I remember.”
“Can you tell us what happened?”
Acosta took a deep breath and held it. For a moment Jean thought he might not breathe again; his face started to go pink as his body’s warning alarms went off for lack of oxygen. He expelled the air and spoke:
“Andino was one of our best snitches. For years, he duplicated almost every document he used for the cartel and passed it over to me. Contact was only physical. Documents left in park trash cans, that type of shit. Bu
t the info was always gold. We were able to build a dynamite case that brought an end to that particular organization.”
Rose said, “Did the Mexican government help?”
Acosta nodded. “Presidential level only. No police, no army. But yeah, they helped. This was before the impeachment and the shit that’s gone down since. I still think we caused that in a way. No one had any idea that the Sons were backed by Esteban. Andino gave us numbers, accounts, movements, the whole shebang.”
“What went wrong?”
“He got caught. The cartel sniffed out that there was a rat and starting doing what they do, which is interrogations involving family members and a barrel of acid. It didn’t take long before they got to Robert and made him squeal.”
Jean noted Acosta’s switch to first-name terms.
“They dragged in his family. Wife, two daughters. And well…” He looked away, to the window. “They killed all four of them. After a few hours of rape and torture. We fucked up.”
“Andino knew what he was messing with,” said Rose.
“No,” said Acosta. “You see, he called us when he was worried about it. Told us they were interrogating cartel members. He asked me for help, and I told him he didn’t need to worry. It was a lie. My boss had written him off. I followed that order and let him die.”
Rose glanced at Jean.
“Thing is,” said Rose, “Andino isn’t dead.”
Acosta shot Rose a look, utter astonishment across his face. He got to his feet, then looked like he might faint.
“Easy there,” said Jean, getting up to steady him.
“It can’t be. We, we…” He collapsed back into his chair. “Shit, I need a drink.”
Rose nodded at Jean, who went to the kitchen and found a bottle of scotch in the third cupboard she checked. She poured three fingers straight and took it back to Acosta.
