The Recruit: A Taskforce Story (5 page)

Checking the catering uniforms, Comandante Zero heard the horn outside and prayed it was his van and not another delivery of white coats. He went to the window of the garage and saw the outside gate open. He recognized Felipe behind the wheel, and smiled.

The truck rolled forward past the threshold. He waited until the gate had closed, blocking a view from the street, before opening the door of the garage. The van rolled in, a white one without any windows in the cargo area, and parked next to an identical model, its back doors open wide and flashes of light and spark spilling out from someone welding inside.

Felipe exited and said, “No problems. I see you’re still working on the other van. I told you I’d get it with plenty of time.”

Comandante Zero nodded and said, “He’ll be done in about five minutes.”

“Is all of that work necessary?”

“Yes. The security is usually lax, but they’ll be searching the vans, I’m sure. We can’t very well ride in back with our guns out.”

“Does he know what he’s doing?”

“Yes. He worked for the Colombians, running cocaine. He can build concealment devices into anything. But more importantly, did your contact at the caterer come through? We won’t need the vans if his information is wrong.”

Felipe reached inside his van and pulled out a clipboard. “Here’s the schedule. They’ll set up, serve dinner, then, while that’s ongoing, the two vans will return to the caterer for supplies. We intercept them on the way back and take their passes. The guards will have already seen the passes and will be expecting two vans to return.”

Comandante Zero scanned the paperwork and grunted his approval. He pointed at the rack of caterer’s uniforms and said, “Take those to the guesthouse. Have the men pick out ones that fit. Make sure they fit well. Half of those peasants have never worn a tie, and we can’t afford anyone to question why we look like clowns at an official diplomatic function.”

•   •   •

Decoy heard a fist pound his bedroom door, then, “Wake up, sleeping beauty. We’ve got work to do today.”

He rolled over and saw it was close to noon. After crawling into bed past dawn, it meant he’d had only four or five hours of sleep. He groaned and sat up, Knuckles handing him a cup of coffee.

“You always this messy?”

Decoy leaned over and pulled a shirt off the floor, saying, “Don’t start. What’s up with our implants?”

“Talked to Kurt. The feeds are working, but they still need to be translated and analyzed. We’ll get the mission to retrieve the collector and the laser mike probably in a day or so. We leave the spiders. If it’s anything, they’ll pass it to the Peruvian authorities. They’ve already passed the German national’s name to OGA.”

Decoy pulled on his pants and said, “Can’t you just say CIA?”

Knuckles smiled and said, “Sorry. Habit. Hurry up. We need to get our tuxes for tonight.”

Decoy went to brush his teeth, saying, “Do we get to play poker? I’m dying to say ‘Bond, James Bond.’”

“Not tonight. You get to pretend you’re a cellular technician. Spend the night practicing living a lie.”

Before he reached the bathroom, his cell phone rang. He answered, looked at Knuckles, and mouthed
OGA
.

“Hey, Carly, I was going to call later about the party tonight.”

Without preamble, she said, “We need to talk. Right now.”

“What’s up?”

“That name you gave me? You remember?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s in my office now.”

“So?”

“I’m not talking on a cell. We need to meet. Let’s go get lunch.”

“Okay, okay, but we’ve got to go get our monkey suits for tonight.”

“Swing by the embassy and pick me up. I know a great place at the Mercado Central.”

“The embassy has already set up a place. We’ve got a fitting.”

“The embassy doesn’t know shit about Lima. Let me guess. They’re sending you to that store in Miraflores?”

“Well, yeah.”

“That place is a kickback for the owner. His brother is responsible for all customs checks for embassy deliveries. The embassy sends everyone there as a back scratch, but they’ll make you look like a sad sack. Come get me. I won’t steer you wrong.”

“Okay, okay. How soon?”

“Now.”

“Give me fifteen minutes.”

He hung up and told Knuckles what had happened, ending with, “We did that. I mean the Taskforce passed the name.”

“Brush your teeth and comb your hair. We’ll go meet her.”

“Knuckles, I don’t want to get her in trouble. This is our fault.”

“She won’t. There are ways around it. Let’s see what she says.”

At an outdoor table next to a park, the swirling, bustling central market, claustrophobic with people and vendors of all stripes, Decoy watched Carly getting her order of ceviche from a street vendor and said, “You sure eating this won’t give us the runs?”

Knuckles said, “She’s fine with it, and she seems to know her way around.”

Decoy poked his own order and said, “She’s probably immune by now, and most definitely wouldn’t mind us spending a day or two on the can. This fish doesn’t even look cooked.”

As Carly came walking back, Knuckles responded, “Expand your horizons a little bit.”

She sat down and Knuckles asked her, “Okay, what’s up? You won’t talk on the phone, and don’t trust our rental. Can you talk here?”

She ate a bite and said, “We got an intel report today from headquarters stating that Linda Devoire is possibly living in Lima, Peru. Mighty big coincidence after you two assholes had me run the name.”

“What’s that mean?”

“It means I did some checking on your company. Outside of a DUNS number, there’s not much to you. A single-page website with no links and a single phone number. No fax, no information on Google, no prior history as far as I could find.”

Decoy said, “Why is someone in the Consular Section doing searches on a company contracted by the ambassador?”

She flared her eyes at him and said, “Because I’m about to get in serious trouble! I know about a wanted German fugitive because I slept with a guy on TDY and tried to help him out. And I didn’t report it. I couldn’t report it without saying how I found out, and I’d get fired. Or at least shipped home. Jesus, I can’t believe this has happened. Who are you guys?”

Knuckles said, “You keep asking that. We’re who we said we are. Did you call the company?”

“Yeah. I got some receptionist.” She eyed them both. “She said you were unavailable but worked there.”

“Well, there you go.”

“Oh, horseshit.”

“It sounds to me like you’ve got some Jesse Ventura conspiracy theories going on because you’ve had some experience in things like this in the past. You know, in the ‘Consular Section.’”

She said nothing for a moment, then, “That’s where I work. You can check it out.”

Knuckles said, “I’m sure we’d find you listed on the embassy organization chart. Maybe with a single phone number and an e-mail.”

“Fuck you.”

Decoy cut in. “Okay, okay, I don’t want you to get in trouble. Look, it wasn’t us. I mean, if we had the capability to inject ourselves into some Consular Section intel report, why would we come to you in the first place? Did the report say where it came from?” Decoy could see that, in a twisted way, what he was saying made sense.

“No. That sort of stuff is always masked. No reason to broadcast the source. But it was reported as credible from an asset with excellent placement and access.”

“Was it announced, like, in a meeting or something?”

“No. It was in a cable full of other things, but someone will focus on it. Then they’ll see my search. I am truly screwed.”

Knuckles said, “Who gives a damn about a German national?”

“Nobody, but they’ll care that I didn’t report it.”

Decoy said, “So report it. Do it now, and tell them who it was that gave you the information.”

He saw Knuckles’s eyes snap open and said, “What?”

Decoy turned to Carly. “Look, I don’t want you to get in trouble. Surely you get stories all the time from people in the ‘Consular Section.’ Even from Americans. Right?”

“Yeah. I suppose.”

“Then tell them exactly what happened. But leave out the date part. We met, struck up a friendship, and I asked about the name. For our cellular survey, just like what happened. We’re on the embassy cleared list. It’s not that big of a deal.”

She nodded vaguely and said, “They might dig into your company. You good with that?”

Knuckles said, “No. Screw that. NO.”

She smirked and said, “Why’s that a big deal?”

“Because I’ll get in trouble with my boss, damn it. You know what happens when someone gets questioned by the country team? I don’t care how innocuous it is, it causes a shitstorm back home. It’s the worst thing that could happen. It’ll be interpreted as though we screwed up. How else did we reach the level of an official inquiry?”

Decoy was impressed with Knuckles’s vehemence and apparent knowledge of embassy operations. It almost sounded real, and he figured he’d better join the party.

“I didn’t think about that.”

“Because it’s your first trip, dickless. And probably your last.”

Knuckles was glaring at him with a death stare.

Carly said, “Hey, hey, hold on. I think the idea’s got merit. I think I can get it done without putting you guys under the microscope. Like you say, nobody really gives a damn about Germany’s problem. I’ll go back and read the report, then ‘remember’ something that happened before, with some American contractor that had asked for help. I’ll sell it as a useless bit of info until I made the connection with the intel report, leaving you out of it.”

Decoy smiled and reached across the table, grasping her hand. “Okay, then. I guess we’re still on for tonight. Where’s this great tailor you keep talking about?”

She pulled her hand away and said, “Really? After all of this? You think it’s that easy?”

Knuckles said, “He’s incorrigible. You should have seen that going in.”

She raised an eyebrow and said, “Yeah, well, he is a little sexy.”

Indignant, Decoy said, “What the hell are you two talking about? I’m right here.”

Carly said, “I’m trying to imagine what to put you in for tonight. What would look best on my floor in the morning.”

Usually cocksure about anything to do with the opposite sex, Decoy stammered, trying to find footing. Sizing her up, Knuckles read the words for what they were: hard edges developed from working in a man’s world. He was unsure if it was the true Carly or just a shell she’d grown from the day-to-day interactions of her job. A shield she wore to fend off the bigotry about her sex.

He said, “Wow. I’ve never seen that in my entire history with this guy. At a loss for words.”

Carly said, “Huh. I thought it was his first trip with you?”

Knuckles smiled and said, “You don’t miss much, do you?”

“No. I most definitely don’t.”

Sitting in the sweltering van, the sun long gone from the sky, Comandante Zero said, “It’s past the dinner hour. Are they ever going to leave?”

The Bolivian embassy took up the better part of a block, with construction scaffolding from ongoing building renovations running the entire length of the road to their front, yet they had a clear view of the service entrance and the local national guards posted there. So far, nothing had moved. Which had been the case for more than four hours.

Zero had insisted on being early enough to see the real caterers arrive, and Felipe had made sure the men were ready. Though dressed in the clothing of the company, they still bore the stink of the jungle, and he knew they wouldn’t last more than a few minutes inside before being questioned, having no idea how to behave. But that was the best he could do.

Watching the vans enter the embassy grounds, Zero had been perversely pleased. Each one had been thoroughly searched, meaning his precautions were not without merit.

Felipe saw the gate begin to move and the guard step out of the way. “This is it.”

A white van, exactly like the one they were in, exited the premises, taking a left and driving right in front of them. The gate began closing and Zero said, “Where’s the other one?”

“I don’t know.”

“Call your contact. Now.”

Felipe did so, staring at the receding taillights. He spent about a minute on the phone, then hung up. “The security force makes them leave one at a time. And return one at a time. They don’t like the grouping.”

“What’s the gap?”

“Five minutes.”

“Shit. Okay. You go to the other van. Wait for the second vehicle. I’ll get this one. When are they set to return?”

“Quick round-trip. The first van will be loading before the other one leaves.”

“Fine. That’ll be okay. We’ll have to blend into the workers for five minutes. Pick the best of the men and get them into this van. Anyone who’s worked in a restaurant. Or at least lived in a city. Make sure they know that they must act as they were trained. Clean dishes and serve food. We will take in pistols only. Move all of the AK-47 rifles to your van. You will bring them in. No change to the original plan. We’ll take the main room. You take the overflow. Understood?”

Felipe nodded, shouting orders. The men began shuffling about, both vans a buzz of activity. In two minutes it was done. Zero said, “Remain on the radio. Tell me when you’re past the gate. I’ll call when I’m ready.”

“Yes, El Comandante. It will be done. What of the men inside the caterer vehicle? What do I do with them?”

Zero said, “Use the machete. Leave something for the police to find and realize who has done this. Failure isn’t an option. Remember that. These pigs have had their last dance with Sendero Luminoso. Tomorrow, our men will be freed from their jails, or everyone inside will perish.”

•   •   •

Watching Carly mingle with the crowd of diplomats, Knuckles had to admit she cleaned up pretty nicely. Wearing a red dress that ended modestly below her knees, complemented by red nail polish and ruby lipstick, she looked nothing like the bohemian backpacker that he’d originally met.

As Carly dragged Decoy along behind her, introducing him to everyone she could find, Knuckles was finally glad she’d been invited. Left to his own devices, Knuckles was sure, Decoy would either make the mistake of hitting on a diplomat’s wife or spend the evening sipping beer in the corner. Not exactly this night’s intended purpose.

The dinner bell rang, and the couple came back to him. Knuckles said, “We’re not in this room. We’re in the overflow.”

Decoy smirked and said, “You mean like the kids’ table at Thanksgiving?”

“Yep. Pretty much.”

“Fine by me. I’m sick of meeting people.”

The Bolivian dining area was split in two, with a main ballroom housing the true dignitaries—ambassadors, heads of departments, and other diplomats worthy of the regal space—while mere invitees were in an adjoining ballroom. Less regal but fully decorated like the larger one next door, it was where their party would spend the evening after the cocktail hour.

They wandered to their table, Carly saying, “How did you guys manage to get invitations to this thing anyway? There aren’t any nobodies here.”

Decoy said, “Meaning we’re nobodies?”

Carly smiled and said, “Well . . . yes. You are.”

Knuckles said, “The big boss knows the ambassador from somewhere. I don’t know where. It’s how we got the contract.”

Carly let that slide past her, not bothering to question it, but they both knew it was bullshit.

Decoy said, “How’d the German national thing work out?”

“You mean for you? Fine. Nobody cared where the information came from.”

“That’s not what I meant. For you.”

“Best as can be expected, I guess. I told him the story, then that I didn’t think it mattered until I saw the intel feed. My boss was ticked that I didn’t report it immediately, and has chalked it up to me being flighty or undependable. I’ll probably get a letter of reprimand, but that’s it.”

“Will that hurt you?”

She tried to make light of it, but he could see she was seething. “Yeah. It’ll hurt. I’ll just have to work harder to overcome it.”

They reached their assigned seating and he pulled out her chair. They spent the next thirty minutes meeting the other guests at their table, two dignitaries from the Brazilian Embassy, with Carly surprising them by speaking fluent Spanish.

Halfway through dinner, the dessert trays being delivered, Knuckles’s phone vibrated. He looked at the screen and saw it was a priority call, encrypted, from Colonel Kurt Hale.

He said, “Excuse me. I have to go to the bathroom.” He looked at Decoy and said, “You need to go too.”

Carly looked confused, but let it ride. Walking away, Decoy in tow, Knuckles shoved a Bluetooth into his ear and answered the phone, “What’s up, boss?”

“You at the Bolivian Embassy reception?”

“Yeah. Decoy’s doing pretty well. Hasn’t stepped on his crank yet.”

“Get out. Now.”