Near Guadalajara he picked up a lead on Stoval’s man and followed that south to Mexico City, and when that went nowhere he went much farther south into jungle villages where he heard this Kline was often seen. He searched for six weeks before backing away from the jungle. Late one afternoon, sitting with a beer outside a bar along a dirt road, he was approached by an American who did not identify himself but told Marquez he needed to hide or fly home.
‘Why is that?’
‘Because the men you’re looking for are looking for you. Come here, let me show you something.’ He led Marquez to the cracked side mirror of a pickup truck and turned the mirror so Marquez could see himself. ‘Look at yourself.’
Marquez turned away instead and from behind him the man said, ‘I’m your only friend here and I’m warning you, don’t stay here tonight. They know you’re in the area. Questions are getting asked about you, not just here but in the States. Information is being traded. You’re being branded a rogue so your government can disown you. Stoval has a contact within the CIA that he provides information about the Salinas government in return for information he needs. He knows you’re no longer with the DEA and one of his men extracted personal information about you from one of the DEA agents killed here. Are you hearing me?’
‘Yeah, I’m listening.’
‘They’re hunting you. They’re asking more questions.’ The man tapped his chest. ‘If I found you, believe they can.’
‘Who asked you to find me?’
‘I’ll give you his initials. KA. Does that make sense?’ Marquez nodded and the man offered his hand. ‘Fly home, Marquez.’
TWENTY
Emrahain Stoval walked out along the General-Guisan- Quai. He did not mind the tourists as many did and liked the reflection of light off the water at this hour. He liked the smell of the air. He liked Zurich. It was a walking city and walking helped him think. He pondered this John Marquez, former DEA agent. Marquez had eluded them for months. He should be dead by now. According to one source Marquez was an embarrassment to the DEA and incompetent, but Stoval, who judged the DEA incompetent, had concluded that Marquez was just the opposite.
Mexican police officers who had taken his bribe money had promised that it would not take long to find him, but after months of nothing they talked as if they were pursuing a ghost. But now there was new information that Marquez was back in the north, not far from El Paso or possibly in El Paso. Taking him in Mexico was better, but he couldn’t count on that any longer, and he didn’t see sending the same people in the same way again. It just wasn’t getting done.
Stoval guessed that he probably knew more about this John Marquez than his former employer, the DEA, ever had. He’d read the account of the Kenyan police of the young man who without any real help tracked down the elephant poachers who’d raped and murdered his wife. Marquez had done that with next to no resources. The relentlessness impressed him.
He read a San Francisco Examiner article printed from microfiche. Daring Rescue Off Alcatraz Seventeen year old John Marquez jumped from the stern of a Blue amp; Gold ferry yesterday afternoon to rescue a father and daughter whose small sailboat had capsized near Alcatraz. Captain Tom Marks said he left the dock in Tiburon at 3:00 bound for Pier 35 in San Francisco with a full load of passengers and that neither he nor his crew saw the capsized boat and struggling pair in the water. ‘It was very choppy,’ Marks reported, ‘and we had fog coming in. I don’t know how he spotted them and not many people would jump in the water in those conditions. He must be a helluva swimmer. He’s lucky to be alive.’ But not as lucky as Warren Dorland, 45, of Novato, and his eleven year old daughter, Bailey Dorland, who according to the Coast Guard was saved by Marquez’s prompt response. ‘The tide was running out through the Gate and the girl had lost grip of the overturned boat hull. With the fog coming in we would have had a very difficult time finding her.’ Marquez, who will be recommended for a heroism award, was unavailable for comment. His older sister, Darcey Marquez, told reporters that despite being treated for mild hypothermia and released last night, her brother had left on a trip with friends this morning. She said the rescue didn’t surprise her. ‘That’s just John,’ she told reporters. For a grateful family last night it was much more.
He researched family. Marquez had none other than a sister. She’d been located in Alaska and Marquez lived in a cabinlike house on the side of a mountain in the San Francisco area. He’d inherited that and had some minor savings but no real wealth or prospects. Sooner or later, he would abandon his search and go home, but would he ever really give up? That, and if he didn’t take Marquez out cleanly, Miguel Salazar would do it crudely and the DEA would react.
Marquez had no fear in his eyes in the bull ring and without turning around he’d intuitively understood what to do to try to get Takado away from Miguel Salazar. Diving into San Francisco Bay when the fog was coming in and the water rough said he was capable of focusing everything on a moment. The elephant poachers, that was unusual. He knows we’re hunting him, Stoval thought. He knows and he’s not running. I’ll bring Kline north and we’ll focus on El Paso. I don’t want him moving again. It needs to be now.
TWENTY-ONE
Sheryl was in Virginia, four floors up at DEA headquarters. Marquez was in a pay phone in El Paso, Texas. She sounded engaged in the new job and happy, though worried about him.
‘You wigged out, John, that’s all there is to it, but I’m glad you’re back in the States. Where were you all winter?’
‘Guadalajara and farther south, then in Thailand and Indonesia.’
‘How are you paying for all this?’
‘I’m eating through my 401K.’
‘That’s insane.’ She exhaled into the phone. ‘Look. I’ll be in LA next week. Why don’t you meet me there?’
‘I need a favor, Sheryl. I need you to check something for me. I heard something from a judge in Mexico named Carlotta. He’s very well connected. He told me the CIA got the Kiki Camarena tape from someone who was in the room during the torture. Anderson told me Stoval was a source for the CIA. Tell Anderson I’ve learned something more about the black letter and ask him if he knows anything about Carlotta.’
‘What black letter? What are you talking about? You sound like a nutcase babbling about secret UN helicopters. Next thing you’re going to tell me is that Stoval was behind the Kennedy assassination. And what’s Kerry Anderson doing talking to you? You’re not a Fed anymore. He shouldn’t be talking to you. Is he passing you information?’
‘Do that for me. I’ll call you back.’
Marquez left the phone booth. Some of what Sheryl said stung him and he tried to shake it off. He hadn’t known Kiki Camarena personally, but everyone in the DEA knew of him. Camarena was the first DEA agent kidnapped, tortured, and murdered in Mexico. His killers were never caught and Marquez hoped Carlotta was a new lead.
Marquez was leaner and in better shape than he’d been in at the DEA, though sick lately with something he picked up in the jungle. At night he’d get a fever. He’d lost weight. His hair was longer, face tanned. He looked civilian and he didn’t carry a gun anymore, though in his car was a Kimber pistol and he had another hidden in the rundown house he rented.
After hanging up with Sheryl he crossed back into Juarez and took up the same position in the same room in the same apartment across the street from the offices he’d watched for the last ten days. But again, no one showed up, and when he crossed back to Texas it was 3:30 in the morning and with a fever the trapped heat in the dusty rental house was stifling. He opened windows and splashed water on his face. He stripped off his clothes and lay down.