He’d found himself listening to a dial tone.
Ward left without so much as a “by-your-leave,” and everyone knew but him. And Ward was apparently still unconvinced Dugan was dirty, even after finding the offshore account and the ship he was babysitting in Singapore blew up. Just how many “coincidences” was Ward going to swallow? And now the insubordinate bastard wasn’t answering his phone.
Gardner fumed for hours, racking his brain for ways to reestablish control. He had to be careful though. Dugan’s involvement was a problem. He’d documented his own suspicions of Dugan by initiating the financial probe, but he hadn’t overridden Ward about involving Dugan in the first place, so he wasn’t completely in the clear. It could get even messier if Ward continued to insist on the traitor’s innocence. What was required was a clear, unambiguous confession, sooner rather than later.
Inspiration came after his third Glenfiddich. All it took was a word to the Panamanians. When Dugan confessed, Gardner’s doubts were on record. If he didn’t — well, Gardner could hardly be held responsible for the excesses of foreign police.
He smiled and poured another scotch, thinking pleasant thoughts as he waited.
Like everyone in Panama, Sergeant Juan Perez was working late, trying to wrest order from the chaos. He looked down at the flashing button on his phone, surprised at the gringo’s persistence. He’d classified this Gardner as an asshole about ten seconds into the first call and lapsed into Spanish before hanging up. When multiple hang-ups failed to discourage him, Perez put him on “perpetual hold.” True, it tied up one of his lines, but he had three and could only talk on one at a time anyway.
Perez looked up as Captain Luna emerged from his office, pointed at his watch, and mimed eating. Perez nodded and stood, giving his phone one last look before leaving. Perhaps the gringo asshole would give up before he returned from dinner.
Reyes waited outside until Captain Luna and Juan Perez left for dinner. He wanted no awkward condolences and feared he might be sent home. The squad room fell quiet as he entered, warning his colleagues away with body language and a grim face.
As he sat, he noticed the blinking “hold” light on one of the lines he shared with Perez.
“Teniente Reyes. Quien habla?”
“You speak English?” a voice blurted, obviously startled.
“Yes, I speak English. This is Lieutenant Reyes. Who is this?”
“Gardner, Lieutenant. Lawrence Gardner. I’m with the Central Intelligence Agency in Washington. I have confidential information regarding the Asian Trader situation.”
Reyes bristled. Not a “situation,” gringo. Murder. Who was this drunken asshole?
“Information, señor?”
“A man named Thomas Dugan arrives there this evening. You should question him.”
Reyes sat bolt upright.
“Interesting, señor,” he said. “This implies advanced knowledge of the attack, yet we had no warning from the CIA.” His words held unmistakable menace.
“We knew nothing of the attack,” Gardner sputtered, “but Dugan works for us. I mean he’s supposed to, but I… that is, some of us… feel he’s been turned. A great deal of money recently appeared in his offshore account, and he supervised repairs to Asian Trader in Singapore last month.”
Gardner lowered his voice. “Please understand. Not everyone agrees with me. I’m warning you as a brother in arms. I appreciate your discretion.”
“I will treat you as a confidential informant,” Reyes lied.
“Thank you,” Gardner said, relief in his voice.
“On the contrary, señor, thank you.”
Reyes hung up without waiting for a response and thumbed through his notebook for Dugan’s flight number and arrival time.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Lights brightened and Dugan stirred, trying to focus on the announcement.
“…attack. The airport is closed. We are cleared to refuel and will depart for Miami, where agents will meet us. Nonresidents attempting to deplane here will be reboarded.”
A stewardess knelt beside him. “Señor Dugan?”
He nodded.
“You are to deplane. You will be met.”
Met by whom, he wondered minutes later in the immigration line.
“Señor Dugan,” a big man said, taking Dugan’s passport. “Come with me please.”
“What’s this about?” Dugan asked as he complied.
The man slammed Dugan against a wall and cuffed him, before dragging him toward an exit. A man approached, speaking unaccented Spanish.
“Teniente Reyes. I’ll take Mr. Dugan now. Thank you.”
“Regrettably, Señor Carlucci, he is under arrest,” the big man said. “Unless, of course, he has immunity?”
He smiled at Carlucci’s head shake.
“Then I will wish you good evening,” he said.
Reyes towed Dugan inside, rushing between glass walls through which could be seen rows of occupied desks. A small man gave a puzzled wave as Reyes shook his head and hurried by, hustling Dugan downstairs to an unmarked door. Dugan found himself in a concrete cube. Pipes crisscrossed the ceiling and cast odd shadows. The walls and floor were stained, as was a battered wooden table. Reyes shoved him into the single chair.
“Look,” Dugan said, half turning, “I think there’s some misunderstanding—”
Reyes slapped the back of his head.
“Yes, Señor Dugan. You misunderstand. You are here to answer questions. Clear?”
Dugan nodded.
“Good,” Reyes said. “Tell me of Asian Trader.”
“I’m here to attend an inquiry aboard. I was to board her at the Pacific anchorage. Why? Was she damaged in the attack?”
Reyes’s eyes narrowed. “Why do you say that?”
“The pilot announced an attack. You asked about the ship. Seems logical.”
Reyes changed tacks.
“Why did you buy a priority transit slot?” he asked.
“I… I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Dugan said.
Reyes slammed Dugan’s face into the table and raised him by his hair.
“Enough lies,” Reyes whispered. “The truth. Or you will not leave here alive.”
Blood ran down Dugan’s face as he turned to Reyes with a cross-eyed stare.
“Fuck you, asshole.”
Under the circumstances, an ill-considered remark.
“Digame,” Luna said.
“Capitán Luna. Frank Carlucci.”
“What can I do for you, Señor Carlucci?” Luna asked.
“Tell me what you know about Thomas Dugan.”
“Not much. Señor Dugan was to attend an inquiry on Asian Trader,” Luna said. “Reyes was to meet with him tomorrow, but now…” He paused. “You know of Reyes’s loss?”
“What loss?” asked Carlucci.
“Maria died today at Miraflores, and his boys were hurt. He is with them at the hospital.”
“Capitán,” Carlucci said, “Reyes arrested Dugan at the airport less than an hour ago.”
“You are misinformed,” Luna said.
“I saw him myself,” Carlucci said, “there is no mistake.”
“I will get back to you,” Luna said, hanging up to rush into the squad room.