Ghost Sniper

87

Eight days later, Mariana met with Pope in a fine Italian restaurant in one of the city’s wealthiest districts. With a stomach full of butterflies, she stood as he approached the table, offering her hand.

His grip was warm and firm. “Hello, Mariana. You’re looking well.”

“Thank you, Bob. I appreciate you making the trip.”

He smiled dryly. “Did I have a choice?”

“Of course. You’re the director.”

They made themselves comfortable, and she signaled the waiter. “The driver I sent — his English was sufficient?”

“I’m sure you know that already,” he replied, not unkindly.

Their orders were taken, and Mariana spread a linen napkin in her lap, looking at him and smiling. “I’ll come right to the point: Rhett Hancock, Hector Ruvalcaba, Lazaro Serrano, Captain Espinosa, and Clemson Fields are dead.”

“All the heads of the five families,” he said quietly.

Never having seen the film The Godfather, the macabre witticism was lost on her. “The southern syndicates have decided to come in under Castañeda in order to avoid a war that would cost everyone a lot of unnecessary blood and treasure. There is one lone holdout: a trafficker down in Tabasco State who hates Castañeda too badly to accept the conditions, but his people are already walking away from him. He won’t last the month.”

Pope studied her, his gentle blue eyes calm and focused behind his glasses. “And if Castañeda breaks the truce… renews violence along the border?”

“He won’t do that. He has everything he could possibly want now. He understands that the DEA will continue to interdict his shipments north of the border whenever they can. And he’s even agreed to tip them off from time to time to keep them looking good in the news.”

Pope sipped his water. “Things change.”

“True. Nothing is forever, but if he decides to break the truce, I have someone in place to remove him: someone very close, whose loyalty is more with Mexico than with Castañeda.”

“Interesting.” Pope spread the napkin in his lap, secretly satisfied with the way the situation had developed. “You’ve been very hard at work.”

“I’ve had a lot of help.”

“And I’d like to know who from. Not even Crosswhite can be in multiple places at the same time.”

She smiled. “Like you said, I’ve been very hard at work.”

“And in exchange for this hard work, you expect to be appointed chief of station?”

Mariana hardened her gaze, conveying a confidence she’d actually begun to feel over the past few days. “Your Mexico network is smashed. I’ve already sent Mike Ortega and his family home with orders never to return. You no longer have any contacts in-country, you don’t speak the language, and you have no one to replace me with — not with my qualifications.”

Pope opened his mouth to speak, but she pressed her assault. “I’ve presented you with a stable border that you can present to the president — taking full credit, of course. I’m the only agent who can guarantee that stability for any foreseeable length of time. Castañeda knows you plotted to have him killed. He respects the power of the CIA, but he no longer has any respect for you. Fortunately, he does respect me, and he knows that he and I can help each other.

“In short, my network is already in place. It’s stable, well connected, and growing more influential by the day. For all intents and purposes, I am chief of station. Now, you can fire me, strip me of my affiliation with the agency — even have me killed — but you’d be stupid to consider it, and we both know it.”

“Would I?” he asked, realizing she had the sight now.

“You always have a plan B. I admit it took me awhile to realize that it was me, but once I saw it, the rest was easy.”

Befuddled by the rapid expansion of her acumen, he toiled to perceive its breadth. “Crosswhite’s not sharp enough to have discerned that. Who’s been counseling you?”

She ignored the question. “Are you going to make my appointment official? Or am I to be recalled?”

“Did Fields try to kill you?”

A dark shadow creased her. “The son of a bitch is dead, isn’t he?”

He rested back in the chair. “Then he acted against my instructions. I want that clear between us.”

“Are you going to make my appointment official?”

He nodded. “Yes. Congratulations, Mariana. You’re chief of station.”

She breathed a hidden sigh of relief. “Thank you.”

Their salads arrived, and the wine was poured by a waiter with a linen napkin draped over one arm. When he was gone, she took a sip and set down the glass.

“Crosswhite has asked to be retired from service, and I’ve granted his request. He’s no longer available to you.”

This didn’t surprise Pope at all. “Should I take it he remains available to you?”

“A trust like ours is rare.”

He sucked his teeth. “Does he know you’re in love with him?”

“I don’t know that I’m in love with him — nor does it matter. He’s married with a baby on the way, and I’m not his type. You shouldn’t expect to disarm me with these adolescent jibes, Bob. I’m not the same person I was the last time we spoke.”

“It’s a damn good thing,” he murmured, half to himself. “What about Chance Vaught?”

“I’m glad you bring him up. His career with DSS is over. That much is clear. And the agency needs to cauterize the Downly bleed as soon as possible”—she locked eyes—“for the good of all.

“Not only does Chance know Mexico, he looks the part, has family in-country, and speaks the language like a Mexican; not to mention he’s a damn good operator. I’ve offered to make him my principal operative in-country, and he’s accepted. I assume you can handle the paperwork to start getting him paid — retroactive to last week?”

Pope chuckled, liking what he was hearing. “What makes you so sure this wasn’t my plan A?”

In no humor for playful banter, she didn’t so much as blink before replying, “Too much has happened down here you know absolutely nothing about.” His smile disappeared. “Mexico is mine. If you want things to run smoothly, you’ll stay out of it. What’s more, if I catch any of your ATRU people — men or women — operating in my province without my knowledge, I’ll send them back to wherever they came from in rubber body bags marked ‘Return to Sender.’ ”

Pope’s smile returned, satisfied fully that Mexico station was in the right hands. He reached for the glass and took a sip of wine. “It’s too bad you had to lose your innocence. Personally, I liked you better the other way, but you were too soft; too trusting. That’s obviously changed.”

Seeing an opening, she decided to take it. “From what Crosswhite tells me, Gil Shannon trusted you with his life — and apparently that’s exactly what it cost him.”

Believing that Mariana had never met Gil in person, Pope took the barb as it was intended, unable to mitigate the offputting effect of it. “No one from the ATRU will set foot in Mexico without advance notice from me and close coordination between you and Midori. You have my guarantee. If I should happen to change my mind on this point, I’ll let you know. Fair enough?”

Having just gotten everything she’d hoped for — as Gil had assured her she would — Mariana lifted her glass. “To Mexico?”

He touched the rim of his glass to hers. “To a stable border. I don’t care a tinker’s damn about Mexico.”