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.”
“Yeah?” DeSantos stood with his hands on his hips. “Well, it’s not working.”
“You know what? If you’re going to preach, you’d better be prepared to follow the advice in your own sermon. You can’t tell me you wouldn’t be doing exactly what I’ve been doing if your loved one’s life depended on it.”
DeSantos dropped his arms and turned away, placed both palms on the driver’s side window of the adjacent SUV.
“I’m right, aren’t I?”
DeSantos did not answer. But the fact that he hung his head suggested she was, indeed, correct in her assertion. Finally, DeSantos pushed back from the truck and walked away, back the way they had come, toward Union Station.
57
Vail had returned Gifford’s call while they were en route to their car. She had nothing else to do, since DeSantos was in no mood to talk. At least he was in no mood to talk to her.
Lenka told Vail that Gifford was in a meeting but wanted to see her in his office if she was headed back to the unit. Vail could not think of other leads to track down, so going back to the BAU seemed to be the best move. If Rooney had not yet left for Iraq, she wanted to sit down with him and tell him all she had learned about Guevara, John Mayfield, and the drug smuggling operation. Perhaps he could recommend some unseen angles worth pursuing.
DeSantos said he had an errand to run twenty minutes from the BAU, so he dropped Vail at her office and told her to check in with him when she was done.
As Vail moved through the secure door to the BAU, a text came through from Dixon:answer on audio of message left on wirths voicemail. guardian angel was robby. :-)
She allowed herself a moment to grin. Robby may’ve been undercover, but after giving Ian Wirth’s home address to Guevara, he found a way to send Wirth an anonymous warning.
While Vail was typing a reply, another text came through:and got a hit on handcuffs serial nmbr. female cop napa pd. last seen at a bar downtown about 1am. didnt report to work today. this isnt gonna end well
“Everything okay?”
Vail looked up. She was standing in front of Lenka’s desk.
“Yeah, sorry. I was—” She held up her BlackBerry. “Got a text.”
Lenka reached for her phone. “I’ll let him know you’re here. I’m not sure if he’ll be glad or mad.”
Vail tucked her chin back. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“My sense is that he’s had a bad day. And right now, with the people in his office and the noises coming from inside, I think it’s only gotten worse.” She lifted the receiver and poked a button. While it rang, she said to Vail, “Not to mention he should’ve gone home fifteen minutes ago.”
Vail’s relationship with Gifford was odd, to say the least, for an ASAC and an agent. Profilers usually dealt directly with their unit chief. But Vail and Gifford always worked one-on-one. Her unit chief didn’t mind—at least, he’d never said anything to her about it—although that could’ve been Gifford’s doing. Maybe he labeled her a troublemaker and felt a more direct, hands-on approach would be the best way of keeping her reined in.
Lenka set the handset back in its cradle. “You can go in.”
Vail nodded, then turned toward the office door.
“Good luck.”
Vail looked over her shoulder at Lenka, hesitated with her hand on the knob, then walked in.
And it immediately became apparent why Lenka had wished her luck. Gifford was behind his desk. Standing to his left was FBI director Douglas Knox. And to his right was DEA administrator Bronson McGuire. Gifford did not look pleased.
Knox did not look pleased.
Nor did McGuire.
In fact, they looked downright angry, like frustrated cougars who couldn’t get at their meal. And Vail suddenly
