“Hold my calls,” he says to the receptionist.

Keller sits down across from Taylor’s desk.

“So,” Taylor says, “how’s the hunt for Barrera going? Not so good, huh?”

Keller takes out his copy of the Tapia tape, sticks it into Taylor’s Dictaphone, and hits play. “One of the voices is Martín Tapia, the other is Gerardo Vera.”

Taylor turns white. “Bull fucking shit. Where did you get this?”

Keller doesn’t answer.

“Same old Keller,” Taylor says. “How the fuck do you know that’s Vera?”

“Voice recognition software.”

“Inadmissible.”

“And a witness.”

“Who?” Taylor asks. He is not a happy man. He’s a less happy man when Keller tells him that the witness is Palacios. “That’s the third-highest-ranking cop in Mexico.”

Keller tells him about the Izta Mafia, the killings of the three cops, and the highlights of Palacios’s potential testimony.

“And you have this all on tape,” Taylor says.

“Aguilar does.”

Taylor gets up and looks out the window. “I’m pulling the pin in eighteen months. Bought one of those mobile homes with everything but a Jacuzzi in it, the wife and I are going to cruise around the country. I don’t need this right now.”

“I’ll need a snitch visa for Palacios,” Keller says. “Papers, a whole new package.”

“No shit.”

“Maybe one for Aguilar, too, if this goes south.”

“Oh, it’s already gone south,” Taylor says. “Do you know how much intelligence, how much information we’ve shared with Vera?”

“I have an idea.”

“No, you fucking don’t,” Taylor says, “because we specifically told him to keep most of it from you. If what you’re saying is true, every op we have down there…and a bunch of them up here…have been compromised. We’ll have to pull agents in, undercovers…”

“If what I’m saying is true,” Keller answers, “and it is, the entire federal justice system of Mexico has been turned inside out.”

“Palacios could be making up a story to get his ticket punched,” Taylor says.

“He could be,” Keller agrees. “But then, why would he need a ticket? If all this is bullshit, his life is in no danger.”

Taylor thinks about this for a second, then goes off. “Your mission was very clear, very specific—assist in the pursuit of Adán Barrera. You were not authorized to launch an investigation of corruption within the federal police force of a foreign nation—”

“You don’t want to know?” Keller asks. “You wanted me to hold it back until Vera gives Barrera one of your UCs to torture?!”

“Of course not,” Taylor says. He sighs, tired. “Look, I’ll need to go upstairs with this. You’ll have to come in, do the dog-and-pony. Fuck. Fuck. I’d thought we’d finally…Okay, let me get on the horn with the director, make his week. You stay where I can reach you in a hurry. Anything else you want, or is ruining my life sufficient for today?”

“Reservations at a dude ranch in Arizona.”

Taylor stares at him.

“For Aguilar’s family,” Keller says.

“See Brittany outside.”

“Can you expense it through—”

“Yes. Get out.”

—

Bureaucratic battles are bloody.

All the more so because it’s usually other people’s blood being shed, so what the fuck.

This is what Keller’s thinking as he sits at a table with Taylor, the DEA director, and representatives from Justice, State, Immigration and Naturalization, and the White House. There’s probably a Company guy in the room as well, sitting in the corner.

The DEA director chairs the meeting. “If Agent Keller’s information is accurate, we have a crisis on our hands.”

“Agent Keller,” the Justice hack, a middle-aged lawyer named McDonough, weighs in, “has a dubious tape recording and an even more dubious witness. I, for one, would not jeopardize our relations with Mexico based on the tales of a dirty cop.”

Keller knows McDonough—a former prosecutor in New York’s Eastern District. He’s gained more weight—his face is even redder, his jowls fatter, he’s one jelly doughnut away from a triple bypass.

“Concur,” the State Department rep says. Susan Carling has curly red hair, skin the color of chalk, and a PhD from Yale.

“What is the provenance of this tape?” McDonough asks.

Keller says, “The tape was handed to me by a source inside the Tapia organization, and that’s as far as I’m prepared to go.”

“You do not have the option, Agent Keller,” McDonough says, “of withholding the source of your information.”

“Fire me,” Keller says.

“Now, that’s an option,” McDonough says.

“Do you have a source inside the Tapia organization?” the DEA director asks Keller. “Because it doesn’t appear that you opened a file.”

“I don’t have a CI in the Tapia organization,” Keller answers. “Someone handed me the tape and—”

“Do you have a relationship with them?” McDonough asks. “Because if you haven’t opened a file, that’s completely inappropriate and opens you to suspicions of—”

Taylor says, “Can we talk about the real problem here, Ed? If a source came to you with information that the number three guy in the FBI was on the Gambino family payroll, you wouldn’t be sitting there picking him apart on procedural issues. I have people out there, who are now under horrendous risk.”

“Potentially,” McDonough says.

“Okay, you go to Tamaulipas under ‘potential’ risk, and tell me that you have time for this nitpicking shit,” Taylor says. “Keller is protecting his source. He’s an asshole, but that’s what he’s doing. Move on.”

The White House rep says, “The Mexican government is extremely sensitive to accusations of corruption, especially from us. If we push an agenda on this, it might sabotage years of diplomacy that are now finally having some positive effect. It could scuttle the very antitrafficking efforts that DEA has worked so hard to establish. Not to mention embarrassing us on the Hill.”

“I wouldn’t want anyone to be embarrassed,” Keller says.

“Be as ironic as you want,” the rep says, “but the Mérida Initiative wasn’t easy to push through Congress. It’s what you guys wanted, isn’t it??”

The Mérida Initiative is a three-year, $1.4 billion aid package, most of it to Mexico, to combat drug trafficking. Keller knows the details—thirteen Bell 412EP helicopters, eleven Black Hawks, four CN-235 transport planes, plus high-tech scanners, X-ray machines, and communications equipment. Not to mention training for police and Mexican military.

The same training, Keller thinks, we gave to the Zetas.

“Now you want us to do what?” the White House rep asks. “Go back to the Hill and tell them, ‘Whoops, forget it’? Turns out we were going to give a billion and a half dollars in sophisticated military equipment to a cabal of corrupt cops? That, in effect, we were going to hand over Black Hawk helicopters to the Sinaloa cartel? No, this is not going to happen.”

“We cannot disrupt the Mérida Initiative at this point,” Carling says. “It’s three days away from becoming law. The damage to our relationship with Mexico would be incalculable.”

“So the option is what?” the director asks. “Letting our allies continue to live in the belief that their top police officer is honest when we know in fact—”

“Not in fact,” McDonough says. “Allegedly.”

“—that he’s allegedly in the employ of the drug cartels?”

“If they don’t already know,” Keller says.

“We’re not asking for an international incident,” the director says, “just a ‘Q’ visa for Palacios.”

McDonough leans forward. “This is an internal Mexican issue. Justice will only authorize action if and when the Mexican attorney general contacts us with a request. As for Mr. Palacios, we can’t just accept his story at face value.”

“You have Vera on tape,” Keller says.

“There is no chain of custody on that tape,” McDonough says. “We don’t know its origin, it could have been doctored by the Tapia organization to sabotage its most effective adversary. They failed to take Vera out, so they’re trying to have us do it.”