Incitement Read online

  The other man shook his head, not believing what he was hearing.

  “At approximately four o’clock yesterday afternoon, a tactical response team and medical unit were alerted and told to make their way to Kates’ workplace where a DEA agent had come under fire.”

  The short pause that followed lasted only a second or two but to Brewer it seemed interminable as he struggled to digest the news before coming to the only feasible conclusion.

  “Mesi?” came the worried guess.

  “She’d gone out there to speak to Kates. When she arrived, Abeylan and another man were loading Kates’ body into the trunk of a car.”

  The fact that the DEA had Abeylan’s name meant that the Cuban had been either apprehended or killed.

  “Is he in custody?”

  “No, luckily,” Brewer’s companion said, making no attempt to hide his scorn. “Mesi somehow managed to kill Abeylan and his accomplice. Before you ask, she survived reasonably unscathed.”

  Brewer rubbed his face, trying to calculate how much damage had been done. He knew there might be a link from Kates to him but it was so insubstantial. “Okay, we’ve had a setback but it’s recoverable. Kates was dead before anyone could talk to him, and even if Abeylan was questioned before he died, he was working through a cut-out. There are no direct ties to us.” With no response forthcoming, Brewer felt the pressure build. “I can arrange another team to follow up on Abeylan’s remaining work,” he continued. “It won’t take more than a day or two. The top people in the DEA may be forced to throw a few more resources at Mesi’s investigation but all the loose ends will have been dealt with before it goes anywhere.” Brewer was being carried along by the momentum of his rationalisation by this stage. “The conflict will start to subside and they’ll lose interest. It’s not as if the DEA are eager to dig too deep in Colombia, not with their skeletons. We’ll be exactly where projected, in control and –”

  He was cut short by the other man’s cell phone ringing.

  “It’s done? ... Only the driver? ... You’re sure? Good. I’m just finished, you can send in the clean-up team.” He finished the call and, reaching into his overcoat pocket, removed a gun fitted with a suppressor. “When I stop to think, it’s probably better this way,” he said coldly. “You’re a liability and at some stage you’re bound to screw up again. Who knows who you’ll pull down with you? I mapped everything out; all you had to do was arrange a little subcontracting and you couldn’t even handle that.” He pointed the gun at Brewer. “You would have been Mesi’s next call and all because you were too sloppy to put the sufficient layers between you and Kates. Jesus, it’s a miracle you’ve lasted this long.”

  “Please, it’s not that bad. Don’t do this, we’re so close.”

  “You’re not close to anything.”

  Brewer dropped to his knees, pleading unintelligibly before the single shot cut him short.

  The killer stooped over the body, checking it quickly, then stepped over it to exit the building. By the time he reached his car he was fully focused on the next step.

  The first sight that greeted her when the nurse pushed her into the room was Tom Hughes standing by her bed, smiling awkwardly, flowers in one hand and a bunch of magazines under the other arm.

  “Tom, it’s great to see you.”

  “I would have come sooner but I only just heard. Here, it’s a fairly eclectic mix, I wasn’t sure where your interests lay,” he said, handing her the magazines.

  Mesi sensed the nurse taking an interest in their conversation and asked her if she could find a vase for the flowers.

  “So, how are you?’ he asked, pointing at the strapping. “It looks pretty horrendous.”

  “I’ve just had a meeting with the surgeon, who said that once this is off and providing I stick to a regime they’ve mapped out, there’s no reason why I won’t recover full mobility.”

  He asked her what had happened, saying that what he had managed to glean from Samuels was very sketchy. She explained the process she had gone through to find Kates and the link to Brewer. She could see that he had grown more visibly upset during her account of the link to Kates.

  “So, why didn’t you call me when you found out Brewer might be connected, I thought we were working on this together?”

  “I didn’t want to put you in an awkward position,” she said, uncomfortable under his reproachful look. “When I saw Brewer’s background, I figured he might still have pull within the Agency. I felt it’d be unfair to subject you to that. I’m sorry.”

  “Look, from now on we work this as a team. I bought in to your theory about a third-party instigator when you first came to me. Why do you think I’ve spent so much time getting material together for you?”

  “That’s true but –”

  “No ‘buts’, fair’s fair; there has to be give and take. If you think you’ve made a significant breakthrough, I should be kept in the loop, at least as much as Marshall or Samuels permit. Agreed?”

  “Absolutely,” she responded with a smile, “you’ll hear about everything from here on in. At least I’ll have a sounding board. So, what do you know about Brewer? Have you ever had any dealings with him?”

  “No, no. I know him by reputation but we never had occasion to work together, which might seem odd seeing as how he did a lot of work related to Latin America, but the Agency is pretty big and he was a few years ahead of me.”

  “And nothing since he left?”

  “Unfortunately, he’s operated at a far more rarefied level than yours truly. If he is connected, it shows that, despite the number of people we’ve checked, we haven’t been casting the net wide enough.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “Well, if we’d continued the way I’d suggested, we’d never have come across Brewer because strictly speaking he was never a field agent, more of a co-ordinator.”

  “One thing that struck me when I was researching him was how well he’s done with Spartan in such a relatively short time-span. Do you think he’s been unduly helped because of his former position?”

  “I’m sure he’s funded a few nice junkets for the odd congressman but that’s par for the course. If his background is any benefit it would only be if everything else were equal between tenders. Then the cachet of being ex-Agency might tip the scales. There’s far too much scrutiny of arms expenditure these days for anything untoward in the awarding of contracts.”

  “Yeah, I guess.”

  “You must be happy, though, in one respect. Samuels can’t ignore your suspicions now, he’s sure to get behind your investigation 100 per cent.”

  “Don’t be so sure,” Mesi said ruefully.

  “What do you mean? He’s not still refusing to consider the possibility of orchestration?”

  “Quite honestly, I’m not sure. We’re going to establish surveillance on Brewer but I know he’s still reluctant. Even if we did prove Brewer’s involvement, I think he might argue that the Kosovars commissioned him.”

  “Which is possible,” Hughes replied apologetically, clearly hating to point out the unpalatable truth.

  “I suppose,” she agreed.

  “Look, one step at a time – first we get enough to question Brewer. I’ll start pulling files on the missions he worked and personnel he used. I may not be able to show you original material due to classifications but I’ll see you get all the salient information.”

  He started to say goodbye, promising to call back later that evening and then, after hesitating briefly, leaned over and kissed her lightly on the cheek.

  Mesi was surprised by the move but not altogether unpleasantly. She was not sure what to say and an awkward moment ensued.

  “Sorry about that; impulse,” he said. “If I was out of line ...” He held his hands up.

  She sensed his tentativeness while he waited for her to say something.

  “No, don’t worry,” she smiled.

  “How about I come back later this evening after I leave the office?”


  “I’d like that.”

  nine

  Larsen had waited more than four days in Cartagena before the information had arrived.

  Rather than flying into the country, he had chartered a small sailing boat in Panama and sailed from there to Cartagena. It was easy enough to organise a slip at one of the marinas and then follow the usual custom of having an agent check him into the country. A day later, he had a stamped passport and visa in his possession, just another tourist in what was regarded by many as South America’s most beautiful city.

  Before his recent meeting with Wallace, Larsen and Brewer had reviewed how the initiative was progressing. While they had been satisfied they had managed to spur Madrigal into retaliation, they were somewhat disappointed. It appeared to them as if both sides, after a period of activity, were easing back on the hostilities. By this stage the projections had called for both sides to be funnelling most of their energies into destroying the other. Despite the impact that had been made on drug trafficking and consumption, the results were still some way short of what they had originally envisioned. If anything was going to force Madrigal to redouble his efforts, surely an attack on home soil would be it. Now, with Wallace’s waning enthusiasm, this operation had taken on even greater significance, as it might represent the final opportunity to escalate the conflict.

  The key issue had been identifying a target significant enough. There had been two ways they could go: assassinate a senior figure or destroy a valuable asset. The problem with the first option was that most of the authority lay with Madrigal himself, so he was the logical choice for an attempt. However, besides the difficulty involved, killing the drug czar might not actually help their cause. The vacuum created by his death would spark an internal feud between various candidates who fancied themselves as his successor. Such a development would divert even more energy from the external struggle with the Kosovars, precisely what they did not want. So they decided to go with the option of destroying something that the Colombians would value. They knew there were major shipments of cocaine regularly leaving Cartagena from the port of Santa Marta and, given the Alliance’s weakened state, an attack on one of these would fit the bill perfectly. The fact that large numbers of tourists regularly travelled to Cartagena strengthened the argument for choosing this location.

  Brewer had suggested they follow the usual procedure in which he organised reconnaissance and Larsen went in later with the operational team. The suggestion was for them to take their time and monitor at least two or three of the previous shipments. Based on this intelligence, Larsen would draw up a plan of attack and recruit a team. After the standard period of drilling they would head in. On the heels of his discussion with Wallace, however, Larsen was afraid the plug could be pulled any day and insisted on an accelerated schedule. He would perform the reconnaissance himself, taking only enough time to see one shipment leave harbour. In parallel, Brewer would arrange for a small team of experienced men whose details they had on file to arrive in Cartagena shortly after Larsen’s arrival. Given the frequency of the shipments, the attack could follow fairly swiftly on the heels of their arrival. With luck, they would be in and out in a couple of days, lessening the chances of detection.

  To complete the first phase of the reconnaissance properly, Larsen would need to talk to someone familiar with the cartel’s shipping operation. Brewer had said he was confident he could get the name of a contact in the harbour master’s office who could give them the specifics they required. Due to the time pressure he felt they were under, Larsen had set sail for Cartagena expecting the name and meeting arrangements to be ready for him on arrival. In the event, it had not arrived and, after a day of waiting with nothing materialising, he decided to spend some time seeing what the city had to offer. If he stuck exclusively to the boat it might start to attract unwanted attention.

  Cartagena had two main attractions, the historic El Centro and the beach nightlife of Bocagrande. He had spent only a couple of hours on the first night walking along the beachfront of the latter. Between the constant stream of noise coming from the bars and the hordes of drunken revellers stumbling from one classless venue to another, he failed to see the attraction. El Centro was a definite improvement. It was centuries old and the ancient forts and original wall which had been built to protect the city against sackings and raids gave the place a real sense of history. Drake had laid siege to the city in one of the most famous episodes. The sailor had been eager to plunder the city for Queen and country. Larsen found that the winding narrow streets with their ancient buildings were like night and day compared to the trashy Bocagrande. If he had not been so anxious about the upcoming mission, he would have enjoyed his evenings moving through the cobble-stoned avenues, occasionally stopping at one of the plazas for dinner or a glass of wine.

  A child who looked around seven or eight approached him smiling and held up a soda, his other hand outstretched, palm open. Larsen wasn’t particularly thirsty but he gave the child a few coins for the can anyway.

  He’d noticed the large number of street children. During his research, an article he’d read mentioned how Clinton had chosen Cartagena for a state visit in 2000 when he was launching Plan Colombia, the forerunner to Plan Coca. The authorities had decided the children’s presence would ruin the city’s photo-op before the world’s media and their solution had been straightforward: they’d rounded them up, herded them onto buses and transported them to other cities where they were simply dumped.

  Larsen wondered how much longer he’d have to wait for Brewer.

  “Why are we so concerned with distribution in the US? Why not just pull back and limit ourselves to production and wholesale? If we terminated any special relationships we have and offered equal terms to everyone, we’d be insulated from the trouble.”

  Madrigal knew that Rodolfo voiced an opinion that had growing support among his compatriots. The only reason they were currently so vulnerable, the argument went, was that they had linked themselves too closely to the consumer end of their markets. Madrigal’s strategy over the years, in forming so many alliances, had been specifically to ensure that the Colombians were involved in the process end-to-end, from harvest to street corner. This approach had ensured that their profits had soared during the good times, but it also made them more vulnerable when any part of the chain was threatened. Their cash flow was closely tied to how well the retail market performed and, currently, it was struggling. The combination of the stiff new competition that was emerging and the heightened danger to their retail partners meant revenues had plummeted.

  “Giving up what we’ve fought hard to build won’t accomplish anything at this stage other than to aid the Kosovars,” he explained. “If we move back along the distribution channels, it’s an effective retreat. They’ll step into the gap. They’ll send more heroin to the US and pursue partnerships with those groups we abandon. They’ll cut us out of that sector entirely.” He surveyed the room, aware some of them remained unconvinced. “They can’t compete with us on coca production but, if we hand them control of the markets, we’ll eventually be forced to deal with them. In effect, we’ll be giving them what they want most – power over us. We have to persevere.”

  The group discussion broke off into a number of smaller, self-contained conversations, a common theme of disgruntlement running through each. He had intended to ignore them when something one of them said caught his attention. “What was that, Antonio?”

  The man to whom he directed the question looked up quizzically.

  “That last comment you made?”

  “I only said, with everything else that’s going on, how annoying it was that the foreign contractors continue to behave as if they’re on vacation. They should have the decency to limit themselves to Putumayo.” The man shifted uncomfortably under Madrigal’s gaze. “I know you’ve given orders that we are not to cause trouble around Cartagena but it would be nice to teach them a lesson.”

  “What contractors, what are yo
u talking about?” he asked, growing more annoyed with Antonio’s vagueness.

  “Rodriguez’s man, Saldivar, he was with me yesterday. He mentioned he had seen someone he used to know walking through El Centro a couple of nights ago. Someone he had worked with in Venezuela.”

  Madrigal’s instincts told him this was something he should pursue. “Did you look into it?”

  “No, I didn’t see any reason. I assumed he was one of the US contractors from Putumayo, taking some time off.”

  “Did Saldivar say anything else?”

  “No, nothing.”

  After the meeting had broken up, Madrigal contacted Rodriguez on a secure line. He asked a little about Saldivar’s background and was told about his extensive intelligence work before Rodriguez had recruited him. He arranged to speak with Saldivar directly and, when he finished, he reviewed the little he had learnt.

  During Saldivar’s eighteen months in Venezuela, twelve had overlapped with a man named Alvarez whom he had seen in Cartagena a few nights earlier. According to Saldivar, the Americans had used Alvarez as a last resort, to eliminate specific individuals who were proving troublesome. Contrary to what Antonio had said, Saldivar thought Alvarez was either Spanish or Portuguese. Alvarez had been close-lipped about his past, but Saldivar did recall some rumours that he had formerly served with the French Foreign Legion. From what Saldivar had said about his area of expertise, Madrigal didn’t think him the type who would be used in a campaign like Plan Coca. So what else might he be here for? Of the likely possibilities, there were a few which did not augur well for the cartel. The only other useful facts Saldivar had been able to provide were the time period during which Alvarez had been in Venezuela and the name of his CIA control. Hopefully, it would be enough.

  Madrigal received the completed dossier within two days. There had been a lot of false starts and deliberate misdirection to contend with but his sources were the best and had managed to produce a detailed picture of the man Saldivar had seen. His name was not Alvarez but Larsen. His father had been Portuguese, his mother Danish. He was not a product of the romanticised Foreign Legion but of the lesser known Jægerkorpset or Hunters, an elite Danish special force. A detailed history of his service record and reports on some of his subsequent labour confirmed his areas of specialisation. Larsen was used for one of two purposes, to spread terror or to kill. Whatever his mission in Colombia, Madrigal was certain it had to be connected to the Kosovars. The photographs he had obtained were all a few years old but would have to suffice. With the manpower at their disposal, he was confident they could locate Larsen if he was still in Cartagena. He called Antonio to tell him to prepare for the search.