Geneva Connection, The (37 page)

Kent closed his eyes and leaned against a wall. There was no alternative; now the DEA knew about it, he had to give up HS1. Merriman had too much on him, and he wouldn’t hesitate to inform the cartel about his cooperation, if it suited him. He rubbed his temples. The documents transferring the asset to Sarah’s trust were still in his briefcase. He’d have to bury them as though that transfer never existed. As far as the outside world was concerned, CBC still had legal control of HS1.

What was the point in delaying the inevitable? Kent walked back to the payphone and called Merriman. “Good news. I’ve located the missing file.”

“Oh yeah?” Merriman’s tone made it clear he knew Kent was up to something.

“Yes. It wasn’t where it should have been. It was our most recent deal completion, and the file hadn’t yet been placed in the usual cabinet for completed deals. It was an oversight, and I apologize.” Kent knew his words sounded hollow, but he didn’t want to go to jail, nor did he want the cartel to learn he’d kept their investment. “I will need something from you first, though.”

“Like what?”

“A letter. Making it clear I’m immune from prosecution.”

The HS1 asset was Kent’s last chip in the game. Now it was obvious he couldn’t trust Merriman, he needed a written guarantee Merriman wouldn’t come after him later.

“Scan the HS1 documents and e-mail them to me now. We’ll talk about immunity later.”

“No. Our deal was I’m kept out of all this. I want your written undertaking before I sign anything.”

“For Christ’s sake.”

“No immunity. No HS1.”

“Okay, I’ll e-mail something over. Don’t lose that file.”

“Once I have your letter, I’ll release it.”

Two hours later, Kent had his immunity letter and had scanned all the documents the DEA needed and e-mailed them. Half an hour after that, Merriman sent one of his agents from USAF Alconbury to collect the originals.

That was it; the asset was gone, but at least Kent was free of the worry Merriman would come after him down the road.

Jivaro called Merriman exactly forty-eight hours after issuing his initial ransom demand. “You think you can call my bluff and play games with your daughter’s life?”

“I’m not playing any games. I’ve done all I can to persuade the US authorities to release your assets, but it’s just not possible,” replied Merriman, seated in his office surrounded by police officers. He’d been waiting hours for the call to come in.

“Then you know the consequences of your failure to meet my demands. We’ve nothing more to discuss.”

“Wait, wait,” Merriman said, anxious to avoid the call coming to an abrupt end. “I do have something to offer you.”

“I’m listening.”

Merriman hadn’t discussed the HS1 asset with anyone else in his department, besides Donohue, nor had he sought the government’s consent to handing it over to the cartel. He knew what the answer would be if he’d tried. He’d take his chances and live with the consequences.

“We’ve located a major asset which hasn’t yet been seized. It’s the investment in HS1, worth in excess of one hundred billion dollars. If you release my daughter, I’ll release that asset to you.” Merriman collected all the confused stares from around his office, but he didn’t care.

“You don’t have to tell me what it’s worth. Release it immediately. I’ll have my lawyers check the paperwork. When they’re completely satisfied, we’ll talk.”

Jivaro ended the call.

Merriman didn’t want to let go of the asset without his daughter’s prior release, assuming she was still alive, but what choice did he have? He had nothing to lose and everything to gain by handing over the asset now.

He left his room in order to avoid any awkward questions from the police, and then locked himself away in one of the empty offices. His first call was to Kent to tell him what additional paperwork they would need him to sign to transfer the investment from CBC. He explained it would be different to the method they’d been following in connection with all the other seized assets. This time, it wasn’t being transferred to the US Treasury. Kent was confused and raised a few difficult questions, but was otherwise compliant.

Then Merriman called Patti to update her. He wanted to give her something to hold on to, but he took great care to avoid raising too much false hope. Even if Emma was still alive, he had to be realistic about their chances of getting her back.

An hour later, he called Kent again to check the transfer paperwork was complete. Kent told him a courier had already been to CBC to collect the signed documentation and a scan of it was being e-mailed immediately.

“Why exactly was the transfer document silent on the transferee?” asked Kent.

“It’s got nothing to do with you,” spat back Merriman.

“I would have expected it mention another US department if—”

“I haven’t got time for this.”

Merriman ended the call then looked for Kent’s e-mail before forwarding it to the Mexican law firm Safuentes had given them. No doubt, they’d fill in the blank transferee box with the name of one of the cartel’s corporate vehicles. Minutes later, he was called in to see Bob Butler. Word about his trade with the cartel had already reached his boss.

“This is gonna create a shit-storm, Mark.”

Merriman kept a poker face. “Only if it’s found out.”

“Look. I’m on your side here, but if this gets out, you know you’ll lose your job over it.”

“What was I supposed to do? If I asked for government consent to use the asset as a ransom, you know what the answer would’ve been.”

“I’d do the same in your shoes. But if the shit hits the fan, I didn’t know about any of this.”

“I hear you.”

Merriman waited in his office all afternoon, expecting a call from the cartel, or its lawyers, confirming receipt of the signed transfer Kent had supplied.

He heard nothing.

At eight p.m., he set off for home, leaving clear instructions he was to be contacted the moment the call came in.

There was no call.

Chapter 57

F
OUR
L
ONG
D
AYS
had passed since the last communication from Safuentes. By now, Patti was frantic and had to be put on tranquilizers. Merriman took no comfort in having always known in his heart their daughter had been killed soon after she was taken. He didn’t care that his last minute attempt to trade HS1 for his daughter’s life would probably cost him his career. Given a second chance, he’d do the same thing again for the slim chance of saving Emma.

In the long, sleepless early hours, Merriman had had time to think over the events of the past few days. In that time, he’d grown increasingly suspicious of Kent. Why exactly had he held on to HS1? Merriman had never really bought the pathetic story about a filing error. And why had Kent asked so many awkward questions about the transfer when it didn’t matter to him? The man was too smart by half. Was it possible Kent had frustrated the transfer to the cartel in some way?

Back in his office, Merriman called some of his team together. Maybe one of them could spot a flaw in the transfer documents. He explained to his team how Kent, as the CEO of CBC, had supplied the information and original documents to enable the DEA to seize the cartel’s assets. Up to now, he’d kept Kent’s identity as the source to himself and the DEA leadership team as he’d been trying to protect him. He owed him nothing now, not since he’d tried to hide the HS1 file.

After two hours poring over copies of the transfer paperwork Kent had supplied, everything appeared to be in order. Just before two p.m., Merriman stood up as he had to attend a regular DEA leadership meeting that afternoon.

Once Merriman left the room, Halloran put on his suit jacket, explaining to his colleagues he had arranged to meet an old college friend for lunch and was now running very late. He sprinted to his car and put his foot down when he was on the Capital Beltway heading east. Once across the Potomac River, he headed south on Route 210 then took the exit for Franklin Square Park.

On the edge of the park was a rest area where he pulled in behind a pickup truck. He jumped out of his car and ran over to the truck.

“Where the fuck have you been?” shouted the driver of the pickup. “I’ve been waiting here for over an hour. I was about to leave.”

Halloran raised his palms. “I’m really sorry. I know we said one o’clock, but I was called into a meeting at short notice by my boss. It was impossible for me to let you know.”

“If we tell you to be somewhere at a certain time, then you’re there at that time. Is that understood? Do you think Rios will understand when I tell him you were late?”

“I’m sorry. Please explain the circumstances to Miguel. I won’t let it happen again.”

The driver looked like he wanted to spit. “I’ve got another package for you.” He reached behind his seat and picked up a small courier box. He handed it to Halloran, who placed it into his briefcase.

“Before you go, I need you to pass on some important information to Miguel.”

“What is it?”

“Tell him the name he is looking for is John Kent of CBC in the UK. That will mean something to him.”

The driver gave Halloran a blank look then wrote down his exact words as they clearly meant nothing to him. “I’ll make sure he receives the message. Not sure he’ll forgive you being late, though.”

“He’ll forgive me. That message is something Jivaro himself will want to know as soon as possible.”

Halloran got out of the truck and jumped back into his own car. He waited for the truck to pull away before taking the package out of his briefcase. He stared at it for a couple of minutes before placing it back into his case. He waited in the rest area for half an hour before making his way back to the office.

Merriman was returning to his office after the three-hour leadership meeting when he was stopped in the corridor by Halloran. “Mark, a delivery came for you while you were in your meeting. I signed for it and left it on your desk.”

“Thanks,” replied Merriman, who didn’t stop.

When he reached his desk, he picked up the small package. His heart started thumping in his chest. Something about it reminded him of the package which had arrived on his birthday. He opened it carefully, his fingers trembling. The dried blood on the inside wrapper was the first thing he noticed. Then he stopped breathing.

“Oh God, no,” he said, falling back into his chair. The open box still cupped in his hands, he sat staring at the small, severed left hand of his daughter. How was he ever going to tell Patti about this?
It will kill her.

When his brain began to function, Merriman noticed a note tucked inside the package. He unfolded it.

It said: “I would have traded your daughter for the asset. You tried to be too clever.”

Chapter 58

A W
EEK
L
ATER
, Merriman was still off work, looking after Patti. While he was beginning to come to terms with events, she wouldn’t accept the death of their daughter in the absence of a body. Something inside her needed to keep alive the small hope that Emma would be back any day soon.

Tuesday afternoon Donohue called by the house to speak to her boss.

Merriman opened the door to her then stood back. “Not now, Kerry, please. This is a difficult time for us. It can wait.”

Donohue looked embarrassed, but stood her ground. “I wasn’t sure I should come over, but I thought you’d want to know something.”

He exhaled loudly then opened the door wide. “You’d better come in.”

“The last thing I want to do is intrude at this sensitive time. It won’t take long. I promise.”

Merriman led Donohue into his study and closed the door, so they wouldn’t disturb Patti. They sat on opposite sides of his desk.

“What is it?” he said.

“When we all met last week to review the transfer documents for HS1, none of us spotted anything wrong with them. They appeared to be okay.”

“I’ve thought a lot about this over the last few days. I think the documents were fine.” He shook his head. “I’m sure they killed Emma soon after they took her.”