Lethal Agent (Mitch Rapp #18)(76)

“What’s he to me?” Rapp said.

When Esparza didn’t answer, Rossi stepped in. “Losa was one of the main investors in that mall in San Ysidro. It’s one of a number of projects financed and operated by a cooperative of cartels presided over by Mr. Losa. His idea was to reduce the fighting between individual organizations by creating joint enterprises. As you can imagine, he isn’t happy about it being discovered.”

“Didn’t NASA find that tunnel?” Rapp said. “How can he blame you for that? Shit happens.”

Again Esparza didn’t respond, instead concentrating on avoiding the branches on either side of the dirt track.

“The construction of the San Ysidro mall was overseen by our organization,” Rossi said.

“So? From everything I heard, you knocked it out of the park. The DEA was talking about that tunnel like it was the eighth wonder of the world.”

“Yes,” Rossi said, drawing out the word. “But the mall was meant to be a money-laundering operation.”

Rapp considered that for a moment. “So you’re telling me that the tunnel was something you added without telling Losa and the other cartels?”

“That’s correct.”

“So a megamillion-dollar money-laundering operation just went up in smoke, a number of American politicians have been exposed for taking cartel money, and a huge number of offshore corporations are now being investigated because you decided to add a smuggling operation on the down low.”

“I think that’s a fair summary,” Rossi said in a tone that suggested he’d disapproved of their little improvisation. “We—”

“It was sitting there like a fat whore!” Esparza shouted suddenly. “If I don’t take opportunities like that, someone else will. Where would that leave me?”

“Alive,” Rapp said, turning his attention back to a jungle that was suddenly looking a lot more threatening than it had thirty seconds before. “Tell me about the meet.”

“It’s in a natural clearing in neutral territory. The land around it is mostly open and we’ve had drones flying overhead for two days now. No suspicious activity. Each of us can bring two men. It’ll be fine. And this’ll give you an opportunity to get a good look at Losa.”

“Why?” Rapp asked, though he suspected he knew the answer.

“Because you’re going to kill him. He’s not going to let this go and I’m not going to wait for one of his people to slit my throat in my sleep. We need to move first.”

“Are you saying you want to do this today? At the meeting?”

“No. The area’s controlled by another cartel that’s guaranteed our safety. If we move against him here, we might not make it home. Next month will be soon enough.”

“Next month,” Rapp repeated.

“Is that a problem? I hired a miracle worker, right? Isn’t that what you told me? You didn’t think I was paying you three million dollars a year to eat my food and work out in my gym. My private gym.”

Rapp let out a long breath. This was bullshit. He was getting no closer to Halabi and now he was being driven into a possible ambush orchestrated by a man who sounded more like the CEO of General Motors than a drug lord. Time to end this.

He reached for the Glock 19 he’d been provided, keeping his movements slow and casual. He’d find a place for them to pull into the jungle, locate a quiet spot, and go to work on these two pricks. Rossi would crack at the first face slap and, for all his swagger, Esparza wouldn’t last much longer. In an hour, Rapp would be using the late cartel leader’s bejeweled sat phone to send Irene Kennedy everything the two men knew about ISIS.

“But first I need some help with the Arabs, ” Esparza said.

Rapp hesitated, finally withdrawing his hand from the weapon and returning it to the armrest.

“I’m listening.”

“The first shipment from our Middle Eastern supplier got confiscated in the mall bust. It was actually part of the shipment you stole—a dry run to show them what our distribution system could do.”

“And?”

“The towelheads have access to good product but they’re complete assholes to deal with. They don’t understand shit about the smuggling business and got all twisted up over us losing their package.”

I’ll bet they did, Rapp thought.

When Esparza spoke again, his voice had lost some of its bravado. “Look, this heroin angle could mean a lot of money for me, and with what happened in San Ysidro, it needs to work.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning, you understand them, right? You speak their language and everything.”

“Yeah.”

“Then you could explain that what happened is just part of doing business and that no one else could do any better. Make sure they’re not trying to find another organization to partner with.”

After a week of feeling Halabi slipping away, Rapp could suddenly picture his head in the sights of his Glock again. “Sure. I could fly over and tell them how things work in the real world. Maybe help coordinate their shipments.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Rossi said, leaning up between the seats. “They’re flying in a representative with another small shipment.”

“Right. All you need to do is talk his gibberish, kiss Allah’s ass, and whatever else it takes to get his confidence. This time the product will get through. I guarantee it.”