Treaty Violation (21 page)

“I’d appreciate that, sir,” Price said and accepted the fax. The short memo requesting the interview lifted his spirits.

“Out of curiosity,” Dupree said, “did this guy—Nicholas Lowe, right?—say anything about an operation to arrest Cesar Gomez?”

Priced jogged his memory and shook his head. “He only said something about one of their sources talking to two agencies. Why, what’s going on?”

Dupree stared in the distance, sipped his coffee, and shook his head. “Nothing. They canceled an important operation last week, that’s all.”

Price stood, ready for some sleep. “Sir, unless—”

“Sit down,” Dupree said. “We have another issue to discuss. I understand you told the
A
-
37
s to delay taking off.”

“No, sir, not even close. Colonel Vasquez told me guerrillas were in the area. I asked the Customs guys to conduct surveillance of the area while the
A
-
37
s were en route.”

“What if they had found guerrillas?” Dupree asked.

Price hadn’t considered that scenario. “I would have told Colonel Vasquez. The Colombians make the final decision to engage the aircraft. I thought those were the rules.”

“Listen up,” Dupree said. “Perhaps you haven’t noticed, but the
Colombians don’t exactly give a damn if some poor American is addicted to cocaine. We give them money, equipment, and training. The least they can do is return the favor. The war on drugs is only one piece of the puzzle. The big picture is to help these countries eliminate corruption, to professionalize their militaries, and to strengthen democracy and capitalism.”

“Do you think the drug war will achieve those objectives?”

Dupree nodded and squeezed another lump of clay. “By managing the violence, we can foster progress. That’s why we have to pressure the Colombians to fight this war. They might not know it, but it’s for their own good. As long as drugs exist, corruption will reign, and the guerrillas will have a source of revenue. Eliminate the drugs, eliminate the problem. Next time, pressure them to launch, or call me and I’ll raise hell.”

“Yes, sir,” Price said. He suddenly felt nostalgic for the Air Force. One of life’s ironies was that you learned the most important lessons only after it was time to move on.

“If you doubt me,” Dupree said, “ask your friend Nicholas. They work in the real world, too, and they succeed because they bend peoples’ wills. The world ain’t a village, and all the players ain’t equal. Do you think you can manipulate people in the name of national security?” He leaned closer. “Do you think you’re ready for the big leagues, Captain Price?”

Price looked Dupree in the eyes. “Yes, sir, I am.”

Dupree grinned. “Good. Dismissed, Captain Price.”

Nicholas Lowe grabbed a copy of
El Tiempo
and sat on
the couch in Dylan Dirk’s office. The headline story title wasn’t ambiguous:
PRESIDENT ACCEPTS DRUG MONEY
. The frenzied media were
covering both angles of the story, each side accusing the other of conspiring to manipulate the referendum.
El Tiempo
was demanding an audit of the President Mendoza’s campaign finances. The government was discrediting the story and threatening to press charges. Lina’s expression on television gave her away, though: she didn’t have the proof.

The most important fact of this poker game was that the story was true, but Lina hadn’t presented her proof, and the president couldn’t take legal action until he was sure she was bluffing. To make matters more interesting, the president himself didn’t know the origin of the money, which meant the charges probably had come as a genuine shock. Lina obviously hadn’t made copies of the original documents, and she was probably requesting an audit to redirect the debate. To her credit, the story was articulate, but she was too progressive for Panama: relying on objective facts to argue her point. She could have achieved similar results by wafting bromides about corrupt politicians while pursuing the audit option. Either way, Nicholas took pride in his deft manipulation of a small nation.

“Hello, Nick,” Dirk said. “I got your message.”

Nicholas slapped the front page. “Lina has made quite a stir.”

Dirk checked his watch. “Her luck just ran out. She
had until noon to present her evidence. President Mendoza negotiated with
El Tiempo
to retract her story in exchange for no fines. Lina, of course, will lose her job and could face criminal charges.”

Nicholas didn’t like the idea of being responsible for Lina going to jail, but the pursuit of truth wasn’t immune from consequences. Besides, international free speech groups would demand her release after the referendum.

“Let’s hope the president’s approval rating bounces back,” Nicholas said. “The good news is the shipment got through last night and we got our five million dollars.”

“It got through, all right,” Dirk said and rested his knuckles on his desk. “The Coast Guard couldn’t pre-position a vessel last night on time; the drugs were never seized.”

Nicholas groaned. “Seizing the drugs was supposed to be the easy part. So we just transported five hundred kilos of cocaine to the United States?”

“Technically, the Bahamas,” Dirk said. “
DEA
and Customs know
about it—they can’t trace it back to us, of course—and with any luck, they’ll find it and seize it soon.”

“Any word on Tyler’s death?” Nicholas asked. Dirk shook his head.
“I have some vacation time saved up. I thought I’d stick around after this operation to help. I’m no detective, but I feel like I owe it to him and his family.”

Dirk drummed his fingers on his desk and pressed his fingertips as if playing a solemn chord on a church organ. He slid a videocassette into the
VCR
and sat behind his desk. A
black-and-white picture appeared after a few seconds of static.

“You probably recognize this place,” Dirk said, “the lobby of Cesar’s building.” He pressed the fast-forward button. “This is the recording from the security camera the day Helena died.” He hit the play button and pointed. “That’s Helena entering the building. Notice she’s wearing the pearl necklace Tyler gave her.”

Nicholas was intrigued to see Helena. Her class shone through the black-and-white image as she walked to the elevator.

“The security guard greets her as she passes by,” Dirk continued. “Little known fact was Helena was fucking Cesar Gomez to support her cocaine addition.”

Nicholas shook his head in disgust. Unfortunately, a painful conclusion began forming in his mind.

Dirk pressed the fast-forward button until a man appeared on the screen. “That’s Cesar leaving the building to go to a bar. As the timestamp at the bottom indicates, Helena has about two hours to live. Numerous third parties corroborated Cesar’s alibi. We’re confident he wasn’t there when she fell.”

“One of his goons did it,” Nicholas said, unable to deny that the image coming into focus in his mind was of Tyler. He cursed himself for thinking such a thought. “Perhaps she committed suicide. She was an addict. She might have—”

“Possible,” Dirk said, “but Helena’s throat had fresh scratches. She obviously had a struggle with someone.” He looked at Nicholas grimly. “Her pearl necklace was missing.”

“Cesar could have choked her and left,” Nicholas said and looked at the video, hoping for the facts to prove him wrong.

Dirk shook his head. “The coroner said the scratches were fresh when she died. The police verified the apartment was empty.” He lifted a finger before Nicholas could speak. “Up to this point, we can’t make sense of what happened. As you said, she could have jumped, end of story. But the tape gets more interesting.” He fast-forwarded the tape and suddenly hit the play button. “Did you see that?”

Nicholas leaned forward and shook his head.

Dirk played the event again in slow motion and hit the pause button when Tyler’s face appeared on the screen, starring into the security camera. “As you can see,” he said, “Tyler’s arrival about fifteen minutes before Helena’s death sheds new light on the case.”

Nicholas closed his eyes and tried to erase the image in his mind of Tyler. He felt disbelief and anger—disbelief that Tyler could commit such an act, and anger that he had. How could he kill Helena? “This doesn’t make sense,” he said.

“It makes perfect sense,” Dirk said. “Tyler gets engaged to the most desired women in Panama only to learn she’s fucking Cesar Gomez. He knew she used cocaine—I reminded him many times—but he did nothing to help her. Tyler had the motive to kill her, and Cesar, for that matter. He took the pearl necklace he’d given her at their engagement party—forcefully, if the scratches on her neck were any indication.”

Nicholas was speechless. How does someone judge a crime of passion, especially when the accused was a friend?

Dirk opened the drawer and handed Nicholas a piece of paper. “We knew Helena used cocaine. When I noticed Tyler was acting strange,
I arranged for a urine sample, taken from the bathroom without his knowledge. As you can see,” he said, pointing at the paper, “he tested positive for cocaine. Helena must have given him hits from what she got from Cesar.”

Nicholas dropped the paper on the desk. “This is unbelievable.”

“No one gave Helena money to buy drugs,” Dirk said, “not even her father. The problem was no one had the courage to help her quit.” He inhaled deeply and leaned back. “I’m going to tell you something I hope you can keep secret.”

Nicholas nodded.

“The primary reason I chose Cesar for operation Delphi Justice was because of his relationship with Helena. I wanted Cesar behind bars so Tyler and Helena could get on with their lives. This operation allowed us to collect evidence against Cesar. I know rumors have spread about my failed Linear operation, but I was only doing what I thought was best.”

“I’ll admit,” Nicholas said, “I had my suspicions.” One question remained unanswered, however. “How do you explain Tyler’s death?”

“You forgot one fact,” Dirk said: “Cesar loved Helena.” He handed Nicholas a clear plastic bag containing a piece of paper.
Nicholas removed the paper and unfolded it to read:

You murdered Helena!

You murdered Helena!

You murdered Helena!

You murdered Helena!

You murdered Helena!

Blood splotches stained the paper. Flakes of dry blood fell onto his hands and dissolved when he rubbed his sweaty fingers together.

“That’s the letter we found with Tyler,” Dirk said.

Nicholas looked at the paper again. Nestor didn’t work for Cesar. Something wasn’t adding up. “Why would Nestor kill Tyler?”

“Nestor is dead. The police found his body the next day. Cesar obviously had him killed to cover his tracks.”

Nicholas folded his arms, following the logic.

“Regarding why,” Dirk continued, “we have to consider Tyler. He wasn’t discreet about his plan to arrest Cesar. He even made overt threats to kill him.”

“Cesar paid Nestor to kill Tyler?” Nicholas asked.

Dirk nodded as if that fact were only too obvious.

“How did Cesar know Nestor? He was our agent. And what about this letter, which clearly shows that revenge was the motivation?”

“Exactly. Cesar loved Helena.” Dirk said. “He must have known that Tyler killed her—eye witnesses, security cameras, who knows? Revenge wasn’t the only factor.” He drummed his fingers on the desk. “Tyler accepted the mission only after I convinced him he could put Cesar behind bars for life. He had to have known about Helena and Cesar. I thought he would work hard to ensure the operation succeeded.”

“Tyler kills Helena?” Nicholas asked. “Doesn’t make sense.”

“He found her at Cesar’s apartment,” Dirk said, then
pointed at the
TV
and stopped the tape. “At the time of her death, Helena was wearing Cesar’s robe…with no clothes on underneath. Perhaps Tyler only intended to confront her, but he must have lost control and killed her, perhaps accidentally. The point is,” he continued, “the day after Helena died, Tyler went on a rampage. He planned a slipshod operation to arrest Cesar, but the lawyers said they needed more time. The next day, he decided to kill Cesar.”

“Given the circumstances,” Nicholas said, “that might have been a good idea.”

Dirk closed his eyes and rubbed his temples.

“From what you just said,” Nicholas continued, angered, “you should have replaced him. Tyler obviously was in no condition to continue.” He stood and jabbed an accusing finger. “With all due respect, what were you thinking?”

Dirk lifted his hands in defeat. “Looking back—”

“Looking back!” Nicholas took a deep breath and sat.

“Let me explain,” Dirk said. “I don’t disagree with you, but I was looking out for his career.” He lifted a finger to stifle Nicholas’ objection. “K had just offered Tyler a promotion and a great job back at headquarters. Tyler probably would have been in a command position within three years. Quitting this operation would have ruined his career. Let’s be honest, we’ve worked under more stressful conditions. Remember El Salvador? I thought he could stick it out.”