Kerney wrote down "ART PER FORMA"
"TOUCH LINK," and "KIRTLAND AFB," in capital letters, and looked up from his notepad.
"What else?"
Bobby Sloan pushed photographs toward Kerney.
"Ingram?" Kerney asked.
Sloan nodded.
"Back up and give me a surveillance chronology," Kerney said.
Molina started with Perry's body-snatcher trip to the Albuquerque HMO, followed by his return to Santa Fe and visit to the federal courthouse.
Kerney scribbled
"HMO" and drew a line to "KIRTLAND."
"What's at the courthouse?" Kerney asked.
"That's unknown for certain, Chief. I checked with an informant who says there's a secure basement room that's off limits to all courthouse personnel. It was used by the Secret Service when the vice president came to town, and a bunch of computer gee ks have been going in and out for the last couple of months."
Kerney wrote down "SECRET ROOM, COMMAND CENTER, LISTENING POST," and put a question mark at the end. He thought about how convenient it would be to have a listening post within a few steps of the resident FBI agent's office.
"Stop there for a minute," he said.
"Is there any way to confirm this information?"
"Not likely, Chief," Molina said.
"The guy's a federal employee, bound by a signed oath to keep the government's secrets."
"Let's move on."
Sloan picked up the ball. He detailed Applewhite's trip to Kirtland and Ingram's first appearance on the scene.
Kerney wrote down IN GRAM RENDEZVOUS, WHY?" and circled it.
"Andy, you're up next."
"After you," Andy replied.
Kerney went over some of the basics: the phone logs that showed Mitchell and Terrell had personal contact with each other, the possibility that Phyllis Terrell may have passed information to Mitchell, and the strong likelihood that Mitchell had been delving into the possible existence of a U. S. intelligence plot to destroy the drug cartels and bring down the Colombian government.
"If Phyllis Terrell was passing on information," Kerney said, "it mostly likely came from her husband."
"That would explain a lot," Molina said.
"But we still don't know what the information was."
"I'm betting it had something to do with the trade mission along with all the interviews Mitchell conducted. He was trying to determine the extent of the operation, learn what was on-line and what was in the pipeline."
"That would be enough to have Mitchell and Terrell whacked," Sloan said.
"But we still don't have anything that ties the ambassador to the murders."
"In a roundabout way we might," Kerney said.
"My meeting with Professor Valencia led me to one of Mitchell's Internet providers. It's part of a conglomerate owned by Trade Source, APT Performa's parent company. Up until the time Terrell was given a new appointment as an ambassador without portfolio, he sat on the Trade Source board of directors, but his ties to the company are still strong, and he has a relationship with Clarence Thayer, the APT Performa CEO."
"You think these corporations are involved in government espionage?"
"Perhaps not directly," Kerney answered.
"But these are hightech companies developing cutting-edge computer tools. They could be supplying part of what's needed to implement the next phase of the intelligence operation."
"I can take Terrell's involvement a step closer than that," Andy said.
"Applewhite called Ambassador Terrell to report on your trip to Red River, and gave him reassurance that everything was under control. She later met with Charlie Perry, learned that you'd cracked the murder cover-up, and made a second call to Terrell, revising her report.
Unfortunately, his phone is encrypted, so we've only got Applewhite's side of the conversations from the remote room bugs."
Andy passed transcript copies around.
"If you read between the lines, I'd say that Kerney and possibly Charlie Perry are next in line for the disappearing magic trick."
"So far, that trick has only been used with Santiago Terjo," Kerney said.
"Wrong," Andy replied, glancing at Molina and Sloan.
"To bring you up to speed, I made contact with Fred Browning, a retired state police captain who now works as security chief for a computer chip manufacturer in Albuquerque. I asked Fred if he could quietly use his contacts to verify Agent Applewhite's identity and credentials. He reported that she was who she appeared to be. Browning may have been fed bad information."
"What makes you say that?" Kerney asked.
"Fred has gone missing, according to his daughter. She called the Albuquerque PD this morning and reported that her father had flown out to California on a quick one-day trip for a job interview. He promised to call her when he got home last night to tell her how it went. He got off the plane in Albuquerque, didn't go home, never called, and hasn't been seen since. His car is still in the airport parking lot.
APD is checking the passenger list and flight crew to see if anyone knows anything. So far, zilch."
Andy poked the paper.
"Fred is the state chapter president of a national professional security society. I borrowed a copy of the chapter membership roster from one of my agents who recently joined. Timothy Ingram is also a member."
"What time did Browning's plane land?" Sloan asked, flipping through his field notes.
Andy read off the time.
"Give Browning five minutes to clear the terminal, a couple more for Ingram to drive to the air base, and that's when I saw him pass by."
"Did you see a passenger?" Kerney asked.
Sloan shook his head.
"Too dark."
"Look at the transcript of the Applewhite-Perry conversation," Andy said.
"Aside from the fact that Applewhite is clearly in command, note Perry's demand to know who sanctioned the hit on Randall Stewart and what was going to happen to Chief Kerney. Applewhite feeds him pure bullshit about both questions."
Andy flipped more pages.
"Jump over to the second Applewhite terrell phone transcript. Terrell asks or says something. Applewhite replies that 'the itinerary is finalized." Another statement from Terrell. Applewhite replies that someone is more resourceful than originally thought, and that a regrettable but not damaging connection has been made. Applewhite listens and then asks, "Take no action' followed by the phrase "And Agent Perry7' " Andy looked hard at his old friend and placed his palm on the papers.
"This is all about you becoming a target, Kevin. Are you sure you want to keep pushing this?"
"For now, it's just talk, Andy," Kerney said, thinking that the last thing he wanted, with a baby on the way, was to put himself at risk.
"Let's keep watching and listening before we overreact."
Kerney smiled reassuringly at Andy, who shook his head in response.
"Moving on," Kerney said.
"Clarence Terrell may be supplying the intelligence community with a new toy. Let me tell you about SWAMI."
Charlie Perry's in-flight reading consisted of a briefing document on Enrique De Leon Drugs were his bread and butter, but De Leon dabbled in the theft of historical artifacts and fine art. Kerney had spoiled two of De Leon heists: a cache of mint-condition nineteenth century military equipment discovered in a secret Apache cave at White Sands Missile Range in southern New Mexico, and millions of dollars in twentieth-century art taken from the New Mexico governor's suite. De Leon attempt to have Kerney whacked had failed, but he'd succeeded in eliminating a number of competitors, and was now jefe numero uno in northern Mexico.
Applewhite and Perry disembarked at the El Paso Airport. A special operative from the El Paso Drug Interdiction Intelligence Center logged their arrival and handed the information off to an army criminal investigator. Perry drove Applewhite across the bridge into Juarez. A U.
S. Customs agent pulled the videotape of the crossing, made a copy,
and sent it by courier to an intelligence officer at nearby Fort Bliss.
On a dirty, gaudy, crowded Juarez street a DEA undercover agent wheeled his taxi three cars back behind Perry's car and reported the start of his surveillance to a special army intelligence drug-interdiction unit at Fort Huachuca, Arizona.
With Applewhite at his side Perry rang the doorbell at an opulent house on a tree-lined street close to the Juarez mayor's mansion. The DEA taxi driver broke off contact and ended his surveillance as a CIA deep-cover agent snapped front-step photos of Perry and Applewhite from a slow-moving car passing by. The undeveloped film would be flown to Headquarters, Air Intelligence Agency, at Kelly Air Force Base in Texas.
A stocky, balding Mexican Army general wearing civilian clothes and a wire opened the front door. The feed went to an upstairs room, where a U. S. State Department counterintelligence operative manned a remote receiver. Wordlessly, the general ushered the two agents into a mahogany-paneled library and closed the door.
"Senor De Leon has asked me to cover the preliminaries for him," the general said.
"What preliminaries?" Charlie Perry asked, casting a glance at Applewhite, who merely shrugged.
"No De Leon no meeting." He turned on his heel to leave.
"Let's hear the general out," Applewhite said.
Perry swung around, gave Applewhite a harsh look, and nodded abruptly.
The general continued.
"Senor De Leon wishes me to inform you that you will be paid five hundred thousand dollars for the elimination of Kevin Kerney, half today and half upon completion of your assignment."
"Where's De Leon Perry snapped.
"The task must be done in such a way as not to draw attention to Senor De Leon While he has full confidence in your discretion and abilities, if at the end of your assignment he believes otherwise, he will not release the balance due you."
"Forget it," Perry said.
"This isn't going to work, General," Applewhite said, "unless we include De Leon in on the proceedings."
"If you agree to these terms, the ground rules for meeting with De Leon are as follows: You will be searched by my aide for weapons and listening devices. He will then drive you to a place outside the city.
There you will finalize your agreement with Senor De Leon in person and receive your first payment."
"Why all the hoops?" Perry asked.
"Senor De Leon is a cautious man who wishes to make sure that I am thoroughly embedded in the transaction. Since you are unknown to him personally, and he is accepting you on the basis of my recommendation, my complicity in the operation is required."
"Let's get on with it," Perry said.
Applewhite sat up front with the general's aide. They rolled south past the Juarez Airport, through a couple of ugly shanty towns, and into the desert-a vast, dusty, windblown expanse that made Charlie yearn for the Beltway, traffic congestion, and mobs of people.
On a dirt road they pulled up next to a black Lincoln limo. A driver got out and opened the rear door. The general's aide got out and stood at attention. De Leon emerged from the backseat. Perry half expected the young officer to salute.
Thej'e/e's brown curly hair stayed put in the wind. The lips below his narrow nose carried a smirk that widened as Applewhite stepped out of the car.
"I want particulars of how you plan to proceed," De Leon said to Perry, dismissing Applewhite with a look.
Applewhite shot him in the face, wheeled, pumped two quick rounds into the driver, and delivered a coup de grace to the back of De Leon head.
"Jesus fucking Christ," Perry said.
The aide stepped to the Lincoln, fetched a suitcase, and took the semiautomatic from Applewhite's outstretched hand.
"We must leave now," the young officer said.
"Jesus fucking Christ," Perry moaned.
"Get in the car, Charlie," Applewhite said, leading Perry to the aide's vehicle, "and I'll bring you up to speed."
She got in the backseat with him. Perry leaned his head back and closed his eyes, his heart thumping in his chest. The car made a U-turn and accelerated.
"Here's the way it plays," Applewhite said.
"By midnight some very factual reports from a variety of reliable intelligence sources will be sanitized, assembled, and analyzed at the Department of Defense. Those reports will prove beyond a doubt that you and you alone entered into a contract with De Leon to assassinate Kevin Kerney, and that you murdered De Leon to ensure his silence after accepting a quarter-million-dollar advance to do the job, which by the way will be deposited shortly in an offshore account you recently opened. Should you ever decide to purge your guts to the Bureau about what really happened, both the general and his aide will be called upon to give statements corroborating what I've just told you. I guarantee that should you decide to try to disprove these accusations, you'll spend the rest of your life in a federal prison."
"Why kill De Leon Perry asked, his eyes still shut.
"Because the opportunity might not have presented itself again, and it makes some important people on both sides of the border very happy."
"Kerney's next, isn't he? No matter what he does or doesn't know."
Applewhite patted Charlie's knee. It made him recoil and open his eyes.
"Don't concern yourself about that."
"When do you ice me?"
"Not to worry, Charlie. You get to go back to the Beltway after all.
There's a nice desk job waiting for you at the J. Edgar Hoover Building.
Your new bosses are looking forward to working with you."
Charlie didn't believe her.
"You're a lying bitch."
Applewhite jammed a thumb into a pressure point on Perry's neck and his chin hit his chest. She punched a syringe through Perry's trousers into his thigh and emptied the contents. The fast acting drug would keep him knocked out for hours.
The aide handed her the semiautomatic. She put on plastic gloves, ejected the magazine, emptied the clip, cleaned everything with a rag, and pressed Charlie's fingers against the cold metal surfaces, including the unspent rounds. She bagged the evidence and tossed it on the front seat next to the briefcase that held De Leon quarter-million-dollar up-front payment.
The car swung through a military gate at the Juarez Airport and drove into a Mexican Air Force hangar, where the general waited. Two uniformed soldiers pulled Perry from the car, carried him to a small fixed-wing airplane, and pushed his rag-doll body inside.
The aide got out and handed the briefcase to his general. The general hefted it to gauge the weight of its contents and smiled at Applewhite.
Applewhite stared him down until the smile vanished. She handed the aide a slip of paper.
"These are the clearance codes the pilot will need to enter restricted airspace and land at White Sands Missile Range."
In an hour Perry would be back in the States under guard in a safe location at a high-security testing facility.
The aide nodded and stepped off to the ready room to find the pilot.
"You are not happy with the success of your mission, senora?" the general asked, oozing false charm.
"I've got a message for you from Langley," Applewhite said.
"The quarter million dollars in that briefcase better be the last drug money you ever take. If you sell your services to the jefe who steps in to take De Leon place the CIA will kill you, your family, and your aged mother. Where's my car and driver?"
The general's eyes turned pinpoint murderous.
"Behind the hangar."
From a pay phone at the El Paso Airport, Ingram booked a room at a bed-and-breakfast in Charlie Perry's name. He used the credit card number from Perry's Santa Fe hotel bill to guarantee the reservation and said he was sending his luggage over by taxi because he had meetings that would keep him from checking in until very late.
The woman said they locked the front door at seven. She gave him a room number and told him she'd leave a guest key under a chair cushio
n on the front porch.
Outside the terminal Ingram hailed a cab, paid the driver in advance to deliver the bags to the B amp; B, added a nice tip, and went looking for the bar. He had hours to kill before he needed to get to the B amp; B, make the room look slept in, pick up Charlie's luggage, and leave a cash payment for the room on the dresser.
He ordered a single malt. The bar TV showed a taped Hawaiian triathlon.
The drink came and Ingram raised the glass in a mock toast to Charlie Perry. Deluded by feelings of self-importance, blinded by a faith that the Bureau could do no wrong, eager to think he'd been tapped for a fast-track promotion assignment, Charlie was without a doubt the perfect patsy.
What a fall Perry was about to take. Tim slugged down the whiskey and thought he'd been spending too much time drinking over the past six months.
City Manager Demora, the rah-rah proponent of open-door management, made Kerney sit outside his closed office door and wait well past normal office hours.
Kerney used the time to review the discussion notes he'd taken after briefing Andy, Detective Sloan, and Lieutenant Molina about SWAMI.
Question: What covert information-gathering need would SWAMI serve?
From what Kerney had read about Carnivore, the FBI Internet wiretap system, its capacity was limited to gathering on-line messages. Did Swami duplicate or go beyond Carnivore's capacity to acquire information?
Question: Was the government using Trade Venture, APT Per forma, and Touch Link as corporate shields? If so, why was it important for SWAMI not to be a bona-fide intelligence tool?
Question: What did money have to do with it? The Mitchellterrell murders occurred after the priest had started looking into the trade mission's economic agenda, drug-money laundering, and financial crimes.
Question: What, if any, was Ambassador Terrell's role in SWAMI? *** Kerney put his notes away. Bobby Sloan believed SWAMI might well be the mother of all computer-based covert technological snooping devices.
It was what computer gee ks called a packet sniffer, which sounded innocuous, but the implications gave Kerney the shivers. If Sloan was right, they were truly on the verge of a big-brother world. Had Carnivore opened the door on a digital world where private information about citizens would be routinely collected, whether they were suspects in a crime or not?
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