The Covert Element (32 page)

"Okay, Doll. Let’s get to work. Here’s my phone. Can you get
the pics from here to your computer?"

Beth rolled her eyes.
Would I ever learn?

* * *

After Beth had extracted the photos from my phone, I directed
her to Marsden’s photo on the Bellechester Organic website.

"We should run this guy, too."

"Got it."

Beth returned my phone so I could call a former teammate
from my government operations years, Dan Trew. Today Dan is a
big shot at the FBI building in downtown Washington. Back then,
he and I were both just anonymous grunts doing our best to serve
without getting caught.

Dan answered on the second ring.

"Executive Assistant Director Trew."

"Haven’t you earned any more titles since I called you last
year?"

Trew was silent for a moment.

"Okay. I know the guy, but the name is still slipping. Hold on.
You go by Becker these days. Am I right?"

"You always were good with names, Dan."

"That’s true. But it’s a lot harder to remember them when a
person has more than one."

He laughed.

"I’ll have to grant you that one.

"So anyway . . . Dan, as usual, I need a favor."

"You know your credit’s good with me. Fire away."

"I’ve got a few pictures that I need run through any facial
recognition databases the FBI might have access to – especially
anything that might include Mexican drug cartel members."

"Oh, oh. Sounds like you’re jousting at windmills. You sure you
want to poke around in that hole?"

"I kinda already have. So anything you might find for me would
be extremely helpful. I’m sort of in a bind, if you know what I mean.
And worse yet, I got my wife in the same mess with me."

"Whew, baby. I don’t envy you."

"Yeah. Me neither. So is there someplace we can send those
pics, kind of on the QT?"

"You got it. I’ll give you the URL of the Secure FTP site and you
. . ."

"Whoa. Hold on, Dan. Let me turn you over to my computer
goddess wife. She’ll take your info.

"And Dan?"

"Yeah."

"Thanks a bunch. I owe you big time for this."

"No problem. Hand me over to the goddess and we’ll get
underway."

I gave Beth my phone and watched.

She said little as her fingers flew over the keyboard of her tiny
netbook. It didn’t take long and she was finished. Then Dan must
have asked her a question.

"Yeah. He’s still exactly like that. Uh huh. Nope . . . no hope,
I’m afraid." Beth laughed into the phone. "Okay. I will. And thank
you again . . . very much. Good bye."

Beth ended the call and returned to her computer screen.

"What was that stuff about at the end there?"

She stopped typing and turned toward me.

"He said you should stop playing Buzz Lightyear and always
listen to your wife."

Beth smiled.

I should’ve seen that one coming.

"Got it. That Dan always has good advice." I leaned over and
gave Beth a big smooch. "Thanks, Doll."

"Babe, you are absolutely worth all the trouble."

Gee. Thanks.

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

As we waited for Dan to call us back, Beth and I chatted about
the day’s events.

"How’d you find me so fast? I know that GPS signal is out there
to be found. But how did you know to look for it so soon?"

"I had a couple clues that you might be in trouble. First of all,
you didn’t show up at our rendezvous point when I expected you. I
called your cell to check on you, but got no answer.

"Then I checked the truck low-jack signal on my phone and
saw your Honda was parked down at the Bay Point Lot near the
upper harbor. That made no sense at all."

"Wait a minute. You’ve got my Pilot bugged?"

"Not bugged. It’s just got a basic GPS transmitter under the
hood so I can keep track of you. That’s all."

Once CIA, always CIA.

"Okay. I guess it’s not a good time to complain about personal
privacy issues, seeing as your little device helped save my butt.
Please continue."

"Well . . . when the Honda wasn’t where it was supposed to be,
I figured you were in some pretty big trouble. So I called Bull."

"Why not Gunner?"

"Who do you always call when you’re up to your neck in doggie
do?"

"Good point. Keep going, please."

"Since your car was at the harbor, I guessed that you might be
on a boat. So even before I started looking for your encrypted GPS
signal, I asked Bull to get his boat in the water."

"That was really good thinking. I’m very impressed." I meant it.

"Thank you. Anyway, then I got the encrypted P-Code software
open. It took a minute to wade through the passwords and satellite
links, but pretty soon I found out where you were. I relayed that
info to Bull. I believe you know the rest."

"Wow. You are the most amazing woman in the world. I
worship your intellect and appreciate the cute package in which you
keep it."

I hugged Beth hard.

"Just ‘cute?’ "

"Beautiful. Gorgeous. Magnificent. Need I go on? Shall I
compare thee to a summer’s day?"

"Nope. That’ll do. You’re not so bad yourself."

"I’m so glad the Mexicans got me instead of you."

"Actually, I did have a pretty close call with a visitor at the
house. He was ringing our doorbell when I snuck out the back. I still
had to run over him to get out of the driveway. Fortunately, I don’t
think the Spyder suffered any serious damage."

Beth smiled.

I hugged her again. I felt too ashamed to say anything.

Finally, I managed to choke out three words.

"I love you."

Beth gave me a squeeze.

"I know," she said. I could feel her smile against my chest. "I
know."

Just then my phone vibrated in my pocket.

"Looks like Dan has something for us," I said, pressing the
"answer" button.

"Hi, Dan. What do we know for sure?"

"You got one really big fish, and the rest you can cut up for
bait."

"Thanks, Dan. Can you send it to Beth encrypted?"

"Sure. Put her on."

I handed the phone to Beth, who was already on the way to her
computer.

It didn’t take long before Beth thanked Dan and disconnected
the call.

"What’ve we got?"

"Hold your horses. I’ll have it up on the display in a sec."

In a few moments we both knew who our "big fish" was. We
looked at one another. Neither knew what to say . . . or do . . . next.

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

Santos wanted to make sure all the American
Los Cinco
big
shots were present when the Elevator blew. So he made the call
himself.

"Albert Dosdall."

"Mr. Dosdall. I’m sure you recognize my voice. But you will not
recognize the phone I am using because I am in America. Please
contact my offices in the usual fashion and give them a code to relay
along to me, so I may call you again to confirm my identity."

"I understand."

The call had come to Dosdall’s home phone, since it was past
office hours. Dosdall knew he had just spoken to Raphael Santos,
undisputed leader of the
Los Cinco
Mexican drug cartel. The cartel
was Dosdall’s best client. In fact, he made so much money from
cartel legal dealings, that he really needed no other sources of
income.

He sent an encrypted email to the address he normally would
use to contact Santos. As Santos had requested, he left a code
phrase for recognition purposes. Then he waited.

Still lurking not far from
el Proyecto de Minnesota
, Santos
bided his time until his call from Mexico came through.
It would
not be so bad to live in this place after my business with Los Cinco
is completed
, he thought.
The air is clean. The climate would be
cold in the winter. But now . . . in the summer . . . it is as beautiful
here near the Mississippi River as anywhere on earth.
He knew
he’d have to clear his living arrangements through the Witness
Protection Program. After the havoc he was about to wreak on the
cartel, anyone left alive would hunt him like a hound.

His phone buzzed. He picked up without saying anything.

After a moment, he said, "
Gracias
," and hung up his cell.
Immediately, he called Dosdall again.

"Albert Dosdall."

"So you wish to know what a Mexican will say when a friend
sneezes three times. I will accommodate. ‘
Salud. Dinero. Amor.
’
Are you satisfied?"

"I am, Señor. How may I be of service?"

"I need you and Ashcroft in Minnesota tomorrow at exactly
2:00 p.m. We will meet at the site. Understood?"

"Yes. I understand. But is there a problem?"

"There is nothing about which to worry. I merely require your
counsel, and that of Mr. Ashcroft. So I will see you at 2:00 p.m.
tomorrow?"

"Yes, Señor. We will be there precisely at two."

"Good bye until tomorrow, Mr. Dosdall." Santos disconnected
the call.

Dosdall had met Santos on several occasions, and had spoken
with him on many. Raphael Santos was a man who made Dosdall
nervous. Santos struck him as somewhat unstable. Certainly he was
ruthless beyond measure. Such attributes do not make for a
comforting presence.

He would find out soon enough what Señor Santos wanted. He
placed the call to Ashcroft.

CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

Beth was insistent.

"We’ve got to get this information to Gunner and Bull right
away."

I was more cautious.

"Let’s think for a moment before we talk too much. It’s unclear
how this new discovery affects the plan we just discussed."