arms. Many goods transshipped through the CFZ are bought with narcotics proceeds, often through a black-market peso exchange in Colombia. That’s an overview. Now look at the surrounding financial establishment.”
More rustling as those assembled examined Alex’s paperwork.
“There are three thousand international companies established in the CFZ. After Hong Kong and the British Virgin Islands, Panama has the highest number of offshore-registered companies in the world, approximately half a million. Panama also has a large international financial sector, which includes fifty offshore banks. The volume of trade in the CFZ presents a ‘perfect storm’ for narco-money-laundering operations.”
She paused and looked again around the room.
“You all know that much,” she continued. “That’s what each of us who combats international financial fraud and the monetary underpinnings of various terrorist movements lives with day-to-day. What I’m here to announce, however, is a new phase of Operation Parajo – the takedown phase. If our conviction rates are good, few of the owners will be enjoying their real estate any time soon.”
Alex adjusted her prepared notes and made a note in a margin with a silver Tiffany pen with her name on it, a gift from Andrew De Salvo when she had started work there.
She moved to her final remarks, after which there were several questions.
“Incredible progress,” Rick Edwards of the CIA said. “How did it fall into place?”
“The dominos started to fall when we received a major break in mid-March,” Alex answered. “A Caracas- based narcotics trafficker named Hector Dario solicited a Panama City customs inspector to ease the smuggling of twenty bales of U.S. currency into Panama. Dario gave us our link to two individuals named Misha and Yardena Dosi, a husband-and-wife team, who are our principle targets. The Dosis hold Israeli passports as well as Panamanian. We believe they also have emergency ‘escape’ passports, forgeries, possibly South African or Canadian. Here at Fin Cen, we became interested in Senor and Senora Dosi after the U.S. Drug Enforcement Administration established that Misha Dosi maintained several islands on both of Panama’s coasts, islands that have been used for running narcotics and currency via a fleet of state-of-the-art speedboats. The ships are designed with long V-shaped hulls and driven by a combination of high-speed motors. They can travel at one hundred miles an hour in smooth or choppy water, and even maintain thirty miles an hour in two-meter seas – “
“Outrunning any coastal patrols, in other words,” Andrew De Salvo chipped in.
“Outrunning our navy, coast guard, and anyone else on the water,” Alex said. “These boats can also haul multi-ton loads of cocaine.”
Without notes, she continued, focused on a distant but bitter enemy.
“On the Caribbean coast of Panama, Senora Dosi owns two islands in the Islas Marias archipelago, near the Panamanian town of Veraguas. On the Pacific side, Senor Dosi owns Isla Escondida, near the Panamanian coastal town of San Carlos. The Dosis’ central company, Nauticabonita, is the top marine supplies business in the country. Nauticabonita launders money. Here’s how. Merchandise sold by Nauticabonita to normal customers is discounted off the books by twenty-five percent. The difference between the true retail price of the item and the price paid by the customer is then filled with dirty money. Money from cocaine enters Nauticabonita’s financial statement as part of a legitimate sale, thereby washing the money of its origins. This stage, the “placement,” is often the most difficult to accomplish. Once the illicit money is circulated into Nauticabonita’s normal business accounts, it is then transferred to a number of banks – or ‘layered,’ or ‘integrated’ – and used to purchase items in Panama’s free-trade zone. These items are then shipped to Colombia, where Dosi’s clients receive them and sell various products such as refrigerators or washing machines in Colombia in exchange for Colombian pesos. Seems simple, but it went on successfully for more than a decade. But in the last months our sources began to get blowback in Miami and Panama City. There was a pervasive rumor that arrests were imminent and a Federal case in the United States was building. This, of course, turned out to be true. We were afraid we’d lose our two big fish, our ‘barracuda,’ Senor and Senora Dosi. Given the proper warning, he and his wife might have used their Israeli passports to flee to Israel and fight extradition for years.”
She answered several more questions, then glanced around.
“Anything else?” Alex asked. There was nothing.
She flipped her folder closed and managed a smile. She gathered up her papers and put her pen away. De Salvo passed by her as the press conference broke up.
“Excellent work, Alex,” he said. “I’m proud of you.”
TWO
Manuel Perez, freelance contractor, sat in a short-term rented apartment in Bogota, Colombia, shortly past nine on a hot morning in the middle of May. He anticipated the moment that, after weeks of preparation, was almost before him.
He set down the Spanish-language gossip magazine he had been reading as a television droned in the background. Enough of the love life of Paulina Rubio, a Latin singer he adored. Enough of the fabulous Shakira in her magical short skirts and explosive concerts. It was time to go to work.
His hair was gray, long, and shaggy, somewhat like a sixtyish latter-day hippie. Gray stubble crossed his face. By the door of his poorly furnished apartment were the two canes that he used when he went out for groceries or ventured into the public park on the other side of the expressway. He was kind and polite, had a good word for almost everyone, and most people simply addressed him as “Juan.”
Since he spoke with a pronounced Argentine accent, some people referred to him as
Perez wore latex gloves on both hands and a digital watch on his right wrist. In his line of work precision was an absolute necessity, a split second was the difference between life and death, much like a professional athlete or a neurosurgeon. That’s how he thought of himself. He was as skilled as any of those people, smarter in most cases, and every bit as deserving of the money people paid him. Nanoseconds separated success from failure, as did millimeters. As for the latex, fingerprints were a bad idea.
It was not a coincidence that he had been educated in his craft in America two decades earlier. He liked Americans, most of them, the people, their lifestyle, their cities, their music. Yet he was wary of them as well. Part of his survival depended on knowing which ones to coddle and which ones to steer clear of.
Well, no matter. He turned off the television. It had been tuned at low volume to one of those goofy Mexican
He needed quiet now and concentration to focus on his assignment.
Perez used the arm of the sofa to brace himself as he hoisted himself to his feet. His first step had a small wobble to it. On hot days like this, his right knee bothered him. He still suffered from a childhood injury that had plagued him for three decades. In the small town he had grown up in, he had been hit by a car when playing soccer on the streets. Medical intervention was primitive. The bones recovered but never set properly. He recovered from the accident with his right leg a quarter inch shorter than the left.
But that was long ago. This was now. He gained his stride, went to the door that led to the public hallway beyond, and glanced out. No one was there. Nonetheless he used one of his canes since neighbors were used to seeing him chugging along in his unbalanced way.
He limped down the hall to a spot near the emergency stairs. There he ran his fingers over an area in the wall till he found the one cinder block that he had rigged to come loose. He pulled it out. It opened a space between the inside wall of the hallway and the outer surface of the apartment building. There was a gap of about a foot between the two. He slid the block back into place. Only he knew it was loose.
He went back into his apartment and locked the door. Setting his cane aside, he withdrew a heavy steel case from under the sofa in the living room. He unlocked it by combination. Then he opened the case and gazed upon a thing of beauty.
The case contained the parts of a sniper’s rifle, high tech, high caliber, high price tag, and high stakes. He checked for any tears in his latex gloves and found none. Then he removed the parts from the case, laying them
