CHAPTER 1 #3
Harry walks past five perfectly good tables before settling into a secluded booth, and instead of placing his briefcase on the floor, he tucks it onto the seat beside him.
Interesting…
I make a hand gesture toward the counter, and Kai doesn’t miss a beat; he snatches a plate and a fresh croissant, then practically sprints to our table to deliver them.
“Espresso coming right up!” Kai calls, dashing back to the machine.
Harry shoots me a cynical look. “Yes… You were saying something about me exaggerating?”
I grin, ’cause I’m nothing if not a cocky bastard.
“We miss you, kid.” Harry grabs a napkin and spreads it over his lap. “How’s the new job going?”
“It’s going great. We get shot at most days, but I think it’s better than sitting in a windowless cubicle reading endless protocols.”
“Couldn’t agree more.”
Kai arrives with Harry’s coffee. “Espresso.”
“Thank you, Kai.” I pass him a bill covering the two new additions and smile.
“Call if you need anything.” He sheepishly waves and leaves.
Once alone, I lean back and look at Harry. “So… where is the mole?”
He chokes on his espresso, coughing as he stares at me with wide eyes, and I laugh.
“Come on, Harry. You’ve been here five minutes, and you haven’t stayed still once. Your left leg is shaking enough to give me motion sickness, you flinch every time the barista runs the steamer, and that’s the sixth time you’ve clocked the front entrance.”
I gesture to the booth we are sitting in.
“Plus, you passed five tables to pick this booth. Here we have our back to the wall, so no one can sneak up on us while giving us a clear view of the room, and within arm’s reach of the emergency exit.”
Harry opens his mouth, but nothing comes out.
“Why are you looking at me so shocked? I was a spy for ten years.” I pat my chest. “Ugh, you’re wounding my ego, culero.”
Harry finally laughs, visibly looking more relaxed. “Sorry, I forgot how good you are. And yes, there is a mole… we just don’t know if he’s in the FBI or DEA.”
“CIA, FBI, and the DEA? How many agencies are after this target?”
“All of them.” Harry pulls a thick manila folder from his briefcase and slides it across the table. “Every agency around the world.”
I pick up the folder, flip open the metal clasp, and slide out the contents.
It’s a damn nightmare… bodies of missing tourists, school photos of kids who never came home, women locked in containers, an entire village discarded in a half-burnt mass grave, and then I freeze the moment I see the name at the top of the header.
It is one of the worst names in the history of trafficking and death…
Elijah West.
Cold dread washes over me… The kind I haven’t felt since my father’s funeral.
“Is this… what I think it is?”
“Every bit of it.”
“How the hell did you manage to get all this, Harry?” I look around, shoving the papers inside the folder, making sure no one is close enough to see its contents.
“Eight months ago, we started getting leaks from the inside. Cargo manifests, names, trafficking routes, drop times. Everything,” he explains.
“At first, we thought it was a trap, but we were out of options. So one day we followed one of the tips and found a container with ten trafficked men inside. Since then, the same informant has helped us confiscate thousands of kilos of product and, more importantly, saved thirty-six people.”
I pass him the folder and rub my eyes, as if that would help me scrub the images out of my brain. “You know what you are asking of us, right?”
“I’m so sorry. But it’s the first time in thirty years that we’ve had a chance to get him. And if Elijah finds out we know… Damián, I know what I’m asking, but we might never get this chance again.”
I close my eyes, taking a breath. The risks are beyond catastrophic.
Fuck… If my team takes this case, we will be walking into hell.
If anything, no matter how small, goes wrong, we die… or worse, we are tortured, killed, and then our families will be tortured and killed.
Dios mío… No, we can’t take this case.
We shouldn’t…
But then I think about the people in those photos. The victims…
One of those women could be Fernanda, or my mom… One of those kids could be Carlitos.
All those deaths, those families torn apart… they couldn’t do a damn thing about it, but we can. And if we have even a one percent chance to stop him, then we have to take it.
I have to take it.
I look back at Harry. “I’m in. But for Harknett to get involved, the entire team must agree. We operate on a unanimous vote for high-risk targets.”
“Okay.” Harry nods, reaching for his coffee. “When should I meet with them?”
I check my watch and grimace. “Not now. We fly in ninety minutes. We have a situation in Boston that needs handling.” I tap the thick manila folder on the table.
“Send me an encrypted package with the last five tips from your informant, and what you expect from us. If the information checks out, I’ll brief the team on the case. ”
“Thanks, Damián.” Harry takes the folder back, sliding it into his briefcase. “So, Boston? Are you guys going on a business trip?”
“Yeah.” I grin. “Something like that.”