Towers called him at 7:30 a.m. “How’re you doing?”
“I’m doing.”
“I need you to get down here.”
“You sound exhausted.”
“I’ve been here all night.”
“Hey, you know, I appreciate that.”
“Just get here.”
Moore climbed out of bed, pulled on some clothes, and hopped in the rental car.
The girl at the Starbucks counter asked him if he was all right.
“Just had a bunch of people trying to kill me last night,” he quipped.
“My boyfriend does that all the time,” she said. “Stays up all night playing Call of Duty, and then he’s a grumpy asshat all day …”
Moore accepted his coffee and handed over his credit card. “Thanks for the tip. I’ll try not to be a grumpy asshat today.” He winked and rushed out.
At the office, he found Towers — who looked like death warmed over — sitting with a group of analysts. He rose, tucked a folder under his arm, then gestured that they head back into the conference room. Once they were inside, Moore asked about Corrales.
“We put him up in the same hotel, got a couple of people running security. We think we got a couple of Juárez spotters watching this place now, too.”
“No surprise.”
“Got some news about those police cars and vans from Calexico. They found the kid who did the painting. One of your guys was there to question him. He IDed your buddy Gallagher.”
“What’s Gallagher doing? Working for the cartel, the Taliban, or both?”
“You’ll find out. For now you boys have a major breach.”
“I just …they told me I could trust that guy, a good guy, a case officer for a lot of years. What happened?”
“Money,” Towers said curtly.
“I hope they’re paying him a fortune. He’ll need it to hide from us. Now, what about Rojas?”
“I don’t know where to begin.” Towers rubbed his eyes and glanced away. “The situation is …complicated.”
“What’s wrong? Corrales didn’t give us anything?”
“Oh, no, he’s got some great stuff. We’ve IDed the cartel’s main supplier in Bogotá, guy named Ballesteros. We’re already working with the Colombian government to lock him up, but the timing is crucial. Corrales even got some intel on Rahmani’s location in Waziristan.”
“Nice.”
“We’re following up on that, too.”
“Then what’s the problem?”
Towers pursed his lips and hesitated again. “Let me take it from the beginning. Jorge Rojas is one of the richest men in the world, and one of the most famous men in Mexico. He’s done more for the Mexican people than the government has. He’s a celebrity, a saint.”
“And he’s financed it all with drug money. His companies stay afloat with drug money. Thousands have died because of him and his drug money.”
Towers waved off the arguments. “Do you know who Rojas’s brother-in-law is? Arturo González, the governor of Chihuahua.”
“Cut to the chase.”
“Rojas is also in bed with the chief justice of Mexico’s Supreme Court. He’s gone on vacations with the attorney general and is godfather to the man’s oldest boy.”
“So what? I’m sure he hangs out on weekends with the president of Mexico. He’s still a fucking drug dealer.”
Towers opened the folder he’d taken along and riffled through some documents. “Okay, I had them do some research for me on the Mexican government, since I’m a layman. Listen to this: According to the Constitution of 1917, the states and federation are free and sovereign and have their own congresses and constitutions, while the Federal District has only limited autonomy, with a local congress and its own government.”
“So the states have a lot more power. Why do we care?”
“Because there’s enough right here to keep Rojas from ever seeing justice. The governor of Chihuahua — Rojas’s brother-in-law — has sovereign power and would never give him up to the federal court system. And even if he did, with the chief justice and attorney general in his pocket, Rojas would walk. On top of that, capital punishment was abolished in 1930, except for crimes against national security, so he’d never get the death penalty.”
“Let me understand this. After losing three good people, there’s not a damned thing we can do? Corrales has the evidence. Let’s turn it over to our court system. Get Rojas put up on federal narcotics trafficking and conspiracy charges.”
Towers raised his palms. “Slow down. Think about your leak with Gallagher. He’s talking to Rahmani, and Rahmani’s talking to Rojas. It’ll take two to three weeks to process this evidence, and then we have to hope that the judge finds Corrales credible, even though he’s clearly out for revenge — which doesn’t help our case. And during all that time, we need to hope that your buddy Gallagher doesn’t send word back that we’re trying to indict Rojas, because if he gets tipped off, he’ll disappear. I’ll bet he’s got properties all over the world that no one even knows about. He’ll drop off the grid, and it’ll take years to find him, if ever.”
“We’ve got Sonia on the inside. He can’t go into hiding.”
“There’s no guarantee Rojas will take her along. He’s kept his involvement in the cartel a secret from his own son. That’s made Sonia’s operation extremely difficult. She’s tried repeatedly to gather evidence, get into his computers, but she’s come up short every time. He’s got electronic sweepers throughout the house, so we can’t even wiretap him without him knowing about it. You see, Moore, when we got into this, we had no idea it’d all lead back to a guy like Rojas. I mean, look at Zúñiga. He’s much more typical and easy to indict.”
“Like that guy Niebla up in Chicago. They held him in Mexico for eleven months, then we got him extradited.”
“Yeah, because the Mexican government thought he was a bad guy. He had no friends there. He was working with Zúñiga, so of course Rojas leaned on his friends to get rid of the guy. But Rojas …Jesus …He’s got the world by the balls. He’s the saint of Mexico, and they all love him.”
Moore threw his hands in the air. “So it was all for nothing?”
“Look, I’ve got fourteen different agencies working on this. We can turn over the evidence to our people and hope for the best.”
Moore closed his eyes, thought a moment, then said, “No, we’re not doing that. No way. We need to move now, and we can’t wait for Rojas. That assassination attempt has him laying low. If we start busting his smugglers and suppliers, he’ll realize what’s happening. We need to get him first.”
“How do we do that and maintain deniability?”
“Let me make a call. Give me a few minutes.”
“You want coffee?”
Moore gestured to the cup in his hand.
Towers gave a snort. “I didn’t even notice that. I am really tired. I’ll be right back.”
After speed-dialing a number, Moore got past Chief Slater’s assistant and finally had the man himself. “Sir, it’s my understanding that you were a Force Recon Marine.”
“You say that in the past tense.”
“Hooyah, sir. Once a Marine, I know. We’ve got a terrible situation here, and I would appreciate you thinking about this more like a soldier than a spy, if you catch my meaning.” Moore went on to explain the details, and by the time he finished, Slater himself was cursing.