Day 50 (The DMT Series Book 2) (10 page)

Alejandro closed the door to Cody’s living quarters and swore silently as he walked back to the bunker. His entire life he had been taking orders from morons. He had been Marconi’s personal assistant for seven years before Cody and Drecker had walked into the camp. He had then offered to become Drecker’s personal assistant in order for Marconi to keep a close eye on his most prized asset; Cody. And for the last year or so he had been Cody’s assistant. They had all been morons, his bosses. Marconi, Drecker and Cody - all morons. Believing they were controlling things when it was actually Alejandro who was pulling all the strings. They had always been his puppets. But being the puppet master had limited value when no one actually knew you were the powerful one. Cody could still order Alejandro’s execution if he wanted. The followers of Codyism worshipped Cody, not Alejandro. Not yet, anyway. And that was the reason he had to act humble and apologise to that despicable piece of rotting flesh.

He had provided Cody an update on his achievements in Uruguay, which had been nothing short of remarkable. In less than a week he had been able to put together a professional organisation that he was certain would drive immense growth in the region. Donations had already started to flow in when he left the country.

But now he had to worry about having Cody’s complete trust. It was really quite ironic. Alejandro had kept Cody in the dark on most of the things he had done to get Codyism to where it was. And now he was being accused of something he’d played no role in. He had seen it on Cody’s mangled face when he left. The man didn’t trust him anymore.

Maybe Alejandro hadn’t offered MKULTRA the credit they deserved? He had initially assumed the bombing of the Washington Memorial Hospital was intended to change the tide of public support for Codyism. He hadn’t even considered that it could drive a wedge in the trust between him and Cody.

Nahh, Alejandro concluded he was probably reading too much into the situation. The MKULTRA agents weren’t exactly chess players. They weren’t capable of thinking that many steps ahead. Everything they had done so far had been reactionary. It had probably been a stroke of pure luck that they had created this tension between him and Cody.

But Alejandro had to add this new situation into the equation. There was a fine line between Cody’s nightly chats with God and insanity. If Cody should arrive at the conclusion that Alejandro was working against him, he had the followers on his side. And that could be dangerous, for Alejandro.

Thus Alejandro had to come up with a strategy to ensure that such a situation could never occur.

28

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Cameron asked. Instead of doing the smart thing and bolting as soon as Cameron had recognised the CIA agent, Adam had decided that they should follow him. The agent had been scouting the surrounding area of the hospital for almost thirty minutes before hailing a cab, and disappearing down the main road. Adam and Cameron had immediately mounted their cheap rental-motorbikes and followed in close proximity. After about thirty minutes of bumper-to-bumper traffic the cab had come to a halt outside a bus station. The agent had hopped out and continued up the street a few metres to a seedy-looking hotel, called No 888. After checking that no one was following him, the agent had entered.

“We have to find out what he’s up to. He’s not working for the Agency anymore, that’s for sure,” Adam said.

“Why do you say that?”

“He wasn’t looking for us outside the hospital, he was scouting the place. I know. I’ve done the same thing myself when planning operations.”

“Why would he be scouting a Mexican hospital?” Cameron asked, but she hadn’t even finished her sentence before she realised the only possible reason. “The CIA blew up that hospital in Washington.”

“That’s what I’m starting to think as well,” Adam answered. “Most likely it wasn’t the CIA, probably MKULTRA, or a rogue agent from MKULTRA. But it fits nicely into the pattern; a bomb blew up the Royal Albert in Brisbane, and a bomb blew up the Washington Memorial. These guys are obviously willing to blow up buildings and sacrifice civilian lives if it suits their strategic goals.”

“We’ve got to stop them. We can’t let them blow up the hospital,” Cameron said.

Adam nodded. “Don’t worry. We won’t. This might actually be the opportunity we have been waiting for. I don’t think this guy is part of a large team. He might even be operating solo. It makes sense that his next target is here in Mexico. He probably had to flee the US after the Washington Memorial incident. That means he’s been here for a maximum of two weeks. Not a lot of time to plan an operation of this scale in a foreign country.”

“So you don’t think he’s going to do anything soon?”

“I can’t be certain of course, but I would be surprised if he wasn’t still in the very early stages of planning.”

“Well, we have to stop him before he gets any further. Should we tip off the local police?”

Adam shook his head. “No, we are going to swap Dr Herrera with this agent. I assume you don’t object too much to kidnapping this guy instead?” Adam asked with a wry smile.

Five minutes later the front door of the hotel spun open and Agent Fowler exited. Instead of hailing a cab he continued down the street until he reached the bus station. Only after Adam and Cameron both had witnessed him enter a bus, number nineteen, and it had disappeared down the street, did Adam approach the hotel.

Cameron, on the other hand, located a cosy local cafe with a clear line of sight to the hotel entrance, and sat down to order a coffee. As long as no buses or trucks parked in the street, she could see everyone coming and going.

Adam entered the hotel. The receptionist was a younger guy, probably in his early twenties. He was slouching on an office chair, playing a game on his mobile phone.

Adam measured him up in an instant. Ten US dollars would probably do the trick.

Adam pulled out a tenner from his left front pocket and placed it on the counter. He didn’t even try to be subtle about it. “I need a name,” he said. What he needed was a room number though, not a name. Whatever name the MKULTRA agent had supplied in the reception was most certainly fake.

“American dollars don’t buy much these days,” the young receptionist answered cockily, not even looking up from his mobile phone.

Adam sighed and pulled out another note.

The receptionist put his mobile phone on the desk, and grabbed the ledger where people signed in. “Who are you after?”

“The guy that just left,” Adam answered.

“Of course. The government man.”

“What did you say?”

“He tried to play it cool, but he was like a fish out of water when he arrived. What is he? An undercover DEA agent? My advice is that you don’t attempt to sell him anything. He’s not legit,” the receptionist said.

Adam smiled. The receptionist might look like a dud, but he was obviously switched on. “Thanks for the advice.”

“Another fifty buys you access to his room,” the receptionist offered.

Adam laughed. It had been the whole purpose of asking for a name - to check which room the agent was staying in. Then Cameron would rent a room close by and check it out the next time they knew he was out for an extended time. The whole charade had obviously been unnecessary. He should have just asked for the price to access the agent’s room straightaway.

“Here’s another forty,” Adam said, placing the bills on the counter. “Do you think you could keep an eye out for me as well?”

“Not necessary. He always leaves at the same time. Won’t be back for another three hours, at least.”

Adam nodded and accepted the key.

“Fucking DEA,” the receptionist said, as he returned to his slouching position with his mobile phone safely in front of his eyes.

As Adam climbed the stairs, he considered how easily the receptionist had accepted that Adam was the drug dealer and the other guy the DEA agent. Adam had a background with the army, he had been an elite soldier, yet this guy immediately had considered him one of his own, a lawless. Adam reminded himself to take a long look in the mirror when he got back to the hotel. To look a bit sleazy was good in Mexico, but he couldn’t afford to look too sleazy. If he did, the police could pull him up.

Adam spent a good ten minutes going through Agent Fowler’s hotel room. He spent most of the time looking for anything connecting him to the hospital. He came up emptyhanded though; the entire room was devoid of any incriminating items. The agent was either very professional, or he was still at an extremely early stage in his preparations. What was it the receptionist had said?
The guy always leaves at the same time, and then he is away for at least three hours.
Maybe the agent had another place where he was planning the operation? Or maybe he was just damn good. Either way there was no point looking for anything in the room. It was clean.

Adam returned to the receptionist, who was busy updating his Facebook page. “Do you know where this creep goes every day?” Adam asked.

The receptionist shook his head. “No, but for a hundred bucks I’m sure I can find out for you.”

Adam realised he should have started off the haggle with a five-dollar note. The kid was getting greedy, and he knew Adam had the cash. There was a limit how much Adam could pull back though. He had paid forty dollars for access to the room. Knowledge of the place the guy ventured to every day would have to be worth more. Adam placed a fifty-dollar note on the desk. “What’s your name, kid?”

“Hugo,” the receptionist answered.

“Well, Hugo, remind me to look you up in twenty years, I’m sure you’re going to be a billionaire.”

“That, or in prison. That’s what my maths teacher always said.”

Adam smiled. Adam’s teacher had said something similar to him; that he would either end up dead or a hero.

So far he was neither.

29

A dove landed on the ground, just in front of James Carter’s feet. He circled around it before sitting down on the metal bench.

“Afraid of a peace dove?” the man sitting next to him on the bench asked with a wry smile.

“No. Just not a big fan of birds.”

The other man put his newspaper to rest on the bench, before turning to face Carter. “So what’s the reason for you coming to DC? Didn’t think you liked it here.”

“I’m not going to say: told you so, but I assume you’ve heard the news?”

“Of course, I don’t live under a rock.”

“Codyism isn’t just a cute exotic religion anymore. Its member base has progressed from hippies and losers. It is growing like cancer in several developing countries. And it is splitting into various factions.”

“So you think this terrorist act was done by extreme Codyists?”

“Isn’t that the general opinion?”

The senator shrugged his shoulders. “That’s my problem with it. The general opinion is usually wrong.”

“So what’s your assessment?”

“I haven’t completed one yet. But I have trouble understanding the motivation.”

“They found a manifest, didn’t they? It clearly stated that the bombing was a result of the government’s stance on psychedelics.”

“But this guy had no previous history with drugs. He was a farmer, a good boy.”

“You think he might have been a scapegoat?” James Carter asked. He didn’t like the way the conversation was heading.

“I don’t know. It just doesn’t sit right with me.”

“Who would benefit from this then?”

“You.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Senator. Who would really benefit?”

“Well, Daesh would obviously benefit. The media always look for the latest threat, whatever scares the population the most. Let’s face it, beheadings and suicide bombings in the Middle East are getting a bit old. If somebody else got some of the limelight it could help Daesh continue their massacres and genocides in quiet. It would also make it harder for the President to get funding for further bomb raids in Iraq and Syria.”

“And the Christians?” James Carter asked.

“Well, there don’t seem to be any extreme elements operating within Christianity at the moment, at least none with the capabilities to carry out this sort of operation. But to answer your question: Yes, the Christians would obviously also benefit from Codyism being considered another violent religion. I understand that Christianity is losing more members to Codyism than Islam at the moment.”

“And that’s part of the reason I wanted to see you today, Senator. We can’t continue to treat Codyism with silk gloves. Look at what has happened with Islam. We need to acknowledge that Codyism is not a religion, it is an ideology. A cancerous and dangerous ideology. We need to stop walking around on eggshells before it grows too big. We can’t afford to have another Islam on our hands.”

“So you propose a war on Codyism? You propose that we defend Christianity and treat Islam and Codyism as our enemies?”

“No, Senator. I don’t propose a war of religions. I propose a war of ideologies. These religions threaten to change our very way of living. Islam wants to take us back to the Middle Ages, with Sharia Laws and limited rights for women. Codyism wants free flow of narcotics and flower power. I don’t care what people believe in, it is a free country, but it is quite evident that neither of those two religions is compatible with economic growth and prosperity for the US. If all of us spent our days studying a text written several thousand years ago, or smoked illegal substances until our heads threatened to blow up, then this country would soon go downhill.”

“I get your point, Carter. But what do you want me to do with it?”

“I need more funding.”

The senator laughed. “Are you crazy? The election is not even two months away, and the rumour is that the President has already started to book speaking engagements to secure his retirement. We will soon have a new government, Carter. And nobody wants to be the one that approved any Black Operations if this Andrew Mason is serious about making the government more transparent.”

“He won’t expose the Black Operations.”