Chapter 24
Mexico City, Mexico
Rafael Norteño tilted his head toward a member of the president’s inner circle as he strode down a polished marble corridor that led to his office, a burgundy ostrich-skin briefcase in one hand and a cup of Starbucks coffee in the other. He wore his thick ebony hair slicked straight back, and his expensive blue suit had been immaculately pressed and tailored to his slight frame. He paused at the door and smiled to himself when he saw the plaque announcing him as the president’s chief of staff. He’d replaced his predecessor six months earlier, and since then had made a point of arriving early most days and working well after the rest of the staffers had gone home.
Norteño was a man on the move, his rise to the lofty position unexpected for a man so young – he was only thirty-seven, and most of those who’d held his office had been in their fifties. His family’s political connections had launched his career, but it was his ruthlessness and his willingness to work long hours that had taken him the rest of the way, and he’d earned the respect of the rest of the president’s entourage after a somewhat rocky start. Envy and backstabbing had nearly brought him down, but he’d persevered, made alliances with his enemies, compromised with those he’d had to, and was now firmly enthroned in what many considered to be the penultimate position of influence in the Mexican government – second only to the president himself.
His secretary looked up from her desk when he pushed through the ornately carved mahogany door, a concerned look on her face. “There you are,” she said. “I’ve been trying to call you.”
“I’m sorry. I had my phone on silent. What’s going on?”
“Number One wants to see you as soon as you get in,” she said, her voice low. Number one was the staff’s slang for the president.
Norteño’s eyebrows rose. “Well, then, I better get over to his side of the building. Did he say why?”
“Only that it was extremely important. His assistant has called three times. First was half an hour ago. Then every ten minutes.”
Norteño frowned. That was unusual. “Let me drop my briefcase in the office and I’ll head over.” He made his way to his door. “Call Numero Uno’s assistant and let her know I’m on the way.”
“Will do.”
He parked his case on his desk, took a long pull on his coffee, and returned to his secretary’s station as she was hanging up. “Anything else? Anyone call? Pressing emergencies I need to deal with?”
She shook her head. “No. She said they’re expecting you.”
“They?”
“The Security Council. Number One convened a meeting.”
That was serious. Norteño didn’t delay any longer. “Phone’s now on ring. Only call if the world’s ending.”
He hurried to the executive wing and felt his stomach lurch when he saw the president’s assistant’s face, which could only be described as drawn. She stood and rounded her desk and, as she neared him, murmured quietly in passing, “I don’t know the details, but judging by everyone’s mood, it’s ugly.” Her hand brushed his, and then she was at the antechamber door. “Good luck.”
“That bad?” he asked, trying out a small smile.
She didn’t return it. “They’re waiting.”
Norteño stepped into the large sitting area and his unease increased when he saw the number of aides crammed into the space. It seemed like every top analyst and member of the military’s upper ranks was waiting in the antechamber. He strode past, returning a few nods, and lightly knocked at the president’s office door.
“Enter,” the president’s voice called.
The six members of the Security Council were seated with the president at an oval conference table, along with the heads of the army and navy. All eyes drilled into Norteño as he approached the only vacant chair, immediately to the president’s right, and sat. “Sorry. Phone problems,” he said.
The president waved the explanation away as he refocused his attention on the flat-screen monitor on the wall.
“Now that you’re here, we’ll watch this again,” the president said, and nodded to his aide. The man tapped something on his computer and the screen blinked to life.
Norteño gasped when Don Aranas’s face filled the screen. He stared straight at the assembly for two pregnant seconds, and when he began to speak, his voice sounded as smooth as a diplomat’s.
“Gentlemen, I’m assuming the president is watching with you, or has already seen this, so I’ll keep this short in the interests of time. This morning, while Mexico slept, three explosive devices were placed in critical locations around the city: the main hospital, the federal building by the cathedral, and the Museum of Anthropology.”
“Louder,” the president commanded, and his aide complied by boosting the volume.
“There are several things you should know. First, there is enough explosive in each bomb to destroy the targeted building. Second, the devices were designed by an expert who has engineered them so that any attempt to move or disable them will result in them detonating. Third, they will go off in forty-eight hours, at precisely eight a.m., unless my conditions are met. And finally, any attempt at duplicity on your part will result in me detonating all of them simultaneously.” Aranas cleared his throat. “I trust I now have your attention.”
“Bastard,” the president whispered.
“Now for my demands. They are simple. I want a billion American dollars’ worth of diamonds within forty-eight hours. Delivered to my men at a place of my choosing, with time to verify that the stones aren’t fakes. I’ll caution you that I have experts waiting to pore over each diamond, and at the first sign of a dummy, the bombs go off.” Aranas smirked. “You’re probably thinking that you can pull a fast one, but that would be the worst mistake of your life, because I won’t hesitate to blow all three buildings to kingdom come.”
“He’s insane,” Norteño muttered. The president cut him off with a curt hand gesture.
“You are not to breathe a word of this transaction to anyone, or the bombs will be detonated. It will remain our little secret for all time. Failure to comply will result in the deaths of thousands – which would be on your heads.” Aranas checked his watch and nodded. “So it begins. Nobody is to be allowed in or out of the buildings during that forty-eight hours. Any violation will result in detonation. You are responsible for containing the crowds inside. Use any explanation you like with the media and law enforcement, except the truth – I’d tell them it’s terrorism, an always popular ruse thanks to our neighbors to the north. In any event, you should know from my reputation that I don’t bluff, so do not make the mistake of testing me. One billion dollars’ worth of untraceable diamonds – a paltry sum, you’ll agree, but the amount I value my time at for the period you kept me behind bars.” He smiled again. “There will be no negotiations. Comply, or you will be responsible for the death of countless innocents. Don’t behave foolishly. I’d suggest you talk to the Americans about securing the stones, or perhaps contact DeBeers. Where they come from is of no concern to me, as long as they are delivered by my deadline.”
Aranas looked to his left and then back to the camera. “Oh, and Mr. President? I’d advise you to discuss this with your advisors, because if you’re thinking of behaving dishonestly, as you have so often in the past, hopefully they will talk you out of it. It would be disastrous for your political party, as well as for you personally, if it were to become known why I’m doing this. So it will remain between us: we had a deal, and you reneged once in power. You negotiated with the most wanted cartel leader in the world to become president, and then tried to wiggle out of your agreement. That will not be tolerated. If you force my hand, I will ensure that it’s broadcast until it’s common knowledge all over Mexico. I have our pre-election discussion on tape, so it will be irrefutable, and broadcasting it will destroy you as certainly as a gunshot to the head. Consider that carefully. You have forty-eight hours.”
The screen went black.
The president sat back, his youthful face having aged ten years in as many minutes. “All right. How do we proceed?”
The next half hour was pandemonium, with the members of the council frantically trying to find an alternative to acceding to the drug lord’s demands. Norteño remained silent throughout the deliberations, waiting for everyone to assert their positions and make recommendations. Eventually the president tired of the circular discussion and turned to Norteño, as Norteño knew he would, and sat forward. “What do you think, Rafael? What would you do?”
Norteño badly wished he’d drunk the rest of his coffee as he considered how best to frame his recommendation. His next words could either destroy his career or make him irreplaceable in the president’s eyes. Every hour of effort had led him to this exact moment, and he needed to be both convincing and reasonable if his advice was to prevail.
Norteño sighed and stood. “Aranas has created a perfect trap. Any hint of his accusations about the president will destroy the party and his legacy, so he knows we must keep it secret. He knows that it doesn’t matter whether there’s any validity to it – such is the state of trust among the people that it’s a convincing enough story to be taken as truth. It’s virtually impossible to prove a negative, so he’s painted us into a corner with that.”
The president nodded slowly. “And?”
“The amount of money he’s demanding seems large, but in reality it can be done without being discovered – we lose many times more than that each year to petroleum and energy theft, so we could easily hide the loss somewhere it will never be discovered. He chose an amount that, while large, is sufficiently bite-sized that we can do it without detection.” Norteño paused. “I’ve heard a lot of good arguments for refusing to negotiate with this criminal, for standing on high moral principle, all of it is based on good instincts. The problem is that doing so would result in a lot of dead citizens, our administration in tatters, the party destroyed, and the public trust so badly damaged that it could well result in a revolution.”
“That would never happen,” one of the advisors argued. “We have all the guns.”
“If by we, you mean the government, I’d argue we don’t – the cartels are armed at least as well as our forces, if not better. And remember that the soldiers we would use to quell a rebellion are the sons of the very people we would be ordering them to put down. With all due respect, I think you’re misjudging the political consequences.” Norteño shook his head. “What I would advise is that the president consider what’s best for Mexico, not what’s best for some elusive ethical position. I can’t see how having three buildings blown up, proving to everyone we’re incapable of protecting our population, would be worth the cost, never mind the toll in human life. And we have to consider the international ramifications – if this is allowed to escalate, it will signal that the country is out of control. That will decimate investment, which would plunge us into a depression we aren’t prepared to weather, and would likely result in the same sort of political unrest I’ve described.”
“Then you’re recommending we pay this…this criminal?” the head of the council sputtered. “Impossible. It would set us up to be blackmailed whenever he likes. Worse yet, by still others.” The man leaned forward and fixed the president with a hard gaze. “We cannot reward extortion, regardless of the cost to us.”
The president considered the man’s words. “I need to take this all under advisement and mull it over. Gentlemen, let’s reconvene in two hours. I’ll have made my decision by then. In the meantime, not a word to anyone. Consider this a matter of national security. Anyone who breathes even a hint will be jailed for treason.”
The men rose, and as they were filing out, the president cleared his throat and tapped Norteño on the arm. Norteño glanced over his shoulder and caught the president’s look – he was to stay.
The door closed behind the last member of the council and the president moved to his desk and sat behind it, motioning for Norteño to take a seat. He rubbed a hand over his face and blinked twice. “Coffee?”
“That would be much appreciated, Mr. President. I have a feeling we’re going to need it.”
The president pressed a button on his handset and ordered a pot, and then focused his attention on Norteño. “I need a compromise position, Rafael. For the record, I completely agree with everything you said, but I need to give the council something, or they’ll hang me. Put on your thinking cap, because I believe, like you, we need to deal with this in the manner that’s best for Mexico, not best for our machismo, which is what a lot of that posturing seemed to be about.”
“The only concession you can make is to either try to screw Aranas on the ransom, or try to disarm one of the devices. Both are disastrous ideas, Mr. President.”
“I understand. But I have to at least try to do something, wouldn’t you agree?”
“Do you think the people who die if the attempt fails will care much about your motivation for okaying it?” Norteño asked softly. “To risk disarming even one of the devices could cause him to detonate them all. To what end? To save a billion of public money? As I said, it’s a billion that will never be missed. Or to salve some bruised Security Council feelings? It’s the wrong decision, Mr. President.”
Another aide entered with a silver service, set a china service before them, and poured the cups full with rich, dark brew before disappearing wordlessly.
“I know. But the reality is I need to try, even if it’s ill advised. So I want you to figure out how we can recover from an attempt – and how we can explain it to Aranas, as well as the public, if the worst happens.”
Norteño drank half his cup in two swallows and placed it on the desk. “The terrorism angle isn’t bad. I’d suggest we go with that as the official explanation – and it is terrorism, make no mistake. We just don’t identify who exactly the terrorist is or what the demand is – we only offer half the story. Madmen have placed bombs in prominent places. We’re working around the clock to save the world. If one goes off, they’re to blame, not us.”
The president nodded. “And Aranas?”
“Figure out who you’re going to hang that on. You have to claim that an attempt was made against your direct orders, by a rogue faction in law enforcement or the military. And you need to offer up a scapegoat.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Of course you can. You suggest it as a condition of making the attempt. These geniuses want to press for disarming it? Then they have to be prepared to take the blame if it fails. No agreement to do so, no attempt.” Norteño stared off into space. “You can always pardon them later. They can serve their time in their mansions, under house arrest. It will all be a show, nothing more.”
“You think that will appease Aranas?”
“I think he wants a billion dollars in diamonds more than he wants to prove a point. Give him an out and he’ll probably take it.”
“And if you’re wrong?”
Norteño swallowed the remainder of his coffee and frowned. “Then God help us all, because it will be Armageddon if all three buildings go up and we could have prevented it for a few pieces of silver.”
“It’s more than a few.”
“It’s a rounding error on the budget. They’ll lynch you, Mr. President. Your adversaries will be able to put an exact price tag on what you weren’t willing to pay for each Mexican life lost – never mind the damage to the city and to the country’s integrity, which would be long lasting, as I outlined.”
“Then you don’t think we should even attempt it.”
“If you do, pick the least crowded building. Probably the museum – it isn’t open yet, so it will only be a few of the staff and some guards. The federal building will have thousands in it at this hour. Same for the hospital. So the museum’s the only choice.”
“God, I don’t want to make this call,” the president said. “I really don’t. Even if it’s only twenty people, if we’re wrong…”
“You know where I
stand on it – I think it’s the wrong move. I’d tell the council you’re going to give in and do the least damage possible under the circumstances.”
The discussion lasted ten more minutes, after which the president asked to be alone until the council reconvened later. As Norteño was leaving, the president called to him. “Figure it will be the museum, even though there will be outrage at the loss of irreplaceable artifacts if it all goes wrong. But lives are more important than relics.” The president sighed. “Issue orders barring anyone from leaving all three buildings, effective immediately. I’ll sign them. We’ll go with the terrorist threat, more to follow, and iron out the details with the council. Kill all cell service in those areas of the city, too. We can’t take the chance of a stray signal detonating one of the devices.”
Norteño nodded. “Yes, Mr. President. Good thinking. I’ll get right on it.”
He pulled the door closed behind him and eyed the full chamber without expression, and then made his way past the gathered staff. Whatever happened from this point on, he was the president’s most trusted confidant.
Now they just needed to survive the next forty-eight hours without a blunder, and he’d be golden.
Chapter 25
Dinah waited for the doctor to return with the results of the blood test. She’d been poked and prodded and was anxious to hear the verdict. The doctor had been typically tight-lipped, refusing to speculate about her symptoms, and had told her that the first results would be ready shortly – he’d put a rush on the order.
That had been almost two hours earlier, and still no word. She was getting frustrated with the shuffle, made worse because her damned phone wouldn’t work in the building. She’d tried to get on the Internet to check her messages, and her cell had shown no service, no signal. Probably something to do with the construction of the massive edifice, she reasoned, and chalked it up to the way her luck was running.
Rage of the Assassin: (Assassin Series #6) Page 11