The Cartel (53 page)

“We cannot disrupt the Mérida Initiative at this point,” Carling says. “It’s three days away from becoming law. The damage to our relationship with Mexico would be incalculable.”

“So the option is what?” the director asks. “Letting our allies continue to live in the belief that their top police officer is honest when we know in fact—”

“Not in fact,” McDonough says. “Allegedly.”

“—that he’s
allegedly
in the employ of the drug cartels?”

“If they don’t already know,” Keller says.

“We’re not asking for an international incident,” the director says, “just a ‘Q’ visa for Palacios.”

McDonough leans forward. “This is an internal Mexican issue. Justice will only authorize action if and when the Mexican attorney general contacts us with a request. As for Mr. Palacios, we can’t just accept his story at face value.”

“You have Vera on tape,” Keller says.

“There is no chain of custody on that tape,” McDonough says. “We don’t know its origin, it could have been doctored by the Tapia organization to sabotage its most effective adversary. They failed to take Vera out, so they’re trying to have us do it.”

“Palacios could have been planted on you,” Carling says to Keller, “for the exact purpose of scuttling the Mérida Initiative.”

“Which the cartels have to be extremely concerned about,” the White house rep says.

“Yeah, they’re quaking,” Taylor says.

The director turns to McDonough. “What do you need to bring Palacios over?”

“Have him wear a wire,” McDonough says. “Get me Vera on tape, incriminating himself on a record that we control, and then maybe we have something to talk about.”

“
Can
you get Palacios to wear a wire?” Taylor asks.

“I don’t know,” Keller says. “Vera is smart, he’s already freaked out…”

“We’re talking a one-time event here,” the director says, “not an ongoing operation.”

“Give it a shot,” McDonough says. “You get us a tape of Vera, we’ll get you the visa.”

He looks to Carling, who nods.

“What about Aguilar?” Keller asks. “Protection for him and his family.”

“The head of SEIDO,” McDonough says, “has ample reasons to confer with his counterparts here. If for some reason he were to decide not to return to Mexico, I’m sure something could be worked out.”

“We can’t have a Mexican intelligence officer shouting accusations across the border,” Carling says, “and give him citizenship.”

“But something could be worked out, couldn’t it, Susan?” McDonough asks tiredly.

“The alternative being,” Keller says, “that I
personally
drive Luis Aguilar across the border from Juárez and deposit him at the front door of
The
Washington Post,
which would be happy to run an over-the-fold story about how this administration wouldn’t lift a finger to protect an honest prosecutor and his family. And I’ll be sure to spell your names correctly.”

McDonough looks at Taylor. “You’re right—he’s an asshole.”

Taylor shrugs.

Carling says, “I’m sure none of us wants to conduct foreign policy in the media. I didn’t mean to suggest that we wouldn’t welcome Mr. Aguilar into the country, only that we would want him to be discreet.”

“Good,” the director says. “Only question remaining—do we inform our Mexican counterparts of this operation now?”

“If we launch an operation on Mexican soil,” Carling says, “against a high-ranking Mexican official without informing them—indeed, getting their permission—there’s going to be diplomatic hell to pay.”

“What?” McDonough asks. “They’re going to turn the money down?”

“Possibly,” Carling answers. “It would insult their pride and they’d think that we don’t trust them.”

“We don’t,” Taylor says.

“That is
exactly
the kind of attitude—”

Keller cuts her off. “If we inform them now, the operation could be compromised.”

“A risk we have to take.”

“It’s not you taking the risk,” Keller says. “It’s Palacios and Aguilar. They and their families could be killed.”

“Aren’t you being a little dramatic?” the White House rep asks.

“No,” Keller says. “I will not—repeat,
not
—send Palacios in with a wire if you give prior notice to the Mexicans, much less ask their permission.”

McDonough looks at the director. “Do you run your organization or does Keller?”

“As the agent in the field,” the director says, “Keller has the best knowledge of the situation and the people involved, and I trust his judgment and discretion.”

“Send in a different agent,” Carling says.

“Palacios would never cooperate with him,” Taylor says. “Anyway, we’re arguing over nothing—the Mexicans
do
know. The head of SEIDO is conducting the investigation, and we are merely cooperating as good neighbors. The burden of communicating with his superiors is on him, not us. There’s your out. If the Mexicans scream, point at Aguilar and look innocent.”

The quiet in the room indicates that a compromise has been reached. McDonough looks at his watch, then to Keller, and says, “You have your marching orders—get Palacios in a room with a wire.”

“But not for three days,” the White House rep says.

Keller gets it—in three days the Mérida Initiative becomes law.

State will be happy.

The White House will be happy.

DEA will be happy.

The Mexicans will be happy.

The arms manufacturers will be happy.

Adán Barrera will be happy, because he’ll have new weapons in his war against…well…just about everybody now.

Keller stands up. “Thank you for your time.”

He leaves the room.

“When this is over,” McDonough says, “fire that guy.”

“Go fuck yourself, Ed,” the director answers.

—

Keller takes a red-eye back to Mexico City.

He’s as grateful as he is surprised by the support that Taylor and the director gave him. But I shouldn’t be surprised, he thinks—both men are true believers in what they do, both care about the safety of their people. And both are going to stick up for their organization in a bureaucratic border skirmish.

It didn’t stop them from giving him holy hell after the meeting, but now they’re fully invested in the operation, making logistical plans to bring Palacios across the border, working with Immigration on the paperwork, setting up a satellite run to photograph Vera’s presence at the meeting with Palacios.

“We’ll start a forensic analysis on Vera’s finances,” the director said.

“Justice will shit,” Keller said. It will involve hacking computers, bank accounts, money transfers, real estate records.

“Let them shit,” the director said. “I’ll run it through NSA.”

They plan to take preventative measures as well—call undercovers back in, sanitize any intelligence packages ready to go to AFI, suspend or at least slow down any operations against the Sinaloa cartel.

“Do you need more agents on the ground there?” Taylor asked Keller. “Surveillance, backup, communications?”

“Communications, maybe,” Keller answered. “Otherwise, no. I don’t want any extraordinary activity that might tip Vera off.”

“Be careful,” Taylor reminded him, dropping him off at Departures at National. “Remember, there’s that five-million bounty on your head.”

“I thought it was two million,” Keller said.

“Barrera upped it,” Taylor answered. “However much we put on him, he matches it for you. Stay in touch.”

Keller had a rare late-night scotch to help him sleep, but it didn’t do much good. He dozed a little, but was wide awake well before the plane started its descent, as they say, into Mexico City.

It feels more like home now than D.C., even though he knows that the airport cops have probably noted his coming and going for the Tapias or Nacho Esparza, depending which side they’ve taken.

Aguilar is at the airport, seeing his family off.

“I’ll be there in a week,” he tells his daughters, who look sad and a little dubious about the trip. “Maybe less.”

“Why can’t you come now?”

“I have just a little work to wrap up,” Aguilar says. “Then I’ll be there. What do you think I’ll look like in a cowboy hat?”

“Why do we have to go to a
ranch
?”

“It’s more of a spa,” Lucinda says. “They have hot tubs, massages, yoga—you’re going to enjoy it.”

Her tone being more of a command than a prediction, the girls stop their objections and hug their father goodbye.

“A few days,” he tells Lucinda quietly. “A week at the most.”

“Be careful.”

“Of course.” He kisses her lightly on the lips and then watches his family go through security.

Keller stands off to the side and waits. On the drive back into the city, he says, “My bosses want Palacios to wire up.”

“On Gerardo?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s risky.”

Yes, it is, Keller thinks.

—

Palacios goes ballistic.

Yells, throws things at the wall, sits down, gets up, threatens to leave.

Aguilar remains perfectly calm. “You tell Gerardo you want to meet him. You express concern for your safety and ask him what he’s doing about it.”

“He’s not an idiot,” Palacios says. “He’ll suspect.”

“The second you get him on tape incriminating himself,” Aguilar says, “we’ll arrange transport for you and your family to the United States.”

“I’m not doing it.”

“Cut him loose,” Keller says to Aguilar. “Who needs him?”

“You can’t leave me hanging now!”

“Then wear the wire,” Keller says.

“Fuck you.”

“No, fuck
you
!” Keller yells. “You’ve been sitting in these rooms for three goddamn weeks, giving us as little as possible! The fucking minimum. Well, the minimum isn’t good enough! I’ll go have a beer with Vera
right now
and tell him we have a new CI!”

“You wouldn’t do that.”

“Try me!” Keller says. “If you don’t wear this wire you are fucking worthless to me! And you know what worthless means? It means you’re not worth a ‘Q’ visa, you’re not worth a new identity, you’re not worth the house, the car, you’re not worth another one of my fucking sandwiches!”

He rips the food out of Palacios’s hand and throws it against the wall.

“I guess we can’t expect to come back to the Four Seasons,” Aguilar says, surveying the damage.

“Two days,” Keller says, calming down. “You set up your meeting with Vera, I’ll set up your entry into the States. You wear the wire, you get us what you need, you disappear until you testify.”

“You never said anything about testifying.”

“The wire is no good without your testimony,” Keller says. What did you think—you and Vera were going to be buddies anyway after this? You were going to bang girls together like the old days? Grow up.”

Palacios agrees to wear the wire.

“Business as usual,” Keller tells him. “Do everything you normally would, nothing out of the ordinary. Call me when you’ve set the meeting up.”

The rest of the day goes by like a muddy, slow-moving river. It’s well into night when Keller gets the call.

“Tomorrow at 6:30,” Palacios says.

“Where?”

“Gerardo has a little love nest he keeps in Polanco,” Palacios says. He gives Keller the address.

“We’ll meet at five,” Keller says. “Las Alcobas. We’ll wire you up there.”

“Do you think Gabriela would go for a farewell fuck?” Palacios asks.

“I doubt it.”

There’s a lot to get done. Aguilar arranges for SEIDO surveillance outside Vera’s condo to get pictures of the AFI chief coming and going. Then he goes to work on the exit plan—a SEIDO Learjet 25 will be standing by at the 1st Military Air Station at Mexico City International Airport. The flight plan will be filed to the 18th Military Airbase in Hermosillo, Sonora, for Aguilar to confer with SEIDO personnel there. In Hermosillo, they’ll change to an American DEA plane and fly to Biggs Army Airfield in El Paso. The DEA at EPIC will have arranged for the plane to clear American airspace and to pull into a classified hangar.

Palacios will be taken to EPIC, interviewed, and housed under heavy security at Fort Bliss.

Aguilar will join his family on vacation in Arizona and await developments. If Vera is arrested, Aguilar will return to Mexico to pursue the prosecution. If not, he’ll consider staying in the United States, where a position in a D.C. consulting firm has already been quietly arranged.

During the operation, Keller will remain in a surveillance position in a car two blocks removed from Vera’s condo, with remote audio sensor equipment allowing him to monitor the meeting.

He’ll call Taylor at EPIC as soon as Palacios exits.

Palacios will walk the two blocks from the condo, and, if he’s all clear, will get into an unmarked SEIDO vehicle and go out to the airport. If he’s not clear, he’ll walk to his own car, a late-model Cadillac, and his driver and bodyguard will take him.

That’s all if Palacios gets what they need on tape.

If he doesn’t, he’ll simply go home and set up another meet with Vera to try again.

—

The day, which promises to be endless, begins with Keller having a late breakfast.

With Gerardo Vera.

It’s part of the plan, to make Vera think that everything is as normal, keep him at ease. So Keller, feeling sleazy, sits with him at a sidewalk café out in Coyoacán. Keller is too edgy to be hungry, but he makes himself eat a large plate of
pollo machaca.
Vera goes for eggs Benedict and a Bloody Mary. He leans back in his chair, smiles at Keller, and says, “Big night tonight.”

Keller feels his stomach tighten. Does Gerardo know something? Is he probing? “Yeah?”

“This woman,” Vera says. “A famous beauty I’ve been seeing. Tonight I think I’m going to, as you say
in the States,
‘close the deal.’ ”

“How famous?” Keller asks.

“A gentleman doesn’t name names,” Vera says. He grins and adds, “Quite famous, really. For her beauty and her…sexuality.”

He’s boyishly pleased. Keller feels almost guilty, aware of the old adage that every successful operation ends in a betrayal. And he does feel guilty, irrationally, looking across the table at the broad, smiling face of a man who’s thwarted every effort to get Barrera, who has taken tens of millions in
cañonazos,
a
matón—
a bully who held a young girl while his partner gouged out her eyes.