“There are no coincidences,” Avery observed, repeating the mantra ingrained into recruits at CIA’s training program at the Farm. “Did your source say anything about the purpose of the meeting?”
“They’re re-negotiating the terms of some business deal.” Contreras shrugged. “Our informant doesn’t know anymore than that, and it would look too suspicious, out of character, for him to make inquiries, so he kept his mouth shut. But he got the impression it involves moving something over the border, and he doesn’t believe it’s cocaine. I’m inclined to agree.”
“Why’s that?” Avery asked.
“Silva wouldn’t personally get involved in negotiating a run of the mil coke deal. He has people to do that sort of thing for him. His involvement means this is something big.”
“Who’s your source?” Avery asked.
“Drug smuggler and thug for the TJ cartel turned confidential informant,” Contreras answered.
“Until he had a change of heart and decided to switch sides?”
“Sure,” Contreras said, catching the sarcasm, “plus a little coercion on our part. Not to mention cash and cancellation of federal charges against him in the US. He’s a total scumbag, but generally reliable, and he has good reason to keep us happy. The prosecutor in DC is willing to offer him immunity from arrest and prosecution if he continues to prove his worth, maybe even a new identity under WITSEC, but we’ll talk about that after Arturo Silva and his friends are in custody.”
Avery was well aware that DEA, in order to catch the bigger fish, often had to work with the very type of people they sought to take down. When a particular incident became publicized, the media jumped at the chance to paint the DEA in a negative light for collaborating with drug dealers and smugglers.
“Frankly,” Contreras said, “when we’re through with him, I’d rather out him to his buddies in TJ, let’em give him the full chainsaw treatment, but I guess it’s better for business if we follow through on our end of the deal.”
“Do you know the location of the meet?” Avery asked.
“Yeah, and Captain Padilla is already moving his people into position. We’re going to have the place under surveillance tomorrow, and hopefully you guys can ID Silva’s visitor when he or she arrives.”
“Shouldn’t be a problem,” Slayton said. “We know everyone the Viper’s travelling with.”
“Almost,” Avery said, recalling the foreign operative accompanying her, an invisible they wouldn’t be able to spot even if he was right in front of them.
After several seconds of silence, Avery asked the question that had been nagging at him since they’d arrived. “I thought this would strictly be a DEA op. We seem to be relying heavily on local police. How far can they be trusted?”
Avery ignored Padilla’s gaze setting on him and the disapproving look from Slayton. He knew the local cops were easily corrupted. He didn’t blame them. Their choices were between risking their lives doing their job for little money, or take the cartel’s money and take care of their families. But the worst of Mexico’s corrupt cops didn’t just turn a blind eye or feed information to the cartel. The worst went to work directly for the cartels as soldiers.
Before Padilla could respond, Contreras came to his defense.
“I’ve worked with Captain Padilla and his men for two years. I’d trust him with my life any day. He’s ex-GAFE. The TJ cartel put a two million dollar bounty on his head after he declined their job offer. They fucking hate him. He’s one of the few cops down here the bad guys actually fear.”
GAFE is the Mexican army’s airmobile special operations unit, trained by American, French, and Israeli counterterrorism units. Before battling the cartels, Padilla conducted dozens of operations against the left wing, Venezuelan- and Cuban-backed EZLN and EPR insurgents in southern Mexico. He also led cross border raids into El Salvador. Padilla personally knew several of the GAFE troops who deserted the army to join the cartel and form Los Zetas, and he detested them with a passion.
“That’s great, but can you say the same for all of his men?” Avery said.
“I carefully select and handpick all of my men personally,” Padilla said. “I have worked with most of them for years, going back to our time in the army. They’re patriots who take their oaths seriously. The people under my command practice the highest operational security, and I have not had a single leak or compromise from within my unit. If I learned of a cop collaborating with the cartels, I’d execute the man myself.”
And neither Padilla nor Contreras added that he’d done just that once before. He’d also had a fellow cop draw a gun on him once, hoping to cash in on the reward the TJ cartel offered for him, forcing Padilla to kill his fellow officer. He knew the realities better than most about the Mexican drug war, and he had no illusions about the rampant corruption in his country.
It was a nice speech from Padilla, but Avery had heard something similar from Daniel before his identity was compromised and the Viper nearly put a bullet in him in Panama.
While Avery didn’t like the idea of working alongside the Mexican cops, he realized he had no choice but to deal with it. Pushing the matter and getting on the DEA or Federal Police’s bad side wasn’t going to get him anywhere.
“What are you?” Padilla asked Avery. “I know you’re not DEA. You don’t look like a cop.”
“I’m running security for the DEA and the Colombians’ Viper operations.”
“That doesn’t answer my question, which means you are CIA.”
The Mexicans accepted the assistance and presence of DEA and the US Marshals Service in their country as an undesirable necessity, but they remained wary and distrustful of CIA. As often did the DEA agents and marshals, since CIA generally ran its own, often secretive ops in the country, sometimes at crossroads to law enforcement’s goals.
“I’m an independent contractor,” Avery said. “I’ve done jobs for CIA in the past. I know what you’re thinking, but I’m not here with an ulterior agenda or on spook business. I only want the Viper.”
“Mister Anderson has been a tremendous asset,” Slayton said, using the pseudonym he’d used earlier to introduce Avery. “We wouldn’t be here right now if it weren’t for him.” Shifting his gaze to Contreras, he added, “And he got our agents out of Buenaventura.”
“What are our options for direct action when we find the Viper?” Avery asked quickly, before Contreras could respond. He didn’t want to talk about Buenaventura.
“My agents are armed,” Contreras answered, “but are only allowed to defend themselves, and we don’t have a FAST team in-country, so it’ll be a Mexican operation. Captain Padilla’s guys handle takedowns and raids.” He knew Avery wasn’t going to like this. “That’s simply how we do things here.”
The Mexican government didn’t permit the Americans to conduct offensive operations on Mexican soil and had strictly forbidden armed drones or a FAST team. DEA agents were permitted to carry firearms only for personal defense, the definition of which was sometimes pushed in certain situations. When it came to jurisdiction and American cooperation, the Mexican government was extremely protective of its turf.
“What about Felix’s shooters?” Avery asked.
Slayton exchanged looks with Contreras, who cleared his throat and said to Padilla, “Of course that’s up to you, Hector.”
“I’ve worked with Captain Aguilar on training exercises. His input on operational matters is always welcome. Since we are in pursuit of Colombian terrorists, I acknowledge it may be prudent to defer to his men and expertise. Given the threat Miss Moreno presents, I’m unconcerned if she should be taken alive, and if anyone has a shot at her, they should take it.”