“I’ll tell the president when the moment is right. After that, I’m sure there will be a private ceremony at Arlington if you’d like to have one.”
“For what? To bury an empty box? To be given a goddamn flag in exchange for my husband?”
“Only if you desire it,” he said quietly.
“I certainly don’t desire it!”
“I misunderstood. I’m sorry.”
Her tone turned accusatory. “I sometimes see drones over my ranch,” she said sharply. “I assume that’s to keep an eye on my mother and me?”
“That’s been done at Gil’s personal request, yes.”
“Well, he’s dead. So will the spying continue?”
“I think once his death is made public — perhaps in a few months — any danger to you will pass.”
“Then I should expect to see your drones until then?”
“I can order them to fly higher, if you like. You won’t see them.”
“I would appreciate that.”
“Consider it done.”
She drew a breath, unsure if she truly wanted to ask the question that had been haunting her for months. “Can you tell me if he was seeing anyone?”
Pope did not hesitate. “To my knowledge, Gil was still very much in love with you. I have no knowledge of him spending time with any other women.”
She nodded, wiping her nose with a tissue. “Is there anything else I need to know?”
“I don’t believe so, but I’d like to leave you my card. I’ll remain at your service for as long as I’m with the CIA.”
She felt her anger spike but conquered the urge to tell Pope just how much she despised him and the CIA. “That’s very kind of you,” she said carefully. “Thank you.”
He stood to leave. “Is there anything else you would like to ask before I go?”
She looked up at him, heartbroken. “Those women you say he rescued — they’re home now? They’re safe?”
He smiled. “Yes.”
“That’s all, then. Thank you for coming.”
“It was my responsibility to come.”
“Yes,” she said. “It was. Have a safe trip back.”
A few minutes later, she stood beside her mother in front of the big bay window at the back of the house, watching the helicopter lift off. It flew away to the east, and only when it was gone from sight did she sink to her knees to weep.
Short and stout, her mother stood with her hand resting on her Marie’s head, her own eyes full of tears as she stared off across the snowy linen landscape.
Oso whined to go outside.
49
With training over for the day, Crosswhite was drinking a beer with Vaught and three other policemen at the firing range when his satellite phone rang in his jacket pocket. Seeing that it was Midori, he ducked into the concrete building where they conducted their urban warfare training.
“Go ahead,” he answered. “It’s me.”
“Brace yourself,” Midori said. “I have bad news.”
“Shit,” he said, fearing that Mariana had gotten into trouble. “What is it?”
“Gil was killed two days ago in China.”
Crosswhite’s stomach hit the floor. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“He set some Russians on fire in Hunan — on an elevator. The police chased after him, and he crashed off a bridge into the Lishui River. We are hearing that they claim to have found his body a couple of hours ago.”
Crosswhite sat down on a concrete stoop, resting his forehead in his hand. “An elevator? Midori, what happened? That doesn’t tell me anything.”
“That’s all I know,” she said helplessly. “The Chinese are keeping a tight lid on it. Nothing has been released to the public, and I’m not the one who hacked into their system. Pope is the only one with access, but for what it’s worth, I really don’t think he’s hiding anything on this. He’s in Montana now breaking the news to Gil’s wife.”
“Christ,” Crosswhite said. “After all the shit he’s been through… to get run off a bridge in Jumbuck, China. How high?”
“Eighth highest in the world.”
“So pretty fuckin’ high.”
“Yeah,” she said quietly. “Pretty high.”
“That’s it, then,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “Gil’s gone. Fuck, I can’t believe it!”
“I’m sorry, Dan. I know you were close.”
“It’s worse than that,” he muttered, lighting a cigarette. “He was my only friend.” That’s not true, he thought. Mariana’s my friend. “Well, it doesn’t sound like they’ll be shipping him back to the States, does it?”
“I’m sorry. I forgot to mention: the intel stream says he’s already been taken to a crematorium.”
“Bastards!” he hissed. “So was he over there working for Pope?”
“No. We have no clue what he was really doing over there. Pope doesn’t think we ever will.”
“What about the woman — the Swede?”
“She’s Swiss.”
“Whatever!”
“She’s back in Switzerland.”
Crosswhite spit in the dust. “Well, I just might have to pay her a visit myself one fine day.”
“If you do, be sure to keep me in the loop. I’d like to know what really happened. I won’t tell the boss.”
“Okay,” he said quietly. “Thanks for calling. I appreciate it.”
Crosswhite put away the phone and looked up to see Vaught standing in the door with a beer in his hand.
“What happened?”
“Gil’s dead. The goddamn Chinese ran him off a bridge. Can you fuckin’ believe that?”
“Shit, man. I’m sorry.”
“Yeah,” Crosswhite said. “Everybody’s sorry. You might as well cut out of here. Head for our embassy in DF and get yourself home.”
“What are you talking about?” Vaught said.
“There’s no reason for you stay involved in this. Mendoza’s dead, these cops are almost ready, and that sniper’s out there gunning for you. You’ve seen his face.”
Vaught tossed the beer half-finished into a corner. “Yeah, and what happens to your family when he blows you in half like he has everyone else?”
“My family’s taken care of no matter what happens to me — never mind how.”
“Good, but you’re not getting rid of me. I owe that son of a bitch.”
Crosswhite smiled. “Don’t you think you owe Serrano, too?”
Vaught waited to hear the rest of what was on his mind.
“If this caper’s gonna work,” Crosswhite said, “three key people have to be taken out: the sniper, Serrano, and Ruvalcaba.”
“What caper?”
“Mariana and I are putting Castañeda in charge of the southern cartels. That’ll give him exclusive rights to the narcotics trade.”
Vaught’s eyes widened. “On whose authority?”
“Our own.”
“Why Castañeda?”
“He’s honoring the truce. And he’s willing to continue.”
“You bet your ass he is!” Vaught hated Antonio Castañeda. “Who wouldn’t be with a monopoly on the drug trade?”
“Look,” Crosswhite said. “It’s our only chance to salvage anything out of this entire fucking mess. If Serrano takes over the north, border violence will resume. He hates the US. But with Castañeda in control, the CIA holds the reigns, and civilians don’t get butchered. It’s that simple.”
Vaught could see no other way. “So what’s your plan?”
“You stay here and deal with the sniper; I’ll go handle Serrano. Whichever one of us survives goes after Ruvalcaba. How’s that sound?”
“Honestly? It sounds like Pope belongs on that list too.”