Ghost Sniper

28

Mariana Mederos was more than a bit disturbed to answer the door and find Clemson Fields standing in the hallway outside her apartment.

“What are you doing here?”

Fields had always made her nervous, even before she’d learned that he was a black bag guy for Bob Pope.

“Crosswhite has gone off the grid. What do you know about it?”

“Off the grid? Have you seen the news? Mexico City just had a major quake. The whole city’s off the grid.”

“He has a satellite phone. Protocol dictates that he use it to check in, and he hasn’t done that. So he’s either dead or he’s broken with protocol.”

The news was unsettling, but she somehow doubted that Crosswhite would be killed by an earthquake. “Protocol or not, I don’t think—”

“What did you meet with him about in Guadalajara?”

She darkened, not liking that Fields knew her personal comings and goings. “It was nothing to do with him going off the grid.”

“Are you refusing to tell me what was discussed? Am I hearing you correctly?”

“Listen, Clemson, I don’t work for you. I answer directly to Pope. If Pope wanted to know what was discussed, he’d call me. He wouldn’t send his little gestapo agent. So what the fuck are you doing here?”

My God, she thought to herself. I’m starting to talk like Dan.

There was shadow beneath his smile. “Did he mention the gold he and Shannon hid from Pope?”

She rested her hand on her hip. “Oh, for God’s sake. Missing gold now? Really?”

“Crosswhite’s a thief. That much is documented. There’s no way he’d pass up—”

“Yeah, well, Pope obviously trusts him. So—”

“Pope doesn’t trust Crosswhite. He trusts Shannon.”

Mariana had never met Gil face-to-face, but she had seen his picture and heard plenty about him from Crosswhite. “And you don’t trust Shannon?”

“I think Pope might be a little nearsighted where the guy’s concerned.”

She crossed her arms. “So what do you have on me—or rather, what do you think you have on me?”

He could see she was no longer quite the naive operative she’d been the year before.

“Have on you?”

“You know I’ll report this little visit to Pope, so you must think you have something on me to prevent that.”

“I don’t have anything on you,” he admitted. “But I know that you have a soft spot for Crosswhite. And I know that Pope considers him expendable.”

“So what?” she said, feigning indifference. “Pope considers me expendable. Probably you too, for that matter — everyone but Shannon. So get to the point.”

“Lazaro Serrano is going to be the next president of Mexico.”

“Yeah?” She laughed that off as insignificant. “Not if the PFM has anything to say about it. They’re building a solid case against him from what I hear, and Pope has assigned Dan to help them.”

Fields offered a devilish grin of his own. “Tell me: If Pope is keen to bring down Serrano, why has he been feeding him intelligence for the past six months?”

Mariana saw instantly the myriad dangers in this for Crosswhite, realizing he might be nothing more than a pawn in one of Pope’s intricate political chess matches. “What kind of intelligence?”

He cleared his throat. “Let it suffice to say that Serrano is well enough insulated that he has little to fear from the PFM — and least of all from Daniel Crosswhite.”

She saw she was being manipulated, but to what end? “You still haven’t told me what makes you think I won’t report this to Pope.”

Fields removed his glasses, cleaning them with a handkerchief. “Pope has plans for restoring the CIA to its former greatness, as you know. I’m one of the men he’s chosen to help him make that happen, so if he’s forced to choose between you and me — well, you’re smart enough to crunch the numbers yourself. You’re too new, too young, too inexperienced — and, quite frankly, too female.”

“You’re a bastard.”

Fields was unfazed. “We’re members of a very select group, you and I, and all members have to read from the same page. Crosswhite has gone off that page. I think he’s been planning to do so for some time now, and I think this quake has given him the perfect opportunity. Now, tell me what was discussed between the two of you.”

She smirked. “He wanted to tell me about the earthquake he was planning.”

He stared at her. “Is that supposed to be humorous?”

“Do you see me laughing?” She stepped back into the apartment and closed the door.

Fields smiled on his way back to the car, taking a satellite phone from his jacket and calling Pope. “It’s done. If she knows anything, this should set her in motion.”

Mariana stood watching him through the drapes of her third-floor apartment, seeing him put away the phone before getting into his car. She realized she would be expected to do something stupid now; something to expose herself or Crosswhite. “Maybe I’ll do something different,” she muttered to herself. “Maybe I’ll do something you’d never expect, just to see the looks on your faces.”

She went to the safe in her closet, removing her passport, a satellite phone, and $5,000 in cash. Then she went down to the laundry room — where she was sure there would be no electronic listening devices — and called Crosswhite on the non-CIA-issue satellite phone.

He answered almost immediately. “Okay. How much do they know?”

“Only that you’ve gone off the reservation,” she answered. “Fields was just here. I have intel that I can’t share over the phone.”

“Then we’d better meet again soon. The clock is running.”

Mariana told him where to meet her in Mexico.

“Are you sure about that?” he asked. “There’s no turning back if we take that road.”

She drew a breath, asking herself if she was sure. “Yes. If what I think is happening is happening, it might be the only road open to us.”

“Okay then. I’ll meet you there in twenty-four hours. In the meantime, you watch your butt. Hear me?”

“I’ll be off the grid within the hour.” She switched off the phone and ran back upstairs to her apartment.