Rendition Protocol

by Nathan Goodman

  “I’m not who you think I am, Cade. I’m not the girl you fell in love with. She’s gone. That girl is dead.”

  “Oh yeah? Well that’s bullshit!” Cade belted. “That’s you running away from our relationship.”

  Jana continued walking across the parking lot as the stinging truth of his statement hit home.

  Cade said, “There is something different about you, I’ll give you that. And I’m not talking about the bronze tan or new musculature in your shoulders.”

  “What, then?” she said as she turned and squared off in front of him.

  “It’s those,” he said, pointing to her eyes. “They’re different. It’s like you’re made of stone. Do you realize you haven’t smiled a single time since I’ve been here?”

  She started to turn but he grabbed her arm.

  With the reflexes of a cat, she jammed her opposing hand on top of his wrist and spun toward him and applied a painful wrist lock. “Ow, shit!” he said, as he bent his chest forward in an effort to lessen the pain rocketing up his wrist and arm.

  Jana released her grip.

  Cade stood and rubbed his wrist. “Jesus, Jana.”

  “I’m not going back. I’m never going back to the FBI. If you came here for that, you can forget it. Tell them you couldn’t find me. Tell them I am dead.” She turned and began speed-walking across the parking lot but yelled back to him, “They made it pretty clear they didn’t want me anymore, and for once, I agree with them.”

  When she reached the road, Cade finally called out, “Kyle is missing.”

  Jana stopped in her tracks but did not turn.

  A long silence ensued.

  She turned her head halfway toward him. “What do you mean Kyle is missing?”

  Cade walked toward her. “He was on an op. He went dark four days ago. No one has heard from him since.”

  Jana faced him but kept the distance. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Cade exhaled. “You’re not a federal agent anymore, remember? Me telling you this is a violation of national security.”

  Jana walked to him and jabbed a sharp finger into his shoulder. “You son of a bitch. I can’t believe you just said that. Kyle is one of my only friends in the world. I’d trade my life for his. And you know as well as I do that I was forced out of the Bureau under bullshit circumstances.” She paused and the silence was punctuated by the lonely call of a distant seagull. “In case you don’t remember, there was no one to help me on the canyon rim that day when that terrorist prick Waseem Jarrah tried to kill me and detonate a nuclear weapon. When I killed him, I stopped what would have been the worst attack against the United States in its history. And they threw me out because I killed his accomplice, Rafael? The one that was about to rape then murder me? Excessive use of force? What a bunch of bullshit! I did what I did and I would do it again. It was clear to me then just like it’s clear to me now. They both got what they deserved.”

  “There’s that temper of yours again. Jana, they pulled your badge and credentials because Rafael was unarmed when you pumped twelve rounds into his chest and balls. He was lying on the ground with gunshot wounds already. You killed him in cold blood.”

  “That son of a bitch was about to rape me. And after he was done having his fun, his instructions weren’t just to kill me. He was to skin me alive. I don’t give a shit whether he was unarmed or not. He got what he deserved.”

  “You know, I told Uncle Bill that me coming down here was a mistake. I told him you would react this way.”

  “Well I guess you were right.”

  “Uncle Bill misses you, Jana. He talks about you all the time. It’s like listening to a grandfather talk about a grandchild.”

  “Well I miss him too. As much stress as it was to be at NSA headquarters working on those terrorism cases, he was the best part.” Tension eased from her shoulders. “Is he still eating those bright-orange snack crackers?” Jana allowed a slight smile to emerge.

  “It’s getting tough on him. He’s getting old and can’t keep this up forever. Knuckles told me there was a pretty good chance Uncle Bill would be retiring soon. But when Kyle disappeared, that idea went right out the window. We’ve got to find Kyle, Jana. I didn’t come down here to bail you out. I came down here to get your help.”

  “Where was he working?”

  “Last known location was here, on the isle of Antigua.”

  “What? He was here? What the hell was he doing on Antigua? Hardly a hotbed of criminal activity. What kind of op did CIA have him on?”

  “You know I don’t have access to that information. But it had something to do with drugs.”

  “Drugs? What’s the CIA got to do with—” She stopped midsentence. “Tell me the truth. Is Kyle the only reason you’re here?”

  “Does it matter?”

  Jana’s hands went to her hips.

  Cade said, “Alright, I came here for Kyle, mostly. But there is more at play here than you realize.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?”

  Cade exhaled. “Kyle knew you were here, Jana. He wouldn’t tell me, but he was keeping tabs on you. He’s always felt that you are in danger.”

  “I’m not in any danger. How could I be in danger here? I work at a tiki bar on the beach serving drinks with little umbrellas in them to overweight tourists. No one even knows who I am.”

  “Oh no? Last year, before you vanished off the face of the earth, you killed the leader of the most dangerous terror organization in the world and your face was splashed all over the papers. Not to mention all those pictures from when the president came and decorated you lying in a bed at BethesdaMedicalCenter. You’re recognizable. You’re in danger and you always will be.”

  “I don’t want to hear it. Get to the point. What do we know about Kyle?”

  “Both the Los Rastrojos and Oficina de Envigado cartels have quietly set up camp here on Antigua. They are the largest cartels in Colombia now. They’re pushing drugs through to the US on a new route. Los Rastrojos has been here for over a year, but Oficina de Envigado is trying to muscle in. Both cartels are trying to keep the violence to an absolute minimum to avoid attracting attention. And as it turns out, the perp that you put in the hospital last night happens to be the Oficina de Envigado cartel’s number two on the island. Late last night we intercepted a cell phone conversation between members of the Los Rastrojos cartel. They’ve taken notice of your handiwork, Jana, and are most impressed. You are right in the middle of this thing now.”

  10

  Into the Light

  “Let’s start from the beginning. Are we sure Kyle is missing?” Jana said.

  “You know him, Jana. He’s like a machine the way he works. Kyle communicated on a daily schedule. It’s been four days. He’s gone dark. We don’t have anything other than that.”

  “Same time every day?”

  “No, he uses a cypher to calculate the appropriate time to communicate each day. It was always different.”

  “And how long has he been down here?” Jana said.

  “Six months.”

  “He’s been down here six months? Christ. And he’s been checking up on me that whole time?”

  “I told you,” Cade said. “He’s worried about you.”

  “And he didn’t stop once to say hello?”

  “He knew you needed your space. And remember, officially he’s down here for work, not to check up on you. But, he had influence on being assigned here.”

  “Oh, come on. He’s a puppy dog. Influence?”

  “Jana, you’ve been out of circulation longer than you think. In the war on terror, things move fast. A lot has changed since you left. In fact, when you stopped that last nuclear attack, the gloves came off. Kyle is a part of that now.”

  “It’s me, Cade. Stop talking in riddles,” Jana said. “You’re telling me CIA allows Kyle to decide where he goes and who he investigates? And what’s this got to do with drug trafficking? Isn’t that the DEA’s responsibility?”

/>   Cade stopped in front of her but shook off the question. “Kyle took a lot of shit for sticking up for you, after you wasted Rafael, that is. You had resigned. Threw your badge and credentials at the director of the FBI as I recall. But Kyle defended you at his own peril. You have no idea how far he went for you.”

  “Wait a minute. You’re telling me there are elements in the Justice Department that wanted me prosecuted, aren’t you?” She shook her head. “Why am I just now hearing about this? Those pricks want their bureaucracy? They can have it. I want no part of it.”

  “Jana, when you shot and killed Rafael, an unarmed suspect, it was tantamount to murder. You and I were there. And we both know that’s bullshit, but that’s the law. Besides, after you resigned, you disappeared. Hell, none of us could have found you to tell you anyway.”

  Jana knew he was right. She looked across the parking lot and into the turquoise waters of SideHillBay. Her mind drifted back to that terrifying day on the remote canyon rim one year prior, and her eyes became glassy. She had narrowly averted death, and now the horrors came flooding back.

  She looked at Cade. “Kyle found me,” she said.

  Cade glanced down and noticed Jana’s hand had begun to tremble. He knew it was a precursor to a post-traumatic stress episode. PTSD had plagued Jana’s existence and it apparently had not abated. He said, “Kyle testified before congress in closed session. It even took Uncle Bill, with his sky-high security clearance, a while to get a copy of the transcripts. I won’t lie to you, Jana, it wasn’t pretty. Kyle faced seven hours of questioning by senators.”

  The shaking in Jana’s hand increased.

  Cade placed a hand on her shoulder and spoke just above the volume of the gentle island breeze. “But in the end everything turned out okay. It took a long time, but he was so focused on getting your record cleared, they couldn’t shake him. He was like a rock. He reminded them over and over the ordeal you’d been through, and that without you, much of the United States would be buried in ash right now.”

  Jana’s hand shook harder and she leaned down and placed her hands on her knees. From Cade’s view, it looked as though she might be sick. But before he could say anything, she closed her eyes and began a series of long exhales. A minute later she stood and stared again into the distant ocean horizon. “We might as well get started.”

  “You’re going to help us?”

  She looked at him from the side of her eye as the statement processed, then she launched at him. “I will never, ever leave Kyle behind! I can’t, I can’t, I can’t,” she yelled. Cade’s mouth opened but before he could say anything, she continued “Don’t you ever question my loyalty like that. And let’s get one thing straight. I’ve spent a long time trying to forget the past, and I’m not going back to that life. You got it?”

  As they walked toward a parked car, he said, “You don’t have to bite my head off. And, hey, Kyle and I go back a long way too, so don’t think you’re the only one that will do whatever it takes.”

  “Just take me to wherever we’re going,” she said. “And tell me everything. Don’t leave anything out.”

  11

  Kyle Interrogated

  Kyle didn’t so much wake up as come to. He was disoriented and felt awful. Something akin to a hangover with an elephant sitting atop your body. His joints hurt, his head spun, and the nausea was so intense he felt he might be sick.

  It was only then he realized a man had been standing behind him this whole time. The man yanked his hair back and pried open one of his eyes, then flicked on a penlight to examine the pupils.

  Kyle was exhausted and had a deep, ingrained feeling of panic, as if needles were jabbing into his heart and lungs. He had somehow descended into what could only be described as severe depression. It was deep and dark and carried with it a feeling like he’d never pull out. But mixed into the depression was anxiety stronger than he’d ever felt, and he gasped at the air.

  The long-haired Latin man pulled open the steel door, which again scraped across the cement, sand and grit crunching underneath. Kyle had no sense of time. He couldn’t tell whether Diego Rojas reentered the room a moment later or hours later.

  Rojas checked Kyle’s pupils himself and a deep smile formed on his face. “Muy bien,” he said. “I believe now you are ready to talk? But before we get to that, Agent MacKerron—”

  “I’m not an agent,” Kyle murmured back, but his words were barely intelligible.

  “Of course you are,” Rojas said through a grin. He held out a syringe for Kyle to see. It was filled with a clear, dark liquid. “One of my specialties. I studied chemistry during my undergraduate work at Universidad Nacional de Colombia, but it wasn’t until I did my masters at UC ​Berkeley that I really came into my own.” He walked a slow circle around Kyle. “My chosen field of study was chemical and biomolecular engineering, and I was very good. What we’ve been injecting you with is a cocktail of my design. As a DEA agent, I am sure you are aware that Colombian cartels no longer focus solely on cocaine. We have a far more diversified portfolio than ever before. Everything from extortion, illegal gold mining, gambling, and this,” he held the syringe to the light, “synthetic drug cocktails.”

  Kyle mumbled something unintelligible.

  Rojas listened, then shook his head. He looked at the other man. “Bring me my bag.” When the man returned, Rojas removed a vial and inserted a new syringe into it and drew a dose of clear liquid. He stuck the needle into Kyle’s shoulder and squeezed. “Epinephrine,” he said. “Adrenaline.” He waited a few moments until Kyle’s eyes brightened. “There we are. Now where was I? Ah, yes, what we’ve been injecting you with is a combination of four ingredients. Synthetic, liquefied crack cocaine, heroin, and two of my new favorites, scopolamine and 3-quinuclidinyl benzilate, truth serums.” He smiled and continued walking a circle around Kyle. “We’ve been experimenting for the last few years and honed it to perfection. You are both addicted to the narcotics and willing to tell me anything I ask.”

  Kyle’s chest heaved up and down with morbid pain flooding his body.

  “The misery you are suffering right now can be stopped, all with this needle.” He inserted the needle into a vein in Kyle’s arm. “In this dose, I’ve decreased the heroin and cocaine. You are getting a strong bolus of my truth serum cocktail. Why don’t we begin? But first, let me tell you why you are here. I want to know everything you know in your investigations of my competitors, the Oficina de Envigado cartel.”

  A mild euphoria permeated Kyle’s chest and he felt like a million pounds had been lifted off him. The nausea and extreme joint pain also subsided, as did the other symptoms. And in all of this, he felt free, like he was floating.

  Kyle struggled, but the power of the drugs overwhelmed him and there was no point fighting the inevitable. The truth began to pour out. “I’m CIA,” he laughed, though Diego Rojas’s intelligence information said otherwise.

  “The drugs are almost at full effect,” Rojas said, not realizing Kyle was telling the truth.

  Warmth and unadulterated joy washed through Kyle’s body. “I came down here to penetrate the Oficina de Envigado, and it’s been a blast,” he said through drooping eyelids and a smile.

  Gustavo Moreno, Rojas’s intelligence officer, walked into the room and leaned against a wall.

  “And how many other DEA agents are on the island?” Rojas said.

  “Why do you keep asking about DEA? I told you, I’m—”

  “How many others on the island?” Rojas smiled to play into Kyle’s drugged euphoria.

  “Others? There aren’t any others, man. It’s just me. Hey, can we go to the beach?”

  Rojas glanced at Moreno and shook his head. His agitation was building. “And how about our friends in the United States?”

  “Oh, yeah, got lots of friends back home.”

  Rojas started to raise up but caught himself. “No, I mean communications monitoring, signals intelligence. Eavesdropping, Agent MacKerron. To what extent i
s the NSA or others at FortHuachuca in Arizona listening in on the operations of my friends at Oficina de Envigado?” Rojas knew the truth. If his competitors in the Envigado cartel were under the watchful eye of the United States through secret monitoring, then his own cartel, Los Rastrojos, had either been compromised or wasn’t far behind.

  “Oh, those guys at NSA are great,” Kyle said. His eyes glazed. “Them? Nah, if I had found more, they would have joined the party, but not until then. You think NSA doesn’t have enough to do sniffing out terrorists? They don’t have time for this drug business.” Kyle laughed and slumped over. The guard pulled him upright. “And what else did you say? Oh yeah, FortHuachuca. Yeah, no, those boys don’t ask me for permission before snooping.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yeah, they got a lot of stuff pointed this way though. Always looking for drug runners trying to sneak their plane or cigarette boat under the radar. Always trying to intercept cellphone calls between members of a cartel. You know, crap like that.”

  Gustavo Moreno handed Rojas a manila file folder and Rojas opened it. Moreno said, “FortHuachuca, Cochise County, Arizona, Patron.”

  “Hey,” Kyle interrupted. “Didn’t they call Pablo Escobar, El Patron? The boss?”

  Moreno said, “That’s about fifteen miles north of the Mexican border.”

  Rojas spoke as he read, “Over eighteen thousand people are employed at the military base. Home of the 111th Military Intelligence Brigade. And I do love the US military’s use of acronyms, don’t you? United States Army Network Enterprise Technology Command, NETCOM. Army Military Auxiliary Radio System, MARS.”

  “Hey, man. MARS, like outer space,” Kyle said. “What’s in that needle you gave me? I feel awesome!”

  Rojas did not look up from the intelligence report. “Yes, I’m sure you do. But the effects won’t last long. The Information Systems Engineering Command, ISEC. The United StatesArmyIntelligenceCenter. What? No acronym? How disappointing. And, I’ve saved the best for last. FortHuachuca has,” he looked at the report, “a radar-equipped aerostat, one of a series maintained for the Drug Enforcement Administration. How very fascinating.” He looked at Moreno.