He nodded. “We just got the answer to a question.”
“What’s the question?”
“Who is Tomás de Heres?”
“I told you who he was.”
“Well, your research was interesting, but not pertinent.” He wanted toadd, “As with most of your research,” but he said, “Tomás de Heres is the name of the airport in Ciudad Bolívar.”
She looked at him. “Okay… so Worley and his friend Ted may have been talking about the airport.”
“You think?” There are coincidences, thought Brodie, and there are signs. To Brodie, this was a sign that his paranoia and suspicions were not unfounded—that Brendan Worley might be a little more knowledgeable about Kyle Mercer’s whereabouts than he’d let on. And maybe all the Intel they had just risked their lives getting was already known by Worley and his friends, who were supposed to be on their side. He shared these thoughts with his partner and asked, “What do you think?”
She thought about that and replied, “It’s a stretch.”
“According to Luis, Worley’s car ride with Ted was about three weeks ago. That was a week before Al Simpson’s sighting, and more than two weeks before the Army even knew that Kyle Mercer was in Venezuela.”
Taylor replied, “You’re engaging in leaps of logic. Even if Worley and Ted were talking about the airport in Ciudad Bolívar, that does not mean they were on the trail of Kyle Mercer.” She added, “You’re trying to make a fact fit your suspicion—whatever it is.”
“My suspicion is that the spooks are running their own manhunt for Kyle Mercer, and I think the spooks are a few steps ahead of the cops.”
“Scott… focus on the mission. Not on Brendan Worley.”
“Brendan Worley has become part of my mission.”
“Not mine.” She went back into the living room and Brodie followed.
They sat on the couch, and Taylor swiped her tablet for a minute, then said, “There’s a Venezuelan army base southeast of Ciudad Bolívar, not too far from Tomás de Heres Airport. So if Worley and his friend Ted were doing actual military attaché work for the embassy, they would have legitimate business down there.” She added, “They were not going from the Tomás de Heres Airport to someplace in the south to look for Kyle Mercer.”
He reminded her, “The U.S. and Venezuela are not allies, and not even on speaking terms. So I doubt that our military attachés would be welcome at a Venezuelan military base.”
“Scott, we don’t know that world. For all we know, Worley and others are meeting secretly with the Venezuelan military to plot a coup against theregime.” She added, “That would be a good reason for Worley and Ted to be flying to this military base.”
“You’re messing up my conspiracy theory. Worley and Ted flew to Tomás de Heres Airport, then on to the south because they had a lead on Mercer’s whereabouts.”
“We don’t even know that they actually flew to Tomás de Heres Airport.”
“Right. Maybe they were just talking about what a great name that is for an airport.”
“Can we move on?”
Brodie took her tablet and typed and swiped. “Okay… Ciudad Bolívar is the capital of Bolívar State… considered the gateway to southern Venezuela, and the way station for tourists going to visit the national parks…” He looked up. “Now this all makes sense. Ted was in Venezuela to look at the waterfalls and the wild monkeys.”
“Let’s put Tomás de Heres in the clue bag and look at it later. Okay?”
“Okay.” Mercer was the mission and the rest was noise. They had a very good lead on Kyle Mercer’s whereabouts, and they had to stay on track.
It occurred to Brodie that Kyle Mercer’s fatal flaw might not be his soft spot for old Army buddies or his fondness for English-speaking prostitutes, but his arrogance. Mercer must have known that after he’d literally turned his back on his old buddy, Al Simpson would have done the right thing and contacted the Army. Mercer also knew, as a soldier, that it would be the CID who would be coming for him. But a guy like Mercer, with his elite military pedigree, would look down his nose at—and underestimate—an organization like the CID. When you spend your career operating outside the rules, the people who dedicate their lives to enforcing the rules look like schmucks.
And Kyle Mercer didn’t just break the rules, he broke the law, and he also broke his sworn oath of allegiance to his country, and he literally walked away from his duty to the men under his command. And two soldiers died as a result. Captain Mercer would pay for that. CID Special Agent Scott Brodie, himself a combat veteran and a rule-breaker, would see that he did. In fact, it almost didn’t matterwhyCaptain Mercer had deserted. Brodie could not think of anything that Kyle Mercer could say during the extenuation and mitigation phase of his court-martial that would in any way justify hisactions. And quite possibly Mercer, in his arrogance, would offer no extenuating or mitigating circumstances. Which was why Brodie had to look Kyle Mercer in the eye and ask, “Why the fuck did you desert, Captain?”
“Scott? Where did you go?”
“I’m thinking about Kyle Mercer. About why he deserted. But I’m also wondering why he’s training men in the jungle.”
“What I’m wondering is, where does the money come from? Guerrilla forces have to be fed, clothed, and armed.”
“Right. As we say in the Army, ‘Beans, bandages, and bullets.’ And as the spooks say, ‘It’s not important to know who fired the bullet—it’s important to know who paid for it.’?”
