US Embassy Panama City- Wednesday Afternoon
The Ambassador sat down on his desk and leaned back in his black leather executive chair.
"Yes. I understand Bill. I'm sorry to see him leave, especially under these circumstances. He's been an indispensible resource to my team in the last year."
The grey haired man let out a sigh as he tapped the end button on his desk phone and then hit the intercom to speak to his assistant. "Darlene, get me Pasqual Camacho."
A few minutes later, an anxious looking young man entered the office. "Good afternoon Ambassador Richardson."
"Come in Pasqual." He stood up to accept the handshake his subordinate offered to him. "Good to see you." He gestured to a nearby armchair. "Sit down."
"Thank you, sir." The handsome dark haired man sat down nervously as he watched his superior. "Have there been any updates?" he asked.
"There is nothing new to report since this morning." The Ambassador scanned the features of the subordinate before him. "You look like you haven't sleep in days." He shuffled a small pile of papers on the desk for a moment. "I know this last week has been difficult for you." He glanced up briefly, "since Elizabeth…"
The junior diplomat fidgeted in his seat. "I'm fine sir. Really," as he rubbed his eyes.
Richardson picked up a tennis ball from the corner of his desktop and began to squeeze it. As he flexed his hand the rubber collapsed and then popped out again in a rhythmic motion. "Perhaps you should to take a break for a few days. Get some rest."
"No!" Pasqual snapped. "I can't!" He caught himself before he continued. "I am waiting to hear back from a contact, the one I told you about yesterday. He might have something on the informant Elizabeth was meeting last Friday."
"That's good." Richardson nodded. "We'll see what we can do with that." He turned to look the window for a moment.
Pasqual saw a change in expression on the face of his superiors and asked nervously, "What's the matter?"
"I spoke with Raines."
"Oh." The young man's face fell as if he knew that bad news was to come.
The older man turned back with a somber expression. "Mr. Camacho, I am very sorry to inform you that have been removed from your assignment at this Embassy by your supervisors at the CIA."
"Raines is pulling me out." Pasqual nearly jumped out of his chair. "They can't do that. Ellie's still missing. I can't stop looking…"
The Ambassador shook his head in sympathy. "It was determined that the best course of action for all parties involved that the investigation into Elizabeth's kidnapping be lead by MI6. Elizabeth is a British national so they have jurisdiction and will coordinate the search with the local police. And in light of recent developments, I agree with the decision."
"Is it because of the raid on that village this morning?"
"Yes, that played a role but that's not..." He voice was firm but he controlled his frustration with his subordinate.
Pasqual interrupted. "We don't know that the raid had anything to do with her kidnapping! These cartels were dealing with have a thousand reasons for retaliation against each other. It could have been for something else."
"I disagree with your assertion." Richardson replied. "There were half a dozen civilians massacre today. Gunfire was exchanged between the guerrillas and the CIA agents at the site. The reason for the attack is now insignificant compared to the vulnerable position we are all in because of it."
"I understand sir."
"Do you really Mr. Camacho?" The older man had reached the limit of his patience with the young man. "Because it appears to me that your fiancé is in even greater danger. Each day that passes the CIA is being drawn in deeper and deeper into a feud between cartels. We still don't know which if La Vega or Guierro ordered the attack or whose side we just antagonized."
"The CIA is responsible for her!" Pasqual shouted.
"Yes. And that is NOT something we want broadcasted to the cartels now is it?" He barked back. "I will not place this Embassy, my staff and the other assets stationed here to unnecessary risk."
The young man appeared crestfallen as the weight of the Ambassador's words caused his shoulders to slump.
"Pasqual." Richardson softened his voice sympathetically. "I value the work you've done here over for the last twelve months. Not many covert agents take the responsibilities of their cover jobs as seriously as you did."
"Thank you, sir." Camacho looked up briefly to acknowledge the compliment.
"If, in the future, you ever want to transfer to the State department you'll have my full support. From what I have seen you would have a promising career in the foreign service, just like your father."
"I've always tried to establish my reputation on my own merits." The young man dropped his gaze back to the floor.
"While I think that is admirable, the incident with Anders Williams yesterday didn't do much to help that effort," the Ambassador scolded.
Pasqual clenched his jaw. "The dispute was a personal grievance, a momentary lapse…"
"It is quite clear that it will be difficult for you to continue with the investigation in your current frame of mind."
"No. I need to keep looking. We still don't know..." Pasqual pleaded.
The older man ignored him. "Raines wants you to report to a safe house." He handed Pasqual a slip of paper with an address. "There's a blue pick-up truck parked across the road. Marco, a member of my security staff, will take you there now."
"Mr. Ambassador, please…"
Richardson was unaffected by impassioned pleas of the young agent. "You are to stay there until you receive further instructions from your supervisors. Have I made myself clear?"
"Perfectly clear sir," he conceded gritting his teeth as he rose to his feet.
The steele blue eyes of the senior diplomat softened. "All of the resources of this Embassy will be brought to bear on the effort to find Elizabeth. You have my word."
"Thank you, sir. It has been an honor to serve with you."
"Good day Mr. Camacho."
#######
CIA Headquarter: Washington DC
Dani Pearse slammed her office door shut. She returned over an hour ago from her lunch with Jesse Porter, an unexpected and delightful surprise, only to find several crises that demanded her immediate attention. She attended a conference call with Raines and the leadership team to devise a strategy to regroup from the botched mission this morning. Now, she had a more personal matter to attend. She picked up her desk phone and furiously dialed. "He's lucky he's still in Panama" she mumbled under her breath, "or I'd kick his ass."
"Hola." A faint voice sounded on the other end of the line.
"Pasqual!" she scowled.
"Agent Pearce?" asked the startled young man.
"Are you at the safe house yet?"
"Yeah, I just got here. This place is a dump," he huffed like a bratty teenager.
"Well, next time you're sent into hiding from the drug cartels, we'll book you at the Four Seasons." Dani spun around in her chair and powered up her laptop computer on her desk.
"I'll look forward to it," he teased.
"And don't get any ideas about disappearing on me," she continued the scolding, "or I'll come down there and drag you back to Miami myself."
"What makes you think I would go rogue?"
"Your behavior in the last twenty four hours has caused me to question your judgment at the moment."
"Oh that," he scoffed. "Anders Williams is a pretty boy desk jockey!"
"You assaulted your handler!" She threw her hands up in frustration. "What the hell were you thinking?"
"He has been a pain in my ass since I got to Panama."
"You broke his nose! Are you trying to get yourself fired from the CIA?"
"He's been looking for a reason to send me home ..."
"Well congratulations, Pasqual, you just gave him one," she yelled again.
"It doesn't matter anyway. You know Raines pulled from the Embassy."
"Of course he did, your cover has been blown."
"We don't know that for sure."
"And how exactly would you like it to be confirmed? When you find hit squad outside your apartment?"
"There is no indication that the kidnappers discovered my connection to the Agency. They contacted Ellie's boss at the BBC last week. Not the Ambassador. Not the CIA.
"That's irrelevant now. Our presence at that village this morning practically announced CIA involvement in the investigation. We lost our only asset that claimed to have a lead on Elizabeth's location."
"I still have contacts Dani. These people can find the guy she was supposed to meet last Friday but they're not going to talk to some MI6 agent."
"Paz, you're not safe and you know it," she said with irritation returning to her voice. "Whoever took Elizabeth could come after you next even if they don't know you're with the Agency."
"So now what? I'm cut off. You want me to watch from the sidelines."
Dani pulled at the pendant of her necklace as she tried to maintain her temper with the determined young man. "You need to be reasonable. MI6 have their best people on it. We're sending in someone..."
"I don't give a shit. I need to find Ellie!" he yelled.
"Dam it Pasqual!" she shouted back unable to restrain her frustration. "You won't be any good to her if YOU end up with a bullet in your back!"
"Dani." he gasped. He was well aware of the impact of his verbal misstep.
"What!" she snapped.
"I mean… ah… Agent Pearce. I'm sorry," His tone returned to the formality appropriate to address a senior agent. "I was out of line. I apologize the way I spoke to you a moment ago and for my behavior with Agent Williams."
"It's OK..." as she cleared her throat. "But I need you to sit tight at the safe house, alright. I'm sending someone. He's the agent I told you about. He understands the gravity of your situation."
"You trust this guy."
"I've seen him in action many times. He'll be relentless.
"That's not what I asked."
"You'll want him with you on this. I need you to trust me."
"Alright," he consented, "if you say so."
"Good. He'll be there later tonight."
#######
Michael returned to his desk after a brief walk around the military wing of the compound. His head had mostly cleared of the effects of his bourbon lunch with Raines. He picked up an incoming call on his cell phone.
"Pearce. Good to talk to you. Did Raines update you on the mission this morning?"
"Yes, he did. I'm glad to hear that none of our people were injured. How's the little boy you rescued?"
"The last I checked he was recovering from dehydration but otherwise he is in stable condition."
"Well that's good news. Let me know when somebody shows up to claim him. Kids aren't left in a shed in the middle of nowhere by an accident. There must be people looking for him."
"I'll update you as soon as I hear anything."
"Well, it looks like we have a new role for you in the Albright investigation."
"Really? Raines didn't say anything about that when I was in his office half an hour ago."
"Michael, you know its bad form to get your boss drunk in the middle of a work day," she laughed.
"Yeah well," he blushed.
"I spoke with him after you left his office."
"So what's the job?"
"MI6 is taking the lead now on the Albright kidnapping investigation. You'll join the investigation as a private advisor hired by the Albright family to negotiate with the hostage takers. Raines will make the introductions tomorrow morning to our contacts at the BBC and MI6."
"Why are we pulling back? Today was a set-back but …"
"The CIA needs to step out the spotlight. The raid at that village today practically announced the CIA's involvement to the cartels."
"Has anyone started back channel negotiations?"
"No, that would be too risky. We made the contact with one of Alvarez's people and look where that got us."
"Has there been any recent communication from the hostage takers?"
"Not since five days ago. They contacted Albright's boss at BBC with their demands to keep silent on her investigation into the plan to overthrow the President of Panama."
"Is there any proof of life?"
"Only a small photo mailed to the BBC Panama City bureau on Monday."
"What about the fiancée? What's his name?"
"Pasqual Camacho. He's has been working a cover as a Consular Agent at the US Embassy."
"Are the kidnappers aware of their connection with the Agency?"
"We can't say for sure but that's not a risk anyone is willing to take."
"Has Camacho been working on anything that might have tipped off the cartels?"
"He has been tracking the visa applications and travel to the US of the relatives of members of the cartels. It pretty low key surveillance. Paz's cut his teeth with several deep cover missions over the last few years. His mother died while he was away on an assignment. This rotation was basically paid time off compared to the action he saw in the field."
"What if he got bored and started working on something off book, maybe with Albright."
"I doubt it. I know that Elizabeth was reluctant to become an asset in the first place."
"He turned his fiancée as an asset."
"It's quite a story. They knew each other before he joined the CIA. About a month after he arrived in Panama City, he ran into Elizabeth in the elevator at the US Embassy. She was there with BBC to interview a member of the Ambassador's staff. She recognized him right away and almost blew his cover."
"That must have been some reunion," Michael laughed as he recalled the day when, after a six year absence, he found himself in a rundown Miami motel room with Fiona who had lovingly kicked him awake.
"He turned her as an asset about two months later. She has been conducting research on people of interest that came up during Pasqual's surveillance. They were engaged about a month ago."
"Well, if there is nothing else, I'll set up a meeting for tomorrow..."
"Actually, there is one more. I need you to bring Pasqual back to Miami for debrief…as soon as possible."
"You expect him to leave Panama while his fiancée is still missing."
"Yes."
"Where is he now?"
"He is cooling his heels at a safe house just outside the city. He assaulted a fellow agent yesterday."
"Who was that?"
"Anders Williams, his handler for the last two years."
"Did he try to bench Pasqual during the investigation?"
"Yes. Exactly."
"I could hardly blame…"
"I'm not taking any more chances. I need you to meet with him tonight. He can fill you in key players around the Embassy and help prep you for the negotiations but I want Pasqual on a plane to Miami by Friday."
"I'll see what I can do."
"Good. I'll send you the address of the safe house and his recent field reports. He'll expect you later tonight."
#####
Two hour later- 30 mile outside of Panama City
Michael Westen could not help but wonder if he had become the CIA's deadliest and most highly skilled babysitter. He was happy to watch over a vulnerable little child like Gabriel but it was something else entirely to be tasked with reining in a fellow agent. The young man would surely resent his removal from the Embassy as well as the mandate to report to Miami.
Michael recalled the day when a senior agent had arrived in Ireland to collect him from a mission. He too had received orders to leave behind the woman he loved. When he fought back he quickly found himself on a flight to Pakistan nursing a sprained wrist and a broken heart. Perhaps he could help Pasqual Camacho to avoid the same fate.
The black jeep bounded down the dirt road and pulled up in front of the small cinder block house. There were no other cars out front and the only inhabitants were a half a dozen scraggly chickens pecking at the grass in the yard. Michael exited the truck and scanned the surrounding trees for movement with his side arm at the ready. He walked quickly to the broken down shack, stepped up to the rough wooden door and gave three sharp taps.
The door creaked open and a set of dark brown eyes peered out at Michael.
"Good evening. I am looking for Herman Cabrera." Michael called the man by his cover name used at the Embassy. He saw a quick flash of recognition and then fear in the man's eyes.
"He's not here. Please leave. Right Now," as the click of a gun being cocked sounded from behind the door.
"It is important that I speak with him," Michael continued calmly. "I'm here to help his friend... Ellie."
"How do you know that name? Who are you?" Pasqual hissed as the barrel of the pistol peaked out the through the door.
"If you put that away I'll tell you," Michael stated while calmly revealing his side arm that remained holstered. "We have a mutual friend in Miami."
The door creaked open slightly. The dark haired man kept his aim fixed as he assessed the person before him.
"Can I come in?" Michael took a confident step towards the door.
"You're the one Pearce sent," he glaring scornfully but let Michael pass though the doorway.
Michael scanned the interior of the run down house and took a seat in a wobbly kitchen chair. "Nice place you got here."
"Thanks. I don't really plan to stay long. But if Agent Pearce sent you talk me into leaving Panama, you're wasting your time."
"I didn't come here so you could try to kick my ass like you did your handler." Michael teased.
Pasqual shot him a dark glance. "You know Williams?"
"Yeah, I've worked with him a few times," he nodded to Pasqual. "He can be an asshole if he decides he doesn't like you." Michael gave the young man a dry smile.
Pasqual chuckled and his shoulders relaxed slightly.
Michael took that as a good sign as he lowered a nap sack from his shoulder and placed it on the rough wooden kitchen table. "My guess is you haven't slept or eaten anything in what…at least 72 hours?"
He brought out a greasy brown paper bag removing two foam containers filled with roasted chicken, yellow rice and fried plantains. "I thought you might want something..."
"Thanks." Pasqual accepted the box without opening it. "But how can I possibly stop for a minute? Ellie's out there…" as he began to pace the room, "and I'm stuck in this rat hole."
"Don't get yourself so worked up," Michael replied. "It won't help her." He walked in to the kitchen to forage in the dingy cabinets for plates and cutlery. "Raines and the team are working on a new lead. I'll meet with him tomorrow morning to go over the strategy"
"I don't trust Raines." Pasqual said agitated. "He's the one that pulled me out of the Embassy over some bullshit that my cover was blown."
"You think it hasn't been?" Michael asked with a raised eyebrow.
"We both know that if I'd been made by one of the cartels they would have come after me, not Elizabeth. I'd be dead by now."
Michael shook his head. "That doesn't mean there's not a target on your back," as the senior agent piled the two plates with generous serving of the food. "Even if you haven't been made as CIA, someone still went to the trouble of kidnapping your fiancée. They might decide to shoot you just to reinforce their demand to keep quiet about her story."
He slid the dish towards the young man.
Pasqual ignored the plate.
Michael pulled out a six pack of beer from the knap sack, removed two and put the remaining bottles in the ancient refrigerator. "I agree with Pearce. You need to keep your head down for a while."
"I won't leave Panama without her."
"I understand," he nodded and opened the two beer bottles, offering one to Pasqual.
The young man accepted the it hesitantly. "You couldn't possibly…"
"You'd be surprised," Michael sipped from his own bottle. "By the way, my name is Michael Westen."
Paqual's eyes grew wide with recognition. "Good to meet you," he replied and took a pull of the beer.
Michael remembered that he had not eaten anything since his bourbon lunch with Raines earlier in the day. He dug into the mound of food in front of him. "Tomorrow, I'll talk to Pearce about keeping you in Panama for a few more days."
"Thanks." Pasqual replied and began to pick at the rice on his plate with a fork.
"So why don't you bring me up to speed on a few things. The abduction hasn't been reported to the media yet and only her family back in England knows that she's been taken, right?"
"Yeah, the bastards sent the demands to her boss at the BBC. If the story goes public and their plan for the coup is announced…"
"Well the protocol is to keep these things quiet unless the publicity helps. For current the circumstances I think we should take a two pronged approach. First, we need to get the hostage takers to negotiate. Silence is a commodity in itself and that is something to start with but they might also want money or the release of gang members from prison. We need to keep them engaged in a conversation so we can learn more about who they are."
"But we don't even know if La Vega's men or Guierro's militia are holding her," Pasqual replied growing frustrated.
"Not yet. That's where I come in. We can figure that out once we get them talking." Michael took another long swig of beer. "I know you have probably gone over this already but do you have any idea who she was meeting that day?"
Pasqual shook his head. "She didn't tell me. That was our deal. We kept a fire wall between our work and our personal lives unless it was… a request by the CIA."
"Elizabeth was your asset." Michael had already read the couple interesting case history from the field reports.
"Yes, it's a long story." The young man dismissed the question and took another sip of his beer. "It was my fault she was taken." The grief shone on his face. "I never should have let her go to that meeting alone."
"Don't beat yourself up. We both know these situations are never that simple."
"Yeah, I guess," Pasqual nodded.
"Hell, if your fiancé is anything like mine," Michael laughed, "you probably couldn't stop her from doing something she was determined to do even if you handcuffed her to a wall."
"Yeah, Ellie is just like that. She decides she wants something, she goes after it," he said with a hint of a smile.
"How long you two been engaged?" Michael inquired.
"Just last month, we met years ago when we were at university in England. Then we ahh…reconnected recently since we were both stationed here in Panama. What about you?"
"My fiancé and I have known each other a long time." Michael nodded. "It just took us while to figure things out."
"The best of luck to you Westen." Pasqual raised his beer bottle in congratulations but before Michael could to reciprocate the gesture the young agent changed the topic of conversation. "What about the second part of the operation? Who will be figuring out where she is being held?"
"That's where we can lean on MI6 and the local police. They can work on tracing the calls and analyzing the photo that was sent. You keep up with your contacts and conduct research from here."
"Are you kidding? I can't stay here."
"Can you come up with a better reason to give Agent Pearce for why I need to keep you in Panama? She wants you on the next private flight to Miami."
"I won't leave Ellie," Pasqual said in a determined voice that had a hinted of desperation. "I won't."
"I know its hard being put in the penalty box like this." Michael finished the last bit of food and dropped the plate into the sink. "But we need you to stay alive until Elizabeth gets backs."
"Thanks," as Pasqual drained the last of his beer.
#######
It was almost three in the morning when Michael returned to the military base. The stress of his day had finally caught up with him. The small officer's quarters he was assigned for the night allowed him adequate privacy but otherwise minimal comfort. After a shower, he felt a little better. He dried his hair with a starchy white towel that smelled of industrial detergent. He surveyed the drab room and then lobbed the wet cloth into the air. It landed with a thud in the grey metal bin in the corner. Then he fell back on the metal frame of twin bed, switched off the overhead light and folded a flat pillow under his head in a futile attempt to find a comfortable position to sleep.
Michael replayed the events of the day in his mind but could not shake the feeling that something was off. The need to crash at the end of the day had always been an expected part of life during a mission. He would work until he reached a state of physical and emotional exhaustion. Then he would collapse into sleep for few hours, wake up and do it all again then next day. Early in his career he had sustained the intense pace for months, even years, at a time. There had been an addictive quality to the near constant adrenaline rush. It usually took only the occasional night of heavy drinking or a casual fling to relieve the built up tension. But tonight, he had a hard time quieting the thoughts that swirled in his mind.
"Have I slowed down that much or am I just getting old?" He pushed the negative thought out of his mind as he rolled over onto his stomach and yanked the grey wool blanket up over his head. "Dam, this bed is uncomfortable. It smells terrible," he fumed. Then a thought struck him like a bolt of lightning. "Is this what it's like to be homesick?"
Earlier in his life, Michael had gone to great lengths to avoided establishing anything resembling a real home. His relationship with Fiona had changed his life in so many ways. One of them was the beautiful home that he shared with the woman loved more than anything in the world. And tonight he missed them both.
"Ugh," he groaned into the stale pillow. Michael chose not to fight the emotions that washed over him like a wave. He gave into the memory of soft fragrant comforts like the smell of Fiona's hair as he held her at night. It had become a signal to his body that it was time to relax and go sleep.
Frustrated, Michael he flipped on the lamp and reached into his duffle. He rooted through the bag until he found a clean white t-shirt. He lifted it to his face and inhaled the faint scent of lemon and eucalyptus from their organic laundry soap. He spread the smooth fabric over his pillow and lay down again. He took a slow deep breath as his body began to relax. He reached to the side table for his personal cell phone only to remember that it was far too late to call home. He touched the screen and saw a text message waiting from a familiar number.
It read: "Missing you tonight."
He typed back. "Me too. Be home soon."
Then he flipped off the light, rolled onto his side and fell into a heavy sleep.
#########