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“And Killington?” Trevor asks.
Killington. A man I hated. Despised. The man who should’ve been my first kill. “I visited him at his house recently. He appeared depressed. The CIA has people we can call. Let’s have them move him to his house and make it look like suicide. He won’t be the first guy to get out of prison and not be able to handle it.”
I look to Trevor and Fisher. “Have we got a plan?”
They glance at each other, and both men nod. Wordsmiths, these two.
“All right. Let’s go find Rafael and Gemma.”
Trevor leads us through a maze of FBI and LAPD. He’s worked enough cases, and been to enough Operation CalTan meetings, he’s recognized. Within twenty minutes, we’re escorted through a private entrance away from the press commotion and driven to the holding facility where Gemma and Rafael are being kept for interrogation.
If we can pull this off, it will be an enormous victory. In the back seat of the car, my adrenaline crashes. I lean into Fisher. A deep exhaustion falls over me. It’s like nothing I’ve ever felt before. Fisher might be feeling it, too. He holds me tight, eyes closed as the unmarked car glides through the city streets.
CHAPTER37
FISHER
It takes hours for the talking heads to duke it out and for the CIA to win the battle for rights to Rafael and Gemma. It’s almost four a.m. by the time we’re allowed into the interrogation room. Coffee and food helped us through the inevitable adrenaline crash. In the last couple of hours, Sophia worked her magic and located a federal safe house for us to transition Rafael and Gemma to so they won’t feel like animals, Sophia’s word.
The plan is, if they agree to working with us, we’ll transition them to the more comfortable environment where they can shower and sleep. Security is being set up by the location. We’ll position it as for Rafael and Gemma’s benefit, but it’ll be pretty clear that we’re keeping an eye on them, at least until they return to Colombia.
We’ve already spoken with Bauer at length. He’s thrilled and is calling this the biggest win of the year. If we can win them over. A lot of times in this kind of situation, it wouldn’t be an “if.” We’d have prosecutors working with the FBI to ink out a deal for a more lenient sentencing in exchange for working with us. But it’s trickier with individuals who are not American citizens.
The FBI agent running point for Operation CalTan exits the room, along with the DEA officers. One of the women warns us, “They aren’t being particularly cooperative.”
“You wanted names of anyone within the DEA working with them, right?” Sophia asks.
“We know they’ve got people on the inside.” The woman sounds frustrated, but she also looks exhausted.
“He may not know the names. There are layers,” Sophia says. “We’ll figure it out.”
“Well, they’re yours,” the FBI agent says. “I’m gonna go get coffee. I’ll be here when you’re done. You guys get the call on where they head after this, right?”
A holding cell or the safe house. “We do,” I tell him.
“Good luck,” he says with an expression that reads he’s got zero faith we’ll get anywhere.
After they leave, Sophia places her hand on the doorknob, and I touch her shoulder, stopping her for a moment.
“Whatever happens in there, this is a victory.” Her lashes flutter as she places her hand on mine. “I’ll follow your lead.” Her lips turn up into an appreciative smile. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
I bend down until my lips hover near her ear. “Now, let’s get this done so we can get back to our hotel room and I can show you how much I love you.”
It’s four a.m., and she’s dead on her feet, but a slight blush lights her cheeks. Stunning. Brilliant. Mine.
She turns the knob, and we enter the interrogation room.
Gemma and Rafael sit at a table. They’re both handcuffed, and the cuffs are locked to the center of the table.
“What?” Sophia gasps. “Oh, my god.” She turns to me. “Damian, can you get the keys?”
“Damian’s your real name?” Rafael asks. He’s smart enough to suspect aliases.
I look him straight in the eye, man to man. “Damian’s my first name. I’ll be right back.”
Of course, the plan had been for us to be the ones who got them out of handcuffs and brought them comfort. The keys are three feet out of the room, but I pause, giving enough time for it to be believable that I had to go chase them down.
