by Lincoln Matt
“And you think the ones crossing the border are smuggling the drug?” I asked.
“It would explain the increased border traffic at the same time that these overdoses are occurring,” García confirmed. “Though we haven’t been able to catch anyone in the act so far. We’ve found the run-of-the-mill stuff, sure. Cocaine, other stimulants, but nothing new.”
“And no one’s talking,” I repeated. “Hence the meeting at the border? The one Alejandra was at?”
“Yes,” García said. “These overdoses have been particularly prevalent in border towns. It’s difficult because the people there deal with so much upheaval already due to controversies at the border and proximity to the crime on the Haitian side. It’s almost all concentrated around the border now.”
“So that they can seep their business into the Dominican side?” I asked, and he nodded.
“Yes, the cartel has already all but taken over Haiti,” he sighed. “We’ve done all that we can to help them: social programs, incentives to immigrate, infrastructure plans, everything. But the crime there has seeped into every level of their society at this point. I find it difficult to see how we will gain ground there without eradicating the cartel first.”
“And you think this guy they’ve killed was an American?” Holm said.
“That is what my daughter told me, but we have very little information on that front,” García said. “We are hoping that you will be able to help us with that. The last thing we need in all this mess is for this to become an American problem.”
“Well, it already is one, as far as we’re concerned,” I assured him. “And we’ll do everything we can to help you, just like the last time. How far is the crime scene from here?”
“It’s a way’s drive, but there’s no way to set a plane discreetly down in the area,” García said. “We have a car for you, so you won’t have to drive yourselves, and you’ll have extra protection.”
“We understand,” I said. “Is there a way we can talk to someone who’s worked one of these overdose cases?”
“You can speak with me,” the other man who had spoken before said. He was wearing a uniform, blue and kind of like a police uniform, but not an American one. Medals hung on the front shirt pocket. “I’m the chief of police here. We’ve had many cases in the past few weeks, mostly among young Dominicans in the city, but we’ve had some cases with Haitian immigrants as well.”
“Can you describe the effects of this drug?” I asked.
“That’s the thing,” the chief began. “It’s sort of confusing. Those who were near the victims when they were presumably under the influence didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary. They only thought that their friends were drunk or had ingested some lesser drug. They seemed somewhat lucid, at least, but then they dropped dead.”
“Are we so sure it’s a new drug, then?” Holm asked. “It sounds like it could just be some strange medical condition or alcohol poisoning.”
“But their tox screens and medical records didn’t show anything of the sort.” The chief shook his head. “And their bodies… well, let’s just say that it was a sight to behold.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, leaning forward.
“Well, the last girl I saw, it looked like her skin had been eaten out from the inside with some kind of acid,” he said, grimacing. “That was the worst one. The one before that was not quite as bad, but close. And there was foam around the mouth.”
“Eh,” Holm winced, recoiling.
“That sounds… bad,” I managed. Damn these drug lords. Weren’t there enough substances out on the streets already without getting kids hooked on whatever this was? “And there weren’t any real signs of being under the influence before?”
“Not that we could gather, though most of the witnesses were also high on something, admittedly,” the chief said.
“And no one’s talking,” I repeated. “How long until the car comes for us? I’m wondering if we can have a talk with some of these witnesses.”
“Of course, there’s a hospital across the street where we had an overdose case earlier today,” the chief informed us. “I can take you there to speak with the witnesses. My men are questioning them now.”
“Good,” I said. “I’d like to hear this for myself. And see it, if possible.”
“That can be arranged, if you insist,” the chief said, though he looked sick to his stomach at the mere thought of it.
“It would also be good to get a sample of the victim’s blood sent back to our forensics lab in Miami,” Holm suggested. “Our lab techs might be better equipped to find whatever it is you’re looking for.”
“We’d welcome any help you can provide,” the chief said. “I’ll have my medical examiner get in contact with your people.”
“Good,” I said. “Now, what can you tell us about the situation at the border? What’s the leadership of the cartel look like now?”
“That’s an excellent question, Agent Marston,” President García said, though he didn’t sound optimistic that he could answer it. “Unfortunately, we know very little about the cartel’s operations at this point. They seem to have reworked their leadership after the incident with my son, and our sources in Haiti have gone uncharacteristically silent.”
“Those working at our embassy in Port-au-Prince, Haiti’s capital city, have expressed increased concern about the activity there,” another man said, this one in a fine suit. “They even requested permission to evacuate and come home this morning. We still haven’t decided whether to grant it. I am Francisco Peña, by the way. I’m the emissary to Haiti.”
“Did they say why?” Holm asked, leaning forward.
“There has been sporadic communication from them,” Peña answered. “But there have been reports of increased gang activity and threats in recent days.”
“Threats? What kind of threats?” I asked.
“We thought little of it at first,” he explained. “It’s not uncommon for our emissaries to receive such treatment, and they knew the risks when they took the job. The relationship between our two countries has never been exactly healthy, and it’s only grown worse since the earthquake. The Haitians see our presence as imposing on their way of life, no doubt in response to our own people’s derogatory treatment of Haitian immigrants.”
“It is an unfortunate situation all around,” President García clarified. “Bombing threats on our embassies are not uncommon, and as the gang activity has increased, so have the threats. The cartel wants to run the country without outside interference, and I fear that they are growing ever closer to making that a reality.”
“They’re also closer to bringing their own problems across our borders,” the police chief grumbled.
“Well, we’ll do everything we can to put a stop to it,” I assured them. “Our main concern has to be the murder at first, though. Are there any records of Americans entering the country? Is it possible he could have come through the Dominican Republic and then gone to Haiti?”
“If he was mixed up with the cartel, it’s unlikely that he came through the Dominican side of the island,” Peña said. “It’s much easier to get in the Haitian side unnoticed, especially by boat from one of the other islands or from Florida. But we have looked through our records, and no Americans who have passed through our airports recently match this man’s description. No Europeans either.”
“We noticed increased security at the airport here,” I mentioned. “Is this normal?”
“It is now,” the police chief said darkly. “In recent weeks, we’ve upped our game out of necessity. We’ve been more lenient before, but with recent events, we can’t be too safe.”
“Have there been any incidents at airports?” I asked.
“One, at a regional airport in a border town,” the chief said. “That’s what sparked the change. We caught some cartel thugs trying to sneak drugs on a plane into Puerto Rico. But still no sign of anything new, just cocaine and the other usual fare.”
Cocaine as ‘usual fare.’ The times we lived in.
“Interesting,” Holm said. “I wonder if they have a way of hiding the new drugs inside the old drugs, keeping them from detection.”
“I don’t see how that would be possible,” the chief said. “My forensics office looks through everything meticulously.”
“Even so, it couldn’t hurt if you sent something MBLIS’s way,” I suggested. “Along with the blood sample, that is. You’re probably right, but our lab techs will want to have a look at it.”
“Of course,” the chief relented.
He was probably right. The idea that they could somehow hide a new drug amidst a slew of old ones, even when chemically tested, was a stretch at best. But then again, so was the idea of a drug that could kill you that brutally, and still not show up in the person’s system after the fact. None of this made a lot of sense. Bonnie and Clyde, MBLIS’s trusty lab techs back in Miami, would have to get to the bottom of this one.
“And what about these talks that Alejandra was attending in the border towns?” I asked, mentally running through the list of all the questions I had concocted on the plane. “What were those supposed to accomplish?”
“The border towns wanted to come up with an action plan,” Peña said. “It’s not possible to simply evacuate everyone who lives on the border, even with the rising violence. These are entire communities we’re talking about here. So they decided to have a summit to figure out how to combat the violence on our side of the border more effectively.”
“Additionally, most of the drugs are coming through these border towns,” the chief added. “If we can figure out a way to stop them in their tracks there, it would be better for everyone. We’ve had some pushback on this, though.”
“Why?” Holm asked. “Don’t they want these guys caught as much as everyone else does?”
“They do,” the embassy guy said, casting a weary glance in the direction of the chief, giving me the sense that everyone wasn’t all in agreement in the room. Now, sounding and appearing outwardly exasperated, “But it’s not that simple. Sending in extra law enforcement to take over these border towns is going to bring everyone’s lives there to a screeching halt, not to mention overrun businesses and other key infrastructure points. There are some there who would prefer we focus our efforts on the border itself, stopping them before they reach the towns.”
“But that’s not working,” the chief argued back, nearly standing up in his passion. “And we can’t exactly go into Haiti and make that work. These towns are our first line of defense. I sympathize with the people there, I really do, but what else are we supposed to do if we want to stop these people and drugs from coming into our country?”
“My friends, my friends,” García said, holding out his hands to silence the men. “This isn’t the time to rehash old arguments. We must focus on the task at hand, helping our American friends here get what they need to solve this case. Then, we can discuss further how to deal with the remaining problem.”
The other men in the room were clearly following the conversation, watching and nodding along attentively, all of them tense as the argument took place, but they didn’t contribute to the discussion at all. I got the sense that Peña and the police chief were the ringleaders of this group, each vying for the President’s ear.
“Very well,” the chief relented, and the other man nodded reluctantly as well.
“I apologize for this,” the President said, turning back to Holm and me. “Tensions are running high, as you can no doubt see for yourselves. We all want what is best for our country and for our island.”
“Of course,” I said. “And we appreciate getting a fuller view of what’s going on here. We want to do more than just solve this murder, though that is our first priority. We want to help you deal with this situation and move on from it, for both your countries’ sake. Speaking of which, are you in any contact with the Haitian leadership?”
Several of the men around the table laughed at this notion.
“I’m afraid what little structure there is in the Haitian government has been infiltrated by the cartel,” García explained. “Alerting them to your presence here would do more to hurt the situation than to help.”
“I understand,” I said, “more than you know.” I thought back to that damn Florida senator who was in the pockets of the mafia. Some things never changed, it seemed, no matter where you were in the world. My military career had taught me that much.
“Has there been any indication that these drug lords have been trying to expand their reach beyond the island other than that one incident at the airport?” Holm asked.
“I don’t believe so,” the chief shrugged. “Though to be honest, we’ve been more concerned with our own struggles with the cartel. If it happened once, I’m certain they have plans for more.”
“Did you question the thugs at the airport? Why were they trying to get to Puerto Rico? Just to expand the market there?” I asked.
“Unfortunately, there was an… altercation at the time of that incident,” the chief said, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.
“An altercation?” I repeated, turning to him.
“Yes, well, there was a shootout,” the chief said, averting his gaze from mine. “And one of the perps escaped, never to be found again, and the rest were killed before we could question them. Several of our guys were killed, too, along with a few civilians.”
“There is a reason the border towns are concerned,” García clarified. “This was a highly publicized incident.”
“Do you have a description of the guy who escaped?” I asked.
“No, they were wearing masks,” the chief said, shaking his head. “Voodoo masks.”
I had not been expecting that.
“Huh?” I asked, and Holm shot the chief a similarly confused look.
“Yes, that was another unusual aspect of the case,” the chief said, still looking rather embarrassed by the whole thing. I couldn’t blame him, really. If I was in charge and a bunch of guys in weird comic-book getups showed up and made a fool out of my guys, I wouldn’t really want to talk about it either.
“Any idea why that is? Has this happened before?” I pressed for more details.
“There have been some sightings,” the chief admitted. “But nothing corroborated. After the incident at the airport, it’s become kind of an urban legend, we think. We haven’t put much stock in it.”
I wondered if that was because there wasn’t really much value in following up on these sightings, or because the chief didn’t want his department to be made fools of again. It was a good thing we’d shown up when we did by the looks of how the Dominicans were handling things.
“Can you describe these mask things?” Holm asked. “They’re voodoo as in, like, witch doctors or something like that?”
“Haitian voodoo culture is mocked and used as entertainment in the States, but it’s a very real thing here,” García explained with a small smile. “It’s a fundamental part of religious life on the Haitian part of the island, and it's not insignificant on the Dominican side either, especially now that so many native Haitians have immigrated over here.”
“Yes, but it is uncommon to see it outside of religious rituals,” Peña said. “Sometimes kids will get carried away at parties or something like that, but this was new. The masks are about what you would expect, sometimes brightly colored with distorted features. Holes for the eyes and mouth. Cover the entire face.”
“So you didn’t get a good look at the perps,” I gathered.
“No,” the chief said, shaking his head. “My men couldn’t describe them at all. The whole thing happened very quickly. And then the bomb went off.”
“The bomb?” I repeated. Things really weren’t going well down here.
“Yes, when they realized they were caught, the remaining perps set off a bomb,” the chief explained. “Then one escaped, and those who didn’t die in the explosion were killed in the aftermath.”
&nbs
p; “So these guys are serious,” Holm said quietly. “They have to be serious to risk their own lives like that.”
“Yeah, this all seems like it’s bigger than a small-time drug trade,” I said, leaning back in my chair. “Could you tell that the men in the masks were Haitian?”
“I… I just assumed they were, given they had drugs,” the chief stammered. “We did manage to confiscate those, as I told you. They were detected in customs.”
“But the masks were covering their whole faces,” I said. “They could have been from another country, for all you know.”
“I suppose that’s correct,” the chief confirmed. “They wore hoods beneath the masks to conceal their identities. And they took their dead before we could get to them. It was all a mess.”
“You think this is more international than we thought?” Holm asked, turning back to me.
“Could be,” I said. “It would explain American—or even European since we only know the victim’s race—involvement. And it would explain smuggling the drugs into Puerto Rico. It’s not like they don’t have their own drugs there, just like we do in the States. No offense, but Haiti’s not exactly a world-class supplier of anything.”
“Fair enough,” García admitted.
“So what we really need is a clearer picture,” I continued. “From here on out, any and everything that happens needs to be reported to MBLIS. Even if you think you have it handled, or that there’s a more reasonable explanation for it. This is a strange situation, and we need to respond accordingly.”
Everyone around the table nodded, including the chief.
“Understood,” the chief grunted. “I’ll communicate this to my men, and report back to you with any new information.”
He didn’t look entirely happy about this, but I’d take what I could get. It was never easy having an agency from another country coming in and telling you how to do your jobs, after all.
“Good,” I said. “Thank you. Now, do you have any reason to believe these… voodoo masks, or whatever they are, could be significant beyond concealing the perps’ identities?”