CHAPTER 4
From the street, only two members of Juan Perez’s team were plainly visible. At least to the untrained eye. That was good; that was exactly the way he wanted it. Exactly like Senator Sutton wanted it, too. She’d been very clear on that point. She knew Juan took his orders from the White House, and that she didn’t have any choice in taking the protection his team provided, but she nonetheless made sure they knew how she felt about it. She didn’t want to feel like she was living in a compound. And she would not give the cartels the satisfaction of knowing that they had driven her behind walls or that she was living in fear. As far as she was concerned, every moment she spent in the public eye was a slap in the face to the cartels, and she intended to get the most out of it.
It hadn’t been difficult to meet her demands. The layout of her street and the surrounding businesses made it a snap, even for a small team like his. Her building was midway down Woodley Place, and there were discreet parking lots at the two large cross streets of Woodley Road and Calvert to the north and south, respectively. Every car turning onto the street (and it was a quiet street, so there hadn’t been many) in the week since the attempt on her life at the Washington Hilton, could be checked and run through the NCIC databases without the driver ever seeing the agents who ran their plates. Additionally, the Secret Service had been able to lease an apartment directly across the street from the senator’s building, and the Bank of America behind her had been kind enough to let them use a third-story office that covered the roof of the senator’s building. The office had the added benefit of commanding a long view down the service alley that led behind the senator’s apartment, which cut down on the number of posts he’d have to man and helped him stay under budget. Also, there was an Indian curry house down on Calvert that Juan had grown quite fond of, and a yoghurt shop up at Woodley Road that Tess liked. All in all, Juan was pleased with the setup. Nobody was getting in here without bringing down an immediate response, and his agents didn’t have to work in crappy conditions to make sure that happened.
Satisfied, he went inside and met Paul Godwin, who, as usual, was on his cell phone.
“Okay,” Paul said. From his stiff, attentive posture, Juan figured he was talking with the senator. “No, he just walked in. Are you ready for us? Okay.”
He hung up the phone and he and Juan shook hands.
“Thanks for coming on such short notice.”
“Not a problem,” Juan said.
He nodded at the sling holding Juan’s left arm. “How’s the arm? Does that hurt?”
“It’s all right,” Juan said.
“I’ve never known anybody who got shot before.”
“I don’t recommend it.”
Godwin forced a laugh, but Juan could tell how uncomfortable he was. “Sounds like good advice. Listen, that reminds me. She’s been pleased with how well your team has done keeping a low profile. Considering how everything’s been going after the shooting, you guys have really done a great job. We’re concerned, you know, with her image. With the press being what it is, it doesn’t pay to be a bad neighbor.”
“I imagine not. Is that what she wants to talk to me about?”
“Not exactly. Here, come with me.”
Paul gave a quiet courtesy knock on a white door that led into the rest of the apartment, waited a moment, and then opened the door and ushered Juan into a spacious sitting room. The floor was hardwood, the white wood-paneled walls adorned with paintings of Senator Sutton’s ranch near Val Verde Springs, Texas. This sitting room was where Senator Sutton did most of her press conferences, and the room had been on the news enough recently that, upon stepping into it, Juan felt like he was entering a place he knew well, despite having never been, like the set of a favorite sitcom.
Senator Sutton rose to greet him. She was wearing a red pantsuit over a black blouse, and when she shook his hand, it was with the firm, self-assured grip of a woman accustomed to holding court.
“Won’t you have a seat, Agent Perez?” She gestured to one of the white high-backed chairs opposite the corner of the couch where she always sat during press conferences. “We have coffee or tea. Soft drinks, if you prefer.”
“I’ll get it, ma’am,” said Paul. To Juan, he said, “Black coffee, two sugars, right?”
“Uh, okay. Sure. Two sugars.” Juan was lost as to how Paul knew his tastes in coffee until he remembered they had been at the table together for a while that night at the Washington Hilton. The man had spent so much time on his cell phone that night Juan hadn’t thought he’d been paying attention. Clearly, he’d misjudged him.
Sutton already had a cup of tea on the coffee table in front of her, and she sipped it, waiting for Paul to come back with Juan’s coffee. Juan glanced up at the paintings on the wall.
“Your ranch looks like a nice place,” he said.
“Thank you. Wayne and I like it, too. You’re from Del Rio, aren’t you, Agent Perez?”
“Yes, ma’am.” But he didn’t elaborate. The house where he grew up looked quite a bit different from her ranch, and she seemed to sense that in his silence, for she didn’t press for more details. They may have hailed from the same part of Texas, but they were still from different worlds.
Paul came back with his coffee, served in a fragile porcelain cup on a saucer that reminded Juan of a little girl’s tea set. But when he drank it, his eyebrows went up.
Christ, he thought. The rich drink good coffee.
“I’m going on vacation,” Sutton said.
The comment caught Juan off guard. “Oh?”
“Yes, a cruise, actually. To Cozumel.”
Juan coughed on his coffee and had to put it down on the table between them. “Oh,” he said. “Mexico. Really?”
Sutton glanced at Paul and chuckled. Paul was on his cell phone again. He didn’t look up, but he chuckled, too, and Juan had the feeling he was the odd man out on a joke.
“I was going to ask your opinion of that,” Sutton said, “but I can see that isn’t necessary. You don’t approve.”
“Well, ma’am, I guess you’re entitled to a vacation, just like anybody else.”
“That’s not exactly what I’m driving at, Agent Perez. I want your opinion.”
“My professional opinion, you mean?”
“Of course. It’s not every day I’m put under the watchful eye of a presidential security detail.”
“Well, in that case, I think a cruise is going to be a logistical nightmare for my team. And two weeks is gonna be pretty tight when it comes to setting up cabin arrangements, and we’ll have to contact the—”
Sutton held up a hand. “Agent Perez, let me stop you there. I don’t want the Secret Service treatment on this. This is going to be a casual affair. My husband, and I, and of course, Mr. Godwin, if I can get him off his phone long enough to enjoy some Caribbean scenery.”
He looked at Paul, who was still focused on his phone. No help there.
To Sutton, he said, “Ma’am, I think you lost me.”
“Agent Perez, I know an awful lot about you, despite your sealed Army record. You spent five years in Delta Force. I read the action report for the silver star you won in Zacatecas.” She suddenly smiled at him. “Don’t frown like that, Agent Perez. I know that information is classified. I have clearance.”
He nodded.
“I also know you were recruited by the CIA’s Special Operations Group. Not many people get an invitation like that, but you turned them down. Why?”
Juan didn’t hesitate. “I’m a soldier, ma’am. Not a spy.”
“Yes, but you left the Army. Why? Why walk away from what I understand to be the most coveted spot in the Army?”
Images of his wrecked first marriage surfaced, along with a lot of guilt and regret, but he didn’t let it show on his face. He sipped his coffee and said, “Deploying for months at a time isn’t good for a marriage,” he said. “I left to try to save mine.”
“Ah,” she said. “Well, fair enough. My point is I know that you’ve spent more time fighting the cartels than just about anybody else out there. You know them, and I respect that. I haven’t fought them the way you have, but I’ve engaged them in my own way, and I’ve come to think of you as something of a kindred spirit in that regard. We both have the same enemy, and we both mean to stamp him out forever. So it’s your professional opinion as an enemy of the cartels that I want to hear. Knowing them the way you do, how do you think they’d react to an American senator vacationing right under their noses?”
He leaned forward and took another sip of his coffee while considering his answer.
“I still think it’s a bad idea,” he said at last. “Why play games like that with your safety?”
“This is most assuredly not a game, Agent Perez. You need to understand that I am very serious about what I’m doing.” She paused there, staring him directly in the eye. Finally, she said, “What I intend to do is make a statement the cartels will never forget. Not only am I going to ruin them financially, but I am going to rub their noses in it by drinking piña coladas in their backyard.”
Juan nearly laughed. And he would have, right in her face, if what she was suggesting wasn’t so offensive. The woman’s sense of entitlement was shocking.
“You don’t approve,” she said.
Paul laughed without looking up from his phone. “I told you.”
Juan didn’t trust himself to speak, so he simply shook his head.
“Why?” Sutton said. “I want to know. I thought you, more than anyone, would understand why this is so important.”
Go easy, he told himself. The ground can slip away from here if you’re not careful.
“You’re making a statement,” he said. “I get that.”
“But . . . ?”
“I’ve seen what happens when politicians make statements. I saw it in Zacatecas and I saw it Ciudad Juarez. When politicians make statements, innocent people end up getting killed.”
“Killed?” she said. She looked genuinely shocked. “You’re referring to that woman who was shot at the Washington Hilton last week. That was not my fault.”
“No,” he said. “Her death was not your fault. I’m not blaming you.”
“Then what are you saying?”
“I’m trying to make the point that cruise ships carry families, senator. People take their kids on cruises. It’s fine if you want to thumb your nose at the cartel in their own backyard, as you say, but are you prepared for the collateral damage that might bring with it? What happens if some cartel assassin opens fire on you while you’re in a crowd? Could you really justify the importance of making a statement in a situation like that?”
She didn’t answer right away, and as Juan sat there waiting for her response, he was certain he had gone too far. Agents, they taught at the academy, were meant to be seen and not heard. There were no politics when you were on the job, and those agents who spoke their mind usually found themselves looking for a new job.
But she surprised him with her response. “You made an odd career choice for a man who hates politicians, Agent Perez.”
“I don’t hate politicians, ma’am.”
She held up a hand. “It’s okay,” she said. “I get it. I must say though, I didn’t expect you to be as opposed to this as you so obviously are.”
He smiled. He was tempted to remind her that he’d been raised on the poor side of Del Rio, and that things often looked different when seen from the bottom up, but he didn’t take the bait. He’d made his point, and anything more than that would turn her against him. Instead, he pressed his advantage.
“Well, you’re obviously committed to this. Can I at least make a suggestion about the kind of protection we put in place for this trip?”
“I told you, Agent Perez, I don’t want the Secret Service treatment on this.”
“I know. But I think there’s a middle road that will work for both of us.”
“Oh?”
“You said this trip is just you, your husband, and Mr. Godwin here?”
“That’s right.”
“Then may I suggest that Mr. Godwin bring his fiancée?”
Paul Godwin looked up from his phone for the first time since they’d all sat down together. He looked utterly perplexed.
But Senator Sutton was way ahead of him. “You’re thinking of Agent Compton, aren’t you?”
“I am,” said Juan.
“Oh, I like her,” said Sutton. “Paul, what do you think?”
Godwin nearly jumped out of his chair. “Absolutely,” he said. “You bet. That’d be, uh . . . yeah, I like that idea. A lot, actually.”
Juan smiled. Godwin didn’t have much of a poker face. The man was clearly thinking how nice it’d be to share a cabin with Tess Compton, maybe even getting lucky after a couple of fuzzy navels up on the sundeck.
Yeah, good luck there, buddy, Juan thought. Put a toe out of line with Tess Compton and she’ll break you into little pieces.
“So, it’s settled then?” said Sutton.
Still smiling, Juan turned his attention back to the senator. “Yes ma’am,” he said. “I’ll tell Agent Compton she’s headed to Cozumel. I’m sure that’ll make her day.”