It was true. Things got dicey in the middle of big ops, and unless you had one person in control of all the moving parts, the train inevitably jumped the rails. Years ago, I’d worked a fugitive recovery with the Marshals Service in Chicago, and that had been a seamless operation. Everyone had reported to the chief deputy, everyone deferred to him, and it had run without incident, even though the fugitives in question had been heavily armed.
“So,” Jared said, taking a breath, “as you said, this fulfills our contract, keeps Brigham Stanton safe, and as long as you stay clear of stray bullets—this works out well.”
“Well, it shouldn’t be that bad. I can’t imagine I’ll see Suárez himself. He’ll send someone to meet with me, but he won’t cross onto American soil.”
“Agreed.”
“And Dallas—Agent Bauer,” I corrected quickly, “made it sound like this Suárez wasn’t that big a deal yet.”
“Oh, I doubt he is, but the feds like to roll all kinds of people, and the DEA likes to know who they’re fighting. They get in bed with one cartel and take down the rest. Because, yes, it still allows drugs into our country, but this way they avoid the copious bloodshed and murder that goes along with it, as well as the power plays and infighting between the cartels. You know how it works; it’s the whole ‘looking the other way for the greater good’ deal.”
“This is yet another prime example of why I stopped being a cop,” I told him. “This crap right here.”
“I know. But right now, you really need to figure out who’s on the same side of the line as you. I can’t tell you how many guys I busted, especially overseas, who turned out to be FBI or DEA.”
“Because no one knows who’s undercover, who’s bad, who went in on the right side but then went rogue and flipped allegiances.”
“I think it depends how far down the rabbit hole you go, but essentially, yes, there’s no way of telling because everyone’s hiding something. I don’t know that the distinction can even be made when there is ample evidence to show US collusion with drug cartels.”
“Well, I’m only going undercover to protect Brig Stanton, and then I’m out.”
“Yes,” he agreed. “And after this, we’re instituting an even more rigid background check for anyone who wants to do business with us.”
“Look at me helping, changing Torus for the better.”
“Let’s not go crazy, Esca.”
I chuckled at how scolding he sounded.
“Owen has all your credentials changed to Nash Colter, now. That should work, because you’re more likely to respond to either name, as they’re both familiar. You’ll be less apt to be caught off guard.”
It made sense. This was spy stuff he was trying to impart. Contrary to popular belief, regular cops, even detectives, didn’t go undercover on month- or yearlong ops. Guys with an aptitude for the work were taken straight out of the academy and given new identities that they used for deep cover. They never worked the streets, didn’t rise through the ranks. A one- or two-day sting operation, sure, lots of cops had done that. But the guys who infiltrated drug cartels or the mob, the ones who lived another life for six months to a year, and sometimes more—that had never been me. Jared giving me tips on my name was for my protection, and because he knew what to expect.
“I want daily updates from you, even if it’s only a text message. Tell people I’m your father and I worry. Owen’s changing my paperwork now, in case anyone looks.”
“Yes, sir,” I agreed.
“And talk to Agent Bauer as soon as possible.”
As soon as he woke up, I would.
“They’re not going to kill Brigham Stanton, they need him, so whoever he’s closest to, that’s who you want to keep in your sights.” He sighed deeply. “Where is Astor Finnel?”
“She’s not the one he’s closest to, and anyone looking into his personal life, and not his online presence, will know that. It’s Eric Foster who’s his weak point.”
“Then alert Bauer to that, and if you need backup, I can send Locryn.”
I let the silence stretch.
“Fine, I can send Shaw.”
Shaw would stick out like a sore thumb. A burly redheaded Scottish laird in the middle of a drug op… “Actually, sir, I think I’m going to tap Agent Bauer’s resources before ours.”
“All right,” he agreed solemnly. “Daily check-ins, Esca, or I will blow all of this to hell, and the feds will have you to thank for that. Their memory is long.”
“Absolutely.”
There was a silence, but he didn’t hang up.
“Boss?”
“I know what you’re thinking.”
“What?”
“You believe that you messed up and that I’ve lost faith in you.”
It was terrifying that he knew these things, that he could read us all so effortlessly.
“You’re second-guessing your current career path with Torus and considering quitting to what—what would be really stupid?”