Ghost Sniper

76

Within ten minutes of meeting Gil Shannon, Antonio Castañeda knew he was speaking with a man of action. Obviously an accomplished professional, there was no bravado about him, no sense of ego, nothing cocky or challenging in his manner. It was plain to see that Gil’s deeds spoke for themselves and that he had nothing to prove to anyone.

Castañeda was sad and angry to have lost Lorena and Tanya. They’d been the most reliable and loyal of his people — not to mention the finest of his lovers. But he knew that if he hadn’t sent them to Tijuana, Fields’s man Villalobos would have killed Mariana, thus destroying his chances of consolidating the narcotics trade under his power. Later he would weep for the girls in private, but for now, there was business to take care of.

“I thank you for avenging their deaths,” he said to Gil in English. “That is a valuable personal service to me. How may I repay you?”

Gil thought for a second. “You can build a school down in…” He looked at Mariana. “What state did you say was the poorest?”

“Chiapas.”

“Chiapas,” he said. “You can build a school down in Chiapas.”

Castañeda chortled. “Chiapas is not part of my territory at the moment.”

“But it soon will be. That is the plan, correct?”

Castañeda smiled pleasantly at Mariana, not in his normally flirtatious way, and then looked back to Gil. “That is the plan, yes.”

“Then if you’re serious,” Gil said, “build a school, and we’ll call it even.”

“Consider it done. Now, what assistance can I provide you in removing Ruvalcaba — provided you’re serious about wanting to do the job yourself?”

Mariana had already explained to Gil that Hector Ruvalcaba had been reported dead twice in the past eight years, and that only last year he had successfully escaped a maximum security prison to resume control of the southern cartels. Gil wasn’t interested in taking anyone else’s word for it that Ruvalcaba was dead. “I want the job done correctly. I don’t speak the lingo, and I stick out like a sore thumb down here, so I don’t wanna have to come back and correct anyone else’s mistakes.”

Castañeda nodded, appreciating being in the presence of a professional. “You’re sure I cannot interest you in something to drink, my friend?”

“Thanks. I never drink when I’m working. It’s nothing personal, I promise.”

This left Castañeda feeling a little disappointed, but it was that kind of a day. “He died badly, this dog Fields who murdered my girls?”

“Very,” Gil said.

“What assistance will you need?”

“I need a quality weapon and a guide who speaks good English — a tough son of a bitch… but not somebody who’s gonna get carried away.”

Castañeda gestured at Mariana. “Look no further, señor.”

Gil shook his head. “No more fieldwork for her. She’ll be taking over Mexico station pretty soon, and I don’t want in her harm’s way.”

This was the first Castañeda had heard that, and it gave him a burst of adrenaline. “Is this true?” he asked her. “Pope is appointing you chief of station?”

She glanced at Gil. “It’s not official, but… Mr. Cochran is convinced it will happen if we’re successful in removing Ruvalcaba.”

Castañeda understood that Cochran was not Gil’s actual name. “Then you are a man of genuine influence.”

“I happen to be in a very unique position,” Gil replied. “And I intend to make the most of it, to the mutual benefit of all parties — excluding Hector Ruvalcaba.”

“But Pope does not want me taking over the narcotics trade. Won’t that pose a problem?”

“Pope wants to tell the president he’s stabilized the border for the long term. With Ruvalcaba dead, you’ll be the only man left who can make that happen. No one else has the power or influence to prevent another drug war. Pope will have no choice but to accept that reality and appoint Mariana as chief of station.”

Seeing the logic, Castañeda winked at Mariana. “It would appear we are at last true partners.”

She smiled in spite of herself, recognizing that, yes, she now needed Castañeda as badly as he needed her. “It would appear.”

“And you, Mr. Cochran, what is your interest in Mexico? Since you are obviously not here as a representative of Mr. Pope.”

Gil shrugged. “Some people are inclined to pull an injured man outta the street; others stand and watch. I’ve never just stood by. And I’ve never had any fucking use for those who do.”

“I thank you for that,” Castañeda said. “My country has a bloody history. Too many good men — those who would not stand by to watch — have been gunned down like dogs in that very same street you speak of. This unfortunate aspect of our culture has allowed men like me to thrive for the last hundred years, since the revolution.”

Gil was surprised by Castañeda’s self-deprecating remark. “Men like you?”

“I was once a soldier like yourself. I used to believe in the cause of my country. But the infection of corruption is too deep for any one man to cure. The people must demand the cure from our government. Until they do, men like me will continue to prosper. It is much the same in your country, no?”

“It’s getting worse,” Gil conceded, avoiding a political discussion.

“But you will continue to honor the truce,” Mariana said to Castañeda. “You will not take action against civilians on either side of the border, and you will make public examples of the men who do. Otherwise I will have to withdraw the support of the CIA — along with its protection.”

He cocked an eyebrow, glancing at Gil. “I used to believe she was so soft and delicate.”

“Blood hardens everybody,” Gil said. “Can you supply me with a good man?”

“I can do better than that,” Castañeda said confidently. “I can supply you with a man who has trained at Fort Bragg with your Green Berets.”

“Okay,” Gil said chuckling.

Castañeda smiled curiously. “That is funny?”

Gil smiled. “A Green Beret will do in a pinch.”

Castañeda laughed, getting the joke. “His name is Poncho, and you will be able to trust him with your life.”