The Cain File Read online

  Beltran lost his smile. Velox’s was non-existent. Li’s face turned to vinegar.

  “I was telling your assistant here that we have to get to the airport tonight,” Velox said to John Rae. “With the traffic in Quito, we need to leave soon.”

  “I agree,” Beltran said.

  “JT,” Maggie said. “Can I have a quick word with you?”

  “Sure, darlin’,” John Rae said. “Excuse me, gents.” He and Maggie moved off to one side, well away from Velox, Li, and Beltran.

  Maggie said: “I’m starting to smell a rat.”

  “I hate to say this.” John Rae maintained a devil-may-care smile, but his words were the opposite. “But I’m thinking we better bail.”

  “Yes.” Maggie gave a deep sigh. “We’ll never get another shot at it.”

  “No, we won’t. You had to beg to get this, Maggie. And they were reluctant. This was your shot to make good. But, I’m sorry to say, it’s starting to look a little funky. I’ll make up some excuse, tell them we can’t go through with it.”

  In her mind, Maggie saw the bulldozers tearing up ancient trees and the topsoil of the Amazon blowing away. That would only be the start. Entire tribes would be rendered homeless, made extinct. There were two pristine fragments of Amazon rainforest—the lungs of the planet. The Yasuni was one of them. With it gone, that left one lung. And seven billion people needing to breathe through it.

  “Christ, John Rae—it’s not just about me. I want to nail those guys. I want Commerce Oil.”

  Their eyes met. More than a little electricity. “You and me both. But you know the protocol: if Vice fails to show, we can’t move forward with the arrest. We’re not armed. We’ll just have to give ‘em the money, regroup, and report back home. Convince the guys up top to think this warrants another stab down the road.”

  Maggie felt a year’s work slipping away.

  “John Rae, you didn’t come all the way down here to give those bums two million and go back home without a fish. And Commerce Oil is a whale.”

  “I knew you and I were cut from the same cloth.”

  “We can string them along, right up to the signing. If National Vice aren’t here by then, we’ll cancel. I’ll pretend the access codes don’t work.”

  John Rae drank. “You got it.”

  Maggie saw Velox marching over. His smile had a twitch to it.

  “Is there some kind of problem?” he said. “Li’s starting to get antsy. We all are, quite frankly.”

  “None at all,” John Rae said.

  “We had to notify Star Bank and let them know we’re going to be entering the access codes in the next fifteen minutes,” Maggie said.

  “We’ll be right over, Mr. Velox,” John Rae said. “Thank you so much for your patience.”

  Velox huffed mildly and marched back over to Li and Beltran.

  “How am I going to know if Vice are on their way?” Maggie said. “How are you going to communicate that to me?”

  “Right hand on the chin means it’s a go,” John Rae said, demonstrating. “Left means no.”

  “And if we get right up to singing, and it’s still a no?”

  “Give Beltran the damn money.”

  “That’s about the worst plan I’ve ever heard,” she said.

  “Me too,” John Rae said. “But it’s the official line from head office. No one wants to see anyone get hurt over two measly million.”

  “Two measly million of U.S. taxpayers’ money.”

  “Bottom line, this is a milk run. And I’m not just a pretty face, either.” John Rae flashed one of his winning smiles, patted Maggie’s arm. “Roll with it.” He turned, looked over at Velox, Beltran, and Li, waiting. Velox tapped his wristwatch and raised his eyebrows.

  “Let’s get signing,” Maggie said.

  ~~~

  In a grand office next door, the five of them sat around a table the size of an aircraft carrier, while the two humorless men in aviator glasses manned the door, hands behind their backs. One man was about fifteen pounds heavier than the other, but apart from that, they were clones. The ceiling high above dazzled with elaborate rococo plasterwork with gilt highlights. The far end of the room, overlooking the pool, gave out onto a huge leaded-glass window of dozens of frames. The murmur of the band and party was muffled through the thick stone walls.

  Li leafed through the documents to be signed, while Maggie booted up her MacBook.

  The first thing she did was to activate the web cam and position the computer so that she had Beltran, Li, and Velox nicely framed. She hit record. All of this would be documented, whatever transpired.

  Li passed the papers to Velox and eyed Maggie. “I hope Star Bank understands the discretion this transaction requires.” His voice echoed in the room.

  “It’s all been made very clear, Mr. Li,” Maggie said, speaking clearly so the microphone would catch everything. “None of us wishes a high profile. Commerce Oil wants complete discretion as well. That’s why Star Bank is representing them. The two million will be transferred to Minister Beltran’s private account.”

  Maggie saw the suspicion in Li’s face. No one trusted a man like Beltran. But there was plenty of cash for everyone down the road once Five Fortunes started pumping oil out of the Amazon for Commerce. The two million was penny ante compared to what these men stood to make for their respective interests.

  “It all looks kosher to me,” Velox said, reaching into the breast pocket of his suit jacket, retrieving a gold pen. “As soon as Miss Marin here finalizes the electronic payment, I’m good to go.” He clicked his pen a couple of times with his thumb.

  Beltran smiled as well and Li even divulged what might have been called a non-frown.

  John Rae had his phone out and was checking texts.

  Maggie kept one eye on him while she accessed the Agency’s global IKON network, looking for any indication that National Vice might not show.

  John Rae rubbed his chin with his left hand. Vice were still en route.

  Maggie took her time logging into Star Bank Online, the front that she had set up. The USB connector flickered green as an hourglass on the laptop’s screen stopped spinning.

  “What is taking so long?” Beltran said in a stony voice that bounced around the big room.

  “Slow satellite connection,” Maggie said. She gave John Rae a sideways glance. He rubbed his chin with his right hand, gave her an almost imperceptible nod.

  Brigada del vicio nacional were in place. She could move ahead.

  Relief flowed through her otherwise acidic stomach.

  She selected as payee the Amazon Wildlife Restoration Fund, a front owned by Beltran, and, while another hourglass spun, retrieved her digital-access key fob, a small device the size of a keychain, typed in yet another password, and was presented with a one-time use digital key. She entered that hexadecimal number onto another screen, stepped through more authentication, and landed on the main account page.

  There it was, waiting to be kicked off: an electronic payment from Star Bank to Beltran’s façade account, based in the Isle of Jersey, British Isles: $2.1 million.

  And when the documents were signed and the transaction completed, arrests would be made.

  How very little money powerful men could be bought for.

  Powerful weak men.

  “Here we are gentlemen,” she said. “Finally.”

  Just then, the vip of a text popped up on Maggie’s screen.

  msg pending from Blackhorse:

  Blackhorse was Ed, her Agency supervisor, back in San Francisco.

  Maggie typed a quick response: ?

  Blackhorse: NVC is 10-7

  Maggie stared in disbelief. 10-7 was old CB-radio code for “out of service.” NVC was obviously the National Vice Squad. The vice squad wasn’t going to show after all. John Rae must have gotten some bad information. Or someone was leading him on.

  She typed a quick response: r u sure?

  10-4

  so no go? she typed.


  go ahead and authorize but no pending action will be taken

  Beltran must have found out about the arrest. Cancelled it. But she was supposed to go ahead and give the rat two million dollars of U.S. taxpayer money anyway, and then let him, Li, and Velox go off and trash the Amazon at will.

  k, she typed to Ed. will do

  “Is there some problem?” Beltran said.

  Maggie looked up at the attentive faces watching her.

  “I’m so sorry, gentlemen,” she said. “But I seem to be having problems with the access code. I’m afraid we’ll have to reconvene while I look into it.”

  John Rae squinted at her, trying to read her words.

  She rubbed her chin with her left hand.

  He did a double take, as if to say—really?

  She gave a curt nod.

  “What the hell is going on?” Velox said, bordering on a screech.

  Li and Beltran drilled her with unpleasant stares. John Rae was looking at Maggie with his eyebrows raised.

  “We can’t proceed,” she said to him. Meaning, I’m not going to proceed.

  “I see,” John Rae said, nodding sagely. Then, to Beltran, Velox, and Li: “I hate to say it, gents, but Ms. Marin needs to sort this out. Damn computers, anyway. We were better off when we used a shopping bag full of cash. Can we circle back tomorrow?”

  “No,” Beltran said, his voice rising. “We can’t. I demand an explanation.”

  Li was panic-stricken. Velox was gulping.

  “Make that bank transfer,” Beltran said to Maggie.

  “I wish I could,” she said.

  “I don’t believe you for a moment,” he said. “You’ve been stalling us for an hour. Now do as I say or I’ll have you placed under arrest.”

  “What?” Velox said to Beltran. Li was looking more than uncomfortable.

  “They’re trying to back out of the deal,” Beltran said.

  “Now relax,” Maggie said. “I just need to get another access code. That requires several approvals. I’ll start contacting people, but it’s late. It won’t be ready until tomorrow. Say first thing?”

  Beltran snapped his fingers at the two men by the door. They drew their pistols and came forward. Beltran stared at Maggie with slitted eyes. “Make the transfer,” he said between his teeth.

  “Gentlemen,” John Rae said, drumming his fingers calmly on the table. “And I use the term more loosely than before, because you ain’t gentlemen at all now, are you? What we have here is what is commonly called a Mexican standoff. Sorry for the political incorrectness and all.”

  “Do you really think the National Vice Police are waiting outside?” Beltran said with a smirk. “Who do you think runs this country?”

  John Rae nodded, taking everything in.

  “I’m not sure I like this,” Velox said to Beltran, eyeing the two men with their pistols drawn. “Maybe we do need to make alternate plans.”

  Corruption, Maggie knew, was one thing, but being part of something that involved guns wouldn’t fly with someone like Velox, a well-known American businessman with connections to Commerce Oil. Li, a political figure in China, would probably be less fazed, though he was much less easy to read.

  “They have no intention of making any transfer,” Beltran said to Velox and Li. “Can’t you see that?”

  “Then we need to resume at some other time,” Velox said. “Or cancel altogether. I didn’t authorize anything like this.”

  John Rae said, “We’re not paying you a thing, Beltran. Not tonight.”

  “I beg to differ,” Beltran said and Maggie saw what he was thinking. The payoff slipping away. A drastic change to the oil deal. Quite possibly failure. What would that mean for him? He had scrabbled his whole life to get where he was.

  John Rae stood up. “Pack up, Ms. Marin,” he said to Maggie. “We’re out of here.”

  Beltran signaled one of the men with guns to come closer. Then he pointed at John Rae. “Sit down. If you don’t, you’ll regret it. So will she.”

  John Rae nodded as if he had been asked whether he wanted soup or salad. He straightened his jacket, sat back down.

  Beltran spoke to the gunman: “If she doesn’t authorize that bank transfer, put a bullet in one of her pretty little knees. She can decide which one.”

  The gunman approached the table.

  John Rae was leaning back in his chair, not looking rattled at all. He said to Maggie, “Just go ahead and send the money, then, or whatever it is you do with that damn thing. We’ll deal with these people when we get back home.”

  “Are you sure?” Maggie pressed the power button and held it down until the MacBook’s screen went black and the laptop powered down. “Ai, mierda! That’s ‘shit’ for you non-Spanish speakers, by the way.”

  “Why, you damn puta!” Beltran growled.

  John Rae leapt up, swinging a fist so fast the gunman’s face hadn’t fully dropped in surprise before John Rae clocked his jaw with a crack that sent the man’s sunglasses flying, skidding and spinning across the polished floor. His gun went off, thunder echoing off the high ceiling, and John Rae was on top of him, punching in short, sharp blows, suit jacket ripping at the armpit as his arm moved like a piston.

  Li, Velox, and Beltran jumped up from the table and dashed for the door.

  Plaster dust rained down as the other gunman came forward, pistol in both hands now, moving to and fro as he tried for a shot that wouldn’t take out his partner.

  Maggie sprang up, folding her laptop shut. Reaching back with it, she took aim.

  “Hey, boludo!” she shouted at the gunman leveling his weapon on John Rae.

  The gunman looked up at Maggie just as the laptop caught him directly in the face. He jerked, stumbling backwards. He dropped his gun and fell. The laptop bounced off the floor. John Rae saw this, leapt off gunman number one, secured number two’s gun. He jumped up, gun in hand.

  Gunman one scrambled to his feet, fired, hit John Rae in the leg. John Rae swore calmly, hopping on one foot, bringing the pistol up, firing twice, hitting gunman number one both times. The man staggered and fell, the back of his head hitting the floor with a thump.

  John Rae grabbed his leg, already blossoming red, swung the pistol on gunman number two, who was climbing up off the floor.

  “Get the hell out of here, Maggie!” John Rae yelled.

  Beltran, Li, and Velox were long gone.

  Achic came rushing into the room, saw what was going on, ran over to pick up the gun that gunman number one had dropped.

  “Will you get her the hell out of here?” John Rae said to Achic while he held his pistol on gunman two. “On your knees, pal. Hands above your head.”

  The man blinked in confusion.

  “¡Sobre sus rodillas!” Maggie shouted at the gunman. “¡Manos encima de la cabeza!”

  The gunman got on his knees, put his hands up.

  “Go on, Maggie,” John Rae said, gripping his bloody leg. “You and Achic—out of here.”

  “Don’t think we’re leaving you here,” Maggie said. “There are at least four guys outside.”

  “What the hell do you think it is I do for a living? Go on—git.”

  Maggie collected her laptop off the floor.

  “Come on, Achic,” she said. “Help me get him out of here. He’s wounded.”

  Voices shouted outside the door. Two guards charged in, wearing camouflage and military caps, holding the submachine guns Maggie had seen outside. Just as Achic raised his weapon, one of them turned on him, sprayed wildly with a short pap-pap-pap that dropped Achic to the floor like a puppet without strings. He lay there, gasping.

  John Rae turned, both hands gripping his pistol, firing repeatedly, the pistol jerking three times. The guard crumpled over his gun and fell.

  The other guard stood there, his gun on John Rae, John Rae’s gun on him.

  “Now this is a real standoff,” John Rae said, then shouting at Maggie. “Maggie! Out the damn window. There’s a swimming pool. I’
m right behind you.”

  Maggie turned, saw the flickering swirls of the pool on the ceiling. In her heels, the polished wood floor was a skating rink. She kicked them off and, laptop in hand, bolted for the huge leaded-glass window, a work of art containing dozens of panes, centuries old. She built up her speed, running hard, bracing herself for the crash about to happen. She could hear John Rae behind her taunting the guard, the guard not fully understanding, but getting the gist of his words.

  Maggie took a deep breath, closed her eyes, raised her arms in front of her face with the laptop as added protection, jumped for the window.

  ~~~

  Kacha’s first look at the American woman was when she crashed through the enormous first-floor window of the mansion. Leaded-glass panes burst apart as the woman came flying out, her long hair trailing behind her, and Kacha noticed, in the moonlight, that she was wearing a tight black dress. She looked like something out of a fashion magazine in flight. She seemed to have something in her hand, a handbag, something like that. She hit the water of the pool with a mighty splash that sprinkled Kacha’s face, even back where she stood behind the wrought-iron fence, keeping a lookout while her sister entertained a guard in the bushes.

  The woman surfaced, gasping for air, paddled to the end of the pool, favoring one arm.

  “¡Ayúdame! They’re trying to kill me.”

  She needed help.

  Kacha brushed her bangs out of her face and shouted to Suyana, her sister. The soldier, a young Mestizo boy, not much older than she was, thrashed his way out of the bushes, pulling up his fatigue pants in a hurry, gun slung haphazardly over his shoulder. The dent of an erection seemed to be slowing him down.

  Kacha grabbed the half-meter length of iron rebar she had stashed, held it down by her side.

  “What’s going on?” the soldier shouted. “Who broke that window? Is someone in the pool?”

  The voices of men shouting wafted through the broken window upstairs.

  “Looks like the party got out of hand,” Kacha said.

  “Jesus Christ!” The guard zipped up his pants. “I’m screwed.”

  “Yes, I think so.” Kacha clubbed the boy across the side of the head. He expelled a painful sigh and sunk to the ground.