“Years ago, Louis was…” Her voice faltered and she glanced back at the bungalow to make sure Anna was closed up inside. “Louis and I were contracted to kill Gustavo’s older brother, Alvaro, who was running their operation at the time.”
“By whom?” Kennedy asked.
“There were a lot of buffers, but I assume it was the Guatemalan government. Alvaro was amassing a lot of power and bringing various gangs into his organization. It went counter to the government’s policy of playing the different factions against each other to keep them weak.”
“And you were successful?” Coleman said.
“Yes. But the politicians didn’t get the result they expected.”
Kennedy sighed quietly. “It’s the same mistake made over and over again. Never get rid of someone unless you’re certain their replacement isn’t worse.”
“And Gustavo isn’t just worse, he’s the worst, right?” Coleman said. “Isn’t he the guy who dismembers people’s entire families, sews them back together with pig parts, and leaves them around town like sculptures?”
“Yes,” Claudia said, staring at the table in front of her.
“That’s the kind of thing that gets you what you want in a place like Guatemala,” Rapp said.
“And it’s what’s kept him alive when so many people—including me—want him dead,” Kennedy said. “It’s an easy choice for government and law enforcement officials there. Go along with him and receive millions in bribes, or have your family end up as a modern art installation.”
“So, you’ve looked into getting rid of him?” Rapp asked.
“I looked into helping Guatemala get rid of him. But it’s impossible to tell where he starts and the government ends.”
“And that makes him hard to find,” Rapp said.
“Virtually impossible,” Kennedy said. “Very few people know where he is and those people are one hundred percent loyal—either because they’re part of his organization or because they’re afraid of him.”
“Well, virtually impossible or not, we’ve got to track him down. How do we do it?”
Coleman leaned back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest. “With difficulty. Even if we could just roll down to Guatemala and find people who know where he is, how are we going to get that information? They know they’re being watched. And given the repercussions to their families of turning on him, they’re going to hold out for a while—even under pretty harsh questioning.”
“Giving Marroqui time to change location,” Rapp said.
“Right.”
“There’s no question that this is a two-part operation,” Kennedy said. “The first is finding the man. Until then, at least Claudia’s out of reach.”
“But we can’t spend the next five years here,” Claudia said. “And it could literally take that long to succeed where half the world’s intelligence agencies have failed.”
Rapp let out a long breath. “Maybe not.”
“Meaning what?” Kennedy asked.
“I met a guy in Mexico a while back who might be able to help us.”
“Who?” Kennedy asked.
“Damian Losa.”
“You met Damian Losa?” Claudia said, stunned. “Personally?”
“Who’s Damian Losa?” Coleman asked.
“A Latin American businessman with a fairly diverse portfolio,” Kennedy responded. “Mostly narcotics and arms trafficking, but also a significant number of legal and quasi-legal activities throughout the world.”
“Have you ever had any dealings with him?” Rapp asked.
“No. But some of my counterparts have. I understand that he can be surprisingly reasonable when his interests are being served. In a way, he’s a much more powerful, much wealthier, and much smarter version of Gustavo Marroqui. That’s given him a somewhat protected status where the world’s intelligence agencies are concerned. As embarrassed as I am to say it, sometimes a person like him can be useful.”
“Having met him, I’d agree with that assessment,” Rapp said. “He comes off as the Hyde to Nick Ward’s Jekyll.”
“Actually, that’s probably a more apt comparison,” Kennedy conceded.
“So, you think he’d know where Marroqui is?” Coleman asked.
Rapp shrugged. “If anyone does, it’d be him.”
“Would he tell you?”