Targets of Revenge (39 page)

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Authors: Jeffrey Stephens

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BOOK: Targets of Revenge
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Raabe had been studying LaBelle as Sandor gave him the news. If he was acting, he was very good. “That’s exactly right. They knew about our meeting with Romero. It was pretty clear they also knew we were federal agents.”

“But how?” LaBelle asked.

“That’s our question,” Sandor told him. “Only five people knew Bergenn and Raabe were going to Reynosa. The three of us, Bergenn and our DD. Even Romero had limited information, am I right?”

LaBelle nodded.

“And the way they took him down, it was obvious he hadn’t been turned.”

LaBelle said nothing.

“When you met Craig and Jim it was made clear you weren’t to discuss their mission with anyone. Is that right?”

LaBelle nodded again, more slowly this time.

“So Dan, who is Jaime Rivera and what do you want to tell us about what happened in Mexico last night that cost us two good men?”

LaBelle sucked in a deep breath, then let it out like it was poison. “After everything you and I have been through I should be insulted, but I’m not. I can see how bad this looks.”

“It looks very bad, especially when I toss Moscow into the mix.”

“Moscow?”

“The meeting you set up for me with Vassily Greshnev.”

“You two had dinner.”

“You didn’t hear what I was served for dessert?”

“What are you talking about?”

Sandor looked to Raabe, then back to LaBelle. “Did you check back with Greshnev after I saw him that night?”

“No. I figured I didn’t have a need to know. If I did, you would have told me.”

“After dinner I found an uninvited guest in my hotel room.”

LaBelle said nothing.

“Someone set me up, which brings me to my second problem this morning. Only you, Greshnev and I knew about that dinner. Other than Craig, no one else even knew I was going to Moscow.”

“You can’t believe I had anything to do with that.”

“Tell me what I should believe.”

LaBelle hesitated, anger turning to a look of resignation. “You know how the bureaucracy works. I’m head of this office, but I’m still several rungs below the top level.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that Vassily Greshnev is an important contact for us. Felipe Romero was a valuable asset.”

“So?”

“So you report to Mark Byrnes and I have people I have to report to.”

“Forget Greshnev for now. Are you saying you divulged information about the mission in Reynosa after you were told how sensitive it was, that it had to be kept strictly among us?”

“Look Jordan, you can get as indignant as you want, but no one knows better than you how this game is played. If I didn’t report these things up the line and something went bad, my ass would be in a sling. Now you’re telling me things did go bad. Think about it. If I didn’t report the mission with Romero it would look like I was taking my orders from the CIA. Same goes for the contact I made for you with Greshnev.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, when you say ‘up the line,’ how many people did you tell?”

“Only one. My director in D.C., Joseph Cleary.”

Raabe said, “He’s the DEA liaison on the joint task force Byrnes just formed.”

LaBelle looked from Raabe back to Sandor. “Cleary is a good man. There’s no way he’s involved here.”

“Well somebody tipped off the cartel that Bergenn and Raabe were coming, and that Romero was a mole.”

“You know me a long time Jordan and I want you to look into my eyes when I say this. Romero was the toughest agent I ever worked with and I would never have given him up.”

Sandor stared back at him without speaking.

“Well,” Raabe said, “I can vouch for the fact that Romero was tough. They cut him to ribbons and he never admitted a thing. Then he helped us find a way to fight back. I wouldn’t be here right now if it wasn’t for him.”

They were all quiet for a moment, the two men in the backseat waiting on Sandor.

He thought it over, then said, “Okay Dan, we’re going to sort this out, so I hope you didn’t have any big plans for today.”

“Meaning what?”

“Meaning that you’re coming with us to Washington. Right now.”

CHAPTER SEVENTY-ONE
CIA HEADQUARTERS, LANGLEY, VIRGINIA

M
ARK
B
YRNES CALLED
an emergency meeting of the newly formed task force, their second gathering in as many days. During their flight to D.C., Sandor, Raabe, and LaBelle briefed the DD on his secure line. When they reached Langley, LaBelle and Raabe were parked in Byrnes’s office as the DD and Sandor walked down the hall to the conference room where the other members of the task force were filing in.

The panel included Joseph Cleary from DEA; John Chevalier from the Department of Homeland Security; Richard Bebon, who was Byrnes’s opposite number at the FBI; and two men and a woman from the National Counter-Terrorism Center. Also attending was Peter Forelli from the NSA unit assigned to the White House, who joined them by videoconference.

Byrnes began by asking Sandor to summarize the latest developments in Mexico and to review, for those who were not present the previous day, the information he obtained in Brighton Beach. Then the meeting was opened to questions.

Bebon, from the FBI, went first. He was tall and slim and, despite being in his early sixties, sat up ramrod straight, his early years in the military having never been forgotten. “Let’s start with the intel Sandor got from this Russian in New York. You have any independent reason to believe it’s credible?”

“No sir, no independent verification yet,” Sandor admitted. “However, before I posed my questions I created an environment that would be likely to persuade someone to tell the truth.”

Bebon held up his hand. “Spare us any description of the environment you created.”

“Understood.”

“Since you were the one who developed the intel I just want to know if you believe it’s at least possible these toxins are actually coming by ship into the Port of Baltimore.”

“It’s possible, nothing more. As I also reported, we believe the transport of the cocaine that includes the anthrax is being organized by Roman Sudakov. Use of a container ship would be the preferred method, and I’ve learned that they typically offload in a port other than the final destination for the goods. Based on what Vaknin told me, the narcotics are ultimately headed for New York City. Logic would dictate that the anthrax is therefore also intended for use in New York City.”

“So Baltimore makes sense as the port of entry,” Bebon said.

“Yes sir. But we have new information, resulting from the raid this morning on the farm outside Reynosa. The Mexican authorities are working with people sent from the DEA in Dallas, jointly interrogating the men taken this morning. So far the local head of the cartel down there, name of Mateo, is offering some cooperation.”

“Credibility?”

“Yes, credibility is again an issue, but this man has his own motivation to be truthful.”

“Go on.”

“The activities at his farm last night are probably known already to the others in the pipeline for this shipment. Same with his arrest. Once a man like that is taken into custody, he’s as good as dead to the cartel. Mateo refused to speak to the
federales,
insisted that he would only speak to our people. He said Mexican security is leaky as a sieve.”

“Man who wants to save his own hide is likely to tell the truth,” Bebon said.

“Mateo says that the cartel would assume we’ll turn him,” Sandor went on. “As a result they would almost certainly make a last-minute change of plans for the destination of this shipment. His best guess is that they would pick another port, such as Newark.”

“New Jersey? Didn’t you just say they don’t choose a port near the final point of distribution?”

“These are unusual circumstances. And please keep in mind that Adina is involved. Knowing how he works, as soon as he got word of trouble he would do everything he could to reroute the cargo. He believes in misdirection, as we’ve seen before.”

“Well then,” Bebon said, “let’s stop and inspect every damn container coming from Mexico into Baltimore and Newark for the next few days.”

Chevalier, from DHS, spoke up. “You know it’s not that easy Dick. First, the container ship may not even be coming from Mexico, they can transfer these boxes out at sea. The ship could have embarked from anywhere. And the number of vessels and containers sailing into those harbors is mind-boggling. There’s no one in this room that doesn’t understand these ports are the Achilles’ heel in protecting our country, not just from terrorism but from narcotics, smuggling . . . you know the deal.”

Bebon shook his head in disgust.

“And what if this drug dealer is wrong? What if he’s lying?” Chevalier asked. “What if it turns out they chose a different port altogether?”

Cleary, the Assistant Administrator from DEA, returned to the subject of the interrogations in Mexico. “When did you receive word this Mateo is cooperating? I haven’t heard a thing about it.”

“Just came through,” Byrnes lied. “I’m sure you’ll be getting a full report as soon as you get back to your office.”

Cleary nodded, unhappy there were developments within his own agency of which he was unaware. “We lost a good agent down there,” he said.

“And I lost two of mine,” Byrnes said, lying for the second time. He had told the group that Bergenn and Raabe both died along with Romero, all three bodies having been discovered by Sandor. Byrnes told Sandor he found it impossible to believe that anyone in this group would have betrayed them, but if there was any such possibility he agreed, there was an obvious advantage in claiming there were no survivors from the shootings in Reynosa.

Sandor had never known Byrnes to speak untruthfully—a total anomaly in his profession—and he marveled at how easily the DD helped spin their story. Barely able to suppress a grin, he reckoned he might have to rethink his unquestioning trust in the man.

Meanwhile, Cleary responded by telling the group, “This is tragic all the way around.”

“Yes,” Sandor agreed. “What we can’t understand is how the mission in Reynosa went so wrong so fast. The only ones who knew our people were meeting Romero were the Deputy Director, Dan LaBelle in Texas, and me. The operation was a secret.”

Cleary gave a dismissive shake of his head. “There are no secrets in this business, Agent Sandor, you know that. Reporting along the chain of command comes with the territory.”

Sandor studied him for a moment but said nothing.

“The important thing now,” Cleary told the others, “is to figure out how we turn this to an advantage in stopping the shipment. We know Mateo is a major player in the Sinaloa Cartel. When I get back to my office I’ll speak with LaBelle. He and his team will make a deal with him if he really has information that can lead us to these narcotics.”

“And the anthrax,” Sandor reminded the group.

Bebon piped up again. “I don’t give a tinker’s damn what kind of deal they make, I wouldn’t trust a drug dealer like that from here to the door.”

“I agree,” Chevalier said.

Cleary dissented. “From Mateo’s perspective, anything he can do to trade for his safety at this point is better than being put back onto the street.”

“Which leaves us where?” Bebon asked. “It sounds like we’re running out of time.”

“I agree,” Sandor said. “Two or three days at the most. If it were up to me I would keep pressing this Mateo for information. Find out if the drugs are already at sea or if there was time to reroute them. Was Baltimore the original port? Is Newark the likeliest destination now?”

“What we’ve heard so far,” Byrnes jumped in, “leads us to conclude that all of our efforts should be focused on Newark.”

“Abandon the work in Baltimore?” Chevalier asked.

“Exactly,” the DD told him, his third lie of the meeting.

“With all respect,” Cleary said, “I don’t think that’s your call to make. We’ve got jurisdictional issues we can’t gloss over.” He looked around at the others, and a couple of them were nodding in agreement. “We appreciate the efforts your agent has made and the fact that you convened this task force. But the CIA cannot be calling the shots on this.”

“He’s right,” Bebon weighed in. “And we need to read in the Coast Guard ASAP.”

“I’ve already made a call,” Chevalier from DHS told them.

Byrnes held up his hands, showing them both palms and a friendly smile. “No disagreement here. Just keep me in the loop and let me know what you want from us.”

Peter Forelli, who had remained silent throughout, now spoke up from the video screen on the far wall. “Sounds like you guys are on top of this, and I’ll report that to the President. Be sure you copy the NDI and keep us posted.”

With that, the meeting was adjourned.

CHAPTER SEVENTY-TWO
CIA HEADQUARTERS, LANGLEY, VIRGINIA

B
YRNES ESCORTED THE
group to the nearest bank of elevators, then led Sandor back to his office, where LaBelle and Raabe were waiting.

“How did it go?” LaBelle asked.

“Not sure,” Byrnes admitted.

They took their seats around the conference table.

“We laid it out just as we planned,” Sandor said. “We gave them every reason to think that Baltimore is no longer the intended port.”

“I felt lousy doing it, too,” Byrnes said. “Especially with Bebon in the mix.”

“It’ll only be a couple of hours,” Sandor said. “By then we should know something. Worst case, we can tell them we had misinformation.”


We,
Sandor? I’m the one who’s going to have to explain why I misled the FBI and DHS.”

Raabe interrupted. “You might not have misled anyone, sir. LaBelle’s office received a call from his team in Mexico. We waited till you got back to patch them in.”

“Do they know you’re here?” Byrnes asked LaBelle.

“No. I picked up the message from my assistant,” the DEA agent explained. “She thinks I’m still in Dallas.”

“It’s best if it stays that way for right now,” Sandor advised, and the others agreed. Then he turned to Raabe and said, “They also think you died down there with Romero and Bergenn.”

Byrnes pointed Raabe and LaBelle to chairs in the corner of the room where the video camera would not pick them up. A few seconds later the screen glowed to life with the image of one of the DEA agents participating in the interrogation of Alphonso Mateo. They were at a secure location in Monterrey.

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