"I thought you weren't going to budge."
"I didn't know the kind of people that were interested in the case. Now I do."
Duarte started to ask more questions when Félix pulled at his arm. "Let it go."
Duarte and Lina left for New Orleans a few hours after Félix and Gastlin boarded their flight for Panama. Since Gastlin was at least temporarily off the hook on the charges, the DEA didn't need to send a pack of agents to guard him. Like any frugal federal agency, they were content to have Félix and the agents in Panama handle it.
Duarte settled into his seat, with Lina in the seat next to him. Her short hair seemed to know just how to fall behind her ears, and she instantly relaxed. Closing her eyes, she turned her face toward Duarte.
She had a peaceful look, and Duarte found he could study her face for a moment without feeling self-conscious. He realized how pretty she was, even with the nose that had been knocked one way then the other. Her dark Italian features gave her face sharp lines accentuated by her high level of fitness. She looked like a lean, satisfied lioness.
She opened her eyes suddenly, almost startling him. As she smiled, she patted him on his hand and said, "Maybe now that I have you cornered, you'll have to talk to me."
"I've talked to you."
"You shrug and use the occasional word, but you haven't really spoken with me."
Duarte felt vaguely like he'd been trapped in an interrogation. Although he couldn't picture a nicer-smelling interrogator.
"Is this your career case, like Félix says it is for him?" she asked.
"I hope to have a long career."
"You know how the DEA guys talk. They want the big score. Then they can either move up the ladder or coast on it for years."
"I don't see many DEA agents coasting."
She let out a little laugh and said, "Yeah, the agency doesn't seem to have a long memory. I hear a lot of guys say it's 'what have you done today.'"
"They're a tough bunch. I like working with them."
"You don't like the FBI?"
He looked at her and was about to shrug, then said, "I like FBI agents. I'm not sure about the agency. An FBI agent saved my life once."
"You mean Tom Colgan?"
Duarte shifted in his seat so he could look at her face-to-face. "How'd you know that?"
"When one of our agents is killed in the line of duty, we all know about it. You didn't have anything to do with his death." She paused. "I thought you caught the killer."
"He wasn't technically captured." His dark eyes focused on her. "But he was brought to justice."
"Whatever. I'm just saying you have a good reputation. I hope to rehabilitate the bureau in your eyes."
"Why? Who cares what an ATF street agent thinks?"
"I do."
He shrugged and sat back for the takeoff.
Once the flight was on its way and the instructions were finished, Duarte thought of an important question he had wanted to ask, although he thought Félix might know the answer since he seemed to be closer to Lina. He turned his head and said, "How'd you know about our case?"
She hesitated, then said, "I'm not supposed to talk about it, but we have a source."
"A source connected to Ortíz?"
"Can't say, but this source is pretty hot. We call it Pale Girl."
"A hot Pale Girl? Sounds like something you guys would use."
"Pale Girl is just the name of the source. Doesn't mean it's male or female."
Duarte shrugged. This was why he didn't talk to people a lot. They said stupid things.
Lina said, "You should be happy I'm here. If it weren't for me, you and Félix would still be twiddling your thumbs waiting for permission to enter Panama. And you can't tell me the U.S. attorney's office would allow you to take your snitch."
"What'd the bureau say to make the attorney change his mind?"
"It came from higher up. An HBO called."
"HBO?"
"High bureau official."
"I always thought when the FBI said HBO, it meant he'd be 'home by one.'"
"Very funny. I didn't think you made jokes."
"Only about the FBI. But I'd still like to know what you said to the U.S. attorney's office."
"Believe me, when national security is at stake, they don't fool around anymore."
"How is Ortíz a threat to national security?"
"How was Mohammed Atta until after 9/11? We're a lot more proactive now."
Duarte looked at the young woman. He didn't guess she was older than him. Maybe thirty or thirty-one. "How'd you qualify for a counterterrorism slot?"
"You don't qualify in the bureau. You apply, then get trained. I was assigned to Newark out of the academy."
Duarte made a sour face.
"Newark's not a bad assignment. You can't live there, you have to live in an outer suburb, but it's not as expensive as New York, and there's a lot of shit that goes on." She waited for him to comment, then realized to whom she was speaking. "Anyway, I was dating an editor with the Newark Star-Ledger. Nice guy, but he lived over in Ocean Grove, and we just didn't see each other very often. After we split up, with the bureau shifting resources because of 9/11, I took a transfer to D.C. and never looked back."
"Where's your family?"
"Connecticut."
"You don't get to see them much then?"
"No big loss." She saw the look on Duarte's face and said, "Why, are you close with your family?"
"You might say that."
"What about your girlfriend, Alice?"
"What about her?"
"She's very pretty."
"I agree."
"And a crime scene tech."
"Forensic scientist."
Lina shrugged. "You guys serious?"
"Don't know."
"What's that mean?"
"I didn't think I'd have to explain 'I don't know.'"
"Just like a man. I'm sure you don't know the meaning of 'commitment' either."
Duarte shrugged and settled back for the rest of the flight.
10
FÉLIX BAEZ BUMPED HIS WAY THROUGH THE BUSTLING TORRIJOS airport in Panama City, Panama. He felt like he was on a caffeine buzz. He had dreamed of a major case that might get him some travel since his first days in the DEA academy. It was a harsh reality to learn that the agency valued arrests in quantity, not necessarily quality. Because of his heritage and ability to speak Spanish, Félix had been put on the street buying a kilo here and a few ounces there. He didn't resent it-in fact, he enjoyed undercover work-but he knew it was cases like this that made a difference. If he could bag a guy like Ortíz, people would notice.
He wasn't too worried about Gastlin trying to flee. Even though the tubby dealer had been to Panama before, Félix had sensed a real willingness to cooperate. It was after he'd been in the county jail a few days. He just seemed more subdued and helpful. He clearly wanted to have the charges dropped for good and avoid prison time. Félix hated to admit it, but Gastlin was starting to grow on him. He just hoped his charm and good looks didn't push the snitch to make another pass at him. Félix had been careful to mention how interested he was in Lina Cirillo so Gastlin would realize he definitely wasn't gay.
In fact, Félix had put some of his best moves on Lina, and although she was friendly, he hadn't even got to kiss her good night when he dropped her at her hotel. He'd thought that by surprising Duarte and his girlfriend for a drink, Lina might feel inclined for companionship, but, boy, had he been wrong. Was she a dyke? No, something about her gave off a strong sexual vibe around men. Well, maybe he'd have a chance to try again.
As he stood among the crowds of people rushing in both directions, a tall man with light hair approached him. He was wearing a loose, untucked shirt and baseball cap, and Félix smiled, thinking that even in a foreign country an FBI agent looked like a fucking FBI agent.
"You the DEA guy?"
Félix looked at him and shrugged.
The man looked a little panicked.
Félix started to speak Spanish. "No sé. No habla inglés."