Incitement (22 page)

“I think part of it’s down to how futile it is to try to stop people doing what they really want to, but I’m guessing you’re referring to the limitations imposed on the
various agencies by politicians?”

“Exactly,” he said. “Between the inadequate level of funding, bureaucratic obstructions and political cowardice, their hands are tied.”

“So, they’re all doomed to fail. What’s your point?”

“Look at the problem from a different angle. Some experts may have the know-how to combat the trade, some governments the funding and some extremists the will but they’re not
aligned. Agreed?”

Larsen nodded.

“So, tell me what’s the only organisation with the resources, knowledge and lack of scruples required to cripple a major drug cartel?”

Larsen thought about the question and when he realised where they were heading he smiled.

“Another cartel.”

“Exactly.”

“How?”

“A third-party sows disharmony between two of the largest players. Manufactures a full-scale war, fuels it at every opportunity. If this were perpetuated long enough, I think the flow of
drugs into the consumer countries would be compromised.”

“You’re going to use the Gorgon’s head.”

Wallace’s puzzlement was obvious.

“To kill Poseidon’s sea beast and save Andromeda, Perseus cut off Medusa’s head and used it to turn Cetus to stone. One monster destroying another.”

Wallace still looked lost.

“Forget it, how would you incite this war?”

“Attack strategic locations and shipments owned by a particular group. Destroy them, totally. Ensure the attacks are so extreme that they can’t be mistaken for the handiwork of an
established state agency. Do this repeatedly and then arrange for the evidence to point in a specific direction.”

“And I’d coordinate these attacks?”

“Yes. With Brewer’s help, you’d recruit and train a different team for each attack. They’d have only one objective to achieve and then they’d be disbanded.
Intelligence for the attacks would all be supplied. You’d be required to participate directly in some specific attacks to ensure an appropriate forensic trail.”

“You can’t guarantee the correct response is elicited.”

“No, we can’t. All we can do is plan it to the best of our ability. There’s also a limit to how many operations we can mount, the risks will grow with each subsequent attack.
If it hasn’t worked by a previously agreed point then we’ll simply abandon it.”

“You mentioned supplying the appropriate intelligence. Where would that come from?” asked Larsen, draining his mug.

“Brewer, through his own company and former employers, has access to a lot of sensitive information regarding production and storage locations as well as shipping routes etc. The
information is out there, it’s just no one’s ever used it effectively.”

“So what are you proposing, pit one Colombian cartel against another?”

“Bigger than that,” Wallace answered, leaning across the table. “The largest player in the world is a group of affiliated cartels controlled out of Colombia. They’re
known as the Madrigal Alliance, named after the man who pulled them together. It incorporates virtually all of South America’s producers. It also deals with the main Mexican
cartels.”

“As partners or subordinates?”

“That’s a matter of conjecture. Anyway, if enough external pressure could be exerted, I believe the Alliance would crumble.” Wallace scrutinised Larsen’s face, trying to
gauge his reaction to the proposal.

“And you have another group in mind to go up against them?”

“Yes. What’s required is an adversary that won’t be cowed by the Alliance’s reputation, a group prepared to take the fight to them. We’ve identified the Kosovar
Fifteen Families as the best option. They have enormous wealth and a global reach.”

“Why would they choose to target the South Americans? For your plan to work, the reasons for the attacks have to be believable, what would they have to gain?”

“They each control a major stake in the global heroin business but elements in both organisations have pushed for expansion. Initially that would provide us with what we need to get the
ball rolling.”

“Have you considered that if it worked, and each started destroying the other, you might be providing the perfect opportunity for one of the other, smaller groups to move up?”

“That’s exactly what I’m banking on,” Wallace said enthusiastically. “One of the reasons for the amount of drugs currently being trafficked is the general
stability. No one’s motivated enough to challenge the status quo. But if the two main players were weakened then others would be encouraged to expand and the conflict would spread. It
wouldn’t just be two sides then, it’d be a free-for-all and the more energy they put into fighting one another, the more drug production and distribution will suffer.”

“Okay but why? What’s the point of it all?”

“If fewer drugs are available, society benefits. Too many lives are being lost to addiction. Ideally, we’ll set the whole business back, two, three, maybe even five years.”

“You want to save people you don’t know, most of whom probably don’t even want to be saved?” Larsen asked disbelievingly.

“A lot of drug addicts may be willing but only because they were initially exploited.”

“And what about the dirt-poor growers who rely on the crops to survive?”

“I can sympathise but their situation doesn’t justify –”

“Remember,” the Dane cut him off, “once you initiate violence, you’ve no way of knowing how it might spill over. Have you thought about the dangers to
innocents?”

“I’m not totally clueless. I’ve carried out detailed analysis, made projections, had Brewer scrutinise them. They all agree that if we do this properly the fall-out should be
minimal. Of course, there may be some isolated incidents but I can’t use that as an excuse to dodge my responsibility.”

Larsen stared at him.

“Look, I know you’re trying to measure my commitment but there’s really no –”

“So, your daughter’s murder requires violence on this scale? Have you considered therapy?”

Wallace was thrown by the remark. Not just its callous flippancy but surprise that Larsen would have known about Carol at all. The part of him that was not in shock, not revisiting the
nightmare, reprimanded him for his naivety. It was only natural that Larsen would have looked into his personal life.

Eighteen months had passed and the wound was as fresh as ever. He remembered the phone call from his lawyer; the police had been unable to locate him and had to go through the old family friend.
Strange how the sum of an entire lifetime could change beyond recognition with one phone call.

He managed to regain his composure, preventing himself from falling apart right there.

“I’m ... I’m guessing this is your crude attempt to ascertain my state of mind but I’m warning you, don’t try your mind games with me. I know why I’m doing
this; the question is your participation, so let’s stick to that.”

“Tell me about it.”

“What?”

“About how she died; the reports weren’t very detailed.”

Wallace was stunned; based on his off-hand manner, the other man might as well have been asking about the weather. Brewer had been correct; he must be unhinged.

All this time wasted, trying to convince a crazy man, he thought. There was nothing else to do, Wallace started to rise shakily from his seat but Larsen reached over and gripped his arm
firmly.

“I need to know what’s driving you, otherwise I can’t consider it. You’ll probably find others who don’t care but I need to know.”

Wallace returned reluctantly to his seat. “Why? Why is it necessary? You’re a professional, you’ll be well-paid.”

“Do you know how many times people in the field have found out, when it was too late, that the reasons they thought they were fighting for were just a lie? Or how often important people
have expediently reversed a position they’ve said was irreversible and left men stranded?” Larsen asked bitterly. Then his voice softened a little. “I don’t resent risking
my life. Like you say, I’m well paid, but I’ve reached the stage where I need to know why.”

Wallace weighed it up for a few moments and, at last, by the slimmest of margins he agreed to revisit the nightmare and explain what had happened to Carol and Elizabeth.

After the event, he had been successful in exerting pressure on the city authorities to deploy a greater police presence in the relevant precinct but, despite the resultant success, his anger
remained. He then turned his attention to the wider problems that drug addiction visited upon society. He had lobbied for tougher legislation, better funding for the relevant enforcement agencies
and more stringent monitoring of their effectiveness. Before long, however, he recognised how little he was accomplishing. Like using a bucket to stop the incoming tide. He looked at other avenues.
One option was to help those battling addiction. He researched the most successful treatments and had committed to starting a string of best-practice treatment centres. While it was gratifying to
see progress there, it was still not enough. His thoughts finally started to move in a different direction. Once he was convinced this was the way to go, he had stood down as CEO of Diversified
Holdings so that he could dedicate the time required.

When he was finished his account, he sat back, drained, and waited for Larsen to respond.

“Okay, regardless of how well we plan it, no matter what precautions we take, there’s a chance that what you’re planning could be discovered. Are you prepared for that? Is
Brewer?”

“This means everything to me, I’m prepared for all eventualities. Brewer’s a professional, like you.”

“Other than you two, who else knows?”

“No one.”

“Okay, we’re done for now.”

“What do you mean?” Wallace asked. “I need an answer.”

“I’ll be in touch.”

“When?” he asked, exasperated.

“If you haven’t heard within a month, start looking for someone else.”

Aware of how vulnerable he had made himself, Wallace put a hand out to stop him.

“Why the insistence on meeting face-to-face?”

“If we do proceed, you need to be clear you’re not insulated from me. Face-to-face reinforces that.”

Larsen contacted Wallace two weeks later, agreeing to take the mission.

The incessant wind howling through the skeletal structure brought Wallace back to the present. In all of his years as the focal point for major decisions, he had never felt so
much out of his depth. He had been determined to call it off and yet when he was presented with the opportunity, he couldn’t follow through. He knew part of him had hesitated because of what
Larsen had said regarding the targets being capable of full recovery. But that hadn’t been the only thing that stopped him.

For some reason Larsen’s opinion of him mattered to Wallace. Why the view of someone like the Dane should be so important was unclear to him but for some reason it was. He could see that
Larsen had clearly given himself over totally to this crusade of his. When he had asked Wallace if the billionaire meant to abandon the mission, the mercenary had tried to appear dispassionate but
not quite succeeded. Wallace did not look forward to breaking the news of his decision after the Cartagena operation but knew they had to stop.

Wallace remembered his early frustration at how long Larsen had spent researching the targets before launching a major operation. A year passed after him accepting before he saw concrete action.
Major dealers in Chicago had been eliminated and drugs removed from circulation. It was only when Brewer produced copies of the police report of the nightclub killings that he understood the
methods used. He was surprised that he was not more revolted. Brewer mentioned that Larsen had insisted that if they were going to provoke the proper response, they could not afford to be any less
savage than their quarry. None of the victims were innocent and as long as that continued Wallace had no qualms about the measures Larsen took.

Shortly after the Chicago incident, the operation really hit its stride and Madrigal’s Alliance suffered more major setbacks. What was surprising was how few of the attacks merited
significant media scrutiny, most escaping their attention altogether. Those that were reported made local, sometimes regional, headlines but that was the extent of it. Wallace had been concerned
that the DEA or some other government agency might realise the orchestrated nature of the attacks too early, before the desired effect had been realised, but his fears proved groundless.

Something else that had confounded Wallace was how long it had taken to spur Madrigal into action. On select missions, clear indications were left of Kosovar involvement, but it had seemed that
these were often missed, whether through virtue of being too obscure or through sloppy investigation.

The impact they had made on the flow of drugs into the US in their first eighteen months of operation was minimal – hardly surprising considering the total volumes involved. With the money
he had ploughed into this, he would have been better off just buying the drugs directly and destroying them. It was not until the attack on the Mexican heroin refinery that anyone had started
pointing the finger at the Balkans.

The escalation since then had been shocking. Starting with the attacks in Spain and Austria, it seemed some new atrocity was making headlines every other week. The latest estimates put the
amount of cocaine and heroin crossing the border at fifty per cent less than the previous year. Areas of Europe, while not affected as dramatically, were also seeing major reductions. Prices were
driven up as availability waned and the social stresses brought on by the shortages were deeply felt.

It all should have been profoundly satisfying. The task he’d decided to dedicate the remainder of his life to was starting to take shape, starting to succeed. And for the first few weeks
it was. He didn’t agonise over the plight of legions of addicts who were forced to endure a form of torture as their supply dwindled. Although he would have preferred that they be spared,
these were the people he had assured Larsen he had thought about when the mercenary had mentioned overspill. But as the conflict escalated, more and more innocents were sucked in: people who had
never touched drugs and had been merely getting on with their lives; passers-by who had been fatally caught up in pitched battles; law enforcement officers who had lost their lives trying to
restore order; and countless other victims whose deaths were hastened by the further deterioration of conditions in society’s most stricken areas.