“He started lobbying for it publicly. Pushed emergency approvals through committees, fast-tracked contracts, and pressured opposition lawmakers.”
Gunnar swears under his breath.
I walk toward the windows, phone still on speaker behind me.
“Who benefited from the expansion?” I ask.
Mattis laughs once. “That’s where things get fun.”
“I hate when you say things like that.”
“There are six shell companies tied to the construction contracts. Five of them lead nowhere.”
“And the sixth?”
“The sixth has indirect financial ties to a holding corporation, which is connected to the Cartagena cartel.”
“You’re sure?” I ask quietly.
“As sure as I can be without illegally accessing international banking servers.”
“You say that like it’s a line you haven’t crossed before,” Gunnar mutters.
“No comment.”
I turn toward the desk slowly. Every instinct I have is screaming, because coincidences happen. But not like this.
“How deep does this go?” Gunnar asks.
“That’s the problem,” Mattis says. “I don’t know yet.”
I stare at the phone for a long moment before saying, “Tell me everything youhaven’tsaid already.”
Mattis hesitates.
And that scares me more than anything else so far.
“There’s one more thing.”
“Mattis.”
“The ambassador met privately with DEA Deputy Director Vale four days before his wife died.”
Gunnar slowly drags his hand down his face. “You cannot be serious.”
“I wish I wasn’t.”
“Was the meeting documented?” I ask.
“No official record,” Mattis says. “I found it buried in hotel security logs.”
“Jesus Christ.”
“Yeah.”
“When does the next summit session end?” Gunnar asks
“Another hour.”
