The door to Pearce’s office opened, and two suits from the State Department stepped out, their gazes cold as they walked past Zach.
“McBride.” Pearce stuck his head out of his office and motioned Zach inside.
In his midfifties, John Pearce had the look of a man who spent too much time behind a desk—gray hair, paunchy, ruddy complexion. Like everyone else in the political cesspool of Washington, D.C., he wore a suit and tie and enjoyed playing the game. But he’d always backed Zach up in the past, and he’d been a damned good marshal in his day.
“I’ve read the reports and depositions. I’ve listened to the audio. I’ve read the doctor’s file. Sorry to hear about the broken ribs and the wrists.” Pearce looked at him through pale blue eyes that gave away nothing. “You’re damned lucky to be alive.”
Zach couldn’t argue with that.
“Here’s the situation from our point of view.” Pearce leaned back in his chair. “Gisella calls in to say you disappeared with cocaine you stole from the Zetas and tells us she’s afraid for her life. Ten days later you reappear—with a high-profile kidnapping victim in tow—and claim that Gisella stole the coke and betrayed you to the Zetas. That’s quite a story.”
“Yes, sir, it is. It’s also the truth.”
“Here’s the kicker. Two days ago, Interpol lost contact with Gisella. Yesterday, thefederalesfound her body—or some identifiable pieces of it—in the middle of the street in downtown Juárez.”
Thatexplained the looks he’d been getting all day. Gisella had tried to cover for herself by implicating him—and now she was dead. Which only made him look worse.
“Cárdenas must have realized she’d deceived him and gone after her.”
“You had no idea she was dead?” Pearce leveled his gaze at Zach.
“No. Of course, I didn’t. At the time I was in the middle of the desert.”
“It’s damned lucky for you that you’ve got an alibi—and a very credible witness.” Pearce frowned. “About this Benoit woman—do you think she’ll be a problem?”
“What do you mean?”
“We sent the Denver guys in today to clarify for her and her editor what they may and may not print regarding you and her rescue. I’m wondering if she’ll cooperate.”
“She won’t do anything that would endanger me or other DUSMs. I feel certain of that. She’s not a headline chasing sort of reporter. You just need to explain it to her—and be ready to answer a lot of questions.”
Pearce nodded. “I have to say this whole thing is likely to turn into an international shit storm. The Mexican government is already accusing us of ignoring their national sovereignty by deploying a black ops team within their borders to rescue Benoit without their permission, so the State Department’s panties are in a twist.”
Zach laughed. Black ops team? “That ‘black ops team’ was one half-dead DUSM and a young female reporter with a strong will to survive.”
“Interpol thinks you stole the cocaine, arranged to have Gisella killed after she found out, and then got snagged by the Zetas.”
Zach felt his temper spike. “And what do you think?”
“I believe you, of course, but we want the matter investigated thoroughly before you head back out on assignment again.”
That had Zach on his feet. “What the hell does that mean?”
“Sit down, McBride. It’s not all that bad. I’m sure it will be sorted out in the end. But in the meantime, you’re being placed on paid administrative leave. You’re not to leave D.C. until the investigation is concluded.”
Great.“And how long will that take?”
Pearce shrugged. “A couple of weeks. A month.”
A month was a long time to be doing nothing. Too long.
“It will give you time to recuperate from those broken ribs and rest up a bit.”
Zach took a breath, trying to keep his temper in check. “Yeah. And in the meantime, Cárdenas—”
“Is not your problem. Come back tomorrow, and we’ll pick up where we left off.”
And Zach realized he’d been dismissed. He stood, walked toward the door.