deal with the hotel’s unsecure Wi-Fi. He opened Signal, a commercially available end-to-end encryption app that he and Dombroski had started using when he was on sensitive overseas assignments. In the old days you needed specialized equipment to communicate securely, and this equipment was physically located in the U.S. Embassy of whatever country you were in. Now, on any smartphone, you could download a free app that offered encryption that even the National Security Agency couldn’t crack. At least, that’s what the NSA wanted you to believe.
He called Dombroski, who picked up after two rings.
“Mr. Brodie. How’s the Paris of South America?”
“I think that’s Buenos Aires.”
“Right. Are you alone?”
“I am.”
“I received a call from Colonel Worley confirming that you met at the hotel.”
“Correct.”
“He told me about your drive from the airport.”
“No big deal.”
“Try not to kill anyone or get yourself killed. You have a job to do.”
“Yes, sir.” Brodie sat on a deck chair, picked up his glass, and took a swig.
“Worley said you were inquiring about prostitutes.”
“Did he also tell you he’s an expert on the subject?”
Dombroski laughed. “He didn’t. But you’re going to tell me why you asked him.”
“Well, as it turns out, my and Ms. Taylor’s idea to re-interview Al Simpson paid off.” Aren’t you proud of me, Colonel? Brodie continued, “Simpson did not see Mercer in the Marriott hotel bar. He confessed that he saw Mercer in a brothel.”
Dombroski stayed silent a moment, then said, “Shoulda figured that.”
“Simpson gave me a general description of the brothel, and a possible location. So I asked Worley about hookers and brothels, and he put me on to a guy named Raúl.”
“Good detective work. And have you spoken to… what’s his name?”
“Raúl. Ms. Taylor and I met him, and he suggested that what we were looking for was in an unsavory quarter of Caracas called Petare.” Brodie added, “This fits Simpson’s description of his drive to the brothel.”
“That’s good. Do you think Mercer frequents this brothel?”
“Simpson said he looked very at ease there. Like he was… maybe more than a customer.”
“Okay. How come you’re not there now?”
“We’re going tomorrow.”
“That’s not like you, Brodie.”
“It’s a very… dangerous part of the city. Controlled by organized gangs. We decided to recon it in the daylight.”
Dombroski stayed silent, then said, “You caught some good breaks. You could have wrapped it up tonight and been home tomorrow.”
After seventeen years in the Army, Brodie was used to the military’s can-do culture—we do the difficult today, the impossible tomorrow. And he bought into most of it. But not all of it. He’d seen too many men get killed in Iraq who’d be alive today if they and their officers had been a little more cautious, and a little less macho.
“Brodie?”
“Tomorrow.” He added, “I’m under the influence tonight.”
“Taylor going with you?”
“We’ll see.”
“That’s your call.”
“And her call.”
“How’s she doing?”
“Fine. Let’s return to the subject of hookers.”
“Okay.”
“You should know that this brothel that Simpson was in specializes in underage girls.” He added, “Child prostitutes.”
Dombroski had no reply.
“So we’ve got a problem with this witness if we need him on the stand.”
“Don’t think too far ahead, Brodie. Let the JAG people worry about that. You just need to apprehend Kyle Mercer and get him into this jurisdiction.”
“I know that.”
“And do not interrogate him. If you do, his lawyer will say he was questioned without an attorney—”
“I know that too.”
“Don’t ask him anything except his name, rank, and service number. Then read him his rights with a witness present—Taylor—and make a note that he understood. Then tape his mouth shut and put a sack over his head.”
“When do I kick him in the nuts?”
Dombroski ignored that and continued, “Worley said he gave you a kit.”
“Right. No duct tape and no sack.”
“Buy what you need, and spend whatever you need to buy information, bribe who’s got to be bribed. There’s no budget on this case.”
“Good. I’m running up a big bar bill.” Brodie asked, “Did you speak to Worley about getting transportation out of here?”
“I did. Not a problem.”
“So he said. Any details?”
“He’ll fill you in when the time comes. How’s the weather down there?”
“Hot and humid.”
“Nice here. Cooled down.”
“Colonel, does it bother you that we don’t know why a Delta Force officer deserted?”
“It bothers me that he deserted, and that he disgraced his uniform and his country.”
“Right, but—”
“As for why he did that, you can be sure he’ll come up with some bullshit at his court-martial. Meanwhile, I don’t care, and neither should you. You are not his lawyer, his priest, his