Ghost Sniper

79

Gil knocked on the door to Mariana’s expensive though rustic hotel room in the town of San Cristobal de las Casas, the same city where the Zapatista Revolt had taken place more than twenty years earlier. She answered the door and let him in. A fire burned in the fireplace to ward off the damp chill in the air.

“Build the fire yourself?” he asked, reminded of his hearth back home in Montana — a hearth he would never see again.

“The bellboy built it for me. I don’t know anything about building fires.”

He tossed his rucksack onto the bed. “That’s for you — in case things go bad.”

She opened the ruck and saw that it was stuffed with banded American cash. “Gil, this is an awful lot of money.”

“And you’ll need it if Crosswhite and I get killed. There’s a little black book in the side pouch there with the names and numbers of people who can help you disappear. They already think I’m dead, but if you tell them you got their names from me, they’ll help you. They’re reliable men: retired Navy SEALS living outside the US — soldier of fortune types, but rock-solid people.”

“Thank you,” she said.

“Don’t mention it. It’s something Crosswhite should have done for you already, but he doesn’t think ahead. It’s just not how he is.”

“He’s definitely an in-the-moment kind of guy,” she agreed. “What do you think of Poncho?” They hadn’t yet had a chance to talk about the ex-GAFE operator that Castañeda had sent along to assist Gil.

He nodded. “My gut tells me he’s reliable. We’ve talked, and there’s nothing sloppy about him. I get the feeling he’s not really a personal fan of Castañeda, but it’s too soon to tell.”

“And if you guys are successful? Will I see you again?”

“Probably not, but I’ll give you a call to let you know when Ruvalcaba’s dead. After that, it’s up to you to handle Pope.”

“I’m afraid of him.”

“You’re smart to be afraid, but don’t ever let him see it. When this is over, wait a week — maybe ten days — then call him and tell him to meet you down here in Mexico. Do not go to him. Buy him dinner in a ritzy restaurant and break the situation down for him in black and white. Don’t ask him for a goddamn thing. Tell him how things are: that you’re the new chief of station. He’s smart, so he’ll already be leaning in that direction. It’ll be your job to erase any doubts he might have.”

She was less convinced. “How do you know that?”

Gil shrugged. “I know him. I know how his mind works… what he values. You’ll be the one to give him a stable border, and that will make you valuable.”

“But I haven’t done anything.”

He arched an eyebrow. “You took a helluva risk acting on your own initiative to put Castañeda in charge. You did that. Pope respects boldness of action. Now, the key is to succeed and take credit for the operation. He’ll know Crosswhite helped, but that won’t matter. He’ll also know you had help from other assets here in Mexico, and that’s what being chief of station is: managing assets. Hell, that’s all Pope is, an asset manager, and he’s damn good at it.”

She smiled. “Except he let his most valuable asset get away.”

Gil wondered if that was true. “Well, it’s not a mistake he’ll make again, so bear that in mind.”

“He won’t be pissed about Fields?”

“What’s to be pissed about? You’ve demonstrated Fields was the wrong man for the job. Pope has no ego. He’s the most practical man alive—too practical, in fact. That’s his weakness: he forgets how impractical everyone else is.”

“Will I have a way of getting in touch with you?”

“You can get a message to Midori if there’s an emergency, but don’t worry. You won’t need me. You’ll have Crosswhite — unless he finally figures out how to get himself killed. And be sure to keep Vaught on your ledger too. Don’t let DSS have him back. He’s a renegade, and that’s a good card to have in your deck. His career in DSS is probably shot anyhow.”

She edged closer to the fire, feeling the warmth on the backs of her legs. “I should be writing this down. I can’t believe you’re going to abandon me after tonight.”

That made him chuckle. “Well, you’ve got Crosswhite.”

She looked concerned suddenly. “What am I gonna do about him, Gil? He’s such a…”

“Such a what?”

“I don’t know,” she said, her cheeks reddening, “but Pope won’t want to let him go. He’s too goddamn good at what he does.”

“I just told you: you’re chief of station. Crosswhite’s workin’ for you. I’m workin’ for you. You’re cleaning up Pope’s mess in Mexico — covering up the Downly assassination; doin’ what Fields and that idiot Ortega couldn’t do — and that’s exactly what you remind Pope of when this is over. Can you do that?”

She crossed her arms, drawing a breath as she remembered the electrocution she’d received from Fields, being raped in Havana the year before, and witnessing more than a half dozen killings, all while working for Pope. She had more than earned the position of station chief.

“Yeah,” she said, feeling pissed. “I can do it. Fuckin’-A I can do it.”

He gave her a wink. “I gotta go.”

She offered her hand. “Thank you for saving my life. I owe you and Dan both now.”

He took her hand and gave her a peck on the cheek. “Don’t ever put your life on the line for Crosswhite again. Understand? He’s too goddamn reckless; he doesn’t consider the consequences.”

“But—” The look in her eyes was almost mournful.

“If he gets in a jam, I’ll be around, but for now, we gotta hope he and Vaught can take Hancock down on their own, because you’ll need a clean sweep to impress Pope.” He picked up the rucksack, zipped it closed, and dropped it back on the bed. “Keep the cash in a safe place. If Dan or I fail, Pope might send assassins from the ATRU to clean house. If he does, don’t worry about anyone but yourself. Get the hell out of Dodge — and remember the black book.”