by Frank Perry
was wealthier and smarter than any drug smuggler in Mexico, which was enough.
Suspicion
By mid-afternoon, Rachael had been seething long enough, and it was clear that Montes was avoiding her. She walked out of her office, and Cybil asked where she was going, in her typical warden voice. Rachael ignored her, suspecting that she would call ahead to warn that she was coming.
She found Vitale alone in his office on the first floor. “Sir, may I talk to you.”
He removed his reading glasses and shoved a memo aside as though perturbed, “What is it, Rachael?”
“Sir, I’d like to talk to you about this morning and particularly about Mr. Montes.”
“Look, Rachael, I’ve known Jamie Montes for many years, ever since this program got started, when I was in Congress. He and I spent a lot of time together, and you need to get your facts straight.”
She stepped closer, “See, that’s the problem. You keep diverting attention away from him making me feel foolish. I don’t get it? You know I haven’t been read on to the project.”
“Well, that’s your problem. As for me, I think Jamie is doing a fine job.”
At that point, she noticed a picture on his credenza behind him. It was captioned “La Paz.”
“All right, maybe I’m just frustrated. I’ll give it some more effort. Say, is that the Gulf of Mexico?” She was pointing at the picture.
“Ah, yes. I bought a piece of land there a few years back. Now, if that’s all Rachael, I’m planning a trip and need to get things prepared here.”
When she got back to her office, Cybil announced that Montes had come and gone, taking pleasure in the cat and mouse game between them. Rachael was certain that Cybil was advising Montes. She ignored her again.
She left the office early and called Peter from her car. “Hi, can you meet me at the Parkway overlook?”
He said he would be there in thirty minutes.
Her car was near the center of the parking lot when he parked his Ford Explorer beside it. The small lot was only fifty yards off of the parkway, but the heavy forest around made it impossible to see inside while driving past. She was waiting a short distance away along the pathway above the Potomac. He was still in his Army uniform.
They said “hi,” then she took his hand and started leading down the path toward “their” bench. He didn’t say anything. When they sat for a moment, she stared at the scenery, then glanced at him before taking a deep breath and looking downward. He remained silent until she said, “Look, Peter, this is all wrong on many levels. I could go to prison for even talking to you.”
He looked at her obliquely and said, “Rachael, you didn’t invite me here because you distrust me. Something’s wrong, so spit it out.”
“You know who Sandy Vitale is, right?”
“Yes, of course.”
“I think he’s got something going on in Mexico.”
“Something like what?”
“I think he might be involved with this guy in my department, siphoning money out of one of my projects. They might even be working with the drug smugglers.”
He looked out over the river and sighed, “This is serious stuff, Rachael, what makes you think so?”
“Just a lot of inferences based on behavior -- secret agendas -- that kind of stuff. They’re both single and don’t have any family anymore, at least in the States. I don’t know who my guy might have in Mexico.”
“Is he Mexican? I know Vitale isn’t.”
“He was born to Mexican nationals in the U.S. He served in the Army for a full career then went into the Company about eight years ago.”
“You think they’re gay?”
“No way. Vitale lifts every skirt he comes near.”
He looked straight ahead for a moment, trying to figure out how he could help her. She was reaching out to him for the first time since their breakup.
“Look, honey, do you want me to check into the Army guy? I can probably get at his records.” He used the term of endearment accidentally and looked away.
She didn’t respond negatively saying, “Maybe that would help. It’s a little hard for me. I think they watch everything I do, and my admin girl is a Nazi.”
“Okay, tell me his name and anything else you know about him.”
Via Con Dios John
Stokes had a difficult time sleeping after talking to Gorman at the club. Rising before five, he abbreviated his morning run and was on his way to El Paso Headquarters by seven after a quick breakfast at a local doughnut shop. He wanted to meet with LTC Colson first thing. When she wasn’t at the office yet, he sat in her cubicle, feeling conspicuous. She arrived about eight-thirty.
He stood at attention when she entered, but she signaled him to relax immediately. “Good morning, Captain, you either got up awfully early for someone on the night shift, or you worked late.”
“Hello, Ma’am. I wanted to talk to you and couldn’t sleep.”
She pressed the button to start her computer, probably sensing it was going to be a tough discussion. “Okay, so tell me.”
“Ma’am, I was wondering if we could talk privately.”
“Yeah, sure, Captain. Let’s go find an empty room.” She led the way.
He followed her down the nearest corridor to a small unfurnished office that only had a couple chairs. Closing the door after he entered, she asked, “Okay, now tell me what’s so important?” She knew all the troops were edgy.
“Ma’am, I want to do something to find the missing men.”
She looked at him sternly before answering. “And what would that be?”
“I don’t know exactly. Gorman and I were talking, and we want to go into Mexico and see if we can find them, maybe working with the Federales.”
“You and Gorman, my only two JO’s (Junior Officers)? What are you thinking? We have an assigned mission here, and it’s damn hard to do. I’m losing soldiers and need you running the ops!”
“Ma’am, if not with Gorman, let me go alone. Gorman will handle the men. I want to go after our guys.” John had responded on impulse, forgetting Carolyn and the girls.
“Look, Captain. I understand how you feel, but you have a wife and kids to think about. There’s no way to protect you once you cross the border. We don’t even trust the Federales. Money talks down there, and most of the people you would work with could be getting paid by the cartels. Have you talked to your wife about this?”
“Ma’am, I understand the risks, and no, I won’t talk to my wife because it would only upset her and won’t change my mind.”
Her stern gaze remained fixed on him for several moments before she said, “All right. I’ll check with DEA and some other folks to see if it can be arranged.”
“Thank you, Ma’am.”
He left feeling apprehensive. Was this the dumbest thing he had ever volunteered for? He couldn’t help reflecting on his time as an enlisted man way down the totem pole. The men taken by the Mexicans would be wondering if anyone was doing anything to save them. They knew what was in store. He couldn’t live with himself thinking that he didn’t even try to save them. He dreaded telling Gorman that he was out. He dreaded telling Carolyn even more.
Several hours later, Colson called the Ysleta Station and instructed Stokes to come back to sector headquarters. When he got there, he met first with her. “Look, John, we’re going to have a meeting with a Commander from the Mexican Federal Police and Leo Moritz (DEA Supervisor). Leo coordinated your request. The Federales will have some specific instructions, but I wanted to advise you not to say anything to them about our operations. This officer might be totally legit, but the less known about our side the better. Is that clear?”
He was eager to move out, “Yes, Ma’am.”
After that explanation, he followed her to the main conference room where he was introduced to Commandante Gilberto Sanchez. After polite introductions, all were seated at the table. Sanchez didn’t seem eager to be there.
LTC Colson opened the meeting by characterizing Stokes’ request, embellished slightly by giving it her endorsement. Leo said, “Captain, Commandante Sanchez has accepted your kind offer to provide assistance to their search for our people, but there are several restrictions that must be imposed. I personally want to advise you that you will not be protected in any way by American forces, and that, as a self-volunteered action, you’ll have minimal diplomatic support. You cannot carry arms and must dress in civilian clothes only. You will follow the orders of Commandante Sanchez or his delegates at all times. You have no jurisdiction. Is all of this clear?”
The Commandante sat stern-faced, staring at Stokes but without saying a word. It wasn’t clear how well he understood English. Leo spoke to him in Spanish, and the Mexican nodded once emphatically, “Si.”
Stokes sat with his hands clasped on the table as Leo continued, “You will cover your own expenses in Mexico. The Commandante has graciously agreed to allow you to have limited access to their station houses as a ‘guest’ and will allow you to accompany his men on patrol if you choose to go.” Stokes nodded but didn’t speak. “I think that’s about it. Commandante?” Leo looked at the officer who replied in Spanish. Then Leo ended saying, “That’s about it. You will be expected at the Juarez immigration crossing at 1100 today, and someone will meet you.”
At this point, Stokes looked at Moritz and Sanchez saying, “Mr. Moritz and Commandante Sanchez, I understand your instructions and appreciate your consideration. I hope that I can be of some