The Wall, page 20
“Do we have a loudspeaker?” asked Luis. “I will speak to them.” Jadon handed him a loudspeaker. “People of Cordova, this is Luis Escárcega speaking. We are headed toward La Caridad in order to overthrow Cortázar’s dictatorship and build a new nation in its stead. Let us do so together, as one! José Moreno has already been executed, and Los Eternos destroyed. A Cordova where children can live in peace and prosperity is within reach. Why don’t we join forces to make our homeland a place where we won’t starve or be forced to flee?” he declaimed. The speech was so rousing, some of the Revolutionary Army soldiers were even weeping.
The farmers stopped working the land and listened. Children began waving at the revolutionaries.
“Please continue. This may just be working,” Jadon told Luis.
“Half a year ago, I was captured by Cortázar’s forces, but now I am free, and with my comrades. Cordova is not a country ruled by fear and poverty because that is all Cordova can be. The true Cordova is as beautiful as it is peaceful. It is as rich in culture as it is in resources. Let us fight, then. Let us fight together, so that we may shape the country into the Cordova we know in our hearts.”
A farmer was talking to the soldiers and ended up joining while he still had a hoe in hand. Other farmers would follow his example. By day’s end, they passed through ten or so towns and villages, their ranks expanding with each visit. When they made camp in the jungle, they had passed the five hundred mark.
“We’ll be fifteen hundred before we launch the attack on La Caridad. But that still won’t be enough to face off against the military,” said Tsutomu, eyeing a soldier who was sitting out of exhaustion.
“It’s still nothing to sneeze at. They’re here because they want to fight alongside Luis. The real problem is that we’re already out of guns to hand out.”
The majority of people they’d recruited were poorly dressed farmers. Jadon himself had to wonder whether they’d even meet the baseline for being able to fight at all, but he was trying not to think about it.
“For the lion’s share of them, this is the first they’ve held a gun. We don’t have the time to train them.”
“Not being able to fire straight is proof they were living in peace and harmony,” said Luis with Penelope beside him. “That is why they would flee Cordova before they would fight for it. To fight, you must steel yourself for sacrifices.”
And Cordovans killing each other doesn’t qualify as sacrifices? Jadon nearly said.
Luis’s strength was giving out, but he was pulling through by force of will, and with Penelope gallantly looking after his well-being.
In the War Room, there was a faint whiff of hope in the otherwise heavy air. That hope had been provided by Luis’s humility and forthrightness. Hearing from the man directly was quite the treat. His sincerity and strength of purpose could make a believer out of anyone.
On the other hand, he looked like such a reduced version of his former self that it was frankly shocking. They’d known what he looked like through photos, but the Luis they had seen a few minutes ago was emaciated, his cheeks hollow. He looked a decade older than he was. All that was left of his former visage was the glint of wisdom in his eyes.
Antonio went up to Billy. “Show me the video file of that chat with Luis again.”
“Nostalgic for Cordova, huh?”
“About ten minutes into the video, I saw a young soldier enter the tent and speak to Sebastian Loyola, the captain of the Revolutionary Army.”
Billy replayed the recording of the video conference call. Antonio leaned in so close his eyes were almost touching the screen.
“Around ten minutes have passed, my friend.”
“That’s the one. The short one in ACUs.”
Billy zoomed in where Antonio was pointing and increased the resolution. Antonio all but absorbed the man’s face through his eyeballs.
“It’s him. There’s no doubt about it. He raped my wife and the wife of my comrade and slit my daughter’s throat. He sliced off my fingers with the knife I used to try to stop him. I could never forget his face even if I wanted to. He’s the sickest bastard in the president’s elite guard,” seethed Antonio, as he clenched his fists. Tears streamed down his cheeks. “What is that man doing in the Revolutionary Army!?”
“Do you know his name?”
“Contreras. His mates called him Contreras. I’ll chase him into the bowels of hell if I have to. He may be young, but he’s a sergeant in the elite guard.”
Billy moved his mouse and clicked, clicked, clicked. He pulled up the War Room’s database. Then he put on a video of Cortázar at a ceremony with foreign ambassadors. Young men in white ceremonial uniforms were standing stock-still. “If Contreras is in there, let me know. This is the elite guard. You see them lined up behind Cortázar?”
Antonio pointed at one of them. A handsome young man was glaring at Cortázar, his expression beaming naked envy. “That’s him. I’m sure of it.”
In his military uniform, Contreras was a conspicuous ball of ambition. Billy put two photos side by side and ran some facial recognition software. “Oh, it’s him all right, 99.7 percent certainty. Honestly, though, who would’ve seen that coming? This guy, a government spy?” Billy proceeded to print out the two photos and the results of the analysis.
Billy and Antonio went to Stewart.
“There’s a Cordovan Army sergeant lurking in the Revolutionary Army. He’s probably leaking information about them to Cortázar’s men. Please notify Jadon as soon as humanly possible,” said Billy, showing Stewart the two photos. One was a screenshot of the relevant segment of the video conference call with Luis, the other was taken at the ceremony conducted by Cortázar. Each zoomed in on Contreras’s face.
Nick came and took a look, while Antonio told them about Contreras.
“And you’re sure?”
“I swear it on these fingers of mine. I have no doubt whatsoever.”
“No matter how close the results are to 100 percent, we can’t be sure going off just this video. Though they certainly look alike, I’ll give you that.”
“That’s why I looked into the matter a little more,” said Billy. “His name is Leandro Contreras, and he’s twenty-three years old. He joined the elite guard three years ago.”
“So you’re saying Contreras is a spy for Cortázar.”
“I’m just giving you the facts. Somebody else can make the decisions.”
“Get John.”
Stewart explained the Contreras situation to John, who listened intently while soaking in the photos.
“If he was a spy for Cortázar the whole time, he could have reported the location of the camp or even jammed the satellite phones.”
“If we’re wrong—”
“We’re not wrong. I swear it on the graves of my wife and daughter, and on these fingers!” he shouted tearfully.
“I’ll talk to Jadon.” Stewart took the photos from John.
When Stewart called, Jadon was just returning to the camp’s command center. Stewart relayed what Antonio had said and sent the photo of Contreras in elite guard uniform to his smartphone. That was Chad, no question.
“This guy is in a Revolutionary Army unit. He told us he’d fled Los Eternos. He’s an excellent soldier Sebastian’s taken a liking to.”
“He’s a twenty-three-year-old sergeant in Cortázar’s elite guard and a top dog among top dogs in the military. Has there been no sign of the enemy since the camp was attacked?”
“We got attacked just the one time. Ever since then, we’ve been on the move.”
“Where is Chad at the moment?”
“He’s out scouting the condition of the road to La Caridad. He should be back by midnight. Tomorrow morning, we’ll all be headed to the capital.”
“Does Chad know that?”
“Everyone in the camp knows. They’re making travel preparations as we speak.”
“You can deal with him at your discretion. We can’t afford mistakes.”
“Yes, sir.” Jadon hung up.
Come to think of it, Jadon thought, Chad had been more than capable of sabotaging them. There was the attack on the camp, not to mention the time his satellite phone stopped working, and the sudden severance of the communications link. Chad had followed Sebastian in and out of the command center quite a few times too.
Jadon summoned Bryan and Tsutomu. They were the only two he could fully trust. He filled them in.
“I’m not necessarily surprised, but I still don’t want to believe it,” said Tsutomu. “If that is the case, then I’m amazed we managed to make it this far since the camp got attacked.” He stood up with his gun in hand.
“Strengthen the camp’s security. Send out scouts to see if there are enemy troops on the move within a six-mile radius. Everyone else should get ready to fight,” ordered Jadon. “If Chad’s a spy, the enemy will attack tonight.”
Jadon was aware that by issuing those orders, he was just indulging in the comforting illusion of control. If the enemy attacked now, they wouldn’t have a chance in hell. He exited the tent to go see the commander of the revolutionaries, Sebastian.
They tripled the guard, but no government attack came.
In the dead of night, Sebastian entered Jadon’s tent. “Chad’s back. He says he didn’t spot any enemy troops.”
“And no one was following him?”
“I looked, but no, no one.”
“Where is Chad?”
“We have him under guard.”
Jadon and Tsutomu went to Sebastian’s tent. Chad was tied to a chair with his hands bound behind him.
From his swollen face, it looked like he had already taken a thrashing.
“Hello there, Contreras. You are Sergeant Contreras of the president’s elite guard, I take it,” said Jadon.
“Chad” lifted his head and stared at Jadon with pleading eyes.
“The military attacked our camp, burned it to the ground, and killed around half of the people there. And you’re the one who made that happen, aren’t you?”
He merely bit his lip.
“Do you know a man by the name of Antonio Alvarado? He was a revolutionary too. Still is, actually. And you raped and murdered his wife, before slitting his daughter’s throat. He himself lost an eye and a leg to you, plus three fingers from his right hand.”
He didn’t utter a sound. That settled it—this was Contreras.
Tsutomu stuck a gun to Contreras’s head. “If you’re the guy, I’m going to blow your head off.”
“And I won’t stop him,” said Jadon. “If it’s all true, you deserve to die. If you’ve got anything to say, this is your chance.”
“My real name is Leandro Contreras. I joined the president’s elite guard when I was eighteen. Elite guardsmen can’t disobey orders from above because they’re by definition orders from Cortázar. That’s what was drilled into our heads,” he said, choking occasionally as his voice quavered. “I was ordered to infiltrate the Revolutionary Army and leak information. And I did just that, at first. I told them your position and when the most soldiers would be away from camp.”
Sebastian struck Contreras, and he fell to the floor—chair and all. “That was for all the comrades who died. But that’s not going to cut it. This one’s for the injured!”
Contreras and his chair had been righted, only for Sebastian to slug him across the face. Once again, he crashed to the floor. The man’s eyes were swollen red and black from internal bleeding.
“I was in the elite guard, but that’s in the past. I don’t want to go back there. Though you’ll probably never believe me,” wheezed Contreras, as he slobbered bloody spit. “I was horrified when I saw the ruins of the camp the military assaulted. That wasn’t a battle, that was a slaughter. It was Cordovans murdering Cordovans. Plus . . . when I heard the professor and Captain Green speaking, I started to yearn for my true homeland too,” he continued, looking at Sebastian with beseeching eyes.
Sebastian was trembling slightly.
“I haven’t contacted the military since we started heading to La Caridad. Living with you changed my mind. It made me want to build a better Cordova too. I love my homeland. But I didn’t have a choice. My mother is in La Carid—”
A gunshot. Sebastian pulled the trigger a second time. Another flash.
“So many of my comrades in arms because of this little bastard. I just gave him what was coming to him. No one will mourn his death!” he shouted, staring at what used to be Contreras as tears welled in his eyes.
The man standing behind Sebastian stepped forward and pointed his gun at Contreras. “Antonio’s my cousin. Let me avenge him and his wife and daughter.” He emptied his gun into Contreras’s body.
Jadon simply watched as “Chad” was transformed into a bloody pile of flesh and bones. Before they knew it, groups of revolutionaries were crowding around them.
■ ■ ■
The airport lobby was visible on the computer screen. A photo of Jadon’s face was posted on the frame.
“Jadon’s last sighting was at Van Nuys, ten days ago at eight o’clock in the morning. I double-checked using facial recognition software. He was walking through the lobby with his duffel bags,” Adán told Vanessa.
“If you’ve looked into it that closely, you can inquire with the airline as to his destination.”
“That’s where the trail goes cold. He didn’t buy a ticket with any airline. He didn’t even go up to any of the counters and never went through a boarding gate. In other words—”
“He took a private jet.”
“There were three private jets out of Van Nuys that day. I checked all three, but the lead with the most potential is John Olson’s.”
“John Olson, as in the PathNet guy?”
“That’s the one.”
“Where’d that jet go?”
“To Basin Sands Airport. It’s in the Nevada desert.”
“The headquarters of PathNet is in San Jose. That’s five hundred miles away. He could be starting up a new business, I suppose. Or maybe he’s growing a cacti garden out there. If he’s going into the tequila business, then count me interested.”
“Shall we make a trip?”
“If the boss clears it, sure,” said Vanessa, while typing on the keyboard. A satellite image of the Nevada desert appeared on the screen.
“There aren’t many buildings near that airport. There’s a gas station and an abandoned hotel.” She zoomed into the area around the hotel. Adán peered over her shoulder. “Looks ordinary to me. That being said . . . look at those. Are those tire tracks? At the very least, we know a bunch of cars have come and gone around there in the past few days.”
“But there are no cars in the image,” said Adán. “Could it be an underground parking lot?”
Vanessa dragged the photo, tracing the tire tracks. They all disappeared into the hotel. “Look into how much water and electricity this hotel uses.”
“The answer to both seems to be zero. The building doesn’t have any electricity or running water. They must be using a generator for the power and either stored water or a used water truck.”
“That is, if people are even in there,” said Vanessa.
Adán moved the cursor. “I’ll pull up satellite images of the hotel from the past few days.” He typed for a moment, and images of black cars entering and leaving the hotel appeared. There was an underground parking lot all right. “These are cars from the past ten days. Large transport vehicles can also be seen driving through there over the past six months. Most are with companies affiliated with PathNet.”
“I’m curious to know what’s inside that hotel,” said Vanessa.
“There’s no way to look inside from here. Do we send an investigator? Or can we go ourselves?”
Vanessa mulled it over. “From here on out, we’re really putting our careers on the line. John Olson’s a big shot, to say the least, and he’s also friends with the president. But he’s not just his friend. He’s his billionaire friend. He could flick gnats like us away with his pinky finger if he wanted to.”
“Well, if we’re going to get flicked away, let it be by the pinky finger of a billionaire,” said Adán. “We’ll be able to brag about it one day.”
“You’re right. It’s the big shots we need to be looking into.” Vanessa nodded and stood up. “You book the flight and the rental car. I’ll talk it over with the boss.”
“There are no regular flights to Basin Sands Airport. We’ll fly to LA and rent a car from there . . .”
Vanessa just shrugged and left. Adán squinted into the screen and typed.
Ten minutes later, she was back with Deputy Director Douglas Fellure, who looked at Adán’s computer screen.
“Is Jadon in that hotel? With John Olson?”
Adán didn’t answer; he stared into the display.
“Did you find something new?”
“I think it’s safe to assume Jadon left the hotel some time ago. A helicopter landed on the hotel’s roof a week ago, and Jadon boarded that copter. There is no proof he came back either. As for his destination . . .” But Adán stopped there.
Doug’s eyes screamed spit it out.
“. . . It’s Cordova, sir. My hunch is that he went to Cordova.”
“But Jadon’s the Border Butcher. If the citizens of that country ever laid eyes on him, they’d beat him to a pulp and hang him. Many of the people who died during the Tragedy were friends and relatives of Cordovans.”
“Ever since a week ago, Cordova has been undergoing a sea change,” said Vanessa. “Battles between the government and the cartel have erupted since Jadon went missing. And something’s behind it all.”
“I’ll go with you,” said Doug. “We’ll go to Reagan National, where an FBI plane will be waiting to take us to an airport in Nevada. Then we’ll take choppers to the desert hotel.”
“But preparations—”
“Can be made on the plane. It’s got better computers than here, so access won’t be a problem.”
“Will you report to the director?” asked Adán.
Doug gave it some thought. “Let’s keep this a secret for now. Everything is speculation. We’ll tell him when we’ve got a smoking gun.” Doug told them not to be late and left.
