The Trade (A Hans Larsson Novel Book 2) (30 page)

“A
nything,
hon?” Penny passed Hans a can of beer.

“Just kicking myself for not checking this guy out sooner.”

He shook his head and flicked the notebook screen with the
back of his fingers.

“Why, what you got?” Penny sat beside him on the couch and
ran an eye over the CIA document.

“Videl Manuel Gonzales, born Videl Rodrigo Morales,
made
a name for himself fighting as a mercenary in the Nicaraguan Contra resistance,
rising to the rank of colonel.”

“Whoa! Didn’t the Reagan administration sell arms to Iran and
use the profits to fund these psychos?”

“Yeah, to overthrow the democratically elected Sandinista government,
on the basis they objected to American imperialism in the region. The National
Security Council set up an organization called the Enterprise, with its own
airplanes, airfields and ships, staffed by covert operatives and using Swiss
bank accounts to train, fund and supply arms to the rebels. CIA elements in
Central America pretty much ran the show, and their method was simple: totally
destroy the infrastructure of Nicaragua – hospitals, schools, businesses,
communities – and destabilize the economy. They killed anyone of note – doctors,
nurses, politicians, government officials – even simple peasants suspected of
sympathizing with the Sandinistas, who’d done great work for the people during
their time in power. The Contras slaughtered thousands, and their MO was
bayonetting pregnant women, executing captured enemy
and
their children,
torture, rape, arson – all kinds of atrocities. The country disintegrated into
such misery and chaos that even the Contras were sick of it and looking for a
way out. Then the CIA slipped a puppet into power at the next election.”

“So what part did Gonzales, or
Morales
, play in this?”

“In order to raise more funding for their terror campaign,
the Contras began shipping cocaine to the US – organized, of course, by the
CIA. Back then the drug was the privilege of the affluent – corporate types and
Hollywood. They shipped so much of the product stateside that the market
flooded – the CIA were literally stockpiling tons of the stuff – and the
distributors and dealers had to find a way to increase consumption: basically, lowering
the cost. So they came up with crack cocaine, a cheaper, purer and far more
addictive form of the drug. The resulting epidemic ravaged impoverished communities
and sent crime through the roof.”

“And you’re saying that Gonzales . . . ?”

“Was the kingpin in the drug operation – collaborated with
the CIA, oversaw the supply chain and funneled the profits through Swiss
accounts.”

“Did he get brought to justice?”

“Ha! Justice isn’t a word that features in this. The CIA later
claimed they were under no legal requirement to report any knowledge of drug
trafficking by foreign combatants and made sure to cover their tracks. The
State Department argued the money they had paid to known drug traffickers was
in support of humanitarian assistance to the Contras and that the conflict was
justified, since the Sandinistas were supplying arms to rebels in El Salvador.
The incoming Bush administration destroyed all documentation linking the
players in the drug chain. Gonzales received the protection of Nicaragua’s new
US-backed president and couldn’t go to trial in the States because he knew too
much. Hell, he was a major card in a huge and tottering house. The deal he’d
have cut with the congressional inquiry would’ve brought the US government crashing
down. If I remember rightly, they laid all of the blame on some low-level drug dealer
in LA.”

“So Gonzales walked away scot-free?”

“Gonzales walked away with a clean slate and a small
fortune. He turned up in Cape Verde in 1990 just as the country held its first
open elections. Used his money and connections to bring Carlos Fonseca’s Democratic
Alliance party to power. Bar a three-year deposition in 2002, Fonseca’s been
there ever since.”

“So Fonseca’s likely in the US’ pocket?”

Oh, he’s a puppet all right. The US has been pouring aid
money into Cape Verde since its independence in the seventies in return for
certain favors. In 2006 Fonseca signed the US Charter for International
Development – basically agreeing to whatever economic conditions and standards
of governance Big Brother requested in return for ongoing financial assistance.”

“And I’m guessing Gonzales still has ties to the CIA. Is
there anything in the records linking him to child trafficking?”

“Get this. When rising up through the ranks in the Contra
campaign, Commandante Tres-Ochenta – “Three-Eighty,” as he became – had a
penchant for taking the children of captured enemy combatants off into the
jungle to ‘show them his spiders,’ and those kids never came back.”

“No!”

“And in 2009 there was a huge police cover-up when a
building contractor working at La Laguna reported seeing him in bed with a
young boy who’d gone missing a week earlier and who was never seen again.
Needless to say, the builder turned up dead on one of the island’s beaches following
a ‘swimming accident.’”

“Oh, Hans.” Penny buried her face in his neck.

“I know.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I’ve got to move fast – this has wasted enough time
already.”

“Can you wait until Phipps and Clayton get here tomorrow?”

“Did you hear that guy breathing down the phone? That’s not
someone who’s gonna give us enough time to organize a rescue.”

“But you can’t go on your own. I’m coming with you.”

“No, you can be more use to me here. If I’m not back in three
hours and I’m off comms, contact Karen and Muttley.”

“You’re not going alone?”

“No, I’m going to call Enrique and Eddy Logan. They both said
they’d help out if it came to it.”

Hans took out his cell and stabbed at the keypad. “Enrique,
Hans. We’ve found our man – it’s the mayor.”

After a distinct intake of breath, “This is not possible –
he does much for charity, no?” Enrique replied.

“It is him, trust me. I’ve got proof – a recording on my
cell phone of Jessica calling me from La Laguna.”

“Have you told the police?”

“No, they’ll only get in the way.”

“What about Karen?”

“If I tell her now, then as US ambassador she’s obligated to
notify the authorities – but she won’t. She’ll cover for me, and that means
unnecessary trouble for her down the line. I’ve told Penny if I’m not in
contact within three hours, then to go ahead and tell Karen everything.”

“What do you plan to do?”

“I have to go and get her out. Listen, Enrique, you said I could
call on you for support. I know it means going out on a limb, and I’ll go in
there alone if I have to, but—”

“Hans, you got it, man. Where are you now?”

“I’m at the villa.”

“Okay, I’ll get there as soon as I can.”

“Please do – and I’m gonna call Eddy Logan.”

“Logan!”

“It’s a long story, but he’s promised me a favor.”

M
outhwash Man entered the cell with a
woman in tow.

“Maria, wake up!” he ordered.

Jessica raised herself, pretending to feel groggy from the
pills. She fixed a wonky gaze on the woman, who looked a little like Penny. A
similar age, they had the same height and build and shoulder-length sun-bleached
brown hair. But this woman’s tresses were frizzy, like Lianna the R & B
star, her skin a little darker and eyes piercing blue, like the husky their
neighbor old Jake owned back in Portland. A feeling of comfort came over
Jessica. She hoped this woman would be as nice as Penny.

“Maria, this is Brenda.”

The woman smiled. Jessica knew the game by now and nodded
vaguely.

“Brenda is going to take you on a nice boat ride to a beach,
but you must behave and do as she says, you understand?”

“Uh-huh,” Jessica bluffed. “Do . . . they have ice cream . .
. at the beach?”

“You can have all the ice cream you want.” The woman
chuckled. “If you are a good girl.”

“I’ll be good.” Jessica made a pretense of flopping back
down on the bed.

“I suggest you are.” The woman thrust out a hand and grabbed
the little girl’s hair, then pulled a knife from the pocket of her pants. She
flicked open the blade, dragged Jessica’s head into her lap and dug the knife
into the side of her nose.

“Ouch!” Jessica tried to pull back, but the woman held her
in an iron grip. Blood welled in the wound.

“If you mess with me, I will not hesitate to cut your pretty
face so you’re an ugly girl. Do you understand me?”

She nodded. The woman twisted Jessica’s hair around her hand
until the kid screamed and her eyes brimmed with tears.

“In fact, you horrible little bitch, I might kill you
anyway.
Do you understand
?”

The woman’s face contorted into an evil sneer, nostrils
flared and eyes wide with hatred. She dug a nail into the top of Jessica’s ear
and spat in her face in frustration.

Behind her the man giggled quietly. The woman saw he had his
fists clenched. She heard him wheezing with excitement and could see he was
aroused.

“Okay, cut her hair,” she ordered.

The man stepped forward with a pair of scissors. “Sit still!”
he bellowed.

Jessica obeyed, and he began hacking off her long brown locks.

L
ogan
said he’d leave Chico’s immediately, stop by his place to pick up some hardware
and meet Hans at Karen’s villa. Twenty minutes later they heard the sound of
his BMW skidding to a halt outside.

“Hans, how is it, mate?”

He popped the trunk and vaulted out of the convertible.

“Crunch time, Eddy,” said Hans. “Thanks for coming.”

“No problem. I owe you one for keeping quiet about my little
import-export business.”

Hans was about to introduce Logan to Penny when the Englishman’s
jaw dropped – “You!”

“Are we still on for that 4x4 jeep tour?” She grinned.

“We can explain later,” said Hans, filling him in on recent events.

“There’s some sick shits around.” Logan grimaced. “Let’s
hope this mayor geezer comes out shooting so I can blow his head off with this
baby.” He reached in the trunk and pulled out his shotgun. “I brought the nine mil for backup.” He lifted his Adidas jacket to reveal a
shoulder-holstered pistol.

“Good man,” said Hans, and then explained Enrique’s part in
the proceedings. “As soon as he gets here, we’re all systems go.” Hans checked
his Rolex. “Damn! He’s late.”

They spent the waiting time checking the radios and going
firm on an assault plan. Hans decided it was best to leave the car some distance
from the fort and approach on foot, using the lie of the land for cover. As
there were no feasible access points in the formidable walls, they would move through
the entranceway in a pepper-potting motion, covering each other as they did. If
the main door was locked, as Hans reckoned it would be, Logan would give it
both barrels with the twelve-gauge, and then they would force their way inside
and begin clearing the rooms.

“Do we know how many we’re up against or exactly where Jessica
is?” Logan asked, staring at a three-dimensional plan of the castle and the
surrounding hillside Hans had drawn on paper.

“Hopefully it’s just the mayor and his bruiser of a butler,
but it’s impossible to say. They know we’re onto them because of the phone call
from Jessie, but they’ll figure we’ve gone to the police and that it will take
time to get a raid organized. As for where she’s being held, everything points
to the dungeon, but who knows by now? We’ll have to move through the building
fast and neutralize anyone putting up a fight.”

“Good job I brought these.” Logan flapped open his jacket to
reveal a pocket stuffed with plastic ties. “I use them for my runner beans.”

Hans fetched his Beretta, holster and magazines from the
rear of the jeep. He briefly considered the bulletproof vest borrowed from the
embassy, but dismissed it, since it would slow him down and impede his agility.

“You know what the mayor looks like, right?” he asked Logan.

“Yeah, weasel-faced runt with a pointy beard. Comes in the
bar now and again with that idiot of a bodyguard.”

Half an hour and two unanswered calls later, Enrique still
hadn’t showed.

“Right, we can’t afford to leave it any longer. We’ll go
without him. You drive, Eddy.”

Hans hugged Penny and hopped in the passenger seat of the
BMW. “Remember, I’ll try and keep you updated, but if you haven’t heard
anything in three hours, get on the phone to Karen.”

“Will do, Hans, and take—”

The BMW’s wheels spinning on the gravel drowned her words.

As Logan pulled onto the main road, Hans’ phone rang.

“Enrique!”

“Hans, I’m so sorry. I went off the road in the Porsche. I’m
in the hospital with a broken foot and suspected concussion.”

“We’ve got to go ahead with the plan.”

“Yes, you must. I’ll keep my phone on in case there’s
anything I can do.”

“Thanks, Enrique.”

Logan powered along the coast road, overtaking everything in
his path. At the turn inland, he swung the wheel violently to the right and then
quickly left, balancing the performance car perfectly to take the corner
sideways in a screech of tires without slowing.

“South London School of Driving,” he shouted above the rally
noise, sensing Hans’ surprise.

Hans ordered him to stop the car a quarter mile from the
fortress and hide it off the road. From here they would move on foot, aiming to
reach the building unnoticed to maintain the element of surprise. They clipped
on their radios and earpieces.

With the American leading the way, they jogged up the
hillside using the dead ground and scrub as cover, managing to get within twenty
yards of the fort’s impressive entrance tunnel without spotting a soul. Hans
put his finger to his lips and gestured for Logan to stay where he was, maneuvering
into position for a scan of the building.

The place looked dead – bizarrely reassuring yet a little unnerving.
Hans was about to suggest Logan sprint for the archway while he covered him when
something struck him as odd. A garbage can sat halfway along the tunnel, placed
against the stonework on the left-hand side. It took Hans a second to figure
what was out of place – there was no garbage collection this far from the city.

Hans turned to crawl back to Logan . . . and his heart
stopped.

Logan was up and running for the portal.

Hans’ initial reaction was to go for the walkie-talkie, but
there was not enough time, so he rose to his knees and yelled, “Eddy! No—”

The sniper’s bullet glanced off Hans’ skull, and he crashed
facefirst
, unconscious, onto the
rocky ground before the shot rang out. Inside the entranceway Logan stopped,
confused, and turned to run back. With a greeny-yellow flash, the explosion
rocked the hillside, blowing him out of the tunnel like wadding from one of the
castle’s antique cannons.