Incitement Page 27

  “Luis formed the group which gathers here today, seeing what no one else could. By working together we increased our revenues many times over and with this came a period of great stability. Despite everything he achieved, he never sought to dictate to us. Instead, he brought us together, eager to hear our thoughts. We should never forget how much he has given us.”

  The old man paused, giving his tribute to Madrigal time to sink in, then he resumed. “But all things have their time, they grow, mature and ultimately wane. This is the way of the world, you only have to look at me to see the proof.”

  Some of the audience politely refuted his words but he held up his hand.

  “No, it’s true. When I was younger my energy was boundless but now I leave much of the decision-making to the trusted friends who share this table. Occasionally I offer advice when I feel it appropriate and this is enough to make me content. Everyone, regardless of former capabilities, reaches a stage when they have to hand over the reins to others. Times change and new challenges arise; a man can find himself out of step with events.”

  He looked around the table slowly before continuing.

  “The recent troubles almost destroyed us. There were times when I feared we would not survive and only the character of the men here today averted this disaster. Together, you held your nerve and managed to come through. But the question has to be asked, could it have been avoided? I have asked myself this question countless times, trying to see it from all sides, and each time I come to the same conclusion. Had we followed a different strategy, we might have been spared much of the crisis. I think this is proven by how quickly the Kosovars agreed to end hostilities once we stepped up our retaliation. One person, more than anyone else, argued for this course of action from the earliest days.” Cabieses looked to Rodriguez for a moment, drawing the gaze of the others.

  “Initially he was dismissed as impetuous by many, myself included. In the past Luis had demonstrated how caution and forethought were invaluable qualities. So, not surprisingly, we resisted calls for action, hoping to learn more. Caesar argued that we were overthinking the problem, the simple explanation, that the Kosovars wanted to supplant us, was the correct one. With the passing of time we began to see the wisdom in his words. Luis’s commendable trait of caution became entrenched stubbornness and inflexibility. At this point Caesar showed his true qualities. Rather than force the issue and cause an irreparable rift, he convinced us to give Luis the time he needed. In the end Luis did retaliate with all the necessary force but only after his closest friend had been brutally killed.”

  Once more he paused as if he was not sure how to phrase his next remark. After a heavy sigh, he resumed. “With all this in mind, I respectfully request that Luis steps down and Caesar assumes charge of our future direction. In this new more dangerous time, a fresh perspective is required. Hopefully my example can show Luis that there is still a contribution to be made in a less active role.”

  Other than Cabieses no one was willing to make eye contact with Madrigal, but the murmured assents around the table reflected their feelings. Rodriguez, for his part, was confident that regardless of how Madrigal reacted it would make no difference. If he argued against the proposal and painted it as a betrayal, he would only make himself look worse.

  Madrigal cleared his throat and the room went still. “Tomas, I have no doubts about why you felt it necessary to speak today and I know that none of it was said lightly.”

  Cabieses nodded earnestly at this opening remark.

  “It’s true that while I argued for caution we suffered badly,” Madrigal continued. “It’s also true that the Kosovars quickly saw sense once we did act.”

  While Rodriguez was happy with what he took as a precursor to Madrigal’s acquiescence, he was a little surprised at how graciously the Colombian was admitting his errors. He warned himself to watch for any attempt to mitigate the admission.

  “I see the sense in what was said regarding the phases we must go through and if I can be half as productive as Tomas, I would welcome the new role. When I first brought us together I knew there was more to be done than one man could manage. There is no question of my ego standing in the way of the common good.”

  The apprehension in the room subsided noticeably.

  “Once again,” Cabieses said. “He shows us the true nature of greatness. No petty selfishness; those feelings are alien to him. We have been blessed.”

  Rodriguez was so surprised when Cabieses began to clap and when the others joined in enthusiastically, he almost forgot to go along. It was such a perfect moment that he could not spoil it by appearing less gracious than Madrigal. The outgoing leader held up his hands, gradually bringing the room to silence. “I would just like to speak briefly about the recent troubles and my hopes for our future recovery, regardless of who steers us through it.”

  He walked around the table to stand behind Rodriguez’s chair and placed his hands on its back. Rodriguez was not comfortable having him standing there but it would be awkward to twist around and rude to stand. He could smell Madrigal’s cologne and was sure he could feel the man’s breath on the top of his head as he spoke.

  “Tomas has suggested Caesar, pointing out how attuned he is to what is now required. We all know of his dramatic rise which has outstripped even that of Francisco Zaragosa before the unfortunate incident.”

  People around the room voiced their agreement. Rodriguez found himself wishing Madrigal would hurry up with his abdication speech.

  “He has disproved those of us who doubted what he had to offer. It seems like we were thinking about another person entirely. The gulf between expectation and reality has become so wide. You must tell us who’s been coaching you.”

  Everyone laughed in appreciation of Madrigal’s good-natured admission of error in judgement.

  “Caesar was the first to call for a strike against the Kosovars. He argued passionately for what he felt was necessary for our survival. Despite this, when Esteban Zaragosa took matters into his own hands and moved against me directly, he was never tempted. Indeed, he even warned me about the planned attempt on my life.”

  Rodriguez could see everyone looking at him, thoughts flickering behind their eyes. No one was comfortable discussing Zaragosa’s actions but they were equally uncomfortable with the thought that he had been betrayed by his compatriot to the Colombian. It was not something that could be easily given a positive spin. Lora looked particularly pensive. Rodriguez made a note to deal with that as soon as possible. Jesus, he thought as Madrigal droned on, when is he going to sit down?

  “Caesar, if I can offer you some advice?’ He felt the hands come to rest on his shoulders and, despite the air-conditioning, he started to feel uncomfortably warm.

  “The first thing I would do is deal with the matter of how the Kosovars had such good intelligence. They knew exactly when and where to attack. I’m sure we’re all aware that some of our people must have sold information. I’ve been looking into this matter and recently made some progress. Would you mind if I shared my findings?”

  Everyone looked at Rodriguez.

  “Of cour –” His throat was so dry he had to stop and drink some water. “Of course, you must tell me everything but perhaps later. Rather than trouble everyone with the interim findings, I can give a more conclusive status report when the matter has been dealt with.”

  “Well, actually I think you’ll agree when you hear what I’ve found that it’s already possible to draw conclusions.”

  The grip on his shoulders tightened ever so slightly.

  “The first thing that struck me is to never be surprised how far people will go to fulfil their ambition. Please, if you will all just bear with me for a moment.”

  Madrigal stepped away from the chair and gave an order to two attendants who stood near the door. They left and returned a few moments later, one carrying a remote control for the sound system and the other some files. They placed these at the head of the conference table and stood b
ack.

  “It’s a very short tape,” Madrigal said, pressing Play. Distorted electronic voices immediately filled the room.

  “Yes, I’ve set up contact with the Mexican, codename Viper from now on. He’s eager to work with us.”

  “You’re certain he’s the right man.”

  “Oh yes, clever enough but not too clever. He’s as ambitious as we’ve been led to believe but still aware of his limitations.”

  “The reservations about his inclination for hotheadedness?”

  “I’ve laid the groundwork and I’ll drive it home over time that we decide when direct action is necessary and the appropriate scale.”

  “Okay. What’s the first move?”

  “We’re going to help Viper look good, a few successful forays led by him against their competition.”

  “We don’t want anything too risky, no point in losing him, considering how long it took for us to identify him.”

  “Don’t worry. With the intelligence we’re going to give him it should be impossible to screw it up.”

  Madrigal stopped the tape and Rodriguez saw an array of puzzled faces. Before he could speak Madrigal pressed Play again.

  “... other business, Viper, how’s he doing?”

  “Excellently, we’ve provided him with enough help to kick-start his upward progress. He’s now just below the senior level.”

  “Well done, and the schedule for the final push?”

  “One of the senior figures, the Young Prince, whom we’ve identified as a threat, will have to be removed sooner or later. It may as well be sooner so as to benefit Viper.”

  “You’re confident it can be done, we don’t want anything too public, something which would attract too much attention.”

  “Viper himself has helped us enormously in that. He’s managed to get detailed information on the Prince’s security arrangements. Actually, I’ll send you the tape where Viper goes through them in detail, I think you’ll be impressed with his professionalism, considering your initial reservations.”

  “Excellent, excellent.”

  Madrigal stopped the tape again. The blood had drained from Rodriguez’s face and he started shaking ever so slightly.

  “The tapes you’ve just heard were made by rogue elements within the US intelligence community. They were delivered to me at the eleventh hour and as such I had no opportunity to share them with anyone before this conference. They deal with an operation whose aim was to first infiltrate and compromise our Alliance and then displace everyone who sits here today.”

  The room erupted, shouts of consternation battling with one another to be heard. Madrigal gave them a few seconds, letting them get themselves worked up, each feeding the others’ tension, before he gestured for quiet.

  “Like me your immediate reaction might be one of disbelief. Unfortunately, the contents of the tape referred to in the last excerpt, which I’ll play in a moment, puts it beyond doubt. The Young Prince referred to was Francisco Zaragosa. His security was lax as evidenced by the attack on his Californian residence. But Zaragosa’s fate, as tragic as it was, is not the important issue.”

  Madrigal had walked back behind Rodriguez’s chair.

  “That, of course, is Viper’s identity. Who he is and the damage he has done. Viper worked for these people over an extended period of time to destabilise the cartel and bring it perilously close to ruin. He did this for no other reason than to further himself.”

  Rodriguez tried to rise but the pressure from Madrigal’s hands pushed him back.

  “I don’t know if he was aware of his associates’ larger plans, which included sabotaging official US foreign policy and crushing the rebellion, but that’s hardly important. What is important and ultimately tragic is that Viper is one of us.”

  Madrigal looked to one of the attendants who began handing out the files to everybody around the table.

  “That document gives an overview of everything I’ve told you about. A more comprehensive account will be given to you later, to absorb at your leisure.” The man distributing the files passed by, not leaving one in front of Rodriguez. “You’ll understand why some of the names have been omitted. I need to protect those loyal to me. The most important item is the identity of the traitor. I’m sure you’ll have lots of questions and I’m equally sure I can answer them all with some help from Caesar, once we’ve heard the rest.”

  Madrigal pressed Play once more.

  Larsen closed the car door and removed the wrapping from the prepaid phone. Once he had topped up the credit balance on the cell phone beyond the modest amount it had been issued with, he made his call.

  “Canton?”

  “Conchillo.”

  They had agreed to use this code to confirm they were each okay to talk.

  “You made it back okay, then.”

  “Once I’d made the call to you and he’d presumably gotten the tapes, he called off his surveillance.”

  “Good. It’s been three days; do you think he’s moved?”

  They had agreed that, despite the precautions of using only off-the-shelf, prepaid cell phones, they still needed to be as circumspect as possible.

  “Definitely, he couldn’t have afforded to delay. We’ll have to wait for definitive confirmation but I’d say there won’t be any more sightings of the heir apparent. What’s the status on your end?”

  When she and Larsen had last talked, Wallace was in the midst of negotiations.

  She had managed to identify key individuals in the pro-Plan contingent whom they needed to enlist. Initially, Wallace had been greeted with scepticism. Faced with the circumstantial evidence he was able to furnish, however, along with details of specific attacks on the Alliance, they had revised their opinions. Once they were convinced of how they had been screwed over, investigations were set in motion. They needed to move stealthily lest Hughes learn of their efforts and take steps to obstruct them. Additionally, since the vast bulk of the operation had been carried out through Brewer, using Wallace’s apparatus, virtually no official records existed. It had come together slowly – whispers and almost insignificant traces of what Hughes and his backers had been doing began to emerge. In the end, just enough traces existed to implement Mesi’s plan.

  Their real battle had occurred, as she had predicted, when Wallace tried to convince the powers they had approached to go along with her strategy. Wallace had been forced to threaten their reluctant allies that he was willing to go public with details of the entire affair. They had argued that he would be destroying his own reputation in the process and that he had little in the way of concrete evidence anyway. She had been sure they would call his bluff, especially in light of his shaky commitment to the idea of propping up Madrigal.

  With less than an hour to go to his deadline, they had buckled and agreed to release the documentation Larsen had delivered to Madrigal.

  The next bone of contention had been ensuring those responsible, all of them, were made pay and it was this Larsen wanted a status on.

  “Negotiations are ongoing,” she told him.

  “They’re insisting they’ll deal with it themselves?” he guessed.

  “Yes.”

  “That won’t work,” he said angrily.

  “We’re hanging in there but we don’t have much bargaining power left.”

  “Can’t our friend use the same threat as before?”

  “They know we’ve already gotten a large part of what we wanted and I think they’ve figured out his heart isn’t really in it.”

  “They’ll take too long, try to limit the damage by cutting some agreement and he’ll be gone,” Larsen said wearily.

  “Probably.”

  They knew a lot of influential people would be happy were Hughes to disappear, whether by his own volition or not.

  He agreed to contact her later that evening and hung up.

  After wiping the handset and placing it back in its wrapping, he stepped out of the car and threw it in a nearby dumpster.

&
nbsp; The back wheel spun faster and faster, until its friction on the A-frame treadmill became a high-pitched whine drowning out the radio. The rider bent forward over the stationary front wheel of the racing bike and pumped his legs faster, causing the bike to wobble in its cradle. He always ended his circuit by attempting to better his previous best speed. It was difficult to continually improve but he was optimistic, having felt very good before training. He pushed himself on, ignoring the sweat running down his face and stinging his eyes. He watched the speedometer climb upwards, the back wheel speeding along, filling the room with noise. His previous best was seventy kilometres per hour and he was at sixty-six now but feeling the strain. He glimpsed quickly at the readout beside the speedometer and saw that his heartbeat was one-eighty a minute, far too high to sustain for long. One last push. Sixty-seven, he blinked rapidly to clear his eyes; sixty-eight, his muscles cried out for release. Suddenly, he lost his rhythm and felt his legs being dragged around by the pedals as his speed plummeted. So close. He admitted defeat and straightened up in the saddle, placing his hands on his hips.

  Hughes unclipped his shoes from the pedals and wearily stepped down from the bike. He was annoyed at the way the workout had ended but there was always tomorrow. He turned off the radio and opened the window wider to air the room. The rain still beat down outside, validating his purchase of the treadmill a few months before. Regardless of the weather he need never miss a workout again. He half-heartedly stretched for a couple of minutes and went through to the shower. He closed his eyes and turned his face to the powerful jet of water, luxuriating in the simple pleasure. He was looking forward to the day and the good news it would bring.

  The final act, Rodriguez’s deposing of Madrigal, would have occurred some time the previous evening. That was it, all objectives realised.

  The only small cloud on the horizon was Mesi. It had been more than two weeks since her attempted killing and there was still no trace of the DEA agent. Clarke, his resource within the Baltimore police department, had called him the day after the ambush. He had told Hughes how the gang members whom he had recruited had been found dead. How had she managed to kill four assailants who possessed such superior firepower? He remembered then how resilient she had proved in the earlier altercation with Abeylan and cursed himself for underestimating her. On hearing the bad news, he had briefly worried that she would threaten his strategy, before sense prevailed. All she had was an unsubstantiated suspicion regarding Wallace, a suspicion which no one in the DEA would even consider acting on. There had been no sign of her going back to her employers. The feelers he had put out confirmed no one had been in contact with her and they were quite happy with that state of affairs. Cut off as she was, ignorant of all that lay beyond Wallace and his vendetta, what danger did she pose? A physical threat perhaps but that was it, she might come gunning for him when she realised he had set her up. Hughes arranged for her apartment to be watched and an experienced security team to shadow him discreetly. As the days passed with no developments, he began to believe that, in fear of her life, she had fled. She had been fragile enough before the ambush, so perhaps it had been the proverbial last straw? Satisfied that he was doing everything possible to tie up the loose end, he had returned his focus to where it belonged.