Spain's National Intelligence Centre (CNI)
- And you're working under your identity as an agent? - Diego Vargas, a CNI agent, asked Agent Isabel Robles from his mobile phone, over a secure communications line.
- No, Diego - he heard from the other end. - I'm in Latin America on a special visa.
He fell silent as he suppressed the shudder that tightened his stomach. Because yes, he had been working for the CNI since he was twenty-two and he still hated it whenever he had to operate under his real identity. What was the point? Was it fucking worth it?
Diego looked at the folder he was holding.
- Listen, they've just assigned me to look after an American - his eyes settled on the name: Leon S. Kennedy. - Aren't you the liaison officer with the CIA? Tell me why the fuck I'm the one who has to look after an American.
This time, it was Isabel who remained silent longer than expected.
- Well, I'm involved in a case dealing with... - she seemed to hesitate for a brief moment over whether she should share that information with him. But they had known each other for many years and had learned to trust each other's professionalism. - Diego, I've been assigned to an operation in the middle of a human-trafficking network. Aren't you the organized-crime specialist?
‹‹What the fuck?››
Something smelled wrong. Diego tightened his hand around the phone and held his breath as his entire career seemed to race through him at a frantic speed, allowing that inner voice of his, the one he hated, to whisper:
They're using you as a useful idiot again. Just like in the Martínez Corbalán case, they assigned Leon S. Kennedy to you so they can watch you fall...
Why were they making the specialist in trafficking networks babysit an American while the CIA liaison officer was being sent to follow organized crime trails in Latin America?
Something smelled wrong...
- Fine. - he conceded.
Or at least he tried to, because, in the end, Diego was Diego and he liked taking risks.
- Tell me something... That operation of yours... does it have anything to do with shell companies?
- Diego...
- I'm not asking you for the case file. I'm asking whether it smells like clean money coming in through a dirty door.
She took a deep breath on the other end.
- Doesn't it always? Yes. And it also smells like dirty money being laundered through foundations and NGOs. Businessmen and mafias. You know... the usual.
Diego felt something settle badly in his chest.
- Mexico? Cancún? Nightclubs? Former SIDE?
Now his colleague released the breath she had been holding.
- See? You should've been assigned this operation. You could move the right pieces with your eyes closed. Your instincts never fail you with this kind of thing.
He clenched his teeth as frustration left a bitter taste in his mouth. It wasn't because his instincts never failed him, but because of experience. With nineteen years inside the CNI dealing with criminal networks linked to human trafficking, he could almost call himself an expert.
That, and his good contacts. The ones he earned through loyalty and sacrifice.
That... and the mistakes from his past.
- Fine. - he conceded, this time for good. - We'd better end this conversation or we're going to share too much classified information. You know I'm available to you at any hour. Just give me a call and I'll be there.
- Thanks, Diego. Same goes for you. Call me for whatever you need, I can give you a piece of advice or two about American agents.
And she ended the call. Diego took a deep breath.
Two weeks earlier, he had been assigned the Alcántara Pharma case as a possible corporate fraud scheme with an organized-crime structure. Up to that point, there had been nothing particularly strange about it. Maybe the fact that they had chosen him, but he could understand why they would want an experienced agent when dealing with a company that had such strong ties to the Spanish State.
The situation was as follows: Alcántara Pharma was a publicly traded corporation of enormous international prestige. Around sixty-five percent of its capital belonged to the Harrington-Alcántara family, one of the most influential aristocratic families in Spain. The remainder was divided among private shareholders, Spanish institutional investors, and several influential insiders, including the pharmaceutical company's current CEO, Julien Carpentier, a renowned French businessman. And that was where Diego had found the first problem. The percentage divided between Carpentier and private French shareholders hovered around twenty percent, meaning there was legitimate and undeniable French interest in the company and that could create friction.
Diego looked again at the folder assigning him custody of the American, and his mind took off...
Alcántara Pharma was a pharmaceutical company that had gained prestige after the Umbrella disaster in 1998, when Raccoon City was wiped out by biological horror. Sebastian Harrington-Alcántara had then led a public crusade against Umbrella, devoting large amounts of his family's inherited wealth to proving the company's responsibility for that catastrophe, earning himself recognition as all of Spain's favorite "philanthropist." The country simply adored him. He was a symbol of national pride.
From then until the appointment of the Frenchman Julien Carpentier as CEO of Alcántara Pharma in 2004, the company had maintained slow, profitable growth without any particularly strange movements. But from that point onward, money began leaving the "clean" company without producing anything visible (or properly justifiable) in return. To Diego, that had been an immediate red flag when they gave him the case, because it was one of organized crime's oldest methods for moving money: paying for services that didn't exist and laundering large amounts of capital.
And that was when the United States appeared.
Diego informed his boss. His boss escalated the report. And now he had a fucking folder forcing him to babysit an American agent who was going to cross the Atlantic for reasons that, conveniently enough, were classified.
‹‹Fuck that››
Diego took the folder bearing the American's name and decided he was going to speak to Rodríguez face-to-face.
Rodríguez was the head of the Special Operations Group, so his office stood out from the rest, since it wasn't just another office among operational officers like Diego's, but one of those that occupied several square meters and sat apart from the others. Without thinking, Diego pushed through the heavy door with opaque glass and, upon entering, found himself facing his boss's wide, orderly desk, with Rodríguez seated behind it, calmly reading reports beside a cup of coffee that still released a faint trail of steam.
Rodríguez looked up at such insolence and Diego cursed himself internally for having acted on autopilot.
- Good morning, boss - he said. Then he closed the door again in his own face only to knock immediately afterward. It was a stupid way to apologize, he knew, but he wanted Rodríguez to understand that it hadn't been defiance, just sheer stupidity on his part because his head was buried in the case instead of his manners.
- You've already interrupted me insolently, Vargas - Rodríguez said from inside. - Stop being ridiculous and get in here.
Diego entered with his dignity firmly intact and observed the desktop computer screen sitting idle, the locked filing cabinets, and the side wall, where Rodríguez usually arranged operational charts, completely empty. On the whiteboard, however, he noticed the red trace of a name written in marker and poorly erased. Fine, he had just interrupted his breakfast. But then...
He shifted his attention toward the whiteboard and wondered whether Rodríguez had written that name that morning when he arrived at the office, or whether it was something he had been calculating the day before. Either option had different implications. The first meant it was something too important, something he had woken up thinking about; meaning his boss's first thought had been for that person. The second, on the other hand, meant perhaps that had been the last person he thought about the previous day and that, this morning, he had decided to discard them by erasing the name.
Either way, he managed to read "Robaina."
Rodríguez cleared his throat, forcing him to return the appropriate amount of attention.
- Sorry. You know I didn't mean to...
- Yes, yes. You're here pissed off about the American. I was expecting you.
Diego nodded. There was no point pretending. They had known each other for almost a decade and Rodríguez was the second boss he had had to deal with. The first... well, he wasn't going to devote a single second of his thoughts to the first one.
- You've just handed me a problem with a diplomatic passport. - he told him, controlling his tone as much as he could. - Care to explain what I'm doing looking after an American?
- What you're ordered to do, Vargas. An exciting novelty, I know. - Rodríguez fixed his gaze on him.
His boss was an experienced man, ten years older than him and with an enviable résumé in diplomacy and politics. Like Diego, Rodríguez had been trained by the generation of Spanish spies from the old CESID, the predecessor to the CNI, created after Franco's dictatorship. That translated into a class of veteran agents with a more military imprint, more barracks experience than modern intelligence culture. From the beginning, that had made working together easier for both of them, because they established a clear objective and went after it.
- I was under the impression that I was investigating the possibility that Alcántara Pharma was operating as an organized-crime structure protected by Spanish institutional interests. When did the United States become involved in all this?
- After your preliminary findings. - his boss replied with such casualness that it irritated him, but Diego said nothing. He remained standing and silent, watching him.
- I think it's clear we have corporate fraud, Vargas.
- I still don't understand what the United States is doing here...
- Orders from above.
The point was that Rodríguez was a boss with intelligence, common sense, and sarcasm to spare, and maybe that was why the two of them got along fairly well. However, his boss was much more flexible when it came to dealing with what Diego would call corruption. Look, Diego wasn't a hypocrite. He was also an expert at walking through gray areas, but he did it while generating far too much institutional friction. Rodríguez, on the other hand, avoided those same frictions by being a first-rate ass-kisser with whichever politicians happened to be in power. And that was the part that, more than once, had brought the two of them into conflict... like right now... Diego's instincts told him Rodríguez was kissing the ass of some powerful gringo and dragging Diego in to play bloodhound...
- That American is coming with authorization from very high up, Vargas. - he heard his boss insist. - You treat him like royalty.
- Ours or theirs?
- Whichever one gets you to shut your mouth faster. - Rodríguez snapped, then added almost immediately. - This Friday you'll go to Barajas Airport to pick him up. From there, straight to Alcántara Pharma.
Diego let out a dry laugh.
- Want me to bring a little sign with his name on it too? I can do that.
- Now that you mention it, yes.
Diego stared at him, not quite believing it, but when Rodríguez didn't even blink and instead smiled maliciously... that was when he knew his boss was going to get revenge for his earlier impertinence.
- That was sarcasm, boss... I'm not doing it.
- What a shame, because it's going to look lovely on you - Rodríguez replied. - I expect nothing less than that sign. And I'm not joking.
- I don't believe you.
- Believe it. And send me a picture.
Then he opened a drawer in his desk, took out another folder, and tossed it toward him. Diego caught it.
- And one more thing. From now on, Alonso isn't just another employee at Alcántara Pharma. She's under CNI protection.
- What does that mean? Should I wear a sign announcing my real identity and that I'm with the agency too?
- It means she's a Spanish citizen connected to a sensitive investigation inside a strategic company. If the Americans want to talk to her, you go through you. If Alcántara tries to pressure her, you go through you. If somebody tries to take her off the board, guess what?
- I step in.
Rodríguez paused briefly.
- And yes. You introduce yourself with your first and last name. You tell her you're CNI. Let's see if we can recruit someone on the inside. Having the researcher in charge of the trial on our side would be useful. It would save us questions and problems.
Diego simply nodded.
- Fine. I'll do what you ask.
- Fine?
- Yes, boss. - he corrected himself.
- That folder is an operational protection and intervention profile - Rodríguez said, no longer looking at him as he took a sip of coffee. - I imagine you've already obtained some of that information over the last few days. That she's Argentine, naturalized in Spain, a physician specializing in virology and also in the field of sleep.
Diego skimmed through it and, from what he could see, yes, he already knew most of it. He nodded.
- Did you know she's in a romantic relationship with shareholder Sebastian Harrington-Alcántara? - Rodríguez asked.
- One of the first things people told me in the corridors. But I think it's in the past.
- Doesn't matter. What we need to know is whether that makes her more guilty or less. What do you think?
- Who she sleeps with is none of my business.
- It wasn't, Vargas.
Diego nodded. Rodríguez added:
- Apparently, Dr. Alonso has Sebastian Harrington-Alcántara's direct protection inside a pharmaceutical company that's being investigated for possible corruption. I understand he was the one who intervened in her hiring and later promotion in 2006. She's in there because Harrington-Alcántara handpicked her.
He paused, looked at him mockingly, and added:
- Or because of her talents between the sheets. They say she's very sensual.
He chuckled under his breath, as though he had just made a brilliant observation.
- Maybe you're reducing her a bit too much - Diego corrected him.
- Oh, am I?
- She's an outstanding professional. I've been able to verify that over the last few days. The research she's conducting... Fuck... It's brilliant.
Rodríguez looked up, arched an eyebrow, and smiled.
- They also say she's a very beautiful woman.
- And what does that have to do with the way you're looking at me?
Rodríguez burst into genuine laughter.
- I've rarely seen you get this defensive this quickly, Vargas. Only when you know you're guilty and decide to start by hiding it from me.
- Guilty of what? - Diego shrugged with disinterest. - Dr. Alonso is a beautiful woman. Yes. So what? I see beautiful women every day. She's not the first and she won't be the last. Besides, obviously I can't compromise an operation that way. And I won't. I'm not interested in that kind of mistake.
- Right. Curious, because you did go to the trouble of requesting a report on her research and memorizing it as though you were about to defend a dissertation.
- You never know what information might prove useful.
- How diligent.
- The geniuses in our scientific division helped me understand it - Diego added dryly. - That's what they're there for.
- No, no, mate. That's what analysts are for. You did it because you wanted to impress her.
Diego didn't respond. Rodríguez smiled a little more.
- And look, I don't mind. Quite the opposite. Congratulations. After all, I want her as a CNI informant. So you figure out how you're going to earn her trust... but you will. Whatever it takes.
Diego read the intentions on his boss's face before Rodríguez even finished the sentence. His jaw tightened, but he didn't open his mouth. Before his divorce, nobody allowed themselves to say that kind of bullshit to him. Nobody suggested that sleeping with a person under investigation might become part of his job in order to facilitate access to information.
- Fine, don't get pissed off - Rodríguez continued, needling him. - It's just that I worry about you.
‹‹Yeah, right››
Rodríguez lowered his gaze toward the papers on his desk, although he didn't quite manage to erase the wicked little smile from his lips.
- Since you haven't made anything official with anyone since your divorce, I thought maybe it would do you some good to have a bit of fun with an attractive researcher.
Diego didn't bother hiding his annoyance as he stared at him. His boss looked back at him, this time with less mockery and more edge.
- You're getting awfully precious for someone who's done far worse things in Spain's name than seducing a beautiful woman.
Diego's expression hardened.
- Precisely because of that.
The silence between them grew heavier.
‹‹Asshole. It's also obvious you've just diverted the subject away from the American in the stupidest possible way, but I'm not going to say anything. You win, I'll swallow my pride. God forbid you ask me to escort him all the way to the hotel too and provide housekeeping services or play the whore on duty››
Rodríguez drank the last sip from his cup, unaware of just how pissed off Diego was, and concluded:
- Perfect. Then what needs to be absolutely clear is that Alonso is a Spanish scientist, technically essential, close to Sebastian Harrington-Alcántara, vulnerable to corporate pressure, and a potential witness. And that now you have to protect her using your trade. Is that clear?
-Crystal clear.