Ghost Sniper

54

Mariana decided to meet with Clemson Fields in a public gymnasium, where a girls’ volleyball tournament was taking place on two separate courts. Lorena and Tanya, whom she had come to think of as “the twins,” were seated three rows behind her, wearing gaudy, sequin-studded LA ball caps pulled low over their eyes.

Fields came up the stairs to the second tier and took a seat beside her. “I didn’t know you were a sports fan,” he said dryly.

“Really? I’m surprised you didn’t see it in my file. I only played volleyball all through high school and college.”

Noting her self-assured tone, he took a casual glance around to see if they were being watched. There were a few other Americans in the crowd, but they were obviously caught up in the games being played simultaneously down on the floor.

He handed her a slip of paper. “Jessup has been staying at that motel. He sleeps most of the day and goes out around nine. Those are the clubs and bars he likes to hit.”

She folded the paper away into her pocket without looking at it, waiting to hear what else he had to say.

Fields attempted briefly to wait her out but then realized she was intentionally keeping her counsel. “It will take a little time for him to open up to you, but—”

“Oh, do you think so?” she said, taking her eyes off the game. “You mean he won’t just blurt out the sniper’s name and location the second I let him buy me a drink?”

“Do you understand how important this is?” Fields asked, restraining the impulse to raise his voice.

Mariana was beyond tired of being spoken to in the peremptory tone that CIA men took with her. “What I understand is that you think I’m going to fuck this guy for information!”

He turned his head toward the game. “Lower your voice.”

“Or what?”

He looked at her, seeing the defiance. “Do I need to remind you I’m the only one looking out for your interests at the moment — as well as those of your friend Crosswhite?”

“No, you don’t, but how many other operatives do you have lined up to take my place?”

She had him on that point. There was no one else in-country he could use for what he had in mind. If all he was looking for was a woman to fuck Jessup for information, Tijuana was full of hookers who were far better qualified than Mariana. “I’m not a man to trifle with, Mariana. I warn you.”

“I’ll call you when I have something.” She got up to leave.

He took her by the wrist. “I want daily reports.”

She jerked free of his grasp. “I said, I’ll call you when I have something!” With that, she walked to the end of the aisle and disappeared down the stairs.

Watching her leave, Fields pondered her smart mouth, realizing that she must be in contact with Crosswhite, but he couldn’t think of how that accounted for the sass he was getting. She’d been more intimidated by him back in Texas. Something had changed, and he needed to find out what before that something bit him in the ass.

Feeling uneasy, he got up and trudged down the stairs.

The twins followed after him at a safe distance.

They trailed him to a rented car. Catching a taxi, they told the driver to follow the blue sedan. They stopped at a motel a couple of miles from the gymnasium, watching from the backseat as Fields got out and knocked at the door to room 11. A handsome Mexican man answered, and the two stood talking.

“I wasn’t able to find out where she’s staying,” Fields said. “I couldn’t work it into the conversation.”

“I probably should have followed you and tailed her,” the Mexican replied in perfect American English. His name was Villalobos. He was a pipe hitter out of Phoenix, a former marine with three tours in Iraq. “Why couldn’t you work it in?”

“She’s different now.” Fields scanned around for anyone watching. The cab at the curb with two nattering young women in it didn’t register as much more than a blip on his radar. “She’s grown a spine somehow.”

“She’ll be easy enough to reacquire,” Villalobos said. “I’ll keep an eye on Jessup every night. Then tail her back to her hotel after she establishes first contact. Don’t worry. This prissy bitch isn’t gonna fuck him on the first run.”

“She isn’t gonna fuck him at all.”

There was a hint of concern in Villalobos’s eyes. “You’re sure about that?”

Fields nodded. “Initially, I thought I could intimidate her into taking one for the team — Jessup’s not a bad-looking guy — but like I said, she’s different now.”

“This means I’ll have to be creative when the time comes. And I might not have a chance to call you before I make my move.”

“I trust in your powers of improvisation,” Fields said. “That’s why you’re here and not those two clowns from Baja.”

The twins watched as the men finished talking. The Mexican stepped back into his room, and Fields returned to his car. Twenty seconds later, he was pulling into the street.

“Do you want me to follow?” the cabby asked. A wolfish-looking fellow in his early thirties, he was staring at them in the rearview mirror.

“We’re getting out here.” Lorena locked eyes with him as she crushed $500 worth of pesos into his hand, easily a month’s salary. “Don Antonio Castañeda is grateful for your service. He always remembers those who help him — and he never forgets those who fuck him!” She gave the drug lord’s name a few moments to sink in before releasing his hand.

The cabby felt his urine turning to ice water as he attempted to push the money back into her hands. “Please, I don’t need your money!”

“Keep it,” she told him, getting out after Tanya. “And remember: you’ve never seen us!”