Ghost Sniper

55

With a quarter of Mexico City’s streets still blocked, it was tough to make good time, especially at night. The city was a huge, sprawling metropolis, and neither Crosswhite nor Vaught made the best navigators.

“Is it just me,” Crosswhite said, “or does every part of town look the same in the dark?”

“Are you lost?” Nancy asked from the backseat, with her children seated on either side of her: a boy of six and a girl of eight.

“More like disoriented,” Crosswhite answered.

“You can get off at the next exit,” she said. “Then cross through Colonia El Mirador.”

Vaught looked over the back of the seat, seeing that Nancy was keeping an eye on her phone, watching for a signal. “How well do you know the city?”

“Pretty well,” she said, thumbing the touch screen. “I take it you’re both new in town?”

“Me more than him,” Vaught said. “He at least lives here.”

“Only a year,” Crosswhite said, exiting the freeway and driving down the avenue into a blacked-out section of the city. “Shit. No power here either.”

“Make a left up ahead,” she said. “Go south toward Colonia San Luis Tlatilco. I assume you’re headed for Highway 134?”

“Yeah,” he said, following her instructions.

“Damn,” she muttered. “Only three percent battery.”

Vaught turned around to face the front, a smile coming to his face.

The daughter began to cry, and Nancy hugged her close. “It’s okay, baby. The charger’s in the trunk.”

His smile disappeared.

They turned another corner, and there was a city bus on fire in the middle of the street, blocking passage.

Crosswhite hit the brakes. “Narcobloqueo!” He shifted into reverse.

Men with guns and masks appeared from the shadows, ordering everyone out of the car. Crosswhite shifted into park and dropped his phone onto the floor, where he hoped it wouldn’t be seen.

Vaught stuffed his DSS badge deep into the seat. “Everyone keep calm,” he said to the kids. “It’s gonna be okay.”

The doors were jerked open, and both men were pulled out. Nancy and the children were allowed to get out on their own, but one of the men took her phone and stuck it in his jacket pocket, telling her and the children to stand over by the building and keep quiet.

Crosswhite and Vaught were pushed against the car and searched.

“Why are you here, gringo?” one of the men asked.

“I’m a permanent resident,” Crosswhite said. “My identification is in my wallet.”

The man took his wallet and tossed it to another guy. Crosswhite turned around, his hands up. “You can have the money,” he said easily, “but can I keep my permanent resident card? Getting a new one from immigration is a pain in the ass.”

The guy with the wallet took out Crosswhite’s ID, examined the green card with a flashlight and gave it back to him. “How many years do you have here?”

“Five,” Crosswhite lied. “I live with my wife and daughter in Toluca. That’s where we’re going now.”

They questioned Vaught, who told similar lies, saying he was originally from Monterrey, up near the border, to cover his accent. “These are my wife and children,” he said, gesturing at Nancy and the kids.

“Where is your wallet?” asked the man with the gun.

“In the trunk with our bags.”

Someone took the keys and opened the trunk, rifling through Nancy’s suitcases. He tossed the phone charger to the man who’d taken her phone. “I don’t see any wallet.”

“It’s in the red gym bag.”

The man tossed the trunk a second time. “There is no red gym bag.”

Vaught looked at Nancy. “You didn’t put my bag in the car? Everything I need is in that bag!”

“I didn’t see it,” she said. “You told me all the bags were in the carport.”

Vaught swore foully, shaking his head. “Everything I need for work is in that goddamn bag! My computer… everything! Now we have to go all the way back!”

“It’s not my fault!”

“Shut up,” the man told them. “Argue later.”

Another man searched the glove box and found nothing of value. “Do we want the car?”

“Let them go,” said the man who’d taken Crosswhite’s wallet. “They have children, and the car is nothing special.”

A minute later, everyone was back in the car, and the burning bus was growing smaller in the rearview mirror.

Vaught looked at Nancy. “Your passports are in your pocket?”

“Of course,” she said, grateful to be alive.

“Smart thinking,” he said with a smile. “Thanks for going along with the program back there.”

“What choice did I have?”

“Well, you were quick on your feet. That was a big help.”

“Where’s your wallet?” Crosswhite asked.

Vaught pulled it from the seat. “Stashed it first thing. If they’d seen my badge, we’d be screwed.”

“We’re gonna need money for the tolls on the highway,” Crosswhite said. He looked at Nancy in the mirror. “Do you have any money?”

“A few hundred,” she lied, wearing five thousand dollars in US fifties around her waist in a money belt. “You can have if you need it.”

“We should be fine,” Vaught said, “but thank you.”

“Where was your badge?” she asked Crosswhite.

“I’m not DSS. I’m CIA like — like your husband.”

“Do you know him?”

“We’ve met only once, actually.”

“So you’re not attached to Mexico station?”

“Not directly.”

“Then you’re an operator. That’s why Washington sent you for me?”

She’s sharp, Crosswhite thought. We’ll definitely have to be careful with her. “Yes, ma’am.”

“You’re both ex-military?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“That makes me a little feel better.” Before the narcobloqueo, she’d been worried to death about her husband. Now she couldn’t help being terrified for her children as well. “I thought we were in real trouble back there.”

“The narcos don’t usually make war on civilians,” Crosswhite said. “It happens, but it’s not their policy. If you give them what they want, they usually let you go. Usually.”

“But the Ruvalcabas have been worse recently.”

“That’s true,” he admitted. “Which is why I say usually. But we’re working to put a stop to Hector Ruvalcaba.”

“You do know that Ruvalcaba is supported by the politician Lazaro Serrano.”

Crosswhite stole glances with Vaught. “Yes, ma’am. And we’re working to stop him, too.”

“Mike mentioned something about the government here building a case against him.”

“Well, the earthquake has changed all that. Now the plan is to remove him altogether.”

“Which is why they’ve brought you in?”

Definitely fast on her feet, he thought. “Yes, ma’am. That’s why they brought me in.”

“So why a DSS agent?” she asked Vaught. “Are you the one who was assigned to my husband after chasing the sniper that killed Alice Downly?”

Vaught glanced over the seat. “That’s me.”

Nancy turned back to Crosswhite. “Is your wife Cuban, by any chance?”

Again, Crosswhite glanced at her in the mirror, a thin smile pursing his lips. “Yes, ma’am. My wife is Cuban. Mike seems to share a lot with you — more than he should, it sounds like.”

“You’re the one who punched him, aren’t you? The cabrón who sent him home with that goose egg on his head.”

He couldn’t help chuckling. “Yes, ma’am, I’m the cabrón.”

“You hit my daddy!” accused the little boy.

“I did,” Crosswhite confessed. “And I apologize.”

The little boy lurched forward and hit Crosswhite on the back of the head before Nancy could grab his arm. “I hate you!”

“You don’t hit people, Alejandro!”

Crosswhite chuckled again. “It’s okay. He’s entirely justified in this instance. I’m sorry for hitting your dad, Alejandro. You’re a good man to defend him. I respect that.”

The rest of the ride to Toluca was uneventful. They pulled around behind Crosswhite’s apartment, and Paolina came out the back door. He got out fast and hugged her, whispering something into her ear before asking her aloud to show the kids to their room. Vaught helped Nancy repack their rifled bags in the trunk.

After a few seconds, Crosswhite’s phone rang beneath his seat in the car, and he ran to get it.

“Crosswhite,” he answered. “Yeah, we’re just arriving at the safe house.” He pretended to listen for almost a minute. “And all that’s confirmed? Roger that. We’ll stand by here.”

He stuck the phone into his pocket and turned to Nancy. “We’ve confirmed Mike was taken by some corrupt cops working for Serrano. For the moment, it doesn’t look like they plan to hurt him. More likely, they plan to hold onto him until after the election. Once Serrano is president, he knows he’ll be untouchable. I’m guessing he probably intends to free Mike as a gesture of good faith to the CIA.”

“But the election is three months away!”

“Don’t worry,” Crosswhite said gently. “We know where he’s being held. It’s not far from here, so Agent Vaught and I will put together a plan to get him back. In the meantime, you need to stay here and out of sight with Paolina, because it’s also been confirmed that Mexico City PD is looking for you and the kids. They raided your house about an hour after we got you out.” He looked at Vaught. “We weren’t cutting it quite as close as I thought, but it was close enough.”

Vaught grunted.

Nancy gave Crosswhite a brief hug. “Thank you.”

“It’s okay,” he said. “Better get inside now. We’ll bring the bags in.”

When she was gone, Vaught looked at Crosswhite and shook his head. “You believed every word of bullshit you just told her.”

Crosswhite shrugged. “If I don’t believe it, how the hell can I expect her to?”