The Covert Element (25 page)

It was only because Santos’ suggestions made such good sense
and constituted such savvy business moves that Calderon did not
suspect Santos’ deception. For his part, Santos knew he was aiding
the cartels in ways that would be a tremendous boon to them in the
event his plans should fail.

But failure was not an option for Santos. He dared not even
consider it. More than twenty years under cover among
Los Cinco
.
Dealing drugs. Killing innocents. Sleeping with that horrid bitch. No
. . . failure was not an option now. He would succeed. And
Los Cinco
would crumble.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

When I returned from the disturbing conference at Bull’s, Beth
was reading on the back porch swing.

"How’d it go, Babe?"

"It could have gone better." I sat next to her on the swing. She
lowered her book.

"Tell me about it. What’s the problem?"

"If I tell you about it, you have to promise not to tell another
soul. And if you make that promise, you’ll wish you hadn’t. Maybe
it’s better if I keep this problem to myself."

"That doesn’t seem fair to you. I can keep a secret." Her voice
became a whisper. "You know, it’s rumored that I’m CIA."

Beth smiled.

"I
have
heard that rumor. And you do keep secrets exceedingly
well. I just think that, in the end, this is one secret you’ll wish you
didn’t know."

"You’re probably right. You usually are. But I still want to help
out if I can, even if it’s just listening. For better. For worse. In
sickness and in health. Yada yada yada."

She smiled again.

"Lay it on me."

"Okay. This is against my better judgment. But here goes.

"Bull’s old commanding officer in the Rangers . . . Master
Sergeant Juan Fuentes . . . has been carrying on his own private war
against the Mexican drug cartels for the past twenty years or so.
Turns out he’s not running from the cartels at all . . . he’s hunting
them."

Beth sat back on the swing and stared into space.

"That’s a bit of a switch from what you expected."

"And that’s the least of it. You sure you want me to continue?"

"Absolutely. I can imagine he had quite a story to tell . . . and
some of it not very pretty. But I’m up for it."

"All right. So Sergeant Fuentes came to Minnesota because he
had heard rumors in Mexico that a drug cartel was establishing
meth production facilities here. He wanted to wage his war where
the cartels were at their weakest. He figured a thousand miles from
home base was a pretty good spot.

"You know the house with the twenty-three dead guys? That
was one of the cartel’s drug factories."

"And Fuentes killed those men?"

"Says he didn’t. Says he saw the guy that burned the house and
presumably killed the men, though. He thinks the attack on the
drug house was part of a cartel drug war."

"That makes more sense than street gangs, at least."

Beth was taking this all in.

"True. Fuentes thinks these two cartels,
Los Cinco
and
Los
Zetas
, are extending their battlefields to Ottawa County. He says the
drug house was a
Cinco
operation and the killer was a
Zeta
."

"But you’re not so sure." Beth could read me like
Fun with Dick
and Jane.

"I don’t know. What he told us about the drug house attack
jibes with the info in the BCA files. A single shooter with a single
gun."

"So why do you remain unconvinced?"

"It’s partly that Fuentes’ scenario still doesn’t explain how the
killer got twenty-three men to lie down so he could shoot them all in
the forehead."

"And the other part?"

"I just kinda get a weird vibe from this Fuentes guy . . . like he
knows something important that he’s not telling. There isn’t
anything in particular. I just have this feeling in my gut."

"Uh oh! That gut thing of yours is often reliable, but seldom
convinces Gunner to help you out. He really should tune his gut to
your frequency."

I laughed.

"So true."

I gave the swing a push with my feet. We sat in silence until it
came to rest once again. Beth spoke first.

"So far, I don’t see any problems keeping your secrets. Is there
something else?"

"Well, yeah. And this is another reason I think Fuentes might
not be right in the head."

I told Beth about Fuentes’ plan to destroy the "big" meth lab
and his reasoning as to why U.S. cops wouldn’t solve the problem
for him.

"When you say ‘destroy,’ do you mean like, blow up? As in
dynamite and dead people?"

"He didn’t elaborate. But that’s the way I envision it. Yes."

"James, you’ve got to go to Gunner with this, or the BCA, or the
FBI, or somebody. You can’t just let the guy blow up a building and
kill innocent people in the process. Even if they’re all druggies, they
don’t deserve to die."

"Yeah . . . well . . . that’s a compelling argument. I’ve only got
two problems with it. One . . . I promised Bull and Fuentes I would
keep our discussion confidential. If I don’t keep my word on these
things, nobody will ever tell me anything important . . . and I
wouldn’t blame them. And a promise
is
a promise."

Beth looked unconvinced. I lowered my eyes to the porch floor.

"The second problem is that Bull might decide to help Fuentes
with the bombing plan. How can I turn Bull in? He’s saved my life
more than once, for God’s sake."

I glanced at Beth for her reaction.

"No, he hasn’t."

I thought about it.

"Yeah, he did. In that parking garage. He saved me from that
‘Buffy’ guy."

"Oh, c’mon. You’re not telling me some guy named ‘Buffy’ was
really going to kill you."

Actually, I
had
been prepared to shoot the guy if necessary.
Bull’s appearance had avoided that necessity.

I thought harder. I couldn’t remember a time when Bull had
actually saved my life. He’d saved Katherine Whitson’s life, though .
. . twice. Anyway, his saving my life wasn’t the point. He was a man
with whom I shared a bond of loyalty. He had been faithful to me.
And I absolutely refused to break our trust.

"Okay. Maybe he hasn’t saved my life . . . yet. But he would.
And he’d risk his own life to do it."

"You don’t know that."

I paused before speaking.

"Yes." I looked Beth in the eye. "I do."

"So what do you do now? You can’t just let this guy, Fuentes,
blow up some building he
thinks
is housing a Mexican cartel
operation. He’s got cartels on the brain. He could be entirely wrong
and blow up some completely unrelated, law-abiding business. How
could you live with that?"

Beth’s point was valid. But I still could find no way to break my
trust with Bull.

"I don’t know, Beth. But telling Gunner about the plan is not an
option. I’ll have to find another way."

Beth rose from the swing.

"I’m going to lie down for a while. I’ve got a headache."

She headed for the kitchen door.

"I understand completely."

CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

Instead of lying down, Beth had retreated to her attic refuge.
She had a way of expressing her moods on canvas. I was pretty sure
this afternoon’s creation would be dark and brooding. Who could
blame her? I probably shouldn’t have shared my dilemma with her.
But I hate to keep important issues from Beth. We each have our
own storehouse of secrets from past employment. Those had
created their own problems. I didn’t want to reopen old wounds by
keeping new secrets.

There was no point rehashing the decision at this point. I had
included Beth in my moral mess. That choice had been made. Now I
needed to focus on how I could keep my confidences with Bull and
Fuentes and still avoid unacceptable consequences. I knew the
direction in which a solution might lie. But I would have to walk a
fine line to get there.

I had promised not to reveal Fuentes’ plans to assault the drug
facility. I hadn’t promised not to find the place myself. If I could
locate the drug factory, I would have no choice but to turn the
matter over to Gunner and the BCA, again without revealing
Fuentes’ involvement or plans.

It didn’t seem a good time to seek Beth’s assistance in
obtaining additional BCA info. Maybe Gunner and I could think our
way to the location. No one knew Ottawa County better than
Gunner. A visit was definitely in order.

Gunner was at the LEC, apparently still stewing about the BCA
freezing him out of the "Mexican Massacre" investigation. He
ushered me into his office. His shoulders slumped. He looked tired.
Worn down.

"Geez, Gunner. You look like hell."

"Don’t you go blowin’ sunshine up my skirt. I got all the
cheerios I can take right now."

I supposed this was Gunner’s version of sarcasm. I pressed on.

"I’ve got a project that can keep us both busy and maybe get
your foot in the door on the ‘Mexican Massacre,’ too."

"Stop callin’ it that. It pisses me off. Bastards at the BCA and
their code names."

Gunner wasn’t angry with me. He was just having a bad day.

"Okay. No sunshine. No code names. But I have a theory about
the killings that you and I can look into right here, right now . . .
without involving the BCA.

"Interested?"

"Is this gonna be as exciting as your last tip? Somebody knows
somebody who might know somebody who knows somethin’?"

"I didn’t say this was a tip. I said it was a theory. If you’re not
interested in doing any actual investigating and would rather sit
here and mope, that’s your call."

I stood.

"Hold on." Gunner stood as well. "I’m sorry. I’m havin’ a
crappy day and I’m takin’ it out on you. Sit back down and let’s start
over."

I sat.

"Hey, Gunner. I think that drug house you found isn’t the only
large scale meth facility in Ottawa County. Want to help me find the
other one?"

Gunner inhaled deeply.

"I hate to bust your bubble, but there’s no way there could be a
commercial meth lab in Ottawa County. As soon as it started
shipping out dope, we’d have found the first one, too."

"Why do you say that?" Now
I
was getting bummed. Was
Fuentes wrong about another lab?

"Listen, Beck. There’s ways we find out about meth operations.
Usually, we don’t even have to look. Somebody comes and tells us."

"I don’t get it."