They walked onto a wide, flat beach surrounding a cove. At the far end of the cove was the marina, where rows of gleaming pleasure boats of all sizes sat at anchor.
It was a hot day, but the air was significantly cooler here by the water than in the city. Brodie observed the beachgoers who were sipping drinks on recliners under palm-thatched huts or wading in the cove’s shallow waters. A handsome couple walked past them, hand in hand, toward an outdoor café on an elevated deck overlooking the water. Maybe money couldn’t buy happiness, but it could buy this, and this looked pretty good.
They found Worley sitting in a beach chair in the shade of a thatched hut, sipping a dark drink out of a tall glass, watching the ocean. He’d swapped his dirty slacks and beat-up loafers for a pair of wrinkled shorts and plastic flip-flops. He wore a Tommy Bahama T-shirt.
Worley looked at them through a pair of aviator sunglasses as they sat down in adjacent chairs. “How’s married life?”
“Unconsummated,” replied Brodie.
Worley laughed.
Taylor ignored that as she looked around and asked, “Is this place secure?”
Worley assured them, “The employees are paid to hear only what you want them to hear, and to remember only your drink order.”
Brodie asked, “What about the guests?”
“All anti-government. Regime people are not welcome here.”
A young female club attendant in a white collared shirt and short white skirt came by to take drink orders. Worley ordered three Venezuela Libres—whatever that was—before downing the rest of the drink he was working on and handing her the empty glass. She smiled and walked away.
Brodie got down to business. “We’re fairly sure we found the brothel.”
“I’m glad Raúl was helpful.”
“We’re planning to make the arrest tonight.”
“I’m sure Captain Mercer will have other plans.” He added, “I don’t think a fugitive would hang around a place where he was spotted.”
“We’ll see.”
“Actually, he may be waiting for you.”
“I hope so.”
Worley looked at him. “Be careful what you wish for.”
Brodie asked, “Do you know anything about MBR-200?”
“What is that? A new workout plan? Breakthrough boner pill?”
Brodie had a feeling that Brendan Worley was feigning ignorance, which was probably his specialty. “It’s a gang in Petare. They run the brothel.”
Worley shook his head. “Gangs rise and fall by the hour up there. I don’t keep track.”
“Right. What we need from you—”
“I hope you’re not going to ask for backup. The embassy can’t get involved in extrajudicial—”
“I need a plane, Colonel. Ms. Taylor and I will take care of the rest.”
Worley nodded. “All right… There is an abandoned airstrip we use ten kilometers southwest of Caracas. A chartered aircraft will take off from Francisco de Miranda Airport and fly a holding pattern over the airstrip. I will give you the sat phone number of the pilot, and when you are at the airstrip with your prize, you will call him with your sat phone and he will swoop down and pick you up.”
Brodie and Taylor exchanged glances; then Taylor asked, “What kind of aircraft? And where are we being flown to?”
Worley replied, “The aircraft we use is a single-engine Otter, good for short takeoffs and landing on shit airstrips. It has an external sat phone antenna, so the pilot is able to receive your call. The Otter seats seven or eight if you want to kidnap anyone else.”
Brodie had the impression that Worley had used that line before.
Worley continued, “As for your destination, that is not for me to know, but we can assume it is an American military installation in Panama or Gitmo. And then home.”
Brodie nodded, and it occurred to him that he and Taylor might be relieved of their suspect in Panama or Guantánamo. In fact, that was probably the plan, and that didn’t give him much time to interrogate the hog-tied Captain Mercer.
Taylor asked, “How do we find the airstrip, and what is the pilot’s sat phone number?”
Worley looked at her. “When or if you make the arrest, you’ll call me and I will give you that information, then I will call the pilot who will be on standby at Francisco de Miranda Airport, and all the moving pieces will come together at the airstrip.”
Brodie pointed out, “The only reason we’re sitting here with you is because you didn’t want to talk over the phone.”
“It’s not the only reason. I enjoy your company.”
Taylor said, “Please give us the pilot’s number and the location of the airstrip.” She added, “Now.”