Incitement (31 page)

It was for the best. That was what Mesi kept telling herself as she prepared for the open-ended period of leave. Ostensibly, the reason was her continuing discomfort with her
shoulder and the need for intensive rehabilitation to address the problem. Arthur Marshall had been the epitome of the concerned boss when she had brought it up. There was no problem taking as long
as she needed. They both knew they were using her injury as a convenient excuse.

After only four weeks back, she had taken stock of her position. All pretence of backing for her investigation had been dropped. Her dogged insistence in trying to resurrect the subject had
rendered her a pariah. Even Alan, her ex-husband, had called and advised her that she was ruffling too many feathers. That in itself had been illustrative. How had a political lobbyist who
represented a range of causes and interest groups, none of which were connected with illegal narcotics, come to know what was happening within the DEA? Pressure was being brought to bear, too much
to ignore. She had asked who had talked to him but could not get an answer – he simply reiterated the caution.

In the end, she decided to acquiesce. She had been doing a lot of thinking recently. Thinking about what her career was costing her, not only in terms of time, effort and stress, but in relation
to what she had to sacrifice in other areas. Up to a few months ago, she had been willing to place the job before everything else, not even seeing it as an imposition, but now? Whether the
uncertainty was due to the shooting, the enforced period of reflection recuperation had brought or the developing relationship with Tom, was not clear. She needed to figure it out, to get some
perspective, and she rationalised, since the investigation was plainly over, it was not a difficult decision.

Tom had been brilliant throughout. He had offered to support her regardless of what she decided. If she wanted to persevere, he would back her, but at the same time he recognised how the
investigation’s momentum had been squandered during her convalescence. He was concerned that she could put her health at risk by fighting for a cause that might already be lost. They had
agreed that he would take some vacation time he had coming and they discussed getting away to a far-flung sunny beach, where they would place a ban on all work-related discussion.

She had been requested to clear her work area so it could be used when she was away and had almost finished – only two more drawers to get through. She opened the first drawer and dragged
two wastebaskets over, one for rubbish and one for material to be shredded. She followed the procedure she had perfected that morning, taking out documents, deciding their sensitivity and disposing
of them appropriately. Occasionally, she came across a noteworthy item and put it to one side for a particular colleague. She had almost finished the first drawer, working faster, eager to finish
the repetitive task, when she came across the report.

When she had originally discovered the connection to Brewer she had asked one of the junior agents if he could find out who the main corporate investors in Spartan were over the last five years.
The results hadn’t come back before her visit to Kates’ and with everything that had happened in the meantime she had forgotten the request. The listing had been placed in the drawer
and had remained there since. On a whim, she flicked through the first few pages. The area of military consultancy, contracting and arms provision had not experienced the downturn the rest of the
market had seen. For that reason they represented a good investment for many corporate institutions. Her thinking when requesting the list had been that the threat of approaching these shareholders
might have given the DEA some leverage with Brewer. The report contained a few surprises, including mentions of blue-chip companies she would not have readily associated with a company like
Spartan. She had placed the file in the shredding basket and moved through another two documents when it struck her. Reaching into the basket, she retrieved the report and flipped to the
next-to-last page. There it was: Diversified Holdings. She had almost missed it due to its position so near the end of the document. The report was sorted in reverse order and Diversified’s
involvement in Spartan had ceased more than three years ago. It wasn’t long before then that she had first become acquainted with the corporate group.

She had been with the DEA four years when the organisation had entered one of its most challenging periods. Inexplicably, its performance became the hottest of political subjects.
Representatives from both sides of the house began asking questions. Difficult questions, intelligent, well-thought-out, well-researched questions. And they had kept asking them. Senior people had
been put under intense strain as planned strategies were scrutinised and either scrapped or radically redesigned. New committees had been put in place to monitor effectiveness. Extreme stress
permeated every level of the DEA. Still relatively fresh at the time, Diane weathered it fairly well, but she was the exception. Morale plummeted; some people quit while many others reached the
stage where they simply stopped trying.

And then, abruptly, it subsided. As if some huge object had moved into their orbit, wreaked havoc and then moved on. Some months later, she learnt the reality. The occasion was a retirement
party for one of her bosses who had taken a shine to her. A combination of too much alcohol for the retiree and an attempt to impress had resulted in him sharing what he knew. That year, Carol
Wallace and her daughter had been the victims of a drug-related killing. An addict seeking the means to satisfy his habit had sought to rob Carol and events had gotten out of hand. Tragic but
unremarkable, except for who Carol’s father happened to be. Lawrence Wallace, former chairman and founder of the Diversified Holdings group. Apparently Wallace had set politicians and Senate
committees on the DEA like a man sets his dogs on an intruder. She had barely believed that one individual could wield so much power. No one knew why he had decided to back off. Nothing good had
resulted from his meddling. She had wondered if he might have realised the damage he was doing but was not sure that someone so used to seeing his wishes made reality would have accepted failure so
readily. Subsequently, she saw a small article mentioning how Wallace was ploughing money into a newly established foundation which aimed to pioneer the field of drug rehabilitation. She had taken
it as a sign to avoid summary judgements of people. The man she had pegged as obsessed with personal vengeance and as being equipped with an unhealthy amount of influence had used both to create
something positive.

She closed the report and wondered if her first instinct back then had been right. She stood up and wandered away from her desk, as if putting physical distance between her and the report would
change the direction of her train of thought. She tried telling herself she was crazy. There was no reason to think that Diversified Holdings’ stake in Spartan meant Wallace himself was
linked to Brewer. Some part of her, though, the part which had persevered in the face of all the crap, would not let her avoid it. Almost reluctantly, she began to hypothesise.

What was it she was proposing?

Lawrence Wallace, using resources at his or his corporation’s disposal, had caused two major drugs powers to concentrate all of their resources on destroying the other. Why?

Personal revenge; no need to just rage at the injustice of it all and feel helpless when you’re a self-made billionaire.

How could he have thought he could pull it off? How could he have dared set it in motion?

What, building a global empire and amassing an eleven-figure fortune should have convinced him to think small?

The question was, what did she do now? Run this by Marshall or Samuels and she would either be laughed out of their office or carted off to a padded cell somewhere. It would certainly mark a
nice way to complete her career in the DEA. While she had come to terms with the fact that her days there were numbered, she certainly did not want to be pushed. Was it an option to simply walk
away, tell herself it no longer mattered?

Tom let the waitress refill his cup and move on to the next table. The coffee shop was virtually empty this early in the afternoon, the only other occupants a few students and
a couple of resting shoppers. But he still kept his voice low enough for only her to hear.

“I agree that there’s no point in bringing this to Samuels or Marshall,” he said. “If Wallace is involved ...”

“What do you think?” she asked anxiously.

He had sat quietly, hardly having said a word to this point. Was he going to tell her she was delusional?

“I think it’s bordering on unbelievable.” He held up a hand to prevent her interruption. “But let’s think about it for a minute. You said Diversified Holdings
started divesting themselves of Spartan stock over four years ago, well before any of the trouble started.”

“Yes, but the feud would have taken time to plan and he would have wanted to remove any visible links between himself and Brewer. His daughter died before the Spartan stock was sold, which
was after he’d failed to get the results he wanted from meddling with the DEA.”

“When did Diversified first invest in Spartan?”

“I’m not sure,” she answered hesitantly. “Why is that important?”

“Well, it was obviously before his daughter died. Can’t that be used as an argument that his involvement was all above board? How did he know then that he’d need the expertise
they could provide?”

“The initial investment was probably based on sound business reasons but it doesn’t change the fact that it provided him with access to Brewer. The timing of their decision to sell
their stock in Spartan is definitely suspicious.”

“Why?”

“If they’d waited another six months they’d have increased their return by more than a hundred per cent. Odd move unless Wallace instructed them to do it so there was no link
between the two companies.”

“I thought you said Wallace had stepped down as CEO a few months after his daughter’s death?”

“He did but he still controlled a massive block of shares. Do you think the board would have refused him if he suggested they sell their interest in Spartan?”

“Did Diversified make a profit on their investment in Spartan?”

“Sure, Spartan’s stock has risen steadily every year since its inception.”

“So, the timing of the sale may not be strange at all, they’d made a profit and decided to sell rather than be greedy.”

She felt herself losing faith in what she had been so confident of only minutes earlier. This morning, she had been happy to walk away and even excited about a new chapter; now, here she was
again getting totally worked up.

“Are you saying I should drop it?”

He looked at her for a moment before responding.

“Absolutely not. All I’m trying to say is don’t rush to conclusions. Look, you’re committed to at least a couple of months’ leave, right?”

“Starting three days from now, yes.”

“Let’s spend the next few days when I’m away trying to figure out how we could look into this. When I get back we’ll compare notes and take it from there.”

“You’re going away?”

“Yeah, I’m sorry, I was just told this morning. I need to spend a week away, I’m not meant to say where but I’ll tell you. Things down in Colombia are a total mess since
the Plan’s cessation. A lot of senior people are panicking, and in an effort to appear as if they’re addressing matters, various delegations are being sent down. I happen to be a very
junior member of one of those. I leave tonight. I’m sorry. I wanted to be here, especially on your last day.”

“Don’t worry. It’s not a big deal. I’ll see you when you get back.”

She knew she didn’t sound convincing.

“I know it’s lousy timing but I think I might have something to cheer you up,” he said. “I wasn’t going to tell you yet, but in light of what you’ve learned
concerning Diversified ...”

“What?”

“I’d given up hope of finding anything useful about Brewer weeks ago. If there was any dirt, I figured it was well hidden, but then something just dropped in my lap. I was in a
briefing yesterday regarding this trip and the aftermath of Plan Coca. There are all kinds of criticisms and recriminations coming to light recently.”

“Such as?”

“How the fumigation flights routinely went outside specified areas. How US contractors have been participating in unsanctioned incursions against the rebels. Anyway, one of the State
Department people mentioned in passing that they bore remarkable similarities to accusations made against Spartan last year.”

She looked at him uncomprehendingly, not seeing the relevance.

“If Brewer was involved in a strategy to cripple the Madrigal Alliance, wouldn’t it be compatible with a policy of straying beyond Plan Coca’s remit to attack the rebels more
freely? Think about it, who supplies Madrigal’s principle source of cocaine?”

“My God! You’re saying Brewer interfered with an official foreign policy initiative to augment the effect of the feud on the Alliance.”