by Frank Perry
dinner and a bottle of Chardonnay. At the conclusion, he offered to help clean up, but she wanted to talk about Jamie and told him to leave everything on the table.
They sat in the front room with a folder she brought, which remained closed at first. “You know that guy I had you check out in the Army?”
“Yeah, Sergeant Montes.”
“Right. Well, I met with him in Mexico last night.”
“Okay, so you went to Mexico.”
“Yeah, and it wasn’t what I expected.”
She told him the main details of her meeting with Montes.
She elaborated, “He managed to get inside the most dangerous cartel in Mexico and set up the leader with the DEA. He’s been living this life for over eight years.”
“You should give him a medal.”
“Peter, he wants to stay on until the son is gone and the cartel disintegrates. He’s the guy that set up the big bust while you were there.”
“Rachael, the guy’s either insane or insanely brave.”
She nodded, “Probably some of both, but I’m his boss, technically, and he wants me to stand by in case he needs help.”
“Hmm, if he needs help, it will be too late.
“That’s my point. It’s frustrating.”
“So, order him out. Cut off his funds. Force him to get out.”
“I can’t do that.” She paused then continued, “He deserves the chance to finish this.”
“Rachael, what you tell me sounds like macho bullshit.”
“It’s not that. He’s not trying to prove anything. See, there’s something I didn’t tell you. This is personal with him. The father and son killed his family.”
“How did he get involved then?”
“He started in the Army then worked it into a CIA case.”
“Are you supporting him in this?”
“Peter, he’s behind several of the largest drug seizures ever. He’s behind the lines in the ‘War on Drugs.’ He has risked more than anyone because he has an agenda, but the results are the same. Now, how can the CIA help him?”
It seemed obvious to him. “You’ve got to get the son.”
“Here’s the file.” She opened the red-striped folder marked “SECRET” and spread some documents on the coffee table. “Meet Hector Cardenas.”
Peter read some of the headlines, and there was an abundance of written materials but no pictures. “What does Hector look like?”
“That’s part of the problem. There are no recent pictures. The only thing is a high school class picture that’s more than sixteen years old. He’s in his early thirties now.”
Peter held the picture then walked into the kitchen for better lighting. “Rachael, I think I’ve seen this guy. I’m not sure, but his face looks familiar.” He squinted harder.
She asked “Where? Was he there when you rescued John?”
“No. no, I don’t think so. I’ve seen him somewhere else. I need to think about this.”
Hacienda
Jamie sat quietly on the patio, overlooking Mexico City. Throughout the day, Mexican mobsters came by to pay their respects and to test the resolve of their new leader. He wasn’t comfortable in any kind of a dictator role, but he had to hold the cartel together until Hector appeared. He didn’t have a plan once that happened, but he knew it was coming. His cellphone rang.
“Hello, Jamie.” Leo Moritz’ voice was unmistakable.
“Hola, Amigo.”
“I hope all is well with you. How are things going?”
“Oh, you know. It’s a little lonely at the top. Did you have any luck locating our boy in the jailhouse?”
“No, I’m afraid not. Are you thinking of visiting home (El Paso) any time soon?” None of the criminals captured at Smuggler’s Ridge was Cardenas.
“No, not right now, I want to see what happens here first.”
“That could be suicidal my friend.”
There wasn’t any immediate response, so Leo continued, “Okay, well look, if I can be of any help, please call me day or night, I’ve got a lot of friends in your area.”
“I will, cuz. Thanks for thinking of me.”
“Hey. I owe you big!”
“Thanks, man, adios.”
Montes smiled to himself; Leo was worried about him. This was good, in case he needed help quickly. The DEA had undercover operatives all over Mexico. For now, Jamie wanted to continue meeting with Cardenas’ leaders. He knew most of them because of his long association, and most were greeting him with respect. They were also cutthroats and backstabbers, so he could never trust any of them. He called his driver to take him to the airport. He was tempted to fly to El Paso but would not leave until Hector was captured or killed, even if it meant using himself as the bait.
In Washington, Peter had returned to his apartment before nine, following the early dinner with Rachael. Then it hit him. He looked through business cards from El Paso and called Mike Schmitt who answered quickly.
“Hello, Mike, it’s Peter Shields.”
“Hi, Peter. Do you miss us already?”
“Yeah, I had such a good time, I was thinking about another vacation in El Paso.”
“Heh, well. You’ve always got an open door. I hear your buddy Stokes is gonna do just fine.”
“Yeah, seems like. Say, I’ve got a question for you.”
“Shoot.”
“This is really sensitive, okay?”
“Okay, Peter, you’ve got my attention.”
“Please keep this really quiet, but do you have one of those nice biographical pictures of your agents in their personnel files?”
“We should, yes.”
“Look, don’t read anything into this, but I’d like you to fax one to me.”
“Is this an official request?”
“It is if it has to be.”
“It does. Who do you want?”
“I want the picture of the border agent that escaped back to you -- Morales.”
“Hmm ... ”
“Is that a problem?”
“No, just a curiosity, he didn’t report in tonight. He’s on duty all this week, the graveyard shift as dispatcher. But, he didn’t come in tonight. Didn’t call. Nothing.”
Peter responded, “Look, this might be nothing at all, but I’d like his picture.”
“All right, Peter, I’ll fax it to you. What’s your fax number?”
Peter had been prepared for bed, but changed into civilian clothes and drove back to the office. A security guard was on duty, but the building was otherwise empty. The fax machine was located in a far dark corner room. His fax from El Paso was waiting.
“Holy shit,” escaped under his breath as he looked at the picture. He dialed the number 1 speed dial on his cellphone.
She answered sleepily after several rings, “Ahh, hello.”
“Rachael, get dressed. I’m coming over.”
“What? Peter, what time is it?”
“Don’t worry about it. Put on some coffee.”
Finding a parking space in Georgetown on a weeknight after bedtime was nearly impossible. Peter parked in a red zone a block away and hurried to her townhouse.
She answered the door, wearing her PJs and a robe. The smell of coffee brewing and the sound of a tea kettle boiling completed the scene. He passed her, walking to the living room where they had looked at the folder earlier.
She was wide awake, “So, why the fire drill?”
He led her to the couch where they had reviewed Hector’s file, but it was no longer around, “Get the Cardenas file.”
She went to her bedroom upstairs and brought down her backpack, laying the file on the coffee table. For a moment, he remembered climbing those stairs with her when he had first moved to Washington. The memory passed quickly.
He opened the manila folder to the high school picture, and pulled the fax from his jacket pocket, “Here, let’s take a look.”
She turned on more light,
but after staring for several seconds. “I don’t know, Peter. I guess it could be him.”
“Rachael, I met this guy. He was in the office with Schmitt when I was leaving. I shook his hand. He looks more like the high school picture than this file picture. I’m sure it’s him. He’s older and heavier, but check the eyes, mouth and ears. The ears are dead nuts on!”
She looked again more closely at the details. “I can’t argue with you. He sure could be the same guy.”
“Trust me, sweetheart. This is him!”
She placed a hand on his shoulder, “Do you realize that’s the first time you’ve called me that in months!”
He blinked several times without speaking, then started to stammer, when she stepped in front and kissed him on the lips, quick, but purposeful.
She said, “Okay, now that that’s settled, let’s look at the pictures again.”
“Ah. Rachael, what just happened?”
She was amused, staring at the pictures. “You’re forgiven, stupid.”
It wasn’t nearly as late in El Paso when Mike Schmitt’s phone rang. “Schmitt.”
“Chief, it’s Peter Shields, and I’ve got Rachael Aston here with me.”
“Well, congratulations, Peter!”
“Huh, oh yeah, funny Chief. Look, we’ve got something for you.”
“Go ahead, Peter. Sorry for pulling your chain.”
“No problem, Chief. Look, the guy you introduced me to, Morales, did he ever come into the office tonight?”
“No, like I said before, we haven’t seen him, and I’m trying to track him down now.”
“All right, be careful, we think he’s really Hector Cardenas.”
“What?” Schmitt was genuinely shocked.
“Look, we’re ninety-nine percent sure. You need to find him, but be very careful.”
“Look, Peter. I need something official on this.”
After a pause, Peter answered, “Okay, look. There will be a secure message sent