Read The Rules Of Silence Online
Authors: David Lindsey
Burden waited for more.
“One sleepless night … I lay in the dark. I saw no end to it. I reached and got a handful of the darkness and pulled on it. It came, like a black curtain coming down. And I pulled on it and pulled on it. This went on for hours. By daylight I was gone. And that was all there was to it.”
Burden nodded. He had heard that the man talked this way, that for him there was no verge between normal and fantastic.
“There’s a merry-go-round out there, ”the man said, and turned his face toward the window. “And swings. And weeds.”
The curtains hung dead behind his face, a pale silhouette against a paler light.
“I have a name for you, ”Burden said, “but I don’t want to give it to you yet. ”He was afraid the man would grow agitated, that knowing who it was would upset him to the point of making him unpredictable. “You remember that I often handle things differently.”
“We used to say unorthodox.”
“Carefully, ”Burden corrected him.
“Unorthodox. But it has no meaning to me anymore. It has no context. It’s nothing.”
“But you understand?”
“Well, you see, it just doesn’t have any meaning.”
Jesus. Burden saw the edges of difficulty. But for all the man’s psychosis, his reputation was impeccable. It occurred to him that it was he, Burden, who was now having trouble with unorthodoxy. Here he was, insisting on a frame of reference from a madman. Well, here was a lesson, wasn’t it. He shouldn’t be surprised.
“Is it tonight? ”the man asked.
“No.”
“Then I don’t want to talk about it. Do you still go to pray?”
“Yes.”
“Churches? Mosques? Synagogues?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“For all the same reasons.”
“You don’t see things differently now?”
“Things? Yes, things are always changing, so I see things differently. But I don’t see myself differently. So I still go.”
“If the stories I’ve heard are true, ”the man said, “I don’t know why you still go.”
Burden didn’t say anything.
Silence.
“But then, ”the man said, “what does it matter, really? I don’t think it matters at all.”
They looked at each other across the dusk of the small room, silhouette to silhouette.
Burden stood slowly, suddenly feeling as if night covered the globe, as if, while he had been in this puggy little motel room, all of the time zones had melted away into darkness everywhere and morning was erased from the vocabulary of man.
“When I come back, ”he said, “I’ll be coming to get you to do it.”
When Burden finally got there, Titus was waiting for him on the veranda. Burden was hot and sweaty, having been let out by his van crew on Cielo Canyon Road and then having climbed through the woods to the back of the orchard. He was dressed much as he’d been in Mexico twenty-four hours earlier when Titus had left him, faded jeans and a baggy, chocolate brown linen shirt.
They went across the courtyard past the fountain and the atrium hallway and into Titus’s office, where Rita was waiting.
Their introduction was awkward. Rita was wary and standoffish and making no effort to disguise it, and Burden was sweaty and clearly pressed for time. Rita was civil enough to offer him a glass of water, which he accepted. When she returned with it he thanked her, took a long drink of it, and dove right into his explanation.
“The first order of business for us, ”he said, standing at the end of the table, the windows overlooking the dark orchard behind him, “is to find out how many people Luquín actually has working with him on this operation. In setting up this meeting, they’ll have to put their communications and security people into play. We’ll watch and count. That’s all.”
He took another drink of water and a deep breath. He looked at his watch and went on.
“We’re at a huge disadvantage here, ”he said. “We can’t lose sight of that. And we only have one shot at getting this count—”
“Explain the disadvantage, ”Rita interrupted.
Burden looked at her. Titus thought he could see him swallowing his irritation. Then he nodded.
“This is a kind of operation that Luquín has refined over years of experience, ”he said. “His people have probably been here several weeks doing advance work, which is how your house got its electronic surveillance. His operational point man is probably Jorge Macias, a former intelligence officer in the Mexican Federal Directorate of National Security. For years Macias secretly informed on intelligence matters to Luquín. And Macias has connections in the U.S. He’s probably got four or five teams on this operation, all compartmentalized, all perfectly used to Macias’s style of doing business. His people are rested, well rehearsed, and wired.
“Now, here’s the way our side looks: I’ve been brought in at the last minute and have no intelligence on the ground. I’m having to build two crews, literally overnight, by flying people in here from half a dozen different cities, and I’m working against the clock. My people are excellent, but there are only a few of them. They’re stretched as thin as it’s possible to stretch. They’ve had to lose sleep to get here, and they won’t be able to slow down or stop until this is finished. They’re working under intense pressure that Luquín’s people don’t have to contend with because Luquín’s the one who’s creating the pressure. He’s dictated the rules—as we’ve discussed, ”he said again to Titus, “and he’s set a schedule. If you, and therefore we, don’t keep to his schedule, there’ll be consequences. We’ve already seen a tragic example of that.”
All of this was laid out in a smooth, clipped monologue, and although he was polite, Titus could see Burden’s impatience at being asked to spell it out.
Titus glanced at Rita, who was sitting halfway down the table. A glass of Scotch sat on a magazine in front of her. She was tense and concentrating on Burden as if she were reading his mind and if she let up even a little bit, she’d lose the link.
Burden looked at her. He was waiting to see if his response had satisfied her, but Titus thought he saw more than that, too. He remembered the portraits of women in Burden’s study. The man appreciated women, and that sensibility didn’t go away, apparently, because of a little stress and danger. Titus glanced at Rita. She understood what was happening. Handsome women learned to understand that look from early girlhood.
“Let’s talk about what’s going to happen in the next few hours, ”Burden said. “When you leave here, Titus, you’ll be pretty much on your own. Obviously we can’t afford to wire you. No use to bug the Rover, they’re going to separate you from that. And even though our chase cars will be with you every moment, they’re going to be giving you a wide berth. They won’t risk detection, even if they lose sight of you.”
“What? ”Rita gasped. “You can’t send him to this meeting like that.”
“We have to, ”Burden said calmly, and then looked at Titus for help in dealing with her.
Rita was looking at Titus, too, her eyes flashing with anger and a kind of fear that she wasn’t even admitting to herself.
“Think about it, Rita, ”Titus said. “Luquín wants the money. I control the money. Believe me, I’m in no danger from Luquín. In fact, I may be the only person not in danger. My safety’s not an issue here.”
“Then what the hell is the issue?”
“Avoiding detection, ”Burden said. “We can
not
be discovered. The only—I repeat—the only slight advantage we have in this operation is that they don’t know we’re here. They have no idea that anyone’s on to them.”
Rita stared at him. “I understand the rationale, ”she said evenly, “but this isn’t a tactical exercise to me. This is my husband meeting alone with a killer.”
Burden bent his head and wiped his sweaty forehead on the shoulder of his shirtsleeve.
“Mrs. Cain”—he locked his eyes on her for emphasis—“to be brutally honest, sooner or later you’re more likely to be in danger than your husband.”
“We’ve talked about her going away, a safe house somewhere, ”Titus interjected, “and—”
“And it’s a stupid suggestion, ”Rita interrupted, cutting her eyes at Burden. “And I wouldn’t do it in a thousand years. Or sooner or later. Forget it.”
“Look, ”Burden said, “I know that this seems … outrageously risky to you, Mrs. Cain, I know that. But think of this: Everything you see during the next few days is going to be startling to you. This is a world you’ve never even imagined before, but it’s the world I live in. I’m intimate with it. I see it differently from you. I read the developing events from an entirely different perspective. ”He paused. “To be frank, Mrs. Cain, you have to trust me. You really don’t have any other choice.”
“I don’t know if I believe that, ”she said quickly.
“Rita, García and I have already been through this, ”Titus said. “In detail. This is the way we’re going. It’s too late, and far, far too risky—in terms of other people’s lives—for us to change courses now.”
“In detail, ”she said. “That’s great. ”She turned to Burden. “And what happens if your people are spotted? What kind of a position does that put Titus in then? What preparations have you made to deal with something like that? You’ve just spent the last twenty minutes explaining to us how you’re at a huge disadvantage in … in this … operation, and now you’re wanting me to believe that Titus is going to go off somewhere and talk with this … insane killer, and you want me to believe that he … that he’s not in danger? Do you think I’m an idiot?”
Titus studied Rita closely. He could tell that she had reached a point where it was difficult for her to distinguish between her anger and her fear. It seemed that the two emotions were now so closely intertwined within her that they had become an entirely new and hybrid passion. Even as strongminded and self-confident as she was, she had always trusted his judgment in most high-stakes situations. But it seemed that she was finding this one hard to go along with.
Fighting tears, she took another drink, but Titus could tell that she was swallowing a lot more than Scotch.
In the silence that followed, Burden ran his fingers through his hair, gave the moment an opportunity to settle. To give him credit, he seemed genuinely empathetic to her predicament.
“I can’t undo your misfortune, Mrs. Cain, ”he said. “I can’t make the danger go away or disarm the evil you’re encountering. It would be cruel for me to pretend otherwise.”
Rita looked away, and Burden glanced at Titus for direction. Titus nodded for him to go on.
“You need to understand, ”Burden said, addressing Titus, “that even if we lose visual contact with you, we’re going to know where you are at every moment. It’s not like you’re dropping off the edge of the earth.”
Standing, he pulled a small plastic packet of breath fresheners out of his pocket and came down the other side of the table from Rita. He sat next to Titus, putting the plastic packet on the table in front of him.
“Just before I came in here, ”he said, looking at both of them, “we pretty much confirmed where Luquín is staying.”
“Pretty much? ”Titus asked.
“We haven’t actually seen him on the property. By intercepting encrypted cell phone transmissions in Spanish, we’ve narrowed it down to three houses. Now two of those have been eliminated. The one we’re looking at is owned by a divorcée who divides her time between Austin and Santa Fe. When she’s not here, she lets friends use it. This month she gave it to a woman from Laredo, who passed it on through a succession of her own friends. We lost the thread, but we think this is it.
“Also, one of my two mobile units is picking up cell phone action from another mobile unit—with very strong encryption—to Mexico City. But we’re not having a lot of luck unraveling the encryption, and we’re having trouble nailing the exact vehicle. We think it’s Macias’s people, and we think we can confirm that during your meeting tonight.”
“And then what? ”Titus asked.
“In order to coordinate a move on Luquín, we have to know where all of his people are at all times. With the first tactical move that we make against his people, there’s a risk they’ll be able to set off an instant signaling mechanism. Then it’s all over. A special team that travels with Luquín—probably those guys you saw the other night—will quickly spirit him away. Unless our people are in place to deal with it, Luquín will be gone.”
Without further explanation, Burden opened the packet of breath fresheners and dumped out the little white pellets onto the table. Then he removed the top of the box, and from the inside of the plastic container he carefully slipped out a thin sheet of plastic that looked like waxed paper.
Nestled inside the paper was a variety of irregularly shaped blotches roughly half a centimeter in diameter, some cinnamon brown, some slightly darker than flesh, some ginger. Burden pulled a pair of tweezers out of his pocket and carefully lifted one of the objects. It was translucent, thin as cellophane.
“Moles and liver spots, ”he said. “They’re adhesive on one side and won’t loosen with sweat or water, but they’re easy to peel off. So thin you have to know they’re there to feel them. Designed by a dermatologist”—he laid the fake mole down on one side of the unfolded plastic sheet—“and a microfluids engineer. They’re actually a by-product of something else, but this not-quite-there stage of the development turned out to be perfect for this kind of thing.
“They’re little transmitters—for a special kind of receiver—and they’ll transmit up to ten days and about twenty miles. We want you to put these on the backs of your hands and forearms. When you’ve found the right place, peel one off and leave it.”
Titus was bent over the table, looking closely at the moles. “And what are the right places? ”he asked.
“If you can get them on another person, that’s best. Otherwise, leave them in a vehicle if it looks like it’s one of theirs— say, one that’s got electronic equipment or in some other way gives you the idea it’s something they’ll use again. If they take you someplace that looks like it’s a permanent staging area, not a motel room, for example, then leave a spot. In short, leave them anywhere you think will be critical for us to know about … when the time comes.