Black Coke (6 page)

‘Cocaine-based?’ said one of the directors, a large man with a grey moustache and round spectacles.

‘Can I get back to you on that in a moment? First some context.’ Nathan hit the on button for the projector and stepped back. A political map of Central and South America blinked onto the screen.

‘Front 154 operates mainly from Colombia, although we suspect it has connections elsewhere, possibly Mexico.’ He used the red laser from the remote to point to the relevant countries. ‘It’s waging a brutal war with the other drug cartels. A war it is winning.’

Nathan clicked forward. ‘This is a small village in Putumayo, a major coca growing area controlled by narcotraffickers. A death squad attacked the village six days ago, killing all men, women and children.’

He lingered on the photo of the village burnt to the ground in the middle of the jungle. The directors stayed stony faced. They’d seen all this kind of stuff before. George glanced at his gold watch.

Nathan clicked again. ‘This picture shows an attack by Front 154 on a coca camp. Notice the British-made Lynx helicopters.’

George cut in. ‘How did you secure these photographs, young man?’

‘It says in my report, sir. I took them.’

‘The Colombians have made significant progress fighting the rebels, the paramilitaries and the cartels. President Caviedas told me that himself when I met him in Bogotá last June. Yet you’re telling me that this new outfit, this Front one hundred and…and…’

‘One five four.’

‘This Front 154 springs up out of nowhere and massacres whole villages, just like that?’

‘It hasn’t sprung out of nowhere.’

‘Then who the hell runs it, for Christ’s sake?’

‘I have my suspicions.’

‘Suspicions?’ George slapped his hand flat on his briefcase. ‘I want facts. Hard. Verified. Reliable. Facts.’

Nathan glanced at Cedric, who was looking down and fiddling with his pen. He pressed on. ‘This slide shows an underground production facility for a new, powerful cocaine-based drug. My theory is that it’s made from genetically-modified coca plants, made to resist Plan Colombia’s fumigation programme.’

‘How do you know?’ George said.

‘Because of the next slide. See this plant? The long, dark leaves. I’m convinced it’s supercoca.’

Silence. George’s eyes thinned to two crevices in his unnaturally smooth face.

‘I’m calling it Black Coke,’ Nathan said, relishing the impact he was having. He switched to a slide of the bricks of compressed black powder in the underground lab. ‘If it’s allowed to grow across Colombia, we’ll face an explosion in drug production unseen since the days of Pablo Escobar.’

‘What does the Colombian government say?’

‘We didn’t speak to them.’

George steepled his fingers. ‘But they’re our allies.’

Nathan flicked another glance at Cedric, who was leafing through his report with a frown. Why wasn’t Cedric sticking up for him? He turned back to George.

‘We can’t trust them,’ he said.

‘Trust?’ George said. ‘Who the heck do you think you are, young man? Since when do you decide Her Majesty’s foreign policy?’

Nathan clutched the remote behind his back. The board directors were shifting nervously in their seats. George’s outbursts had become legendary at Soca. Only Cedric appeared oblivious to it all, head down and doodling on the report.

‘We send an undercover officer into Colombia without even telling their government?’ George was saying. ‘Is this what we call partnership?’

‘There are reasons for—’

‘What about the Americans?’

‘We didn’t tell them either because, well, we… the DEA isn’t the most—’

‘This is unacceptable.’ George turned to his left. ‘Cedric, we can’t accuse the Colombians and the Americans. It’ll cause a diplomatic furore.’

‘Quite, quite, of course.’ Cedric meticulously placed his pen parallel to the side of the report. ‘Yes, quite.’

Nathan clicked on the remote. A photo appeared of a dead and severely disfigured soldier with a 154 tattoo on his shoulder next to an ID card of the Agency for Security and Intelligence, Colombia’s newly formed special police division.

Several board members gasped.

‘Looks like concrete evidence to me,’ Nathan said with a barely suppressed smile.

‘Rubbish.’ George wagged his finger from left to right. ‘I don’t believe any of this. Could be pictures of anything, anybody.’

‘What?’ Nathan said.

Cedric leaned forward. ‘You’re right, Sir George, of course. We need to know much more about this.’

‘What do you propose?’ George said.

‘Well, erm, subject to your approval, we’d like a team of agents to go to Colombia to investigate.’

‘Five people,’ Nathan cut in. ‘Hand picked from the intervention, intelligence and enforcement directorates. Three of them fluent Spanish speakers. All with years of experience of hostile environments.’

‘And when would this wonderful little expedition take place?’ George said.

‘They’d fly tomorrow to Bogotá,’ Cedric said. ‘Top secret.’

‘Will he be on it.’ George jabbed his thumb towards Nathan.

Cedric nodded.

‘Who’s idea was this?’ George said.

Cedric glanced at Nathan.

‘I can’t approve it.’ George picked up the report and threw it back on the table as though he was a teacher handing back a useless piece of homework. ‘I’ve read the file. I’ve heard this chap speak. There’s no hard evidence.’

‘That’s exactly why we need to go,’ Nathan said, his voice rising. ‘We need to infiltrate the Front, find out who runs it, investigate the role of the ASI. If the Front sets up a supply chain to the UK, we’re going to see a flood of drugs that nobody can stop. There’ll be more killings like at that pub. They’ll buy more guns, bribe more—’

‘Okay, then.’ George raised his palm to silence him. ‘Let’s vote. Those in favour, hands up.’ He scanned the table. No hands went up. ‘Those against.’ All directors, including Cedric, raised a hand.

‘Now, if you’ll leave us.’ George shot Nathan a smug stare. ‘We have a packed agenda.’

‘I’m telling you Front 154 is committing major international crimes, and you’re… you’re doing nothing?’

‘Nathan, please.’ Cedric wobbled to his feet. ‘We’ll discuss this later.’

‘Next year?’ Nathan shouted. ‘Next decade? Next century? When it’s too fucking late?’

‘Nathan, don’t.’ Cedric was shuffling round the table towards him. ‘You’ve worked hard.’

‘You messed up with Don Camplones.’ Nathan slammed the remote on the table. ‘You’re about to mess up again.’

Cedric gripped Nathan’s arm. Nathan shrugged him off. Cedric grabbed him again and yanked him towards the door with surprising strength. George was sneering. The other members of the board were studying their fingernails.

‘Don’t expect me to save your skin this time,’ Nathan yelled.

‘Gentlemen,’ George said as he turned to the other directors. ‘Let’s move on to the next item while Cedric deals with this troublesome individual.’ He cleared his throat. ‘I have an important announcement. The Foreign Office has contacted me. I’m very pleased to say that I’ve just been appointed by Her Majesty’s government to—’

Nathan and Cedric left the room. The door slammed shut behind them.

Central London, UK
5 April 2011

‘Y
ou knew this would happen, didn’t you?’ Nathan said, his body shaking. He felt like charging back into the meeting room and punching George’s face to a bloody pulp.

Cedric opened the door to a small meeting room and peered inside.

‘Sorry,’ he said, moving to the next door, and then closing that one too.

‘You can’t let him get away with this,’ Nathan said behind him. ‘The bastard. He had it all prepared.’

‘Ssshhh.’ Cedric put his finger to his lips. ‘Keep it down.’

The open plan office had gone quiet. Staff were focusing on their computers, although Nathan could feel them all studying him from the corner of their eyes. They’d all be gossiping about this in the coffee room as soon as he stepped out of the door. He felt like shouting at them all to mind their own business.

Cedric led Nathan into the stairwell and shut the door behind them. ‘This’ll have to do.’

‘Why don’t you stand up to him?’

‘He’s got friends in high places,’ Cedric whispered, pulling Nathan into a corner.

‘That’s never stopped me.’

‘You’re not the director general of Soca.’

‘Clearly.’

‘Look, you know I don’t like arguments.’ Cedric turned away from a group of staff coming up past them. ‘I promise I’ll get to the bottom of this.’

‘He’s got them wrapped round his finger. And you too.’

‘He just needs convincing. You need rest. I don’t want to see you burn out again.’

Nathan slumped against the wall, suddenly exhausted. ‘Did you hear him on the radio? What a hypocrite. Does he realise what’ll happen if we don’t stop them?’

‘Go home for the day, Nathan. You’ve done a great job.’

‘How the hell can you say that when you just voted against me?’

‘Lower your voice,’ Cedric hissed as a young woman walking up the stairs threw them a curious glance. ‘I had no choice.’

‘Of course you did.’

‘Just take the day off, will you?’ Cedric headed for the door. ‘We’ll chat tomorrow.’

Nathan was about to turn away, when a thought struck him. ‘Any news from the lab? Is it really supercoca?’

‘I’ll explain that tomorrow too.’

Nathan pursed his lips. Should he mention who he’d seen in Colombia? Cedric would have a heart attack.

‘Just another thing,’ he said.

‘I don’t have time.’ Cedric twisted the door handle. ‘I need to get back to the meeting.’

‘Amonite Victor.’

Cedric let go of the handle as though it had turned into a snake. ‘What?’

‘I saw her. In the jungle.’

‘Impossible. I saw them kill her with Don Camplones in Mexico.’

‘So did I.’

Cedric steadied himself against the wall. ‘You sure it was her?’

‘Positive. I have the pictures to prove it. Unless she has a twin sister who’s every bit as ugly.’

‘Amonite Victor. The Butcher of Juárez. Alive?’

‘That’s exactly what I—’

The door to the stairwell swung open. Florence, Cedric’s secretary, peered round. Her thin face harboured a frown like a scrunched up sheet in a wastepaper basket.

‘Sir George is waiting for you, Mr Belville.’

‘Tell him I’m on my way.’ Cedric turned back to Nathan as Florence closed the door. ‘I can’t tell George about this. He’ll go nuts. Why didn’t you tell me before?’

‘I didn’t want to influence the meeting.’

‘Anything else you’re not saying?’

Nathan shook his head. Cedric studied him for a few moments, then left.

Nathan went to his desk. He snatched his jacket from the back of his chair and picked up his rucksack. As he waited for the elevator, he looked back at the board room. Cedric and George were just outside it, heads close together, in heated discussion. George glanced towards Nathan. Their gazes locked. For a split second, a look of fear crossed George’s face.

Nathan took the elevator down to the ground floor. He headed for his car. He’d gone through hell to bring back the photos, spending days carrying Manuel through the jungle, trudging endlessly until he was so exhausted he could barely lift his leg another step, chewing roots and covered in leeches. If he hadn’t stumbled across some friendly farmers who’d taken them to the nearest town, he’d probably still be out there, and Manuel would be dead.

‘Still here?’ Nathan said as he entered his apartment. Caitlin had her coat on and was brushing her hair in front of the mirror in the hallway. Her handbag was at her feet, half open with make-up and bits of paper sticking out.

‘I’m running late. How did it go?’

‘You were right. They’re all bastards.’

‘Oh, Nathan.’ Caitlin hugged him. ‘I don’t care what they say. I’m proud of you.’

‘Thanks, sis.’ He peeled himself away. ‘Hey, what you doing tonight?’

‘Meeting John.’

‘I thought you’d chucked him.’

‘It’s complicated.’

‘How about afterwards? Just one drink.’

‘You know I don’t do just one drink.’

‘Please, Caitlin.’

She waved a hand at the rows of shelves that lined the hallway. ‘Don’t you have books to study? Chapters to write? A PhD to finish?’