Chapter 4 #2
She took a breath, finally made her way over to the table and slid back onto her seat.
“I guess your director knows mine, and since they’re all notoriously suspicious people, they wanted to know if Langley was playing both sides, or if he was just a patsy in all this.
So, I got volunteered to infiltrate the Herrera cartel — see if I could work my way up the food chain high enough I’d be able to trace the shipments back to Langley. ”
McGuire nodded. “How long were you under?”
A shiver worked through her. “A year.”
“Shit. That’s why you were in that camp that night. You’d gotten close to Herrera.”
“I had to let some shit go that likely stained my soul for all of eternity, but yeah. And I was getting close to the Holy Grail of intel when everything went sideways.” She raked her fingers through her hair, again. “I don’t know what the hell happened. That night was supposed to be a dead-drop.”
Patch frowned. “What’s a dead-drop?”
“For certain clientele, Herrera makes arrangements where the drugs or weapons are deposited at a prearranged site, and he sends his men in after so they can just load the shipment onto their trucks. No physical interaction between the supplier and them. Keeps it all clean. But then Herrera got a call, and the next thing I know, he’s sending out a bunch of his sicarios, your feed pops up on the main monitor, and…
” Her voice drifted off, some of the color draining from her face.
McGuire took a chance, reached out and cupped her hand in his. “And you were forced to make a choice.”
She stared at their joined hands, her smaller one trembling within his.
“Not helping you was never an option. Standing by while he and other cartels went at it was one thing. Doing nothing while he killed a black ops squad?” She shook her head.
“Nothing’s worth that, especially not what was left of my soul.
Though, it did mean that I had limited time to pull some of the intel I’d gathered. ”
“What were you able to grab?”
“Nothing concrete enough to put Langley and his political connection in Leavenworth. The first section is a mix of partial shipping manifests, lists of weapons’ serial numbers, cargo container IDs, and transport routes for illicit shipments facilitated by Langley.
It’s great if you want to know what was moved.
It just doesn’t show who paid or profited from it. ”
Patch scraped his chair back. “And the second part?”
Riven sighed. “A list of shell corporations that Herrera uses for financial transactions and logistics. Again, nothing I can link directly to anyone. However, what really worries them is all the shit I saw.” She tapped her head. “I know who controls Herrera’s shadow ledger.”
Patch coughed. “Shadow ledger?”
“Herrera has two ledgers. The primary and the shadow. The primary is the cartel’s operational book. It’s a physical, constantly updated inventory of assets, shipments, and payments to low-level players.”
McGuire nodded. “And this shadow ledger?”
She smiled. “It’s his insurance policy. A high-level record of payoffs to corrupt officials, like Langley, detailing dates, amounts, and the actions they took in return. You double cross him, and he burns your world to the ground.”
“And you know who has it?”
She rubbed the back of her neck. “A hulk of a man known as El Martillo — it means The Hammer. I saw him a dozen times meeting with Herrera outside Bogotá, but we’ve never been able to connect him to any of Herrera’s front-companies stateside.
Martillo’s in charge of how the guns, drugs, and money move from the Gulf Coast inland.
He’s disciplined, lethal, and extremely paranoid.
Which is why he’s in charge of the shadow ledger. He’s the one who records everything.”
McGuire looked at Patch. “Sounds like if we find him, we find this shadow ledger.”
She laughed. “If only it was that easy. Martillo’s no idiot.
He knows the DEA has been trying to infiltrate the cartel for years.
So, he keeps the shadow ledger locked up in a private, high-security vault in one of his front-companies.
Access to this vault’s location is controlled by a weekly, unique passphrase he puts on the final two pages of the primary ledger.
This ensures only someone with current, intimate access to the cartel can get their hands on it. ”
Patch grunted. “So, we need the primary ledger in order to locate the shadow one.”
“Or at least the current passphrase. There’s just one problem… Martillo doesn’t keep the damn thing in one place. It’s wherever the main point of financial activity is for that month’s shipments so he can record all the information.”
Patch scrubbed his hand across his face. “I think I need a drink.”
McGuire huffed. “I’m sure Savvy can help…”
His cell rang, the incessant buzzing rattling his teeth. He slipped it out of his pocket, placed it on the table. “I swear, she’s like Bloody Mary. You say her name a few times, and she appears.”
Patch chuckled. “I’m gonna tell her you said that.”
McGuire glanced at him. “That might be hard since you two aren’t talking.” He hit the button. “Savvy.”
Savvy groaned into the phone. “Can’t you answer like a normal person?” She waited a couple beats. “How’s Riven?”
“You’re on speaker, so…”
Riven sighed. “I’m fine.”
Savvy’s breath sounded over the line. “Good.”
McGuire huffed. “We’re good, too. Thanks for asking, sis.”
“Is the rest of your team there?”
McGuire glanced at Patch, whispered his apologies.
“Just Patch. Cross and Stone are on overwatch. I’ve got them staking out the tiki bar in case Herrera has any of his goons hanging around.
Patch also talked to Remy. He didn’t tell the guy any specifics, just let him know the situation’s personal.
That we need some latitude for a while.”
Savvy hesitated for a bit, her breath choppy, shallow.
“Good. We might need Remy’s resources in the end.
But for now, it looks like coming after you was Herrera’s first major mistake, Riven.
Your Madero shell name lit up a gas pump at the marina two days ago.
The guy wielding the card is a Belle Chasse Army Reservist who has contracting ties to Langley.
He’s probably the asshole who spotted you and notified his boss.
But that’s where this gets interesting. Turns out that card also paid for short-term leases on six riverfront warehouses in three different pier districts.
I pulled the dock cams on all of them. A black Escalade has been parked outside their Poland Avenue location for the past three days.
Guess whose company it’s registered to?”
Riven perked up. “If you say it’s Martillo’s shell company Titan Logistics, I might just have to kiss you.”
Savvy laughed. “I’ll get some new lipgloss, then.”
“Christ. You know what this means?”
“We’ve got him. Not only that, Titan also owns a trawler called the Santa Rina. It showed up last night right before Martillo’s car pulled in. He got out, walked onboard with a heavy leather case, never came back out. An hour later, the boat vanishes from AIS after moving berths.”
Riven inhaled. “Which means, the ledger’s on that boat. And if we can get the passphrase, grab the shadow ledger…” She let out a breathless sigh. “We can finally tie Langley to everything.”
“The trawler’s scheduled to leave port tomorrow morning.
You’ve only got tonight to access it before we lose track.
” Savvy tapped on a keyboard in the distance, the rhythmic sound echoing through the speaker.
“Weatherman’s predicting a squall line at twenty-one-thirty.
If you’re lucky, it’ll cover your approach. Assuming my brother’s onboard?”
McGuire grunted. “Do you even have to ask?”
“Just checking. Keep the circle tight. I expect a call once you’re clear.
And McGuire… One last thing. There’s a ghost on the board.
Langley’s personal cleaner, a man named Bram Keane, just landed at a private strip in Lakefront.
He’s not cartel. He’s ours, gone rogue. If he’s here, it means Langley knows something’s about to break, and he sent his insurance policy.
I’ll send a photo but be advised — Keane is far more dangerous than Martillo, and a lot quieter. ”
Savvy ended the call, no goodbyes just her expectations hanging in the dead air.
McGuire shook his head as he pushed the phone to the side. “Sounds like we’ve got a plan. We’ll board the boat while Cross and Stone run overwatch. We’re in and out before anyone misses a breath.”
Patch leaned in, tapped McGuire on the arm. “And no hero shit.”
“Don’t look at me.” McGuire winked at Riven. “She’s the one who pulls the hero shit. But I’ll keep it in mind.” He palmed the table, stood. “Let’s go hunting.”