He again abraded his face against the dirt.
Vail backed off him but kept her Glock at her side, against her pants, out of view of any passing onlookers—who’d already gotten a good show if any had cared to watch. Vail surmised that in this neighborhood, when shit like this happened, people either turned their backs—or got the hell away before bullets started flying.
They also needed to avoid trolling Metro police cruisers. Vail didn’t have a problem with pulling her creds and explaining their purpose, but the last thing they wanted to do was make a show of being seen with Diamante; it could destroy him. Talking to cops was . . . frowned upon in this hood, and it would likely result in him no longer being a source of any value. Not to mention it’d probably get him killed.
Diamante, a coerced but willing party, walked alongside Vail, with DeSantos bringing up the rear. They continued about a hundred paces until they reached the far end of the long container. Two dozen feet away stood a line of parked vehicles. Realizing that these SUVs, pickups, and minivans could provide adequate cover while they talked, Vail headed in that direction.
Before they arrived, her phone buzzed. It was Gifford. She muted the ringer, then steered Diamante between two Suburban-type SUVs.
Vail got a good look at his face for the first time: not a bad-looking guy. She wondered what he was really like, why he had a connection to one of the most powerful drug cartels—and if he’d be a cooperating informant.
DeSantos stood with his hands in the back pocket of his jeans—no suit for this meet—and did not look pleased.
“Sorry about that back there,” Vail said to Diamante. “I didn’t think you’d run. I didn’t have a choice.”
Diamante turned to DeSantos. “Whaddya want with me?”
“It’s like I said,” Vail replied. “We need some information.”
With his gaze still on DeSantos, Diamante said, “I don’t talk to women who carry guns. It’s one of my rules of doing business.”
“What business are we doing here?” Vail asked.
But DeSantos held out his arm and eased Vail aside. “That’s fine. Talk to me.”
Vail bit down hard—the objective was to get information. How they did that did not matter. Now was not the time to allow her bruised female ego to intervene.
Diamante reached for his pocket. Vail raised her Glock.
And Diamante raised his hands. “A cigarette, cabrona, take it easy.” Vail knew that translated to “bitch”—but she let it pass. Dr. Rudnick would be proud.
DeSantos nodded for him to continue. He pulled a lighter and held it out for Diamante, who lit up. He puffed smoke into the air and said with a shrug, “I don’t know nothing, so there ain’t nothing to talk about.”
DeSantos stepped forward and spoke in a low voice. “Cortez. We know you’re connected. That’s what we need to know about.”
“You’re loco, amigo. Fucking loco if you think I know something about drugs.”
DeSantos grinned. “I didn’t say anything about drugs. So you know enough to know what Cortez’s business is. But okay, I get it. You had to say that. Now that we’re past all that shit, I need to know what you’ve heard. About a certain guy.”
“I told you. I don’t know nothing.”
Vail stepped forward, nudging DeSantos aside. “Bullshit. And I’m not in the mood to play games, so you will answer our questions.”
Diamante spit in her face. A gooey, cigarette smoker’s phlegm stuck to her cheek. Rather than wiping it away, she reached back and slugged him, right in the nose with the butt of her Glock. His head snapped back into the top of the car and he slunk down onto his knees, at her feet.
DeSantos turned away and brought a hand to his forehead. “Jesus Christ.”
Vail crouched between the trucks. Her face was now an inch from Diamante’s bloodied, crushed nose. “Now we’re going to try this again. I don’t know you and I don’t know what you’re involved in. But I do know you’ve got a line into Cortez. That’s all I care about.” She lifted the Glock to the man’s face. He looked at it with groggy eyes, his head bobbing slightly to the sides. He probably had a mild concussion. Getting slugged in the face with a handgun will do that to you.
Vail tilted her head. “I want to know what you heard about an undercover cop whose cover was blown.”
Diamante’s eyes slid from her weapon to her face. “Yeah. Cortez and Guevara were pissed, big time. What was he . . . your partner or something?”
“Yeah. Or something.” Vail glanced at DeSantos. A confirming look that this was working. “See?” she said to Diamante. “This isn’t so hard, talking to a woman with a gun. Is it?” She wiggled the Glock in front of his eyes. “Where is this undercover cop now?”
Diamante’s gaze rose skyward. “Don’t know.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Hey, you don’t believe me, shoot me. But you’re a cop, you won’t do that. So I guess we’re done here.”
Vail brought her hand back to strike him, but DeSantos grabbed her arm.
“He’s lying,” she said. “He knows more than he’s telling us.” DeSantos frowned, then shook his head and knelt down in front of their informant. “See, the thing is, Jose, she’s a bit of a loose cannon. And what we do, we do off the grid. So if you don’t cooperate, we’ve got the option of killing you. Honest. I’ve done it before.” He leaned forward and lined up his eyes with Diamante’s. “Many times.” He waited a long minute, then shrugged. “But I think we can come to some kind of understanding. I’m gonna be reasonable. You’ve got till midnight to get us the information we need.”
Diamante shook his head.
DeSantos held up a finger. “Again, I understand how this works. I know that demanding that you get us some intel wouldn’t mean much if I didn’t back it by a threat. Right?” He grinned. “So here’s the deal. If we don’t hear from you, I’m going to spread the word, carefully, selectively, so that, in time, it’ll make it back to Carlos Cortez himself that you’re a CI for the DEA.”
Diamante’s jaw line tensed.
“On the other hand,” DeSantos said with a shrug, “you give us what we want, and you’ll never hear from us again. And that’s a promise.” He rose from his crouch—and Vail followed suit.
Diamante swallowed hard, touched his bloody nose with a finger, testing to see how badly broken it was—then threw Vail a dirty look. He pushed his back against the SUV and got to his feet.
A moment later, he was disappearing down the block, gone from view.
56
DeSantos stood there glaring at Vail. She stared back.
“What the hell was that?” he asked.
“Oh come on. You know what it was. And don’t tell me you never roughed someone up to get information vital to your mission. Or whatever the hell it is you do.”
“That’s different. Do you really need me to tell you that’s not the way to go about this, that you’re burning a CI? Sebastian’s gonna be pissed as all hell if Diamante tells him to go fuck himself next time he contacts him for a line on Cortez. Not to mention your behavior’s going to get us both killed.” He lowered his voice and took a breath. “Do you usually go about your business like that? Because if you do, I’ve had the FBI all wrong.”
Vail looked away at the deteriorating apartment buildings and duplex homes in the near distance. “No. Yes. Lately, I’ve lived on the edge. I’ve done things I’ve never done before.”
DeSantos stood there looking at her before responding. “I’m no shrink, but I think you need help, Karen. Anger management.”
“Been there, done that.” She thought of Dr. Rudnick. “Still doing it, I guess.”