Spain's National Intelligence Centre (CNI)
- And you're working under your identity as an agent? - Diego Vargas, a CNI agent, asked Agent Isabel Robles from his mobile phone over a secure communication line.
- No, Diego - he heard from the other end. - I'm in Latin America on a special visa.
He fell silent as he suppressed the shudder that tightened his stomach. Because yes, he had been working for the Spanish intelligence services since he was twenty-two and he still hated it whenever he had to operate under his real identity. What was the point? Was it fucking worth it?
Diego looked at the folder he was holding.
- Listen, they've just assigned me to look after an American - his eyes settled on the name: Leon S. Kennedy. - Aren't you the liaison officer with the CIA? Tell me why the fuck I'm the one who has to look after an American.
This time, it was Isabel who remained silent longer than expected.
- Well, I'm involved in a case dealing with... - she seemed to hesitate for a brief moment over whether she should share that information with him. But they had known each other for many years and had learned to trust each other's professionalism. - Diego, I've been assigned to an operation in the middle of a human-trafficking network. Aren't you the specialist in organized crime and human trafficking?
‹‹What the fuck?››
Something smelled wrong. Diego tightened his hand around the phone and held his breath as his entire career seemed to race through him at a frantic speed, allowing that inner voice of his, the one he hated, to whisper:
They're using you as a useful idiot again. Just like in the Martínez Corbalán case, they assigned Leon S. Kennedy to you so they can watch you fall...
Why were they making the specialist in trafficking networks babysit an American while the CIA liaison officer was being sent to follow organized-crime trails in Latin America?
Something smelled wrong...
- Fine. - he conceded.
Although not really, because in the end, Diego was Diego and he liked taking risks.
- Tell me something... That operation of yours... does it have anything to do with shell companies?
- Diego...
- I'm not asking you for the case file. I'm asking whether it smells like clean money coming in through a dirty door.
She took a deep breath on the other end.
- Doesn't it always? Yes. And it also smells like dirty money being laundered through foundations and NGOs. Businessmen and mafias. You know... the usual.
Diego felt something settle badly in his chest.
- Mexico? Cancún? Nightclubs? Former SIDE?
Now his colleague released the breath she had been holding.
- See? You should've been assigned this operation. You could move the right pieces with your eyes closed. Your instincts never fail you with this kind of thing.
He clenched his teeth as frustration left a bitter taste in his mouth. It wasn't because his instincts never failed him, but because of experience. With nineteen years between CESID and the CNI, many of them spent dealing with criminal networks linked to human trafficking, he could almost call himself an expert. Not to mention that his first infiltration job had been inside that deeply painful world.
- Fine, Isa. - he conceded, this time for good. He didn't want to remember the things he had seen and experienced at only twenty-two, when he had stepped into the role of a stripper in a nightclub to bring down Martínez Corbalán's sexual empire.
- We'd better end this conversation or we're going to share too much classified information. You know I'm available to you at any hour. Just give me a call and I'll be there.
- Thanks, Diego. Same goes for you. Call me for whatever you need, I can give you a piece of advice or two about American agents.
And she ended the call.
Diego took a deep breath and raised his chin. He didn't know why, but for several seconds he remained staring at the gray details of the ceiling above his head. Then he let the air out slowly, tightened his fingers a little more around the folder and finally lowered his gaze toward the American's name.
Leon S. Kennedy.
Two weeks earlier, he had been assigned the Alcántara Pharma case as a possible corporate fraud scheme with an organized-crime structure. Up to that point, there had been nothing particularly strange about it. Maybe the fact that they had chosen him, since he usually worked better undercover, but he could understand why they would want an experienced agent when dealing with a company that had such strong ties to the Spanish State, because to Spain, Alcántara Pharma was more than simply a publicly traded corporation of enormous international prestige. By now, there was an institutional dependency between the company, the regional government, and the State that sustained thousands of domestic jobs, all of which could be affected if he did, in fact, manage to uncover an active corruption network. For that reason alone, Diego understood why they had put him on the investigation, but not why the fuck they had dragged the United States into all this as well.
Although around sixty-five percent of the pharmaceutical company's capital belonged to the Harrington-Alcántara family, and the rest was divided among private shareholders, Spanish institutional investors, and several influential insiders, there was nothing connecting it to the United States.
But here it was.
‹‹Come on, a French spy would make more sense...››
Diego smiled ironically. Not everything in this world had to be about espionage, loyalties, and betrayals, no matter how much it sometimes seemed that way to him.
‹‹But what the fuck are you doing here, gringo? Why do I have your fucking name in a folder assigning me to look after you?››
An hour earlier, when he arrived at his office, he had found the folder in question sitting on his desk. There it was, all alone, with a shiny handwritten note (in the handwriting of Jess, Rodríguez's secretary, his boss) warning that Rodríguez expected him in his office first thing in the morning. The mere fact that she had left it for him in such an informal way annoyed him. It was 2009; a phone call, a text message, even an email would have been much more appropriate if they wanted him there "first thing." Now he was already running late...
Diego left his office and headed toward his boss's. As he crossed the long corridor of the operations section and made his way toward the upper floor where Rodríguez was located, he couldn't stop thinking that the United States didn't show up in small cases. If an American agent was crossing the Atlantic, there had to be something beyond Spanish jurisdiction, like terrorism, national security, directly compromised American interests, or some other shit even worse... things about which, until that moment, he had found absolutely nothing.
‹‹Enough. Yesterday I escalated my report to Rodríguez and today I've got the fucking gringo under my protection... It's causal. One plus one... does it equal two?››
Rodríguez was the head of the Special Operations Group, so his office stood out from the rest, since it wasn't just another office among operational officers like Diego's, but one of those that occupied several square meters and sat apart from the others. Without thinking, Diego pushed through the heavy door with opaque glass and, upon entering, found himself facing his boss's wide, orderly desk, with Rodríguez seated behind it, calmly reading reports beside a cup of coffee that still released a faint trail of steam.
Rodríguez looked up at such insolence and Diego cursed himself internally for having acted on autopilot.
- Good morning, boss - he said. Then he closed the door again in his own face only to knock immediately afterward. It was a stupid way to apologize, he knew, but he wanted Rodríguez to understand that it hadn't been defiance, just sheer stupidity on his part because his head was buried in the case instead of his manners.
- You've already interrupted me insolently, Vargas - Rodríguez said from inside. - Stop being ridiculous and get in here.
Diego entered with his dignity firmly intact and quickly observed the desktop computer screen sitting idle, the locked filing cabinets, and the side wall, where Rodríguez usually arranged operational charts, completely empty. On the whiteboard, however, he noticed the red trace of a name written in marker and poorly erased. At first glance, it didn't look as though he had interrupted anything important, only his boss's breakfast.
‹‹Which I hope isn't too important...››
Either way, he managed to read "Robaina" on the whiteboard.
And memorized it.
Rodríguez cleared his throat, forcing him to return his attention in that direction. Diego quickly apologized:
- Sorry. You know I didn't mean to...
- Yes, yes. You're here pissed off about the American. I was expecting you.
Diego nodded.
There was no point pretending. They had known each other for almost a decade and Rodríguez was the second boss he had had to deal with. The first... well, he wasn't going to devote a single second of his thoughts to the first one.
- You've just handed me a problem with a diplomatic passport. - he told him, controlling his tone as much as he could. - Care to explain what I'm doing looking after an American?
- What you're ordered to do, Vargas. An exciting novelty, I know. - Rodríguez fixed his gaze on him.
His boss was an experienced man, ten years older than him and with an enviable résumé in diplomacy and politics. Like Diego, Rodríguez had been trained by the generation of Spanish spies from the old CESID, the predecessor to the CNI, created after Franco's dictatorship. That translated into a class of veteran agents with a more military imprint, more barracks experience than modern intelligence culture. From the beginning, that had made working together easier for both of them, because they established a clear objective and went after it. And afterward, they had basically made their way together into the modern world of the Centre.
- I was under the impression that I was investigating the possibility that Alcántara Pharma was operating as an organized-crime structure protected by Spanish institutional interests. When did the United States become involved in all this?
- After your preliminary findings. - his boss replied with such casualness that it irritated him, but Diego said nothing. He remained standing and silent, watching him.
- I think it's clear we have corporate fraud, Vargas. You presented the evidence yesterday.
- I still don't understand what the United States is doing here...
- Orders from above.
The thing was, Rodríguez was a boss with intelligence, common sense, and sarcasm to spare. However, he was much more flexible when it came to dealing with what Diego would call "corruption." Look, Diego wasn't a hypocrite. He was also an expert at walking through gray areas, but he did it while generating far too much institutional friction. Rodríguez, on the other hand, avoided those same frictions by being a first-rate ass-kisser with whichever politicians happened to be in power. And that was the part that, more than once, had brought the two of them into conflict... like right now... Diego's instincts told him Rodríguez was kissing the ass of some powerful gringo and dragging him in to play bloodhound... and, as far as he knew, his training hadn't included babysitting foreigners.
- That American is coming with authorization from very high up, Vargas. - he heard his boss insist. - You treat him like royalty.
- Ours or theirs?
- Whichever one gets you to shut your mouth faster. - Rodríguez snapped, then added almost immediately. - This Friday you'll go to Barajas Airport to pick him up.
- Tomorrow? "This Friday" is tomorrow.
His boss didn't even bother correcting himself. He simply continued.
- From there, you'll go straight to Alcántara Pharma.
Diego let out a dry laugh.
- Want me to bring a little sign with his name on it too? I can do that.
- Now that you mention it, yes.
Diego stared at him, not quite believing it, but when Rodríguez didn't even blink and instead smiled maliciously... that was when he knew his boss was going to get revenge for his earlier impertinence.
- That was sarcasm, boss... I'm not doing it.
- What a shame, because it's going to look lovely on you - Rodríguez replied. - I expect nothing less than that sign. And I'm not joking.
- I don't believe you.
- Believe it. And send me a picture.
Then he opened a drawer in his desk, took out another folder, and tossed it toward him. Diego caught it.
- And one more thing. From now on, Alonso isn't just another employee at Alcántara Pharma. She's under CNI protection.
- What does that mean? Should I wear a sign announcing my real identity and that I'm with the Centre too?
- It means she's a Spanish citizen connected to a sensitive investigation inside a strategic company. If the Americans want to talk to her, you go through you. If Alcántara tries to pressure her, you go through you. If somebody tries to take her off the board, guess what?
- I step in.
Rodríguez paused briefly.
- And yes. You introduce yourself with your first and last name. You tell her you're CNI. Let's see if we can recruit someone on the inside. Having the researcher in charge of the trial on our side would be useful. It would save us questions and problems.
Diego simply nodded.
- Fine. I'll do what you ask.
- Fine?
- Yes, boss. - he corrected himself.
- That folder is an operational protection and intervention profile - Rodríguez said, no longer looking at him as he took a sip of coffee. - I imagine you've already obtained some of that information over the last few days. That she's Argentine, naturalized in Spain, a physician specializing in virology and also in the field of sleep.
Diego skimmed through it and, from what he could see, yes, he already knew most of it. He nodded.
- Did you know she's in a romantic relationship with shareholder Sebastian Harrington-Alcántara? - Rodríguez asked.
- One of the first things people told me in the corridors. But I think it's in the past.
- Doesn't matter. What we need to know is whether that makes her more guilty or less. What do you think?
- Who she sleeps with is none of my business.
- It wasn't, Vargas.
Diego nodded. Rodríguez added:
- Apparently, Dr. Alonso has Sebastian Harrington-Alcántara's direct protection inside a pharmaceutical company that's being investigated for corruption. I understand he was the one who intervened in her hiring and later promotion in 2006. She's in there because Harrington-Alcántara handpicked her.
He paused, looked at him mockingly, and added:
- Or because of her talents between the sheets. They say she's very sensual.
He chuckled under his breath, as though he had just made a brilliant observation.
- Maybe you're reducing her a bit too much - Diego corrected him.
- Oh, am I?
- Yes. She's an outstanding professional. I've been able to verify that over the last few days. The research she's conducting... Fuck... It's brilliant.
Rodríguez looked up, arched an eyebrow, and smiled.
- They also say she's a very beautiful woman.
- And what does that have to do with the way you're looking at me?
Rodríguez burst into genuine laughter.
- I've rarely seen you get this defensive this quickly, Vargas. Only when you know you're guilty and decide to start by hiding it from me.
- Guilty of what? - Diego shrugged with disinterest. - Dr. Alonso is a beautiful woman. Yes. So what? I see beautiful women every day. She's not the first and she won't be the last. Besides, obviously I can't compromise an operation that way. And I won't. I'm not interested in that kind of complication.
- Right. Curious, because you did go to the trouble of requesting a report on her research and memorizing it as though you were about to defend a dissertation.
- You never know what information might prove useful.
- Very diligent.
- Besides, the geniuses in our scientific division helped me understand it - Diego added dryly. - That's what they're there for.
- No, no, mate. That's what analysts are for. You did it because you wanted to impress her.
Diego didn't take the bait. He wasn't going to argue about stupid things. Rodríguez smiled a little more.
- And look, I don't mind. Quite the opposite. Congratulations. After all, I want her as a CNI informant. So you figure out how you're going to earn her trust... but you will. Whatever it takes. You have free rein to take whatever path you choose...
Diego read the intentions on his boss's face before Rodríguez even finished the sentence. His jaw tightened, but he didn't open his mouth.
Before his divorce, nobody allowed themselves to say that kind of bullshit to him. Nobody suggested that sleeping with a person under investigation might become part of his job in order to facilitate access to information. Besides, he felt slightly insulted. Why the hell would he need to sleep with her to get all kinds of information out of her? He was very good at his job. He didn't need to take anyone to bed to make them spill everything.
- Fine, don't get pissed off - Rodríguez continued, needling him in response to his silence. - It's just that I worry about you.
‹‹Yeah, right. Asshole››
Rodríguez lowered his gaze toward the papers on his desk, although he didn't quite manage to erase the wicked little smile from his lips.
- Since you haven't made anything official with anyone since your divorce, I thought maybe it would do you some good to have a bit of fun with an attractive researcher.
Diego didn't bother hiding his annoyance as he stared at him. His boss looked back at him, this time with less mockery and more edge, and said:
- You're getting awfully precious for someone who's done far worse things in Spain's name than seducing a beautiful woman.
Diego's expression hardened.
- Precisely because of that.
The silence between them grew heavier.
‹‹Asshole. It's also obvious you've just diverted the subject away from the American in the stupidest possible way, but I'm not going to say anything. You win, I'll swallow my pride. God forbid you ask me to escort him all the way to the hotel too and provide housekeeping services or play the whore on duty››
Rodríguez drank the last sip from his cup, unaware of just how pissed off Diego was, and concluded:
- Perfect. Then what needs to be absolutely clear is that Alonso is a Spanish scientist, technically essential, close to Sebastian Harrington-Alcántara, vulnerable to corporate pressure, and a potential witness. And that now you have to protect her using your trade. Is that clear?
- Crystal clear.