by Robin Mahle
Nick opened the door and slipped into the back seat. “So, we’re going to need to get Inspector Varela the hell out of Rio and the sooner the better. Once we do that, they’ll tell us who paid them off.”
“Wait.” Cain peered at him. “Where are we supposed to send Varela and why?”
“Well, the plan was that we were supposed to kill him. And that’s what they think we’re going to do. But I say, get him into our protection until this is over.”
“Then what?” Fisher began. “Release him to those guys?”
“Say we do that,” Cain added. “They’re going to give us a name?”
“That’s what they’re telling me.”
“And you believe them?” Fisher asked.
“What else are we doing here, then, man? We need answers. And I know they have them. They just want something in return. Same as everyone else.” Scarborough turned to Cain. “We should leave now.”
Cain started the engine and pulled out, heading back toward the safehouse. “How soon are we supposed to vacate the inspector?”
“As soon as we can,” Nick replied.
“And they aren’t going to want proof we took care of their problem?” Kate asked.
“I’ll give them proof and we’ll get Varela to cooperate. Either that, or we turn him over to the military police and let them deal with him. They’re the ones everyone around here really worries about.”
“Is there no other way?” asked Kate.
“I don’t think so. These are not people who are easily reasoned with.”
“Alrighty then,” Cain said. “We’ll get Varela out of here and give them proof we’ve taken care of the problem. But then we’d better get some damn answers.”
“I can only do what they ask and hope for the best,” Scarborough replied.
“So what are we supposed to do in the meantime?” Fisher asked. “Sit on our thumbs?”
“We can do more than that. We can track down one of Rosella Ortiz’s co-workers,” Kate said. “Someone has to know where she was before she was killed. If her editor won’t talk, then maybe another might, without wanting a fat check at the end of it.”
“Okay. You and I will do that,” Fisher looked to Scarborough. “You and Cain can handle Varela. We’ll reconvene at the house and go from there.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Nick said. “You’ll need a car. We’ll have to go to the safehouse anyway so you can pick it up. Then Cain and I can take care of business.” He peered at Kate. “You’re good with that, Reid?”
“I’m good.” She worried that now they were making deals with drug kingpins. It was bad enough they had to hunt down killers, colluding with drug lords was a whole other level of bad.
The three members of the team could do nothing more than to wait for the results to come back for the samples that had been smuggled out of Brazil. They were paralyzed while the others risked their lives thousands of miles away.
Quinn pressed his thumb inside the palm of his hand, a nervous tick, as he sat in the chair across from Walsh’s desk. “Is there anything more we can do to expedite these labs?”
Walsh pressed a button on his phone. “Hey, Duncan, you have a minute?”
“Be right there.”
“I’d like to get her in on this,” Walsh said.
A moment later, Duncan arrived. “Hey. Tell me you have some good news.”
“No news, actually. Have a seat,” Walsh began. “Listen, that night you and Reid were at the club.”
“What about it?”
“You met Mason Wylder there, is that right?”
“Sure did. He gave me his autograph too on a napkin. And I thought it was really weird because I guess he must think pretty highly of himself, but he kissed it before handing it over.”
“Wait, he kissed the napkin?” The dawn of an idea masked Quinn’s face. “Please tell me you still have it.”
“I packed it. Probably sitting on my dresser or something. Why?”
“You saw him talking to the man you believed was a close match to the tipster’s description?” Quinn asked. “And from that moment on, you and Reid started taking pictures and then the heavy-weights moved in and caused problems for you both.”
“That’s right.”
“We’re going to need that napkin just as soon as you can get it to us,” Quinn replied. “I could be way off target here, but given that association, there’s a chance, a minuscule chance, that he could be involved in the murders of those women, or…”
Walsh jumped in. “He’s the murderer himself.”
19
The building that housed the Rio newspaper where Fisher and Kate had been the previous day fell into view once again. This time, they arrived in effort to home in on a co-worker of Ms. Ortiz’s. Someone who knew where she had been on the day of her disappearance and why.
“Who is it you say we’re looking for?” Fisher asked as he pulled the car to a stop.
Kate flipped through copies of the daily paper. “According to the majority of these bylines, we want a man by the name of Phillippe Villanueva. He appears in multiple articles and co-wrote a few with Rosella Ortiz. Here’s what he looks like.” Kate held up the paper where a small thumbnail sized image of the reporter was posted next to one of the articles.
“Anyone else on that list we can approach in the event we strike out with that one?” Fisher asked.
“There are two others who don’t appear as frequently, and we can talk to all three if need be.”
“We might just need to do that.” Fisher peered at the small, flat-roofed structure painted a bright blue. “I don’t know what time these people around here knock off, but it’s getting close to 5pm. If we don’t see anyone leaving in the next hour, we’re going to have to go in.”
“The editor, Santiago, will probably have us kicked out,” Kate said.
“Oh, I have no doubt, since we’re not here to dole out cash, but if we can catch sight of any of Rosella’s co-workers, we might get one of them to talk. Surely, they must be upset by the loss.”
“Hang on. I see some people leaving.” Kate studied the door as it swung open. Several people filed out. “Nope. No sign of Villanueva.”
“Just hold your horses. Looks like we got ourselves a few stragglers.” Fisher pointed ahead. “Who’ve we got there?”
Kate examined the image on the newspaper and looked at the man who had just stepped out. “I think that could be our guy. Should we approach him now?”
“Let’s wait until he separates himself from the rest and see where he goes.”
They both watched as the man waved goodbye to his colleagues and started toward the parking lot.
“Now.” Fisher opened the door.
Kate followed him and both made their way to the man.
“Excuse me?” Fisher jogged toward him. “Uh, I mean, Desculpe?”
At this, the man stopped and looked at them. He appeared confused but waited for them to catch up.
“Inglês?” Fisher asked.
“Yes.”
“Here’s to small miracles. Can we talk to you about Rosella Ortiz? She was a colleague of yours, is that right?”
“Who are you?” He asked before turning to Kate. “And you? Both American?”
“We are,” Fisher began. “We’re trying to find the truth about Rosella’s murder. We want to give her justice.”
“You do understand that you are in Rio? Justice here comes at a steep price.”
Kate moved in. “Listen, you don’t have any reason to trust us. I understand that. But we are here because there is an American who has come here to hurt your people. And we believe he may have hurt Rosella. We have spoken to your editor to no avail. We’re hoping you might not be so inclined to turn your back on her.”
His expression revealed that he might actually consider this request. “If I take you at your word. If I agree to help, I cannot be named in any investigation or anything relating to her or to this newspaper. If I am, I will be killed.”
Fisher nodded. “We understand. Is there someplace you’d like to go to discuss this further?”
The reporter peered back at the building. “Yes. I cannot afford to be seen here with you. Follow me.” He continued into the parking lot and toward his car.
Fisher led Kate back to their car. “What do you think?” He opened the passenger door for her.
“I think he wants to help, but I also think he understands what’s at stake if he does.”
CIA Officer Bryce Lambert flicked away his cigarette as he stood outside the safehouse and spotted Cain and Scarborough pulling onto the driveway. He walked back inside and looked at Varela. “Today’s your lucky day, Inspector.”
Varela appeared exhausted. “Do I get to go home now?”
Lambert laughed. “Not a chance, my man. What you get to do though is to get the hell out of here and out of my hair.” He peered through the curtains. “Your ride is pulling up now.” He made his way to the door and pulled it open. “I was wondering when you’d be showing up. I see you’re both still alive. Things must’ve gone well with the AdA?”
“Well enough.” Scarborough walked inside and spotted Varela. “You on the other hand. I’m not so sure about you.”
Cain entered and closed the door behind him. “How’s he been for you?”
“Fine,” Lambert replied. “Nary a peep. So, you mentioned taking him with you? When is that going to take place? No offense, but I got shit to do. Shit that don’t involve you folks or him.”
“I think we’re ready to take him off your hands,” Cain said. “And I don’t think we’ll be needing anything from you good folks in the interim. At least, not until we’re ready to leave.”
“And when might that be?” Lambert asked.
“Best guess? Tomorrow.”
“You want me to line it up?”
“Give me this afternoon. I’ll be in touch tonight.” Cain offered his hand. “Thanks, brother. You bailed us out and we won’t forget it.”
“We’re all here for the same reasons. Or so they tell me.” Lambert grabbed his things. “You know where I’ll be and I’ll wait to hear from you tonight. Don’t make me track your asses down if I don’t hear from you, yeah?” He started toward the door. “Scarborough, pleasure. Good luck to you and your team.”
“Thank you.” Scarborough returned his greeting. “We’ll be in touch.”
“Yep.” Lambert walked outside.
“Guess that leaves us to deal with you.” Cain sat down on the cot next to Varela. “This isn’t how we would’ve wanted things to go, but you didn’t leave us much choice.”
“I thought Americans always chose the high road, like in the movies. Always doing the right thing.” Varela traded glances with the men. “Where are we going now?”
“You get to go hide out someplace else for a while.” Scarborough said. “The only thing is, we’ll be needing a favor from you.”
“A favor?” Varela asked. “And what favor is that?”
“Well, see we made an agreement with the AdA,” Scarborough began. “They want you dead. And, I don’t really have a problem with that seeing how you almost had my people killed and Mr. Sosa died on your command, so, I’m good with that. Except Agent Cain here says we can’t do that. So, we need to make it look like you’re dead. But you’ll be safe and sound far away from here.”
“You want me to play dead. Is that what you’re asking me?”
“Bingo. If you don’t, we’ll have no choice but to hand you over to them and they can do the dirty work. We figured this was the best way for you to help us out and keep you alive.” Scarborough eyed Cain. “And we’d better act on this now.”
Fisher slowed the car as the reporter, Villanueva, pulled to a stop in front of a café inside the favela called Jacarezinho, in Rio’s north zone. “Why is he stopping here? This place hardly looks secluded.”
“I think he wants us to be seen,” Kate replied. “It would play into the narrative written in the article that US agents were trying to subvert the government.”
“Somehow, I think you could be right.” Fisher stopped only feet behind him and turned off the engine. “You have your weapon?”
“Never leave home without it.” She tapped her hip and opened the car door to step outside. “He’s waiting for us.”
Fisher joined her on the narrow sidewalk, and both approached him.
“This is the place?” He asked.
“It is. My parents own this café. It’s about the safest place I know of.” He led them inside. “Mãe. Pai.” Villanueva opened his arms to greet his parents.
They began to speak Portuguese, leaving Fisher and Kate to wonder and hope that what was being said wouldn’t cause them any trouble.
“We might’ve been wrong about him after all,” Kate said. “Assuming he isn’t ratting us out right now. Probably should’ve tried to learn the language before coming here.”
“Yeah, sure, with all our spare time. Let’s hear him out and get back to the others. I don’t know about you but I’m itching to get the hell out of this country.”
“Follow me.” Villanueva led them to a table. “You’d better order something or my mother will think you’re insulting her.”
“Uh, okay. I’ll have a coffee and a sandwich,” Fisher said.
“Same here,” Kate replied.
“Good.” He turned to his mother again and ordered for them. “Now we can get down to business. What is it that you think I know and how can I help you find the person who killed one of my dearest friends?”
This was sounding more positive. Perhaps he was on the side of justice and after swimming upstream from the moment they stepped into this country, things were looking up.
Kate sipped on her coffee before being the first to enter into this foray. “Did you happen to have access to or know anyone who had access to Rosella’s email or calendar?”
“I didn’t have access to it. If anyone did, it would’ve been our editor. But as you’re here, I imagine you didn’t get very far with him. Not that I am surprised by this.”
“Did she stay in contact with you on a regular basis?” Fisher asked. “Had you received any text messages from her on the day she went missing?”
He retrieved his cell phone and scrolled through the messages. His brow furrowed and he exhaled a deep breath.
Kate and Fisher traded glances again. They may have overestimated him after all, but then the reporter’s tone changed.
“Wait a minute.” He continued to study his phone. “This is from her. Looks like it was sent the day before she was killed.” He handed the phone to Fisher. “What do you think about this?”
Fisher peered at it. “Sorry, you mind translating?”
“Of course.” Villanueva looked at the message again. “Will have to postpone our lunch tomorrow. Need to send out an article as quickly as possible.”
“Do you think it was the article about us?” Kate asked him.
“Possibly.” He turned to Villanueva. “Nothing from her after this?”
“No. It was sent late. I don’t even think I saw it until the next morning. And by then, of course…”
“She didn’t mention at all who she was meeting with?” Kate asked.
“What you see there is everything I know. Of course, there is another you could ask. A friend of hers. The two often hit the clubs and then she would do her writeups. There’s a good chance she would know where Rosella went that day. A very good chance. I’ll give you the information.”
“Do we have time for this?” Kate asked Fisher.
“We’ll have to make time.” He turned back to the reporter. “I hope we can trust you and that you aren’t sending us down a path with no return.”
At this, Villanueva leaned in and turned serious. “I am first and foremost, a journalist. And not like the ones you have in America now who only seek to post sound bites and who are intent on sowing division. I seek justice, the same as my colleagues. The same as Rosella. She might
have been an entertainment reporter, but she was a journalist. And I want justice for her. Speak to this woman here,” He held out his phone again. “She will give you the answers you seek. I’m sorry I couldn’t do more.”
“This will do for now.” Fisher stood. “Thank you for your help. Reid, we’d better track her down.”
“You’ll find her the Los Palmas resort. That is where she works. Be sure to give her my name. She will speak to you.”
In the midst of the abundant woodland, Varela sat up from the ground and brushed the dirt and leaves from his shirt. “Are you sure this is absolutely necessary?”
“Yes,” Cain began. “Now lay back down so I can finish taking pictures. Oh, and, Scarborough, put a little more blood him. It’s drying too quickly.”
“Got it.” Scarborough squirted more of the ketchup on his forehead. “Now just lay back down and be still. It’s either this, or the real thing. You decide.”
Varela eyed him with contempt before surrendering.
“Good. Okay. Let’s get a few more shots and that should be enough to convince the AdA he’s dead.” Cain snapped several more pictures. “We’re done here, Varela. You can get up now.”
“Now what?” Scarborough said.
“We get him out of town.” Cain started back toward the vehicle. “Varela, get a move on, would you? The plane won’t wait for the likes of you.”
Scarborough helped him off the ground. “Come on. We’re doing this for your own good.”
“You keep telling yourself that, Agent Scarborough. You do not know these men. These gangsters. They are not in the business of keeping their word. You will find that out soon enough.” He pulled away his arm and walked to the car on his own before slipping into the back seat.
Scarborough joined Cain in the front and waited for him to start the engine. “Is everything ready to go?”
“It is. We’ve got about a two-hour drive from here. Once we get him on the plane, we’ll reconvene at the safe house.”
“And the pictures?”
“It’s best you deliver them in person tomorrow first thing,” Cain replied.