Cartel by Chuck Hustmyre Page B

had vouched for Alvarez. Hadn't he? Not really. Glenn had simply gotten a call from a Mexi-can cop requesting a meeting with Scott and had passed it along. Glenn wasn't on the street anymore. He didn't know Alvarez. Because he was on suspension, Scott couldn't even check to see if Alvarez was a documented CI. Glenn could, but he hadn't mentioned it and Scott hadn't asked. This was Scott's only lead, one he had to follow it. Wherever it went.
    Scott checked his watch: 10:15. He tugged a baseball cap onto his head and stepped out of his truck. Walking the two blocks to the café, he kept his eyes, ears, and that inde-finable extra level of perception-what some called a "sixth sense" but what Scott thought of as cop intuition-scanning for trouble.
    Thirty feet from the café, he passed a dark recess. Something moved inside the darkness. Scott tensed and spun toward the threat.
    "Scott Greene?" a woman's voice said from the back of the recess.
    "Who wants to know?" Scott said.
    A slim figure stepped out of the darkness. "I'm Benny Alvarez."
    "You're Benny?" Scott said, unable to hide his surprise. She was in her late twenties, fit, with long black hair tied back in a ponytail, wearing jeans, a light jacket, and a sturdy pair of hiking boots.
    "Benetta. But everyone calls me Benny."
    "I'm sorry," Scott stammered. "I..."
    "Was expecting a man?"
    "No. Well, yeah, actually, I was."
    "I thought you Americans were more progressive that than."
    "We are...I mean...It's just that..."
    "That when you heard a police officer wanted to meet you, you expected that the officer was going to be a man."
    Scott nodded. "Something like that."
    Benny Alvarez shook her head like she was used to it. She pointed to the outdoor tables. "You want to have a seat?"
    Scott glanced around. "Isn't this a bit...public?"
    "Safe as anywhere else in Mexico."
    "Which means not safe at all, right?"
    Benny shrugged. "Probably not. But especially not for a DEA agent without a gun."
    "What makes you think I'm not carrying-"
    "Are you?" She stepped close and ran her hands around his waist, giving him a quick but expert pat-down.
    "Hey," Scott said as he shoved her away.
    She shot a wicked smile at him. "Told you."
    "Are you nuts?"
    "Are you wearing a wire?" Benny asked.
    "Lady, I just got suspended. Meaning no badge and no gun. And no, I'm not wearing a wire. You called this meet-ing, not me. If you've got something to say, quit playing games and just say it."
    She pointed to the nearest sidewalk table. Scott kept looking at her, trying to read what was behind those dark eyes. Finally, he nodded and walked to the small plastic ta-ble.
    * * * *
    Marcus watched through a pair of ten-power binoculars as Greene sat down at the table opposite the woman. "Who is that?" he asked Cyril through the open hatch.
    "He's supposed to be meeting a cop named Benny Alva-rez," Cyril said from the rear compartment.
    "I know who he's supposed to be meeting," Marcus said. "What I'm asking you is who is that woman?"
    "I've got her zoomed and I'm running facial recognition on her right now. It's going to take a few minutes."
    "How many is a few?"
    "We're running off a wireless connection," Cyril said. "It's not like we're hard-wired into the system."
    "How long?" Marcus said, still looking through the bin-oculars.
    "I've seen it take up to half an hour."
    Marcus sighed. Then he keyed his headset. "Sierra One, Sierra Two."
    "Go," came Gavin's voice over Marcus's earpiece.
    "We have eyes on Tango One. He's meeting at the café with a Mexican female."
    "Who is she?"
    "Unknown at this time," Marcus said. "We're running face-rec on her."
    "Do you have a hot mic on his phone?"
    Marcus lowered the binoculars. "Stand by one," he said into his headset. Then he leaned toward the open hatch. "You heard him?"
    "I heard him," Cyril said. "We don't have that software package onboard."
    "Why the fuck not?" Marcus said. "No, wait. You tell him."
    "You're the team leader," Cyril said.
    "This is a tech