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“I’m not one hundred percent,” I say, “but I think he was here to get initiated. Again. Did you hear? Alejandro had Mom killed.”
“I heard.” He squeezes my shoulder, his gaze on me. He doesn’t need to tell me he’s the one who took Alejandro out.
“Where’d they take Gemma and Rafael?”
“CIA, FBI, and DEA are all going to want a turn at them,” Ryan says.
I lean into Fisher. His arm is around me. Sensation creeps back into my skin. “We should be there first,” I say to him. “They’re our contacts.” Gemma might’ve known what she was marrying into, but she didn’t know it all. “Gemma’s going to need me.”
“We’ll get to them. It’s a madhouse outside. They’re getting them away. Officially, this will be an FBI operation,” Ryan says. “I’ve got orders to get you both out of here without being photographed.”
The fog lifts. My body’s still ice cold, and my fingers quiver, but a sense of urgency rises. “We need to get the word out that Alejandro died from…” I glance over at his lifeless body and exploded skull, “an aneurysm.”
I push away from Fisher, needing space to think. “We’ll say he died suddenly and unexpectedly. There will be an autopsy that determines cause of death as an aneurysm. You’ll fix the body so when they request the body be returned to Colombia, no one will suspect anything.”
“Outside, news stations are everywhere,” Ryan says, clearly questioning me.
“No. This is a huge win if we can get Rafael back into Colombia without anyone knowing he’s been compromised. He’d be an incredible source.”
“You think you can get him on your side?” Ryan asks.
“Let me try.” I look to Fisher. “Let us try. He said he’d work with us.” All the pieces fall into place. “Look at it this way. If what really happened comes out, this will be an international incident. You’ll never get the evidence to convict him in a US court, much less an international court. This is our best bet. If we support him taking over his father’s position in the Colombian government, we’ll have an inside source at the highest levels.”
“What’s in it for him?” Fisher’s dark blue eyes support me, he’s simply asking the right questions.
“He’s an international playboy. That’s the life he loves. If what really happened here comes out, there’s a good chance it won’t play out well for him back home. All he needs is one enemy to start rumors that work against him. If he plays this with us, he gets to return home gaining the sympathy of his country, a role that will allow him to continue to travel internationally and do all the crazy sport shit he likes, and it’s less likely he’ll be caught in cartel crossfire. It’s a safer life for his wife than trying to take over the cartel side of the business.”
“But we’ll be taking the information he gives us and effectively shutting down the trafficking business. His father literally leveraged his role to build those channels,” Trevor argues.
“True. But let us talk to him. According to our intelligence, he’s new to this side of the family business. There’s a good chance he’s not crazy about it. And his father accumulated a significant amount of wealth over the last several decades. He doesn’t need the money. He might welcome this. And even if he only agrees to share information related to other crime businesses, not his family’s, it’s invaluable information. It’ll be the highest-ranking source within a crime organization.” My skin tingles with excitement at the thought. There’s so much to learn about how these organizations interact with each other and with powers within the US. And Rafael will be in the perfect position to question and acquire information, because he can claim his father didn’t have time to teach him everything.
“People heard gunfire. There’s a news helicopter outside,” Trevor says, pointing.
“Right. Dad, you’ve got to get your best PR team on this.” He blinks his agreement. “Make up a story. Freeway chase. Guy got out of his car, on foot. Something.” I look around the blood splattered suite. “This is the Chateau Marmont. Tons of shit happens here. This will add to the mystique. Just get someone covering the tapes to ensure the story matches what any cell phones out there might’ve picked up.”
Dad pulls out a phone from his back pocket and heads out.
“Ryan, can you run point with the CalTan team? Sell them on this plan?” He nods. “Fisher and I need to get to Rafael and Gemma ASAP.”
Trevor crosses his arms and gestures to Ivan. “What about this guy?”
“I’m not sure. We need a story that sounds right to the Colombians. We can ask Rafael for his suggestions. If no one’s looking for him, maybe we can just say he chose to stay in the US.” A low-level nausea stirs as I take in his still warm form. But it’s good he died. I’d never trust him to not rat out Rafael.
Fisher grimaces. “He’s Colombian. He’s probably got a family.”
“Right.” I bet the CIA has a full rundown of his family in our database. “Well, he also has a gun, and the FBI stormed the hotel looking for a suspect. If we have to work that angle, we can.”
Ryan pulls out his phone and dials, walking in the direction my dad went.
“Where are the other guys? It was more than Ivan.”
“FBI pulled them. They were eating dinner at the bar when everything went FUBAR.”Fucked up beyond all recognition. Right.
“Okay. Trevor, when a story is finalized, be sure to apologize to them. Tell them they were mistakenly pulled aside.”
“Wait. One other guy is dead. He was manning the hall,” Trevor says.
“Okay. Work it into the Ivan story. Ideally, we can play this as a chase off the freeway. That’s a Tuesday in LA. Panic ensued when a Colombian official lost consciousness. That’s the reason for the ambulance.”
