* * *
“Do you promise not to scream?” said the man, holding her pressed against the wall.
Rosa nodded, thinking as soon as he let her go, she was going to gut him and watch his entrails pile out on the tiled floor, then she went still. She knew this man. This was Peyton’s Beardy McBeardson. As soon as this thought registered, his hold eased and she yanked his hand from her mouth.
“What the hell is going on?”
Without completely releasing her, he glanced down the hall toward the restaurant, then pulled a badge out of his pocket and showed it to her. She saw the DEA seal immediately and shoved him away.
“You better tell me what the hell is going on or I will do such terrible things to you!” she said.
“I’m Special Agent Emilio Arroyo. I was sent to investigate Agents Kazander Bass and Joseph Miller.”
“Joe Miller? You were investigating him?”
“Joe Miller and Kazander Bass have offshore accounts with significant deposits. We’ve been looking into Bass for months. As of yesterday, Bass had nearly five million dollars in his account. As soon as our department became suspicious of Bass’ dealings, Agent Miller was sent down here to investigate, but a week later, an account appeared in his name with a quarter of a million dollars in deposits. The account is from the same bank in the same country as Bass.”
“Why were you following Celeste then?”
“We thought Miller was funneling money to her. If she was knowingly involved, we figured it might be a way to get Miller to roll over on Bass. Bass was our real target.”
“But she didn’t use any of the money?”
“Not that we can trace.”
“Well, Bass is the one who killed Miller or had him killed!” Rosa said sharply, shoving away from Arroyo and picking up her purse. The battery had fallen out of her phone, but she didn’t bother to put it back together again. Instead, she dug out her gun and shoved the pieces of the phone into the bag, sliding the strap over her head.
Arroyo stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. “There are civilians out there. You can’t storm out there and arrest him with a loaded gun. We need to think this through, make a plan. I don’t want him hurting someone because we bungled this.”
“Well, I’m not letting him get away, so we’re at an impasse it seems.” She pointed to the restaurant. “That bastard betrayed one of our own. He killed a brother in arms.”
“I know that. I’m just saying let’s do this with clear heads. That’s all.” He held out his arms and she could see the butt of his gun poking out of the back of his pants.
Rosa pushed her bangs off her forehead. “Damn it! Why didn’t I see this all along? He set Miller up. He betrayed him.”
Arroyo gave her a moment to calm herself, then he said, “Okay, here’s what I want you to do. Go back to the table and finish your dinner.”
“Finish my dinner! Are you kidding?”
“Okay, forget that. Tell Bass you’re sick and need to go back to the hotel.”
She shook her head. “Damn it! I have text messages that Miller sent me, naming Bass as his killer.”
“He named him?”
“Not specifically, no, but he told me things that only he, Bass, and I would know. Things that could only point to Bass. I missed the clues. I was so stupid!”
“Okay, that doesn’t do us any good right now. Go out there and tell Bass you’re sick and you need to go back to the hotel. As soon as we get him away from the public, we’ll take him down. Can you do this?”
Rosa closed her eyes, fighting for composure. “I can do this,” she said, more for herself than Arroyo. “I can do this.”
He nodded and stepped back so she could pass him. “Keep your cool. Just ask to go back to the hotel.”
“Ask to go back to the hotel.” She could do this. She could remain calm. Shoving the gun back into her purse, she straightened and smoothed down her hair. “Just ask to go back to the hotel.”
Then she walked around Arroyo and turned the corner, stepping out into the restaurant, but her determination to stay calm evaporated immediately.
Bass was gone.
* * *
Peyton found the open air market easily enough, striding through the brightly painted tents, watching the tourists haggling with the vendors. There were an awful lot of tourists out, meandering around as if nothing could go wrong. It made Peyton nervous.
She searched the area for Pescados and she found it, tucked into a back corner of the market with no easy exit except through the vendors set up before it. Very bad location if anything were to suddenly go down. She really hoped Rosa and Bass were not having dinner here.
Before the thought fully formed, Bass appeared, hurrying down the stairs, glancing over his shoulder as he went. Peyton reached behind her and pulled the gun out of the back of her shorts, glancing down to see if her badge was affixed to her belt, then she advanced on the special agent, bracing the gun with both hands.
“Halt!” she shouted.
Bass looked up, stumbling to a stop, as Peyton moved closer to him, pointing the gun directly at the middle of his chest. “Just give up, Bass. It’s over,” she said, feeling a wash of sorrow and betrayal rush over her. “There’s no way out.”
He slowly held up his hands as she moved closer, his eyes following her face.
“Where’s Rosa?”
“I don’t know,” he said.
“Tell me where Rosa is! I don’t want to hurt you.”
“I’m telling you the truth, Peyton. Rosa got up to go to the bathroom and left. I don’t know where she is.” Peyton was close enough to him now to see his features in the dim light of the tiki torches burning at the edge of the restaurant. He seemed sincere.
“Okay, put your hands on your head and turn around. Real slow!”
As Bass lifted his hands, Peyton’s com crackled. “Sparky, identify your position,” came Radar’s voice in her ear.
At the same time, Rosa and the bearded man burst out of the restaurant, their guns drawn.
“Bass!” shouted Rosa, bracing her feet on the top stair and her gun with both hands.
Peyton’s attention shifted to her momentarily, but it was enough distraction for Bass. He dropped his hand and grabbed the barrel of Peyton’s gun, wrenching it from her hand. In the next moment, he had his other arm around her throat, hauling her against his body, as he placed the muzzle against her temple.
“Don’t come any closer, Rosa!” he shouted.
Neither Rosa nor the bearded guy moved, but they didn’t lower their guns either. Peyton cursed herself for every type of fool. She knew better than to get distracted, especially when she was holding someone at gunpoint. Bass’ arm shook and Peyton could smell his sweat. Her own heart was trying to pound its way out of her throat, while Radar’s voice in her ear kept demanding her location, but she didn’t dare respond.
Bass brought his face close to the top of her head. “I don’t want to shoot you, Brooks, so please, please don’t make me. There’s enough blood on my hands.”
Peyton tried to drag his arm away from her throat, but he was too strong. “Let me go, Bass. Don’t let there be any more blood. It’s over. You don’t have to do this.”
“I almost had enough,” he said, his voice breaking on a sob. “I was almost there.”
She didn’t understand him, but it might be because her head was buzzing with panic. He had a gun to her head. He had a gun pointed at her head!
“Bass, let her go!” said Rosa. “She didn’t do anything. This isn’t about her.”
Bass took a step back, dragging Peyton with him. “I’m sorry about taking her, Rosa, but I have no choice. I didn’t mean for Miller to die.”
“Okay. We can talk about that. Just let Brooks go.”
Bass took another step back, while Rosa and the bearded guy took a step down. Peyton didn’t want Bass to make it to the market because panic would ensue. In her ear, Radar was shouting at her to respond.
She ha
d to think. She had to figure out a way to get out of this.
As she lifted her eyes to Rosa, she thought of Stryker, of his last lesson with her before she left for Cancun. Think, Buttons. Think your way out of this. You’ve got to control your breathing. You’ve got to conserve your energy and when the moment is right, you react. She could almost hear Stryker’s voice in her ear, talking over Radar’s panicked shouting and Rosa’s pleading with Bass to let her go.
Bass’ arm had moved down a bit over her shoulders, but he still held her in an iron grip and he continued to back toward the market. She was running out of time to react. Think, she told herself. What had Stryker’s lesson been about? What had he taught her to do?
Sometimes the best way to fight is not to fight at all.
She heard his voice, saw him staring at her with intensity, and she reacted.
She let her body go slack against Bass’ imprisoning arm. He’d just been about to take a step back when she did it and the movement unbalanced him. He overcorrected and stumbled forward, releasing Peyton. She tumbled to the ground, just as a gunshot echoed in the still night. The bullet struck Bass and sent him over onto his back, the gun falling out of his grasp.
Peyton was up in a flash, snatching her gun and pointing it at his head, while he writhed on the ground, clutching his chest. Rosa and the bearded man raced up, skidding to a halt next to her.
Suddenly screams went up from the open air market and people were scrambling to get out of the open. Sirens could be heard coming in the distance and Radar’s voice continued to bellow in Peyton’s head. Peyton lifted her comlink to her mouth, still keeping her gun on Bass.
“Suspect neutralized,” she said. “You can stop screaming, Radar!”
“Is everyone all right!” demanded Bambi.
Peyton looked over at Rosa who gave her a weary nod. “Everyone’s fine,” she answered. “Everyone’s just fine.”
EPILOGUE
Bass lay in a hospital bed in a room with windows across one whole wall. Guards stood at attention outside his door. He looked pale, his chest swathed in a bandage, his eyes closed, a monitor running from him to a machine and back again, an IV in his arm.
He was lucky he wasn’t dead. Or that’s what Rosa thought as she stared at him.
Vega stood beside her, and gathered at her back was her team. “You will take him back to San Francisco, sí?”
“Sí,” said Rosa. “If you wish to bring charges against him here, you’ll have to file with the DOJ.”
Vega shook his head grimly. “We were amigos. Estoy impactado.”
“He shocked us all,” said Radar. “This is not what I expected.”
Rosa closed her eyes briefly and then opened them. “Has he talked to you at all?” she asked Vega.
“No, he says nothing.”
“I need to question him.”
Radar shifted weight. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
She whirled to face him. “I need to know what happened. I need to know why he betrayed Joe, why he betrayed everything we stand for. Are you worried about his rights, Radar? Well, I’m not. He gave up his rights as an American citizen when he did what he did.”
Radar didn’t respond, just stood staring at her.
She looked away, slapping her hand against her thigh. “I should have just shot him in the head and this would all be over.”
Everyone pretended to look anywhere else but at her. She turned back and stared in the windows at him. What happened? What went wrong? She needed to know. She had to know. If they got him back in the States, Chief Inspector Hanson would take over and she didn’t doubt she’d never be allowed to question him.
“What if I let Brooks question him?” she said without turning around.
“I’d prefer that over you. And if he asks for a lawyer, we stop.”
Rosa nodded, but she didn’t much care about preserving Bass’ civil liberties as much as she didn’t want to screw this up. Bass had to pay for his betrayal and she would not rest until he did.
* * *
Bass opened his eyes and rolled his head on the pillow as Peyton and Rosa entered his hospital room. Peyton felt acutely aware of Rosa behind her and she didn’t much like being in the same room with a man who’d held a gun to her head, but she didn’t have much choice. Bass was cuffed to the bed, two armed guards stood outside the doors, and he’d been shot in the chest just the day before. He hadn’t been out from under anesthesia for twenty-four hours yet.
Rosa wouldn’t look at him, staring at anything else but the man in the bed. Peyton grabbed a stool used by the doctor and pulled it up close to the end of the bed, out of his reach. He watched her as she took a seat and took out her notepad.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said.
She glanced up at him. “That’s a little hard to believe after last night,” she said.
“I was desperate last night.”
Rosa made a snort of disgust.
“Rosa…” he began.
“Don’t!” Rosa stalked toward him, jabbing the air with her finger. “Don’t you dare call me by that name!”
Peyton watched her warily until she paced away again. Shit. This wasn’t going to be easy with her in the room. She returned her focus to the DEA agent. “Bass, I want to make this as formal as I can. Will you state your name and occupation for the record?”
“Special Agent Kazander Ward Bass, DEA,” he said, laying his head on the pillow again.
“I’m going to ask you a few questions. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“Do you feel you are of sound mind to answer them?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know your rights?”
“Yes.”
She drew a deep breath and glanced over her shoulder at Rosa. Rosa had turned her back and was staring out the windows into the corridor where the Ghost Squad and Vega stood. Peyton turned back to Bass.
“Did you kill Special Agent Joseph Miller?”
“No.”
“Liar!” spat Rosa, spinning around. She started for the bed, but Peyton rose and blocked her.
“Rosa, please. I can’t do this this way. Will you go wait in the hallway?”
“He’s lying!” she said, jabbing her finger at Bass again. “I can’t stand to hear him lie like that!”
“Rosa, please.”
She dropped her arm, closing her eyes to compose herself. “Okay, I’m sorry. I won’t interfere.” She moved back to the windows and leaned against them, crossing her arms over her chest.
Peyton watched her for a moment, then she took her seat on the stool once more. “Let’s try this again. You say you didn’t kill Joe Miller?”
“No.”
“Do you know who did?”
“I don’t know their names, but I was there…I was there just before he died.”
“How?”
Bass tilted his head as if the memory hurt him. “You have to understand the way things were before I can answer that.”
“Then tell me.”
“When I came down here, it was just a token gesture. The Mexican government was requesting help from the US, but the focus was on the Sinaloa Cartel to the west. They weren’t that concerned about Quintana Roo, so I was undermanned, underfunded, and out gunned.”
“Go on.”
“One night I was coming back from a club where I’d heard some Dios Mayas operated and a black sedan pulls up next to me. They tell me to get inside.”
“Who was it?”
“I don’t know, but they take me to this warehouse. I’m sure I’m gonna die, but this one guy – they called him El Monstruo – he tells me they’ll make me a deal. If I’ll just cool my heels, pretend to help Vega, and sit on the beach sipping margaritas, they’ll set me up.”
“What did that mean? Set you up?”
“They’d give me money. He shows me they’ve already set up an offshore account in the Bahamas in my name and they’ve put a quarter of a million dollars in
it. They have my social security number, my driver’s license number, and my mother’s maiden name.”
“How did they get all of that?”
“Some of their guys are real savvy. They know how to operate on the internet. They hacked my accounts, got my information. I mean, come on. Our social security numbers are everywhere. Nothing’s safe anymore.”
“Okay, so they show you they’ve already set up an account in your name.”
“I know I’m screwed. Just like that, I’m f-ed up. Once Homeland finds out I’ve got an offshore account, I can kiss my retirement goodbye. Besides that, they make it real clear what’ll happen if I go back on the bargain. I’m not getting out of that warehouse in one piece. They tell me they believe in the old ways. The Mayan ways.”
“What did that mean?”
“I didn’t know. Not then.” He stopped and shuddered. “I do now.”
“Okay, so you go to work for them.”
“Not really. I just drag my heels on the investigation. I mean, it doesn’t take long for me to figure out who’s in their cartel at the Excelencia. I pick up on Miguel right away, but I don’t move forward. Every time Vega questions me, I have some reason why I haven’t found anything.”
“Is Vega in on this?” She knew this was a risky question, but she had to ask it.
Bass’ gaze went to the window where Vega stood, watching. “No, Federico’s a good guy. He really tries, but it’s like holding back the tide with a teaspoon. He doesn’t have a fraction of the men he needs and he doesn’t have the equipment. There just aren’t enough hours in the day to solve this with what he’s got.”
“Okay, go back to you. You get the money and you agree to look away as they continue their operations.”
“Right.”
“What changes? Why did your handler in the US get suspicious?”
“I don’t think it was Brenda as much as it was Hanson. There were those fentanyl deaths in Northern California and they could trace the drug back to Quintana Roo. People were scared and they were demanding something be done. Suddenly they wanted me to produce results, but I couldn’t.” He sighed, closing his eyes. “I almost had enough.”
Mayan Gods in the Yucatan (Peyton Brooks, FBI Book 5) Page 44