Silent Assassin (21 page)

C
HAPTER
44

 

M
organ and Conley were escorted up the hill by the armed guards, who spoke sporadically as they walked. The people on the sidewalk retreated in fear as the soldiers passed, gawking at Morgan and Conley like they were watching a funeral procession. Morgan even saw a couple of them make the sign of the cross.

“How far is it?” asked Morgan, looking back and seeing how unexpectedly high up they were.

“The boss lives all the way up the hill,” said Conley.

“
Cala a boca
!” one of them spat.

“I’m guessing that means shut up,” Morgan whispered, then felt a sharp knock on the back of his head. He walked in silence after that.

First they went up a series of main roads, and finally a few dozen yards along one of those narrow alleyways. Then they came upon the house.

It was a strange oasis of luxury in such precarious surroundings. There were fancy tiles and a pool that didn’t look cheap, with a wooden deck built around it. There were scantily clad beauties all around, women of all shapes and skin colors who hung around to share in the wealth and power that radiated from the place. More alarming were the men, mostly young, and enough in number to form a small battalion. Each had at least one gun, and many had two—a handgun and a heavier weapon. Armed enough to form a battalion, too, but sloppy and untrained. Their guns were left unattended as they reclined or slouched, played with the girls, and snorted cocaine. A group of four was playing a loud game of cards in a corner. A small, organized special ops group could make short work of these guys.

“Valter!” yelled one of the men who were escorting them.

A dreadlocked white man looking a few showers short of filthy walked over to them. He had light brown skin and light greyish-blue eyes. He had a permanent snide look on his face, his chin turned up in defiance. He said something in Portuguese, and Conley answered.

“He doesn’t speak English,” said Conley. “Apparently he’s second in command to Paulinho AK.”

“Well, explain to him why we’re here. Maybe they’ll be willing to help us out. After all, it’s their own name they’d be tarnishing by selling tainted product.”

“I will,” said Conley. He spoke in Portuguese to Valter, received a response, then turned back to Morgan. “He says we’re going to be killed.”

“What the hell did you tell him?”

“I gave him the gist of our claim. He doesn’t seem to care.”

Six men with guns came over. Two of them had automatics, the rest had semis. They pulled Morgan and Conley away from the rest of the people, to be killed. They were getting looks from the people lounging around them. They knew what was about to happen. Morgan’s and Conley’s eyes met. If they were going down, they would go down fighting. If he could grab the automatic from the man behind him, he might at least take out—

“Valter!”

The voice came from a door on the far side of the pool. Morgan turned around to look. The man was black, with close-cropped black hair, muscular, with intelligent eyes. Strapped on his back was a Kalashnikov.

“Let me guess,” said Morgan.

“That’s right,” said Conley. “Paulinho AK.”

Paulinho yelled out some orders. The men who had their guns trained on Morgan and Conley stepped back, and Paulinho stepped forward.

“I speak English,” he said. His voice was heavily accented, his intonation off, but he was understandable. He had a quietly confident air about him, not as aggressive as Valter. It was clear why he was the boss. “You killed my
mula
.”

“We are sorry,” said Conley. “We had no choice.”

“No choice?” said Paulinho. “Maybe I have no choice. Maybe Valter is right. Maybe I kill you. What are you? FBI?
Narcos
?”

“No,” said Conley. “We are not here for you. We don’t care about trafficking. It’s not our business.”

“There’s something in your cocaine,” said Morgan. “It killed people. I don’t think this is how you like to do business.”

“Don’t tell me my business,” said Paulinho. But he added: “What do you mean?”

“The cocaine contains a deadly genetically engineered fungus. Cocaine that came from your man. Robson. It made people kill each other. And it affected Robson too. That’s why we had to kill him.”

This seemed to resonate with Paulinho. He started speaking Portuguese. Conley translated.

“He says some of his people have gone crazy and started attacking people. One guy apparently killed his wife by—actually, I don’t think you need to hear this one.”

Morgan was okay with that. “Who gave you this cocaine?” he asked. “Where did you get it?”

“The Russian. The . . .
lobo.
”
Lobo
. Wolf.

Conley pulled out his phone and showed him a photograph of Novokoff. Paulinho nodded.

“That is him. But his face, it was destroyed. Lots of blood. He almost kill one of my men. Punch and kick. Broke ribs and his arm and made him bleed.”

“And you didn’t do anything about it?” Morgan asked.

He shrugged. “Cost of business. But if what you say is true, I cannot allow this shipment to go through. Come. I have something to show you.”

They were led to a balcony, where they could see a sort of courtyard below. A man was chained up to a pole there, bleeding where the chain held him. Morgan soon saw why: in a fit, he started to struggle against the chain, putting the weight of his entire body behind the attempts.

“You need to get them all isolated,” said Morgan. “They’re infected. A disease.”

Paulinho shouted to someone behind him, and the man answered back. “I will do it,” he said. “I do not want any more like this in my favela.”

Valter came forward and began to argue with Paulinho. There seemed to be a lot of tension between the soldiers.

“He says they told the Russian that they’d get that delivered,” said Conley, translating. “Apparently there was a lot of money in it for them, and they’re not likely to see a dime if it doesn’t get to its destination. Valter isn’t happy about the situation, and from the looks of it, he’s not the only one.”

“Let us talk to the Russian,” said Conley. “Arrange a meeting with him. Help us capture him.”

“And what do I get?” asked Paulinho. “For betraying a business partner?”

“Money. Half of what the Russian promised you.”

“Half? Not all? Not
double
?”

“You release that cocaine, you kill half your clientele,” said Conley. “That’s not cost of business, that’s business suicide.”

“I will think of your proposition,” said Paulinho. “Come back tomorrow and we will talk.”

C
HAPTER
45

 

“L
et me say for the record that I think this is a terrible idea,” said Captain Siqueira, in English for Morgan’s sake. “These drug lords are scum. Trash. You are stupid to trust him.”

They had gotten their answer from Paulinho: he had promised to help. He’d called Novokoff in for a meeting. His soldiers were going to kill Novokoff’s men and hand over Novokoff himself. After discussing that, Conley had taken Morgan to the BOPE headquarters, where they had laid out the plan before the captain.

“It’s the only way,” said Conley. “We need this man. There’s a lot on the line.”

“Right, right,” said Siqueira. He was reclining in his chair, sucking on a cigarette. The acrid smoke pervaded the tiny office. “The biological weapon. I am impatient about getting it the hell out of my city as well.”

“So you’ll do it?” asked Morgan.

“I may do it,” said Siqueira. “But if I do, it will cost you.”

“If this is done, there will be an anonymous donation to BOPE of one hundred thousand dollars, and the guarantee that overseers will not ask questions about where it came from.”

“I think your pockets are a bit deeper than that, Cougar.”

“Two hundred,” he said.

“Three-fifty,” said Siqueira. “Plus fifty more for any of my men who are injured out there. A hundred for any that are killed.”

Conley looked at Morgan, then back at Siqueira. He was doing the whole dance of negotiating.

“We can make that deal with three hundred up front. No more.”

“I don’t think you are in position to negotiate,” said Siqueira. “You need this, and you have money.”

“I could go with mercenaries,” said Conley. He looked at Morgan, who nodded. “Private contractors. How much do you think they’ll cost me? A fraction.”

“Mercenaries? Pah! Each BOPE man is worth five of them.”

“Three hundred,” said Conley. “And that’s just because I like you so much. So. What’s it going to be?”

Captain Siqueira snorted, then smiled. “Okay, fine,” he said. “You win. Three hundred thousand. We will give you air support. Extract you two with Novokoff from the favela. I want Paulinho AK’s personal assurance that we are not going to draw any fire at all. He needs to know that if anything happens, BOPE declares war on his ass.”

“We’ll make sure to impress that on him,” said Conley.

 

 

Morgan and Conley waited in Conley’s car on a small side street until they got the call. Conley spoke a few words of Portuguese.

“That was Valter,” said Conley. “He gave us the go-ahead.”

They drove up the hill the familiar way. Paulinho’s soldiers watched them suspiciously as they passed.

“Just keep looking forward,” said Conley. “Don’t stare at any of them.”

In a few minutes, they reached Paulinho’s compound. They were waved inside, then frisked. They took Morgan’s Walther from him.

“You didn’t tell me they were going to take my goddamn gun away,” said Morgan.

“I didn’t know,” said Conley. “But I didn’t expect they’d let us bring it in.”

They were taken to the main room, where they had met Paulinho before. People there seemed to be tense. There was not a smile in the room.

“Where’s Novokoff?” asked Morgan.

“Where’s Paulinho?” asked Conley. And then Morgan noticed that the drug lord was nowhere to be seen.

“No Paulinho,” said Valter. “No more. Valter now.” He spoke in Portuguese at them.

“Conley, what the hell is going on?”

“Looks like there was a coup,” said Conley. “Valter says he’s in charge now. And the men with guns seem to agree with him.”

He continued to speak, and Conley translated. “He said the cocaine is going on the boat.”

“What about Novokoff?” asked Morgan.

“He says there’s no deal anymore.”

“Behind you,” said Conley, although he didn’t have to. Morgan sensed the others moving around him, and the women quietly slinking out of the room.

“On my mark,” said Conley.

Morgan saw a reflection in the sunglasses of a man in front of him that a guard with a submachine gun had maneuvered behind him.

“Go!”

Morgan spun around and knocked the gun from the hands of the guard behind him. He grabbed it and took the man as a human shield. Beside him, Conley had grabbed a Kalashnikov. Both of them sprayed bullets, sending everyone running for cover. Conley must have activated his comm, because he was shouting in Portuguese for the airlift.

“Let’s go!” he said.

They dashed out of Paulinho’s house, Morgan providing cover fire as they ran.

“We need to find higher ground!” cried Conley. “That’s where we’re going to rendezvous with the chopper!” Then he took out his walkie-talkie and screamed into it in Portuguese.

Morgan reached a vantage point where he caught a glimpse of the view. The favela sprawled endlessly below. This was not friendly territory. But in the distance, Morgan saw their salvation: a black chopper, approaching fast.

“Up there!”

There was a two-story house with clear airspace around it and a broad flat roof. Morgan shot out the lock to the front door, and they went in. A woman in the kitchen screamed, but they just went upstairs. There were stairs up to the roof, where a recreation area had been arranged, with a barbecue pit and plastic lawn chairs.

They shot around the corner at the bottom of the stairs.

The chopper set down and two BOPE agents stepped out, giving them cover fire. Morgan and Conley got on board. The two BOPE agents got back on, and they continued to shoot as they gained altitude. Soon, they were far above the fray, safely out of range of bullets. Still, for all the sweetness of being alive, Morgan still tasted the bitter flavor of defeat.

C
HAPTER
46

 

“W
ell, I hope you two are very happy,” said Siqueira.

Morgan and Conley sat together in an interrogation room of the BOPE headquarters. It was a dingy room, furnished with cheap chairs and a small table. It was swelteringly hot. There was a fan mounted on the wall, but it was so dusty that Morgan wondered if it worked at all.

“How the hell were we supposed to know that the bastard Valter was going to take over?” asked Conley. “We had a deal with Paulinho. He was solid and good for it. We were as blindsided by this as you were.”

“I told you not to trust this trash,” said Siqueira. “But you did. You made a
deal
with the drug dealers. There is no deal with those assholes, I told you. I told you they were treacherous by nature. But you didn’t listen. You went in and you made a mess of everything. Now we do things our way.”

“What do you mean, you do things your way?”

“Come see,” said Siqueira. He led them out the interrogation room and into an adjoining one. There they found Valter, bruised and bleeding, taking a beating from two members of the squad.

“How did you get him?” asked Conley.

“We took advantage of the mess you created,” he said. “And we wanted to send a message to any upstarts thinking they can screw us. This was your failure. Now watch.”

Watch they did as Valter took punches and kicks and pinches that left large purple welts on his skin. It wasn’t long until Valter was singing. Morgan couldn’t understand what he was saying, but Conley translated for him.

“The cocaine’s on a ship,” Conley said. “Called the
Argos
. Left port one day ago for Miami.”

“Just the ship?” asked Morgan. “Can’t he tell us what container it was on?”

Siqueira translated the question for the interrogator, who in turn asked Valter. Valter responded.

“He says he doesn’t know,” said Conley.

“And what are you going to do about it?” Morgan asked Siqueira.

“Nothing,” he said. “It’s not our problem anymore. We have other things to deal with here. Why don’t I show you two the door?”

 

 

“So we have no word on Novokoff?” said Bloch, speaking on a video call on Conley’s computer.

“No,” said Conley. “He was in the city, but after Valter double-crossed us, he was definitely tipped off. He’s probably out of the country by now.”

“So our main priority right now is the cocaine with the spores,” said Bloch. “We know the ship that it’s on. Can we find out which container it is?”

“We wouldn’t know where to begin,” said Conley. “Valter, the man Siqueira interrogated, couldn’t tell us. The ship is slated to arrive in Miami in less than a week. We can’t mount an investigation in that time frame.”

“Shepard,” said Bloch. “How about computer records? Is there any way to narrow down the ship’s contents electronically?”

“I’ve been looking into this,” he said. “It doesn’t look like detailed records of the containers are online. Customs declarations apparently take some time to be processed.”

“We can get those papers,” said Conley. “I have contacts here, and I could easily have access to them.”

“Wouldn’t help much, I think,” said Shepard. “That might work in a long investigation, but there’s not much I could do with those in just a few days.”

There were a few seconds of silence as each of them thought about more possible solutions.

“Well, we might as well consider the obvious,” said Bloch grimly. “With this fungus threatening to hit Miami and spreading beyond, it’s not too much to sacrifice some lives to prevent that. We can sink the ship. What do you say, Pope? Is it viable?”

“That’s
not
a good idea,” said Pope, the scientist, from off-screen. “You sink the ship, and the fungus is in the wild. It could be that everything would sink to the bottom of the ocean and we’d never see it again, but there’s no way to tell for sure. Spores can be extremely resilient. The results of that would simply be unpredictable. Who knows how long it might survive, and where it might wash up eventually? We could start an epidemic this way. It’s not a risk we should take, under any circumstances.”

“It’s better than an outbreak in a major American city,” said Bloch. “But we’ll take your opinion into consideration. It remains a measure of last resort, but only that. What else can we do?”

“Quarantine the ship,” said Conley. “Until we have further information. We can search the containers thoroughly, and be sure to get the right ones.”

“Sketchy plan at best,” said Bloch. “There are hundreds of millions of dollars in goods on any given cargo ship. That’s a lot of reasons not to want to keep it in port. Whatever clout our people have is going to be tested. And it’s a battle we’re likely to lose in a few days, without actually telling the government what’s in the cocaine.”

“Well, what if we do that?” asked Conley. “I meant, at this point, how much worse could we do?”

“It doesn’t seem like the worst option,” said Shepard. “We cut our losses and wash our hands of this. It might cause a panic, but that might be the least bad option here.”

“No,” said Bloch. “Absolutely not. The existence of this fungus needs to be kept a secret.”

“Are a few people’s sensitive secrets really worth endangering a major American city?” Morgan asked impatiently.

“Listen, Cobra,” said Bloch, “as secret as it has been kept thus far, we still had its existence leaked to Novokoff, and he managed to infiltrate a top-secret base to steal it. If this gets out, every major terrorist is going to want a piece of the action. And maybe one of them is going to get it. And that’s not even taking into consideration that people in our own government might just as easily want to have it and use it as a weapon.
That
is the choice that we need to make. I think it’s clear that we cannot allow this under any circumstance. The existence of this organism needs to be kept a secret, even if it means that some people have to die.
Understood?
”

“So what can we do?” asked Conley.

There was a prolonged silence. Then Morgan spoke up.

“I think I might have a way.”