“Everything is negotiable. When you brief me, we’ll negotiate.” He asked, “Where are you? And when can we meet?”
Brodie replied, “I’m lost in the woods. We can meet tomorrow.”
“Tonight.”
Brodie ignored that and said, “Look, there might be some heat on us. So we’re lying low for a while.”
“What kind of heat?”
“Well… unfortunately, when we got to the brothel, a shoot-out started, and—”
“A shoot-out?”
“Right. And two or three regime guys got hit, and some other people, and, you know, everyone blames everything on the Americans, so—”
“What the hell happened? Did you kill anyone? What the—?”
“Just giving you a heads-up, Brendan, in case you hear about this from an unreliable source.”
“For God’s sake, man, did you kill anyone?”
“ ‘Kill’ is an ugly word.”
Brodie listened to Worley taking a deep breath; then Worley said in a controlled voice, “Destroy your fake passports, and put the sat phone, the Glocks, and everything else I gave you in the briefcase and leave it in a safe deposit box at your hotel. Someone will retrieve everything tonight or tomorrow.” He added, “We have an understanding with the hotel.”
“Okay.” But Brodie had no intention of leaving anything at the hotel for Worley to reclaim. Especially the Glocks.
“I strongly suggest that you and your colleague take the first available flight out of Caracas tonight. Tomorrow morning latest.”
Brodie didn’t think anyone at the Hen House could possibly ID him or Taylor—and anyone who could was dead. There was, however, the security camera. Also, the colectivo guy who’d roughed up Luis had probably checked out his ID and maybe taken it or passed it on to someone before Brodie clipped him. And maybe somebody’d got the license plate of Luis’ rental car. The police might not be quite up to U.S. standards, but SEBIN might be competent, and it was possible that they would be motivated to find whoever whacked the regime guys. All the other corpses were just collateral damage.
“Brodie?”
“I’ll call Quantico and get back to you.”
“I am the power and the authority here on matters—”
“We’ve already been through this. Do not impede a criminal investigation.”
“You have become the criminals.”
“Interesting point. Okay, see you tomorrow. Bring the family visas.”
“Tonight. Meet me at the embassy.”
“You’re breaking up. Hello? Brendan?”
“I’m here.”
“I think our satellite is over China. Call later.” He hung up and tossed the sat phone back in the glove compartment. “Can’t rely on these things.” He said to Taylor, “He wants us to leave the country, ASAP.”
“I got that.”
“He also wants us to meet him tonight at the embassy.”
“I got that too.” She asked, “Why not?”
“I’ll think about it.”
“We might still need him for something.”
“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”
“Unless you’ve already burned the bridge.” She added, “You should call him back. Or I can.”
“He’s recording everything, and I’ve said enough.”
“Maybe he can help us get to this area where Mercer is.”
“We can make our own travel arrangements.”
“Two questions, Brodie. Do you trust the hooker who gave you this information? And do you trust Brendan Worley?”
“I’ve gotten fucked more times by Intel guys than by hookers.”
Taylor had no reply to that, and said, “We should get moving.”
“Right.”
Luis had finished his business and was lingering behind the car, and Brodie indicated to Luis he could return. Luis climbed into the back seat, and Taylor started the car and pulled back onto the road. Brodie directed her to the turnoff, which she took north through the winding hillside roads toward the mountains.
Brodie asked Luis, “Did the colectivo guy get your ID?”
“Sí. My driver license.”
Which would be found on the guy’s dead body. Luis should have retrieved it, but Luis was not thinking about that. Brodie told him, “Go first thing tomorrow to the embassy with your family and with your passports, and ask the consulate for Mr. Worley, who will expedite your visas and put you into an embassy car to the airport. You will fly to Washington, DC, and call a number that I will give you and ask for Colonel Dombroski, who will take care of you and your family.”
Luis stayed silent for a while, then said, “Gracias.”
Taylor added, “This is thanks for all you’ve done for us.”
And, thought Brodie, to keep you out of a SEBIN interrogation cell where they’ll torture you for info about what happened at the Hen House. When you leave corpses behind, you leave a blood trail that even idiots can follow. In that respect, Worley was right—he and Taylor should also get out of