When Beckwith returned I asked him, ‘What’s the threat level?’
It was a straightforward enough question with a town like Tijuana; drugs and guns live side by side down there, and tensions between rival gangs and distributors are always high. Throw in a dubious police force and the Mexican government’s own anti-drugs units, and death was commonplace, often with collateral damage to innocent bystanders.
‘You’ve never been there, right?’
‘That’s right.’
‘On the surface it’s a nice enough place. Leave out the areas you shouldn’t go — and there are plenty — and you could be anywhere on the gulf coast. But the law doesn’t control Tijuana, the cartels do. It makes the threat level real and unpredictable. We’ve lost good men down there; men who happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. I don’t want to lose any more.’
‘It sounds hot.’
‘It is. Once on the other side, you will be issued with personal weapons by a local contact. Make no mistake, using them will draw the attention of the cartels and the law. And we have no agreement with the Mexican government that allows us to send armed personnel into the country unless under special circumstances.’
‘Sounds like this doesn’t qualify.’
‘It doesn’t. They don’t even know you’re coming. Going through official channels over there means risking too many leaks — and this assignment’s too important to us to lose the initiative. So use your weapons only as a last resort. In the event of trouble we will make every attempt to extract you.’
Extract. I was accustomed to that word in all its meanings. Not rescue, but extract. If extraction was so simple, why weren’t they taking this Oscar Parillas into Tijuana themselves? They certainly had the resources and networks.
He read my mind. ‘I decided to bring you in for the same reasons of security. Too many of our San Diego and local personnel have been blown recently by the cartels. We suspect they’ve been building up an extensive database of employee files with information stolen from our own servers. Three of our agents and two confidential informants have been targeted in the past two weeks, and another two CIs have disappeared.’ He didn’t explain what that meant, but the look on his face told me it wasn’t good.
‘You think it was an inside job?’
I expected him to reject the suggestion out of hand, but he surprised me. ‘Possibly. We’re currently undergoing a complete overhaul of our systems trying to find a leak. But we know they’ve improved their hacking capabilities. The Tijuanas especially have invested heavily in IT and the personnel to run it, including setting up a programme to put IT-literate kids through school.’
‘That’s ambitious.’
He pulled a wry face. ‘Blame the cult of the MBA. Suddenly even the drugs gangs have seen the sense in their people having a business degree. Their operations have spread south to Latin America, where they source the drugs, and they’ve increased other operations in arms smuggling and people trafficking going north. It’s a multi-billion dollar operation and they don’t want to lose it. But they’ve also recognized that they have to use the money pouring in, which means employing legitimate channels to invest it and spread it out — mostly overseas to Europe and the Far East.’ He sighed and added, ‘It’s on a huge scale; they’ve actually got more cash than we do and no legal restraints to worry about.’
‘A losing battle?’
‘I’m not admitting that. But if we can find a way to disrupt even a small corner of their operations, it could have significant long-term benefits.’
He made it sound like he was discussing an investment opportunity, and I guess he was. ‘I take it this guy Parillas isn’t known to them either?’
‘Correct. He’s been shipped in from one of our other divisions, but he’s been working on it remotely for a while, so he knows all the details.’
‘So we’re both clean skins.’
‘You got it.’ He hesitated, then said, ‘When we began to look at this assignment, we were given your name by a reliable source. We know you’ve done this sort of work before, so you know the risks, right?’
‘I do.’
‘Good. Do you mind if I ask what your background is?’
I ignored the question. I like to stay private as much as I can, and he was already probing for more information. ‘Which reliable source was that?’
‘An arm of the administration. That’s all I can say.’
We could dance like this all day and I didn’t press him. He probably meant CIA but didn’t want to sully his mouth by voicing it. There’s a degree of dissent between the two organizations, both of which have been fighting the drugs lords for years. It must have taken desperate measures for him to approach them looking for someone like me.
‘The situation down there at present is very fluid,’ he continued, getting back on track. ‘There’s some intense negotiating going on between the Tijuana Cartel and their rivals, the Sinaloas, and it’s throwing up a lot of distrust by long-term members on both sides who see themselves losing out if any agreements are signed.’
‘Seriously?’
He shrugged. ‘Same with corporate takeovers; you don’t need two sets of middle-managers, so someone has to go. Don’t forget, these people are in a high-risk, paranoid environment; suspicion and betrayal comes with the territory and they’d all like to retire old and rich. We’ve had approaches by people affiliated to both camps offering information which we believe signals a way for us to break them up — or at least disrupt their activities. One contact is especially promising. He’s a long-time middle-ranking member of the Tijuana Cartel and claims to know the whereabouts of two of the Felix brothers, both on our Most Wanted list. The Felix family runs the Tijuanas.’
I’d heard of them. They had a reputation for dealing harshly with people they suspected of crossing them. ‘He’s taking a big risk, isn’t he?’
‘The way he explained it, it’s all or nothing. His opposite number in the Sinaloas is younger, smarter and married into the clan, so he’s feeling threatened. If this assignment works, and we bring them in, we’ll put a severe dent in their organization for some time to come.’
He knew a lot more about it than I did, but I figured he was being optimistic; take out one figurehead and another will rise up quickly in their place. Like he’d said earlier, the amount of money the drugs cartels generated day to day made sure they all wanted to hold on to it and keep it running smoothly.
Just then a slim man in his forties with slick black hair appeared at the entrance and looked around. He caught Beckwith’s eye and started across the room like he was treading on glass.
‘This is Parillas,’ Beckwith said quietly. ‘I’ll introduce you, then leave you to it. He’s your lead on this operation. Is there anything you need on the other side apart from a sidearm?’
I thought about it and mentioned two items.
He promised to have them delivered. ‘Any questions?’
I closed the folder, which told me as much as I needed to know, and slid it back across the table at him. ‘Just one: when do we go in?’
Six
Tom Vale made his way back down to the street with a heavy heart. His misgivings about what Moresby was planning were instinctive, formed by many years operating in hostile environments and sending out men and women to uncertain fates. That was a good thing; it engendered caution and a respect for the other side. But there was something in the new Operations Director’s approach which worried him. It smacked of recklessness inspired by ambition, and a cavalier attitude to the dangers out in the field that were not his own.