completely safe. And the return on investment’s very high. The label can be sliced into multiple smaller sections, multiplying the doses per smuggled wine bottle. His goal is to create a whole new craze in the marketplace. And Cortez is the only one who’s got it. He’s the sole supplier. He’ll clean up.”
“Great,” Vail said. “Not good enough we’ve got tens of millions of drug abusers in this country. Now he’s gonna make it quick, easy, and safe to walk around stoned. Great goddamn world we live in.”
“It’s a credible threat,” Sammy said. “We’re taking it very seriously. Only solution is to take down his organization. Or cut off its head and weaken it.”
DeSantos let go of Vail’s hand and put his arm around her. “I think it’s time we got back, honey.”
Vail rolled her eyes. “Yes, dear. Let’s get back.”
DeSantos said, “Anything comes up on our guy, let me know.” He turned to glance at Sammy—but the man was thirty feet away, heading toward the steps at the far end of the plaza.
59
Vail called Gifford to update him on what they had learned from Sammy—and Lenka informed her he had just left the office. She could reach him on his cell, as he was headed into Georgetown for a late dinner.
Gifford agreed to meet them at the restaurant provided they got there quickly and didn’t stay long.
Georgetown Seafood Grill was located below street level in a marble-faced office building. DeSantos pulled his car to the curb, again with no regard for the district’s parking enforcement laws and the five—
“They have valet parking,” Vail said, pointing to the A-frame sign at the curb.
“Won’t be here that long. We’re fine.”
They walked past a handwritten “50 cent Clams & Oysters” sign locked inside a display case that featured the restaurant’s menu, then descended the stone steps and pushed through the glass doors.
Vail moved past the bar and into the maritime-themed dining area. Clinking glasses and silver-on-ceramic clatter mixed with the rumble of idle chatter among the patrons. Polished cherrywood booths were separated by frosted dividers, neatly finished by crisscrossed wires that wove through riveted holes in the glass. Oars hung overhead, alongside inverted canoes and three sizable swordfish.
Gifford sat at a booth along the side wall, alone, a mixed drink in his hand and a menu propped up to his left. Vail slid in beside him. DeSantos stood at the end of the table, not wanting to invade the ASAC’s space without asking permission.
Gifford motioned him in. “My friend should be here soon. Make it fast.”
“We need to get the Bureau back in the game,” Vail said.
Gifford set his drink down beside a metal porthole carved into the wall just above the table’s surface. He removed his reading glasses and said, “No.”
“Sir—”
“I realize ‘no’ is a hard concept for you, Karen. But this is a DEA op, and the FBI has no part in it. No jurisdiction.”
“What about interstate trade? Crossing state lines? Kidnapping?”
Gifford was silent.
“Karen can be a pain in the ass,” DeSantos said, “But I think she’s right here.” He proceeded to recap what Sammy had told them. When he finished, Gifford sat back. He lifted an oversize canister marked SEA SALT and absentmindedly rotated it in his hand.
“Sir?”
“Yes. Yes. Kidnapping.” He set the salt container on the table. “This flies in the face of interagency cooperation. If we’re running our own op and not coordinating with DEA, it’s just bad. So let’s do it right. Keep DEA in the loop.”
“And just how are we going to do that?” Vail asked. “We have no contact on the case other than Yardley. I don’t even know if Sebastian is still working it.”
“He is. More than that, I don’t know. But the docs have cleared him for duty as of tomorrow.”
DeSantos pushed his glasses back up his nose. “As soon as you tell Yardley we’re back in, he’ll throw a fit.”
“Let me worry about that. Meantime, work it as a kidnap case, not a drug case.”
“And the difference is?” Vail asked.
“A matter of interpretation. But your objective is to find Robby—Detective Hernandez. It’s not to bring down the cartel. Let the DEA handle that. That should clarify it for you.”
“Start out by letting DEA know about this BetaSomnol thing.”
“Yeah . . . ” Vail said. “Can’t do that. And what I told you has to remain in confidence.”
Gifford threw up his hands. “Karen—”
“I’m sorry. It came from a very sensitive source.”
“This isn’t the way to start off our newly restored relationship with DEA.”
“I think it’s safe to assume the DEA knows all about Cortez’s plans for BetaSomnol.”
“And how is that?”
Vail bit her lip.
“Hypothetically, I’d have to say you’re finding new ways to shorten my life. Just when I thought I’d figured out what to expect from you—”
“I got the info, didn’t I?”
Gifford rubbed his face with both hands.
“As soon as you have information you can share with DEA, I expect you to do that. For now, consider Antonio Sebastiani de Medina to be your contact. I’ll have Lenka text you his cell when I get in tomorrow.”
Vail tossed a quick glance toward DeSantos. “I believe we’ve already got it, sir.”
A woman dressed in a clinging violet dress and diamond drop necklace walked up to the table. The stress drained from Gifford’s face like water through a storm drain.
DeSantos rose and nodded at the woman. Vail followed and excused herself.
“Remember what we talked about,” Gifford said. “Both of you.”
“Yes sir,” Vail said. She bowed slightly, as if he were Asian royalty. “Absolutely, sir. You know that whatever you say goes.”
As they moved past the bar, DeSantos leaned close to her ear. “What’s up with that bowing thing?”
“Just trying to make him look important in front of his date. He and I have our moments, but overall he’s a good man.”
DeSantos grinned. “If you were his date, would you have bought that crap?”
“Me?” She chuckled. “Come on.”
They emerged from the restaurant and ascended the steps. DeSantos stopped short and yelled. “Fuck!”
Vail turned to see what he was looking at—or, rather, what he was not looking at. The curb space was empty. His Corvette had been towed.
60
The morning arrived, a welcome occurrence given her futile attempt at sleeping. Earlier in the evening, Vail had spent a few hours with Jonathan, relating an edited version of her adventures in Napa and dancing around Robby’s disappearance by explaining that he was working undercover.
They capped the evening by watching the latest Star Trek movie, during which Vail nursed a glass of bargain-priced Cabernet—a throw-back to her pre-enological education. The inevitable comparison to the fine Napa Valley out-of-her-budget reds that she had recently tasted was a foreseeable disappointment.
Upon climbing into bed, instead of shutting down, her mind up-shifted to a gear in which she had spent too
