everything she had been through in the previous few days, Nina felt extremely relaxed the following morning.
That said, it proved impossible for her not to feel a resurgence of nerves at a meeting in Interpol’s Caracas offices. The events at the Clubhouse were discussed, inevitably bringing back memories of her incarceration and torture by Stikes. Eddie noticed her tensing up and put a reassuring arm round her. But the mercenary was not the primary topic, nor even his late employer.
As well as Kit, several other Interpol officers were attending the meeting, along with a number of Venezuelan officials and a diplomat from the Colombian embassy, who had flown in with a representative of the US Drug Enforcement Administration: a craggy-faced man called Joe Baker. On a wallmounted screen was a still frame from de Quesada’s incriminating DVD, the drug lord frozen as he shook hands with Callas.
‘This man is called Francisco de Quesada,’ explained Baker, pointing at the screen. ‘Colombian drug lord, with an estimated personal fortune of over half a billion dollars. Most of the world’s cocaine is made from coca plants grown in Peru; after the Colombian government, with the DEA’s help as part of Plan Colombia, cracked down on production in Colombia itself, the drug lords switched to Peru as a manufacturing base. De Quesada controls most of the supply routes from Peru through the Colombian jungle into Venezuela, from where the cocaine is shipped to other countries.’
Eddie had a question. ‘If the Colombians cracked down, why don’t they just arrest this guy?’
The Colombian official answered, his air of annoyance suggesting this was a political sore point. ‘He has the best lawyers money can buy. American lawyers. Every time we have tried to bring de Quesada to trial, they got him off.’
‘Ah,’ said Nina scathingly. ‘An export Uncle Sam can be really proud of.’
Baker jerked a thumb at the screen. ‘We got him now, though. That DVD you recovered puts de Quesada square in the frame. He’s confessing on camera to high-end involvement in the international narcotics trade. Right now, the Colombians are putting a case together, and this time it doesn’t matter how many lawyers he hires or who he tries to pay off or threaten. With evidence like that, he’s going down.’
‘Won’t he just flee the country?’
‘He can try, Dr Wilde, he can try. But he’ll have one hell of a job even fleeing his house. He’s got a place on Colombia’s Caribbean coast, and we’re watching the only road, we got ships offshore, we got satellite surveillance . . . he ain’t going anywhere. And as soon as our Colombian friends get all the right names on the dotted lines, we’re gonna go in and get him.’ He nodded towards one of the Interpol agents, a man Nina and Eddie had met before; Walther Probst, a tactical liaison officer. ‘We’ll have a SWAT team made up of DEA, Interpol and Colombian forces. We’ll bag him.’
‘But,’ said Kit, standing to address the room, ‘he also has the treasures that were stolen from Paititi – the sun disc and the khipu. Considering their enormous value, the Venezuelan government understandably wants them back.’
‘I’m sure the Peruvian government’ll have its own opinions on who owns them,’ said Nina, raising some muted laughter.
‘That’s for the international courts to decide,’ said Kit with a smile, before becoming serious once more. ‘But for now, they’re worried the treasures could be damaged or destroyed during the raid.’
‘We’ll aim to minimise that possibility,’ said Baker, folding his arms.
‘Even so, there’s still a risk.’ He turned to Nina. ‘Which is why President Suarez has personally requested that Dr Wilde, as director of the IHA, oversees their safe recovery.’
Nina, who had been taking a sip of water, coughed it out. ‘Wait, what?’
‘Nice of him to tell us!’ Eddie hooted.
‘You won’t be going in with the SWAT team,’ Probst assured them. ‘Once we have secured de Quesada and the house, you will come in to locate and identify the artefacts.’
‘You don’t need us there for that. Big sun made of solid gold, thing like a hippie belt with loads of strings hanging off it. They should be a piece of piss to spot.’
‘All the same, it would be good to have your help,’ said Kit. ‘Interpol and the IHA started this operation together, so it makes sense for us to see it through to its conclusion.’
Eddie looked dubiously at the image of de Quesada. ‘What kind of fight is he likely to put up?’
‘His house usually