Covert Warriors (Presidential Agent 7)

1345 20 April 2007

“Well, Frank, life is full of surprises, isn’t it?” Castillo said over the speakerphone of his Brick. “The last I remember is Clendennen trying to think of some way to stand Gray Fox against a wall for walking out on his speech at Arlington.”

“I’m having a little trouble remembering who knows what,” Lammelle said. “What did you tell Natalie Cohen about your pal Pena?”

“I told her that Juan Carlos Pena wasn’t too smart, but from what I heard, he was reasonably honest.”

That caught the attention of Juan Carlos Pena. He was sitting opposite Castillo and Svetlana on the veranda of the Big House. He had a bottle of Dos Equis resting on his stomach. He turned to Castillo and gave him the finger.

“And what should I tell Vic?”

“That Juan Carlos is not too smart but may be honest. The one thing we can’t afford is for anybody to even suspect we’re pals. You may have heard that the more people that know something, the sooner everybody does.”

“You got the satellite photos of the prison?”

“Yeah. Thanks. I wouldn’t like to be a guest of that place. We just flew over it. Juan Carlos and I have been talking about grabbing Abrego and Ferris. Conclusion: Make sure Ferris is there, then grab him quick before anybody knows what’s happening.”

“What about Abrego?”

“In the best of all possible worlds, getting the both of them would be nice. And if we can’t get Ferris, then we’ll grab Abrego and see who that brings out of the woodwork. In addition to his drug cartel pals, I mean.”

“You can do that with only a dozen ex-Spetsnaz?” Lammelle asked, doubtfully.

“Plus Uncle Remus,” Castillo said. “It’ll be like old times.”

“When I talked to Vic just now, he told me your China Post guys have lost José Rafael Monteverde.”

“How lost?”

“They were sitting on his apartment in Mexico City. They saw him go in, saw the lights go out when he presumably went to bed, sat on all possible points of egress and access to the place all night, and waited for him to go to work in the morning. When he didn’t appear, they went and had a look. He was not in his apartment, and there were no signs of anything that looked suspicious.”

“I don’t like that, Frank,” Castillo said.

“Well, nobody I know has ever accused the Cuban Dirección General de Inteligencia—or former members thereof—of being incompetent.”

“It sounds as if he knew he was being surveilled,” Castillo said.

“Yeah,” Lammelle said. “It does.”

“So, what are they doing about it? Did anybody think about the Venezuelan embassy?”

“According to Vic, they were of course sitting on the Venezuelan embassy. I will not tell Vic that you asked that question.”

Castillo grunted. “I guess what I’m supposed to say now is, ‘Well, these things happen . . .’”

“Yeah, you are. So, what happens now is that Naylor is en route to Fort Bliss—El Paso—to give Vic his marching orders. At least one—redundancy, you know—Black Hawk is by now en route from Fort Campbell to El Paso to take Vic to meet Pena. And as soon as Natalie gets to the White House, I think it reasonable to presume she will be ordered to have Ambassador McCann ask where that meeting will take place. Or will be told to do that herself.”

“Yeah,” Castillo agreed. “And what’s going to happen tomorrow morning when Abrego doesn’t show up at Juárez International?”

“I

suppose we’ll just have to wait and see.”

“I was asking: ‘What do you think they’ll do to Ferris?’”

“Same answer. Except that, dealing with these people, he may already be dead. We could demand proof of life before the exchange.”

“I don’t think he is,” Castillo said. “And as long as he’s alive, he’s a bargaining chip in what they are really after, whacking Pevsner.”