Mayan Gods in the Yucatan (Peyton Brooks, FBI Book 5)

by M. L. Hamilton

  Rosa planned to meet them in the lobby with Vega and drive them to the AFI station to question Trevor. Radar and Tank were staying here, working on something that no one would tell them about, and Bass was meeting them at the station.

  “Come on, Peyton,” said Bambi impatiently. “Rosa’s waiting and she makes me nervous.”

  Peyton hesitated. “You too?”

  “Yeah, she makes me almost wet myself.”

  Peyton located her badge and affixed it to her belt, then grabbed her wallet.

  “Leave a few bills for the maid under your pillow,” said Bambi.

  “Why do we keep doing this?”

  “Because she leaves us extra towels. I’ll go push the button for the elevator.”

  Peyton opened her wallet and fished a few bills out, lifting her pillow to place them beneath it, then she hesitated, her hand hovering over the fabric. What if the exchange doesn’t happen face to face? What if the buyer leaves the coin somewhere and the dealer picks it up, leaving the pills in its place?

  The maid. What if the maid was the invisible link? What if they put the coins under their pillows with a tip and the maid, in turn, left the pills?

  Peyton shoved the money under the pillow and hurried from the room, pulling the door closed behind her. She wanted to tell Bambi what she’d discovered, but for some reason when she saw the other woman holding the elevator for her, she hesitated.

  She stepped inside and the doors shut. They rode the elevator to the first floor and met Rosa in the lobby. Rosa whisked them out the door and into the waiting Tiguan, where Vega beamed a smile at them.

  “Buenos días, las mujeres hermosas,” he said.

  “Buenos días,” they answered and they were off.

  It didn’t take long to arrive at the AFI building, especially the way everyone drove in Mexico. Vega guided them inside and through the many cubicles to a hallway with a wall of windows and a number of offices or conference rooms on either side.

  Vega directed them to a conference room at the end. Inside the conference room were a middle aged couple, dressed casually, the boy Trevor Wellington, and Bass. Bass rose as soon as he saw them. He picked a folder off the table and carried it to the door, pulling it open and stepping outside. The middle aged couple immediately began talking to the boy in an urgent fashion, while the boy stared up at the ceiling, his arms crossed over his chest.

  “Hey,” said Bass.

  “Hey,” answered Rosa. “So those are the Wellingtons?”

  “Yeah, beaucoup bucks, those people. They paid for an all expense trip for their kid and to have a private room once he got here. He went to a private school in New York where he just graduated, and this trip was a graduation present for him and his two friends.”

  “Where are the other boys?”

  “We’ve got them stashed away, waiting for their parents to arrive, but they both say Trevor’s the one who got the drugs. In fact, he’s the one who figured it all out – how to get them, who to approach, even what hotel to stay at.”

  Rosa looked at the kid. “What does Trevor say?”

  “He admitted it after his parents ordered him to cooperate with us. The parents are terrified of the Mexican authorities.”

  Vega snickered. “Whatever works, as you Americanos say, hermano.”

  “They’ve hired an international attorney, but he won’t get here until tomorrow,” continued Bass. “The parents want to cooperate, but I can tell you that they won’t be cooperating once that attorney gets here. We’ve got a very narrow window of opportunity to get something going.” His gaze shifted to Peyton. “Rosa says you’re the best to get him talking. We’re willing to cut him a deal on the drug charges if he cooperates with us, helps us bring down this cartel.”

  Peyton exchanged a look with Rosa, then she shrugged. “I’ll do my best.”

  Bass held out the folder to her. “I took pictures of Chad Renton in the morgue and Brett Enticott in intensive care. Use them as you see fit.”

  She accepted the folder, but she didn’t look at the pictures. No use getting sick before she even began questioning the kid.

  “You’ll do great,” said Bambi, rubbing a hand down her arm.

  Peyton swallowed hard, then nodded. “I’m ready.”

  Bass reached back and opened the door, admitting everyone into the room. Trevor’s parents looked up. “Mr. and Mrs. Wellington, this is Special-Agent-in-Charge Rosa Alvarez, Agents Brooks and Redford, and you remember AFI Agent Federico Vega.” They all shook hands and took seats around the table.

  Peyton picked the seat directly to Trevor’s left. Trevor sat at the head of the table, still inspecting the acoustic tiles in the ceiling.

  “Hi, Trevor,” Peyton said, laying the folder before her. “I’m Agent Peyton Brooks.”

  He rolled his head on his shoulder and stared at her. Gone was the shy boy of a few nights before. This kid was annoyed and arrogant. Probably afraid, and using bluster to hide it. “You lied.”

  “Well, I lied for a reason. My colleagues and I are here because there’ve been a lot of deaths surrounding overdoses of fentanyl gotten from the Excelencia, a lot of young people and one DEA agent have died.”

  “What does that have to do with me?”

  “We need to know how the drugs are distributed, how you get them, so we can shut the operation down.”

  “People are having a good time. What’s the harm?”

  Peyton frowned. Hadn’t he heard her say people were dying?

  “Trevor!” hissed his father. “Tell the agent what she wants to know.”

  “So she can arrest me, ruin my future. Or maybe so she can get drug dealers after me. No. I’m not saying anything until the lawyer gets here.”

  Peyton shifted in her chair. “We’re prepared to make you a deal, Trevor, for your cooperation. It’s a generous offer, but if we wait for the lawyer to get here, that deals off the table and you’re right, we’ll bring the full force of the law down on you.”

  He gave her a bored look.

  “More than that, you’ll face charges here in Mexico.”

  “Tell her what she wants to know, Trevor!” demanded his father.

  “No.”

  The father turned to Vega. “What’s the deal?”

  “We want to…how you say…shut down the operations in the Excelencia. We want to run a sting.” He looked at Bass. “Is that right?”

  “Yes,” said Bass.

  “What do you want Trevor to do?” asked his father.

  “First of all, we want him to tell us how the operation works. Who does he take the coin to? How does he get the drugs? Then we want him to purchase another coin from the dealer at the hotel. If we’re lucky, we can shut the whole operation down in one night,” said Bass. “We need to catch the dealer in the act. We also want to catch the drug distributer.”

  “But you need to know how he exchanges the coin for the pills?” asked his father.

  “Yes.”

  “Tell them, Trevor.”

  “No, Dad. If I do, I’m dead.”

  “Is he right? If he makes the purchase at the hotel, will he be in danger?”

  “We’ll arrest him with the cartel members, haul him in at the same time. That way they won’t be suspicious. We’ll also be stationed all over that hotel, so we can pull him out if anything goes wrong.”

  “We’ll have the place surrounded,” said Vega. “Rodeado, sí?”

  “Sí,” said Bass. “And a number of agents from the U.S. will be stationed in the hotel itself.”

  “And if he does this, if he helps you shut down the cartel, you won’t press charges against him?”

  “No, we won’t.”

  “You’ll put that in writing?”

  “As soon as the lawyer gets here, yes.”

  The father and mother looked at each other, then the mother gave a nearly imperceptible nod. “He’ll tell you everything,” said the father, “and he’ll help you bring down the cartel as long as you protect him.�
��

  “Done,” said Bass. He nodded at Peyton.

  “Well, Trevor? You’re not going to get any better deal than this. You’ll be able to go to college and resume your life in the States with no consequences,” she said, tapping her fingers on the folder.

  Trevor shook his head. “I don’t believe it. You’re gonna get me killed.”

  “We’ll protect you during the sting, we’ll arrest you with the rest of the drug dealers, then you’ll be immediately flown back to the states.”

  “Why can’t you get the coin yourself?”

  “Because you’ve already done it. They’ll expect you to come back for more. When I tried to ask about it, I was warned off.” She sighed. “Look, I know Miguel’s the first contact. When I tried to ask him about it, he refused to even talk about it with me. But he’s already interacted with you in that fashion, so there’s no reason to believe he won’t do it again. And we need to catch them in the act, Trevor. It’s our only chance.”

  “What about Darius and Tran?”

  Peyton glanced over at Bass.

  “They’re being held in protective custody until their parents arrive, then they’ll be flown back to the US.”

  “And they’re not in any trouble?”

  “They didn’t buy the pills. You did. You admitted as much.”

  Trevor shook his head, staring at the table. “The pills are just for fun. It’s no big deal.”

  “You’re lucky you’re alive!” shouted his father.

  The kid flinched.

  Peyton held up a hand to back the man off. “He’s right, Trevor. You’re lucky you’re alive. Others haven’t been so lucky.”

  “They were stupid then. They combined the pills with alcohol.”

  “No,” said Peyton, shaking her head. “That’s not true. Sometimes the pills were enough. That’s the problem with manufactured fentanyl. The doses aren’t the same – some are more potent than others, and some are deadly.” She opened the folder, fighting a rise of revulsion when she saw Chad Renton on a metal table, his body draped with a green sheet. She picked it up and laid it down in front of Trevor. “This is Chad Renton. He died yesterday from a fentanyl overdose.”

  Trevor gave the picture a horrified look.

  Peyton picked up the other picture of a young man on life-support, tubes and monitors all over his body. “This is Brett Enticott. Doctors don’t believe he’s going to make it either. His parents are coming to Cancun to watch him die.”

  Trevor closed his eyes.

  Peyton picked up the third photo of Joe Miller’s identification card from the DEA. “This is Agent Joe Miller. He was murdered by the Dios Mayas. He has a wife and two children. Sorry,” she corrected. “He had a wife and two children. He was doing his job, trying to protect young people like you from this fate, and they killed him.” She tapped the picture of Renton and Enticott. “You got lucky, Trevor. You survived. Now you owe it to them to help us stop this cartel.”

  He looked down at Miller, then reached out and pushed the pictures away. “You swear you’ll get me out of here as soon as I make the exchange for you?”

  “You have my word, and as soon as your lawyer gets here, we’ll put it in writing.”

  He met her gaze. “What do you want to know?”

  Peyton nodded at Bass, who pulled out a small recording device and set it in the middle of the table. “How do you know who’s selling the drugs? How do you find out?”

  “There’s a place on the internet. The website’s called Mayan Dance Fever.”

  “Dance Fever?” asked Peyton.

  “It’s one of the street names for fentanyl,” said Bass.

  Trevor nodded. “He’s right. Most of the site’s nothing. They got pictures of clubs, places to go if you want different kinds of music, but if you join, you get an access code.”

  “And what does the access code get you?”

  Trevor licked his lips, glancing at his parents. “Access to the chat rooms.”

  “And once you have access to the chat rooms?”

  “They tell you what hotel to stay in.”

  “Will you give us your access code?” asked Peyton.

  He nodded. “Yeah, but the big hotel, the main one is the Excelencia.”

  “And you knew this when you asked your parents for the trip?”

  “Yeah. I didn’t think anything about it. I mean taking fentanyl’s just like taking Norco and I took that when I got my wisdom teeth out.”

  His mother moaned and covered her mouth with her hand.

  “Okay, so you went in the chat room and you found out the Excelencia was the hotel with the best chance to score fentanyl?”

  “Right.”

  “What else did it tell you?”

  “Talk to Miguel and ask for an exchange of money. Specifically, ask for coins.”

  “And the coin would be among the change?”

  “Yeah. They didn’t even say what it would look like on-line, just that you’d know it when you saw it.”

  “And then do what with it?”

  Trevor pushed the pictures closer to Peyton again, so she put them back in the folder and closed it.

  “What do you do with the coin once you have it, Trevor?”

  “There’s a couple of ways. If you rent a locker at the beach for your stuff, you give the attendant the coin with your payment. Then the pills will be in the locker when you return.”

  “Okay. How else?”

  “If you go up in the parasail, you give the boat driver the coin. When you get back in the boat, the pills will be in the plastic bag they give you for your stuff.”

  “Any other way?”

  Trevor rubbed the back of his neck. “When you leave the room in the morning, you put the coin on the table by itself. Nothing else on the table. When you come back, the pills will be in the safe.”

  Peyton had been right about one mode of transfer.

  “Do you know how many people at the Excelencia are in on this?”

  Trevor shook his head. “Could be ten, could be all of them. You just don’t know.” Trevor curled his hand into a fist. “And even if you take down the entire hotel, you’re not going to get them all. They’re everywhere, they own everything.” He gave Vega a disparaging look. “They don’t answer to any laws or police or government. They’re gods down here. They’re gods.”

  * * *

  Peyton got a text message from Rosa, asking her to meet in the restaurant at the hotel for dinner. Peyton frowned at that, not certain what it meant. She and Rosa had a very clear cut relationship. Rosa was her boss and that was it. Maybe she’d invited the whole team?

  Walking from the balcony into the room where Bambi was reading, Peyton held up her phone. “Did Sarge invite you to dinner?”

  Propped up by a number of pillows on the bed, Bambi glanced at her phone. “No, did she invite you?”

  “Yeah. That’s weird. I thought maybe she invited the whole team.”

  “Maybe she wants to praise you for your interrogation of Trevor Wellington?”

  Peyton frowned. “It wasn’t even that complicated an interrogation. His parents did the heavy lifting. I just asked some questions.”

  “Well, I don’t know. I wouldn’t overthink it. It’s just dinner.”

  “I guess.” Peyton gathered her room key and her credit card. “I’ll see you later.”

  Bambi lifted her book again, settling deeper into the pillows. “See you later.”

  Peyton found Rosa sitting on the outside patio, her back to the restaurant wall. She was watching a group of kids playing chicken in the pool, a faint smile on her face. And she was alone. Peyton slid into the seat to the left of her, so her back was also partially to the wall and she could see the pool as well.

  “Hey,” said Rosa, picking up her margarita and taking a sip. “You want one?”

  “Sure.”

  Rosa motioned to the waitress and the woman came over. “How do you ask for another one?” Rosa questioned Peyton.


  “Tenemos otro,” Peyton said, pointing at Rosa’s drink.

  “How do you do that? Why wasn’t that on your resume?”

  “Speak Spanish?”

  Rosa nodded.

  “Because I don’t have any formal training. I couldn’t show it to you on a college transcript or anything.”

  “But you’re pretty fluent.”

  “Only speaking. Can’t read it for shit. Well, I mean if I think about the words verbally, maybe a little.”

  “How did you pick it up so easily?”

  “I had a friend in high school who spoke Spanish at home. I spent a lot of time there and his parents were pretty patient with me when I tried to talk to them. I also took it in high school around the same time. It was one of the few classes I actually liked, so I studied. I don’t know, it always came easy to me.”

  “Was the guy your boyfriend?”

  “Nope. He was gay.”

  “Huh,” said Rosa, sipping at her drink again. “Where is he now?”

  Peyton considered that. “I don’t know. We lost touch after high school. He was a better student than I was and he went to college in Boston, I think.”

  “Hm. No girlfriends?”

  “You mean did I have girls as friends?”

  “Right.”

  “I didn’t get along with other girls too well.”

  Rosa gave a grim laugh. “You and me both.”

  Peyton picked up her fork, turning it over in her hand. “Funny thing is I have more girlfriends now than I did growing up.”

  Rosa glanced over at her. “I have none.”

  Peyton didn’t know how to answer that. She still felt Rosa was scary as hell.

  Rosa looked at the table where a bowl of pico de gallo sat next to a basket of corn tortillas. “I wanted chips and salsa,” she said, motioning at it.

  “I think chips and salsa is American.”

  “I get that now.”

  The waitress arrived with Peyton’s drink and set it in front of her. Peyton took a long sip.

  “¿Desea pedir?” the waitress asked.

  Rosa glanced at Peyton. Peyton wasn’t entirely sure about this one, but the waitress pointed at their menus.