He was surprised he had gotten hold of Mr. Ortíz on the first try from the DEA office. The man was comfortable with him, that was obvious, and also the only reason he had any hope of escaping a lengthy sentence. He hadn't told the good-looking DEA guy, Félix, that he usually met one of Ortíz's employees when he went to Panama. He had only seen Ortíz himself twice and spoken to him in person once. Ortíz was a big-time player; he didn't have time for little fish like Gastlin.
He knew, however, not to downplay his relationship with Ortíz to Félix or the quiet ATF agent. That guy, he was the one who spooked Gastlin. He had those intense, dark eyes, and he never flinched or turned away. He kept staring until people answered his questions. Gastlin got the idea that he could be a real ballbreaker if he wanted to be.
He stretched out on the bunk, wiping his eyes. As he looked up, a giant shadow passed over him. He saw the bank robber grin at him and quickly looked around the cell to see if he had any support. No one could meet his scared eyes.
6
DUARTE NOTICED THAT FéLIX'S VOICE HAD AN UNUSUAL HARD edge to it as he addressed the new FBI agent. They were all in the ATF office's conference room, and Félix was leaning forward. She was not unattractive. Duarte noticed her athletic body, but no one would think of her as a model either-unless she was modeling martial arts equipment.
Félix said, "I don't understand how you knew we had a case on someone named Ortíz."
She smiled that arrogant smile that FBI agents learn in the academy and said, "You don't have to understand how, you just need to understand that I was sent here to work on the case with you."
"What was your name again, sweetheart?" Félix smiled, knowing he had pushed some buttons. Duarte just watched his friend sort this out. He had a feeling he knew what would happen.
"My name is Lina. L-I-N-A. Cirillo."
"Hispanic?"
"Italian, why?"
"I was looking for some hope."
She smiled again, this time revealing perfect teeth in a predatory smile under that crooked nose. Nothing on her face lined up correctly. "I'm bringing you hope. We're very interested in this Ortíz character, and we have sources he might know here in the U.S. We might save you a whole lot of heartache on this case." She looked at Duarte. "Agent Duarte doesn't seem to have a problem with me being here."
Duarte looked at her. "Even if I did, I have the feeling you're staying."
"That's the army mentality, isn't it? Adapt and overcome."
"How'd you know I was in the army?"
"Same way I knew Félix was born in Havana. I work for the FBI."
He remained silent. This woman was smart, and she knew more than she was letting on. Besides, she looked like a girl who could back you up in a fight, which he found fascinating, so he didn't mind her staying, at least for a while. He could relate to her determination, and he sensed the ambition in her, too. How else did you have enough clout to show up from Washington in another agency's office and dictate a case?
Félix said, "This is bullshit. We'll see what my bosses have to say about this." He stood up and stormed down the hall toward Duarte's office and a phone.
Lina Cirillo turned her unusual face to Duarte and said, "Are you going to protest, too?"
Duarte shrugged. His universal language. She could interpret it any way she wished.
She reached across the table and patted him on the arm. "I'm not the enemy; I'm here to help."
"I think I've heard that before."
"My concerns are not about a drug kingpin. They're about national security."
"What makes you think I'm not worried about national security?"
She just kept a straight face and looked at him.
After a few minutes, Félix appeared at the door. He had clearly been in a heated conversation on the phone and his face was still red. He said, "Okay, you win. But I won't make this easy for you."
She smiled and said, "It never is."
Duarte checked his watch for the third time at six-fifteen, thinking Alice might have stood him up as a lesson in not taking her for granted. He deserved it and frankly thought it was a pretty good lesson. He got it. He was mad at himself. Why couldn't he commit to something as simple as calling her his girlfriend?
He paced in the open courtyard on the second floor of the City Place Building in front of the popular restaurant and bar. He even had on a sport jacket, one of the few he had worn since a dance at Fort Leonard Wood, which all the recruits had been required to attend. He didn't mind the coat. He always wore a second, button-down shirt to conceal his Glock. This just felt a little warmer.
He heard her voice, Florida with a tinge of Tennessee, before he saw her walk in.
"Rocket."
He smiled and stepped to greet her.
She held off slightly. "So are we buddies, or more?"
"How about both?"
"We'll see how I feel after a few drinks."
She didn't look like his buddy in her short blue dress with a white chemise. She had an athletic build with a muscular back and broad shoulders, but that didn't mean she wasn't feminine. Tonight he thought she looked like an angel.
They found a high-top table near the front window so they could people-watch, and, as usual, he let her do most of the talking. He did have a few things to say and waited his turn patiently.
"I have a better handle on the big case I'm working with DEA."
"Oh yeah? When do you leave?"
"I'm not going to Panama."
"Really?"
"I still have to travel, but only to New Orleans."
"I wasn't serious about you finding a Panamanian beauty. At least not too serious."
"No, Félix Baez is going down with the informant. I'm going to wait for the load at the port in New Orleans."
"By yourself?"
"No, there'll be DEA guys around and…" he stopped short. He didn't want to raise any questions. But it was too late.
"And who else?"
"The FBI."
"How'd they get involved?"
"Don't know, but an agent from Washington showed up today."
"That's just what you guys need, some old fart giving unwanted advice."
Duarte just nodded. He didn't want to make her paranoid just as they were starting to get serious. Telling his girlfriend he was going to New Orleans with another woman would raise some flags. Just the mental image of Lina Cirillo caused him concern. Looking at Alice, he realized she was built a little like the FBI agent. Maybe that's what Duarte found attractive about her. Lina didn't have Alice's delicate face and bright smile, but she radiated energy and fitness. Duarte liked that.
Then he thought he was hallucinating. At the front door a woman in a nice business suit stepped inside, her short, straight hair loose on her shoulders. The suit looked like the one Lina had worn earlier. Duarte blinked and realized it was Lina. What the hell was she doing there? Then Duarte's surprise moved to astonishment when he saw Félix Baez step inside right behind her and place a gentle hand in the small of her back.