“For starters, the last twelve hours on the eighth floor.”
“All righty.” Compton ordered one of his men to pull up the footage.
There were three cameras on the floor: one near the bank of elevators and one at each end of the hallway. I told Compton which rooms were in question and relayed enough about Cabrera and Elan to identify them. To start, we focused on the hallway angle. We fast-forwarded through the footage at a fairly brisk pace, slowing only when a guest appeared in the hallway. A few minutes in, it dawned on me that I would be in this footage. No sooner did I have that thought than I made my entrance.
But Compton, being the professional, said, “Keep going. The guests we’re looking for are male.”
Sure enough, at 8:15 a.m., Cabrera could be seen meeting Elan outside his door. “Stop right there. That’s Agent Cabrera and our witness. Could I see the footage of them at the elevators?”
Compton’s man switched to the other camera angle and pulled up the same time frame. We were able to get a close-up of the two as they waited for the elevators. From what I could see, it was business as usual. They were talking. Both appeared to be in positive moods, and neither looked as if he were being forced to go anywhere. Cabrera had his carry-on luggage with him, which explained why the room was empty.
Was he going to leave without saying goodbye?
I glanced down at my watch; it was near noon. If they had gone out for breakfast, they would have been back long ago. I was puzzled by Cabrera’s actions. Clearly, he knew this was against protocol. Even though our investigation was wrapping up, Elan, for all intents and purposes, was still a witness for the FBI and under our protection. Cabrera should have known better.
Compton escorted me back through the corridor maze to the lobby. “If there’s anything else I can do to help, let me know.” He handed me his business card.
“Thanks. And the footage?”
“Screenshots and video of the two men in question will be emailed to you ASAP.”
“I appreciate your cooperation.”
I knew my next call needed to be to Reilly, but I hesitated. It’s not like some stranger had wandered off with our witness. It was Cabrera. He was a DEA agent and my partner in this investigation. To make matters worse, I was intimately involved with him. If that got out, explaining it would be, well, a nightmare. I pulled out my phone and dialed.
Chapter 65
Third time, no charm, and time had run out.
Dammit, Cabrera. Why aren’t you picking up?
I couldn’t hold off reporting Elan’s disappearance to Reilly any longer. He was bound to find out anyway from Witness Protection if he hadn’t already been notified.
Man up, Abby.
I dialed his number.
Before I could say a word, Reilly blew up about Elan Ortega missing.
Too late.
“Look, I don’t know what you’ve heard, but let me tell you what I know.”
“Start talking.”
I gave him plenty of play-by-play of how I discovered Ortega’s disappearance, Cabrera’s absence, and their departure from the hotel.
“And you haven’t heard back since?”
“Nothing. Three calls so far.”
“What about the footage? I’m told you were looking into that.”
“I did. I’m walking back to the office as we speak. I can forward the email with screenshots and the video clip now if you want. It shows both of them getting into the elevator together and leaving the hotel. Nothing looks out of place or suspicious.”
“Forward it.”
I remained on the phone while he tried to download the footage. I kept a fast pace in case he couldn’t get it to work.
“Got it. I’m watching it… Any thoughts as to why Agent Cabrera would walk away with our witness?”
“No, sir. I, uh…”
“What is it, Abby? Tell me.”
“Well, this may or may not be something, but Cabrera did confide in me about wanting to find out the missing ingredient for MZ-1.”
“I’d say that’s something.”
“Reilly, he’s an agent with the DEA. He’s not some criminal.”
“Abby, we have a missing witness and video footage showing Agent Cabrera leaving with him. The fact that he mentioned an interest in a recipe for a drug that is responsible for killing close to thirty people in the last few days is all the cause I need. I’m issuing an APB for Cabrera. In the meantime, keep trying to reach him. Don’t let on that we’re officially looking for him.”
Reilly hung up before I could say anything. It pissed me off when he did that, but I knew better than to call back that time.
Pick your battles, Abby.
I couldn’t help but wonder if my relationship with Cabrera was screwing with my judgment. Still, my supervisor’s a-hole behavior didn’t help.
I opened the email that Compton had sent me, and I watched the video footage again, dissecting it for clues. Maybe I had missed something the first time around. Their movements, their actions—it all seemed normal. Could Cabrera really be trying to discover the missing ingredient? And if so, how long does it take before one stops asking and tries something else? I allowed those and other thoughts to stir the pot inside my cranium.
No sooner had I tucked my phone back into my purse than it started ringing. It was Cabrera calling.
“Hey, Abby.”
“Sheesh. Where the hell are you?”
“I’m on a boat, fishing—a treat to myself before heading back. Why? What’s wrong?”
“Wrong? You don’t return my calls. Elan is missing, and so were you… Dom, the FBI has an APB out on you.”
“Wait, you put out an APB on me?”
“There’s video footage of you two getting into the elevator together.”
“Yeah, we went out for breakfast. There’s a diner around the corner.”
“Is Elan with you?”
“No. After breakfast, I walked him back to the hotel.”
“To his room?”
Cabrera paused. “Sorry, I didn’t. I went to the porter’s desk to see if it was okay to pick up my bag in the evening.”
“Wait, you’re flying back to Bogotá tonight?”
“I meant to call you. My supervisor called this morning and said to get on the next flight. So I grabbed the latest flight possible, midnight, in hopes that we could fit dinner in. I know it’s not ideal, but duty calls. Plus I knew you had to work today, so I went fishing.”
See, I knew there was an explanation.
“Okay, but you gotta understand how this looks to my guys. Taking Elan out to breakfast, while nice, was a no-no.”
“So you put out an APB on me?”
“I didn’t. Reilly did.”
I explained the morning’s debacle.
“Well, I can see how it looked that way, I guess, but come on, Abby; you know me, right?”
“Which is why I waited as long as I could. In fact, Witness Protection clued him in before I even called Reilly. How soon can you get back?”
“I’m about an hour or so away. Look, I’m sorry I didn’t return your calls. I had my phone turned off and didn’t realize it.”
“Hurry, okay?”
Chapter 66
When I got back to the office, I dropped my stuff off at my desk and headed straight into Reilly’s office. He was behind his desk, staring at his laptop. His reading glasses teetered on the bony hump in his nose. He removed them and placed them on the desk before leaning back in his chair. “Have a seat.”
I wasn’t about to wait for him to attack. I went on the offensive. “Pulling the security detail was your call, a budget call. I agreed with it. It was one day, and there were no threats against his life that we knew of. It wasn’t our intent to solve the case for the DEA—just to consult, and we more than held up our end of the bargain.”
“Abby, I’m not concerned about the past or what we did or didn’t do or whether or not we followed protocol. I’m concerned about what you’re going to do to find our missing man.”
“Me? You make it sound like I screwed this up. I didn’t screw up anything. I want to find him as much as you do, but I don’t appreciate the insinuation that I’m responsible.”
Reilly held steady with his stare. So did I. Seconds felt like hours, but I wasn’t about to be strong-armed into admitting fault. I’d handled plenty of Reillys in my past.
He relaxed his posture. “I’m sorry if I came across that way.”
“No offense taken. We both want the same thing.”
I watched him adjust himself in his chair. Squirm was more like it. I could tell he knew he had crossed the line, but that was as much of an apology as I would receive.
“Thoughts on our next steps?”
“Agent Cabrera got back to me.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“He called after I got off the phone with you.” I went ahead and relayed what Cabrera had told me.
“Does he have anyone who can corroborate his story?”
I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. Reilly wasn’t letting up with Cabrera. It didn’t matter that he was a DEA agent or that we had worked the case together. He regarded him as a suspect.
“You know, Abby, what I’ve always admired about you was your keen sense to cut through the bullshit. You’re not one to let your emotions sway your ability to do your job.”
He was right. Truth be told, I, too, had that nagging feeling in my head that Cabrera’s actions weren’t adding up, but I had cut him some slack because of our relationship. I had to start viewing the facts objectively.
“Is there something going on between you two?”
Shit!
A multitude of answers ran through my head, but none was a standout.
Do I deny? Should I clue him in?
Before I could babble some sort of vague, safe non-answer, a knock at the door saved me. It was Cummings from Witness Protection.
“We got a hit on the cell number you gave us.”
Of course they did.
“I spoke with him not too long ago. He’s on his way back to port.”
“Port?”
“He said he rented a boat and was fishing up the coast.”
“Interesting. The number we got a hit on came from a warehouse in Hunter’s Point.”
Chapter 67
Elan Ortega choked on the cold water he had inhaled as he regained consciousness.
“Wake up!”
His head moved around frantically as he searched for the source of the voice. His breathing remained erratic, fueled by fear. His left eye was no good. It had swelled into two hamburger buns with a thin patty between them. It didn’t matter though, because the blinding spotlights directed at him prevented him from seeing much with his right eye in the darkened room. And what little he could see frightened him. Earlier, he watched a scalpel move slowly toward his thigh, but it was the drawn-out anticipation that really got him—the waiting period right before the pain. It was enough to drive a man to tears. It had.
Both Elan’s arms were tied behind the wooden chair he sat in. His shoulders no longer burned with pain, but instead, they throbbed with a spreading numbness. His mouth had finally stopped bleeding, but the metallic taste still lingered. Sweat seeped into the cuts on his arm and legs, but the burn had lost its effect. Not so for his fingers; he was still aware that each had its nail missing.
Up to that point, Elan had endured a great deal of punishment. He had no idea it would get worse.
“Elan…” the voice rang out again, echoing off the hollow shell of walls around him. Metal was his best guess, but he had stopped trying to determine where he was long ago.
“Do you know it’s possible to beat and torture a man until he develops a threshold to the pain? Yes, yes. I’ve seen it happen myself. In fact, I can tell that you are one of those men. I know what I’m doing to you doesn’t have the same effect it did earlier.”
Elan could hear his footsteps circling around him, the voice now behind him.
“But don’t worry, my friend. All is not lost. You see, there is a way to get around this little dilemma. It’s very simple. Want to hear it? Okay. I simply increase the pain. That’s it,” the voice said in amazement. “I take the pain to a higher level. And when you get used to that. I will increase it again. It’s an evil cycle.”
Elan heard a clap and the sound of two hands rubbing together.
“Tell me,” the voice said as the speaker got closer.
Elan could feel the other’s breathing against his own face. He tilted his head back and focused with his right eye. It had begun to swell, but not to the same degree as his left. He stared at the man that Agent Cabrera said didn’t exist, the man he referred to as a myth, made up to keep soldiers in line and to secure loyalties. How could this be? How could the man the locals called El Monstruo also be Agent Cabrera?
“I’ll never tell you.”
“I beg to differ.” Cabrera circled the shivering scientist like a shark would before striking its prey. “I remember being in the hotel with your wife. Adrianna was her name? She is, well was, a very pretty woman. Terrible thing to have happened.”
“Don’t you speak of her,” Elan spat through gritted teeth. “Don’t you dare!”
Cabrera grabbed the scalpel from the table next to him while he steadied Elan’s head with the other hand. He let out a scream as he fought to shake his head free, but Cabrera was too strong, and the sound of the blade scraping against his own skull was too much.
When Cabrera finished, he proudly proclaimed that the letter R was complete. “Only two left to complete the masterpiece.” M, O, N, S, T, and R had now been carved into Elan’s forehead. Cabrera was giddy, like a kid with his first art project. He even snapped a photo with his phone.
“You know, I can always reverse engineer the drug,” he told Elan. “A small sample still exists.”
“You’ll never succeed. It’ll take years at best. The combinations are in the millions.” Elan forced his voice to sound confident and even managed a chuckle.
“It’s funny to you, is it? You think you have all the power now because you hold the answer, right?”
“Tell me, how do you figure it differently? You kill me and for sure the recipe dies. I am in control. I can prove it.”
In a flash, Cabrera gripped Elan’s throat and squeezed it tightly. “Do not test me, or you will welcome death when I am through with you.”
When Cabrera let go, Elan sucked in deeply to catch his breath and exhaled in a coughing fit. As soon as he could catch his breath, he rattled off series of words, none of which Cabrera could understand since they were not in English or Spanish. Latin was his best guess.