El Chorrillo

Chapter One

Kel Hamilton’s Story

April 15

Panama City

No good reason existed for Boggs to have summoned Kel to Panama. He already knew his assignment and was set to arrive and pursue it in-country, but Boggs was his superior and Kel could not ignore an order to appear.

Rather than meeting with him in the station inside the embassy, Boggs waited in one of the Company safe houses, hidden in the delapidated section of town called El Chorrillo. That seemed irregular, especially for Boggs, who liked to lord it over his subordinates, including station chiefs, when the chance arose.

Even in such an informal setting as a safe house, Boggs refused to unbend enough to conduct a casual talk. He waited for Kel behind a table in a back room, attempting to reproduce the usual scenario when a case officer had to report to a Desk Chief in Langley.

Not caring to participate in Boggs’s game, Kel remained on his feet, pushing the chair aside, planting his hands on the table top, which meant he was looming over Boggs like a predatory bird, curious how long Boggs would put up with it before he ordered Kel to sit.

What’ve you got for me? Kel asked, keeping his tone casual, to counter Boggs’s attempt at a power game.

In a bit of a surprise, rather demanding that Kel sit, Boggs rose to join him and Kel counted that up as a psychological victory.

You know, it’s funny you should put it that way, Boggs told him. I literally do have something for you. Here, this, I understand, is just for starters to help you stay covert on this op. Boggs reached into his coat and removed a zipped bag of the kind that usually held cash.

It’s all free money, off the books, but don’t go on a spree and spend it all over the place on whores. Keep that kind of shit to the minimum. Boggs grinned in a nasty way, almost as if he would have condoned such licentious behavior as long as it did not use up too much of the unclean cash.

Okay, no whores, check. So what is it I’m supposed to do with this? The op I’m on doesn’t involve any agent recruitment that I’m aware of. What’s this for?

Don’t know. Don’t give a shit. Frankly, as far as this goes, I’m just being used as a fucking courier, to put this in your hands, and pass you a message. And if you get the feeling that it chaps my ass, you ain’t wrong, Pal. But that’s the way it goes sometimes, isn’t it? Sometimes you eat the bear and sometimes he eats you, right?

That it is, Kel told him. So what’s the message?

Not much of one, actually. You’re expected to check into some cheesy hotel instead of anything flashy, just enough to be comfortable, then the minute you’re settled, call this number. It’ll be self-explanatory, but it’s important you do it immediately after you’re moved in and set up, within the next hour or two.

Boggs passed over a typical business card bare of anything except a local number and Kel pocketed it in his shirt.

Okay, business done. So how are things otherwise? Boggs asked, the last kind of question Kel would have expected from him.

Just getting started. I was just on the other side of the border when I got the call, putting out the usual fires. I can’t tell you much about how this op is going until I get into it more. Could be ugly, or just typical shit.

But no wrinkles, no problems so far?

Not this early into it.

Excellent! That’s all I need to hear. Carry on, and that’s it, I’m done here. Get going.

There had been no handshake on meeting and there was none now. To say the least, Boggs was known to be weak on social skills, at least on the job, and although he was technically Kel’s superior, Kel was being managed on this job by someone over both their heads, as often happened in such situations, someone who was not named, but someone who clearly had the authority to run the operation and even dictate to Boggs. That meant someone in Division, a step above Desk.

That being so, Boggs had apparently decided to put in minimal effort, not much more than phoning in his part and would no doubt be done with it the moment Kel was out of his sight, so he could indulge in the pleasures of the tropical setting in the Canal area.

That would be perfect because Kel coveted no more association with Boggs than he could help, and having been dismissed, gladly headed for the exit.

Out on the street again, Kel caught another taxi, directing the driver to the edge of the district of Panama City known as El Chorrillo, where the kind of hotel Boggs had prescribed could be found.

Over the last month, despite the way he had downplayed his recent activity to Boggs, Kel had been in almost constant motion, and in the first minutes after entering the hotel room, he anticipated savoring the down time. He would have a seat, enjoy the overhead fan, open a beer, and just do nothing for a couple of hours. In the morning, he would be away again, this time on a mission which, while related to his assignment, would have powerful if tense personal implications. For now, though, it was time to just relax.

The bag of money in his pocket dug into his wounded side when he flopped on the bed, reminding him of the message. Cursing, he sat up again and toyed with the card Boggs had passed along.

Within the next hour or two. Better to make the call, put it behind him, then relax. After downing half the beer while it was still somewhat cold, Kel punched up the number on his cell phone, listening while it rang at the other end several times.

Yeah? Douglas Hamilton here. Who’s calling?

Hearing the name, Kel almost dropped the phone, fumbling with it for another couple of seconds of dead air. Who is this, goddamn it? the other party demanded.

I, uh, you see...a mutual acquaintance told me to call this number. I had no idea who I was calling. Do you recognize my voice? Kel asked.

Silence for a moment.

Yes, his father said, calm. Good job. Don’t say any more, I know who you are, no names. Just get over here. I’m in my usual hotel. I’ll be out back, by the pool and I expect you in an hour, sharp.

Yes Sir.

That was it, the line went dead; for another minute, Kel stared at the silent phone before he could calm down enough to close and pocket it. What kind of game is going on here? How the hell does Boggs have my father’s number with instructions for me to call? Here?In Panama?

No time to ponder the bizarre situation. An hour was not long enough and Kel knew the consequences of being late.

His father, of course, did stay in the best hotel in the vicinity, a lavish place north of the embassy out near the university in El Cangrejo. At least it was not far away, but Kel must shower and change into something much more appropriate for that venue. As it was, Panamanian society, Kel knew, was bonkers on the subject of proper attire, even in the sleaziest setting. A hotel like his father’s carried dress code to the extreme. For a moment, Kel even toyed with the idea of wearing a tie but decided against, satisfied to change into his best casual outfit. He felt lucky that he had brought one along.

Chapter Two

The hotel was wide, high, crescent-shaped, curving away from the major intersection before it, embracing a huge property on the back side, including a nine-hole golf course and an Olympic-sized swimming pool. Beyond the great patio section and the greens, the land rose in a low hill populated with woods, an urban park topped above by a viewpoint overlooking the city and the bay.

On the other points of the intersection, high rise financial houses climbed into the sky, part of the system that made Panama a world class off shore business center.

The hotel was a favorite with visiting dignitaries, all the way to kings, queens, and elected heads of state. Rumor had it that President Madsen would be quartered there in August for the upcoming conference.

The lobby, accessed through an elaborate driveway off the intersection, was itself a massive space, populated on its perimeter by a variety of dining establishments, a couple of clubs, bars, and other amenities the corporate set demanded to have at hand.

Inside, in conference rooms, gambling tables, bars, just off the main plaza, and even tables around the plaza itself, those high rollers met and conducted business in person or sipped drinks at tables while speaking to their equals around the world by electronic links. Even to someone accustomed to traveling in the circles a CIA officer must, it was mind-boggling to imagine how much money and power was represented in this room and how much of both, real and virtual, might be changing hands all around Kel.

His father fit perfectly in this environment. This was his world, but it was certainly not Kel’s. He knew his father came to Panama fairly regularly and Kel had met with him here more than once in this same hotel, and had always felt the same sense he felt now, of being out of place here; this time, walking through the door, Kel felt that sensation more acutely than ever.

He edged his way through the room, making for open double doors leading out to the wide veranda before and beyond the pool, finally tracking his father down near the outdoor bar, where he sipped cognac and eyeballed the nearly naked women parading to and from the pool.

Without looking up, Douglas Hamilton knew when Kel had arrived.

You’re late, boy.

Yes Sir, but I was in the building on time. Finding you out here wasn’t exactly easy. It’s a big place.

"Uh uh, always a fucking excuse.

Well sit down, he said. I ordered you a beer, it’ll be here any minute.

Kel pulled out a chair and settled in, but his father refused to face him directly, as if he intended to conduct whatever business loomed ahead out the side of his mouth.

You have anything to say before we get started?

Yes, Sir. You know what? I’m frankly puzzled that my contact could possibly bring us together. How he would have your number and know you wanted to see me...I don’t understand.

Nobody said you have to understand. But why don’t you tell me something: do you think I operate in a vacuum? Hm? Do you?

Kel shook his head. No, of course I don’t. But excuse me, Sir, I don’t see what that’s got to do with it.

You want a clue? Do you remember the name Jered Bryant?

Kel admitted he knew that Jered Bryant had signed as the sponsor on his application to join the CIA, but Kel had never met him. How does that figure in?

Douglas sipped at his drink.

Well think about it, he said. "How would Bryant know to vet you for the CIA out of the clear blue sky? It’s because he’s an old friend of mine, I’ve known him practically forever. Jered and I stay in pretty frequent contact.

"So why in hell would it surprise you if he happens to pass along in conversation that you’ve been given an interesting assignment and you’re coming up here to Panama about the same time I am? It’s enough for you to know that we arranged for your contact to have you call me when you got into down. Big fucking deal.

Any other questions?

Kel shrugged and made a noise that suggested the answer was clear enough.

Good. Then it’s my turn to ask you something.

Another sip.

Let’s go back, Douglas said, back to when you joined the Company. Did you ever wonder why I picked the CIA? Why I pushed you that way instead of, say the military? It wasn’t a whim on my part. You know, of course, that there are a lot of anti-business forces out there and the CIA’s the last line of defense against them. I wanted my son to represent the interests of our company and the family, out there on the front lines. That’s why I made you the deal.

You know, Sir, I never quite understood that, but I guess I see now. I had no idea of your thinking about this.

"No, of course you didn’t. But that brings us to now.

What do you think of the situation your agency’s in? This Madsen character? What do you think of his idea of shutting you down?

Kel knitted his brows, as much for the effect, for his father to see, as anything.

"I think...that what I think doesn’t make a damn. I consider myself, in a case like that, just to be a foot soldier, which now I get the feeling is what you intended for me when you sent me to the Company. In other words, in the scheme of things, I’m in a pretty lowly position. And that means that whatever’s going on, whatever happens, is so far over my head, between the president and Congress, that I’m less important than a gnat.

"So there’s no more for me to think.

I don’t know what else I can say.

You stupid shit! His father tapped the table with an index finger, making no other gesture to accompany his pique, and not raising his voice quite enough to draw attention of those at the nearest tables. ‘I don’t know what else I can say.’ Jesus fucking Christ, is that all you’ve got? You’re telling me you don’t give a goddamn if that asshole closes the agency?

With all due respect, Sir, that isn’t what I said. What I care about doesn’t mean any more than what I think about it. Of course I don’t want him to shut us down. But if he’s going to, I can’t stop it.

Yeah? Meaning you’ll just sit on your ass and let it fall down around your ears?

Kel could only peer at his father, at a genuine loss about the point Douglas was trying to make.

All right, Dad, I give up, just what the hell do you want me to say?

Before the words were out of his mouth, Kel realized the size of the tactical mistake he had made. Without a change in expression, with no more a move than pushing his drink a few millimeters aside, his father regarded him in a way Kel knew only too well.

I ought to break your fucking jaw for that. How dare you back-talk me, Douglas Hamilton intoned, his voice coming in a fearsome hiss.

In the last years as a field officer in the CIA, Kel Hamilton had encountered much turmoil and violence, had stood up to tougher people than Douglas Hamilton would ever be, and had obviously survived intact, still nursing a barely healed bullet hole in his side.

Seated here in comfort, in a safe, calm location, not for the first time in his life did Kel ponder why he permitted this man to push him around this way, when his father had no direct power of any kind over him now. Kel was not certain what angered him more, the way his father played him, or the fact that he put up with it.

Kel knew he risked no open fight. His father would not soil his own nest by making a scene here, or even raising his voice, which meant Kel could have gotten away with quietly telling his father where to get off and walking out, with no immediate repercussions. Yet he sat there and took his father’s abuse, subservient on the outside, while on the inside, seething with rage as he had so many times in his life in his father’s presence.

Whatever Douglas Hamilton might or might not suspect about his son’s feelings, he squared up face to face with Kel, gray eyes zeroing in like lasers.

Listen to me, boy, he said, you had better smarten up, and fast. Your agency is in the fight of its life. What in the hell has gone wrong with you?

Now, he leaned forward, close enough to speak and not be overheard even had a third person been seated at the same table.

I’m telling you, I expect you to defend the Company! Against all comers. As long as the CIA needs your help to survive, you had better put all your energy into doing everything you can to prevent Madsen from forcing Congress to dissolve it! Do you read me?

Yes Sir, but I’m asking you, what can I possibly do? I still have no idea what you think I can do, just on my own.

Somehow, his father managed to move even closer, turning absolutely conspiratorial now. Let’s take this assignment you’ve been handed—whatever it may be. While you’re on it, I expect you to keep your eyes and ears open. If any kind of opportunity presents itself for you to do damage to Madsen, take it—

Kel was halfway to his feet before he caught himself, conscious of several pairs of eyes around the terrace that had noticed his sudden move. He planted his hand on the table just as he had before Boggs not two hours earlier, shifting forward to situate his head next to his father’s, so he could speak directly into Douglas’s ear, his voice just above a whisper.

"Dad, listen to me. With all the respect in the world, I’m telling you that I cannot have you sit out here in public, with god-knows-who in earshot and say something like that to me. I’m serious. Whatever you and I may think of the man, I won’t be caught saying a word that can be construed as a threat to the president.

For the record, I still take my orders ultimately from the office of the National Security Council—which means it comes directly from Madsen himself—and if those orders are to do nothing, that’s what I...officially have to do. I’m not in any position to hear anyone threaten Mr. Madsen in my presence and not take it seriously. Do you read me?

As compelled as Kel had been to say those words, having said them, he braced himself for any kind of possible reaction. What stunned him more than he could have anticipated was the fact that not only did his father not hit him, he sat back and grinned.

Tell me, Douglas Hamilton said, whether you’re serious, or just covering your ass?

Does it matter which?

His father studied him, running a hand through his brush-cut gray hair.

Fuck no, not a bit, he said. That’s fine, the first thing you’ve got to do is stay in the game. So if you think this is the way to do it, fine, because you won’t do anybody any good if you fall into the hands of Madsen’s people. Okay, I can buy that. You know my position, you know what’s expected of you, and that’s what this is about. Message passed, and I hope, received. Okay?

Even with the defusing of the situation, Kel suffered a cold flush through his body. His father’s comments against the president made him restive and he wished he could somehow go back five minutes in time and un-hear them.

Okay, he said, but then, the subject is closed, all right?

Yes, the older man said. Subject closed.

Good.

At some point Kel had not even registered, a server had discreetly slipped by with his beer and a frosted glass, and now Kel finally thought to take a sip. And then another, and still more, buying time to think about what it was toward which his father might be pointing, in the issue of the CIA’s silent war with the president, and what Douglas Hamilton actually expected Kel to do about it.

A couple of tables over, an attractive woman in a string bikini that left little to the imagination tried to flirt with Kel; it would have been prudent, even wise, given his cover, to respond, but the true reason Kel was even in Panama was because of another woman, a woman who meant even more to him than his father should be allowed to know. Compared to Shannon, the woman across the way did not even register on Kel’s radar, no matter what she might offer. Without misgivings, he turned his head and ignored her, never looking at her again.

In that moment, an odd thought crossed through Kel’s mind: could anyone, all these people here so calmly enjoying their drinks in this overpriced hotel, who see these two men—my father and myself—guess we’re even related? The two did not really look like father and son. Whereas Douglas Hamilton was all square angles and sharp features, Kel had inherited the round jaw and the oval face of his mother. What would those nearby be thinking, that these two men, both appearing to be on the brink of hostility, were only business partners, or even opponents?

At that very moment, Kel Hamilton was caught up deep inside the most dangerous period of his career in the CIA. For Sharon’s sake, and even the president’s, Kel might soon have to absorb the brunt of a head-on collision between himself and elements of the Company. If the CIA should figure out Kel’s true loyalties, they must not be allowed to know of a handle they could use to control him. Shannon, totally unwitting, could become one such handle, and his father another.

While perhaps Jered Bryant might be a friend of Douglas Hamilton’s and would try to protect him, others in the agency would have no such interest. If they believed they could force Kel into compliance by threatening his father, they would never hesitate a millisecond.

For his father’s sake, Kel had an overwhelming urge to disengage from Douglas Hamilton, to put as much distance between the two of them as he was able, beginning at this very moment. The onset of this sensation was stunning, almost disorienting in its intensity.

Nevertheless, sitting calmly before his father, with all this swirling through him, Kel must remain calm and matter of fact.

So, I guess that’s all—

Douglas held up a hand to stop him from rising.

One more thing. I have this for you, he said. It’s what Jered meant by ‘support’. Something that’s just between a father and son.

He reached into his shirt pocket and took out a bulging envelope and passed it across the table.

Don’t open it here.

Kel secreted the handful in his coat pocket, next to the bag he had not felt comfortable leaving out of his sight until he could get it back to his safe in Colombia.

Having conducted that last detail of business, his father exhibited the same urge to have Kel gone that Boggs had shown earlier. With no agreement struck between the two men to meet again while Kel remained in town, they shook hands, as formally as if they were in fact only two business men, and Kel managed to walk casually back out through the lobby, and catch the next cab.

But by the time Kel was seated aboard, on the way back to his comparatively crummy hotel, the meeting with his father had already taken on more the feel of a strange dream than reality.

In the room, Kel immediately opened the envelope his father had passed to him. Of course, it contained cash, he already knew that. What else would it be? Combined with what Boggs had passed along, it added to a total of ten thousand dollars.

It was clear what had happened here: since Kel was operating on a mission outside the CIA’s normal system—a system in which every cent spent by case officers for agent operations was documented—this was how they were setting him up financially, while skirting even further around all accounting. What Boggs had provided already must have been all the agency could let go off the record, and what his father had passed now was the rest.

The notion that his father had been drawn into this left Kel literally shaking.

One positive out of the episode was that it had jarred him out of his nerves over having to face Shannon again. His thinking was crystallized now, he was fully prepared to go to work in order to keep her out of his employers’ hands.

His next move must be to approach her directly, absorb her pain and anger, but in so doing, pass his warning to her and hope she would listen, understand, and do what he would urge her to do for her own protection. Nothing else, not the CIA, the president, or his father, was more important than her life.

Chapter Three

A French human rights group had set up a pair of hospitals in remote areas of Panama about four years earlier. One of those hospitals lay in the hills fifty miles or so northeast of Panama City, at the edge of the great Darién rainforest. Although he knew that Shannon operated out of the embassy in Panama City, Kel was also aware that she spent most of her free time at the clinic. The location was so remote that it made the perfect place to approach her, a place where she could vent out all the anger he imagined must have been simmering for eight years, without making a public scene. He hoped that when she had it out of her system, he could still convince her to listen to the critical news he must pass to her.

It was impossible to know when she would visit next, but nothing was as important to Kel now as seeing her, so he set out for the hospital, ready to wait as long as necessary until she next appeared.

This would be the first time he would have seen Shannon since he disappeared those eight years before. Circumstances at the time had demanded that he must leave without facing her pain and bitterness directly, but over the years, he had heard enough through other sources to know something of the depth of it. For her own good, he hoped by now she had gotten over him, as painful as it would be for Kel to hear it from her directly.

While it would be difficult enough to renew her pain, if she had indeed gotten past it, Kel knew that she had recently suffered an even more terrible parting than his own leaving eight years ago, and he dreaded seeing how badly she was hurt now, and abhorred having to add to her anguish. But what he must bring her was dire enough, she must hear it for her own survival.

And soon. How soon, how much time he had to brace himself up, he expected to hear within a few minutes of his arrival at the open gate in the compound’s fence.

If for some reason, Sharon could no longer come to this hospital, Kel hoped the doctors would know where he might find her away from the embassy, or at least might know how he could send her a message that would lure her here one more time.

With all that in mind, two days after meeting with his father, Kel arrived at the hospital.

Off the bus at the front gate, Kel made for the main office and asked the orderly for Dr. Chretien, not specifying whether he was seeking the husband or wife.

It was Catherine who responded to the call and for a moment she just stood in place and stared at him.

Derek? I do not believe this, it is really you! It’s been so long. Is everything well with you?

Oh, it’s okay, he told her.

"Wonderful. That is wonderful. When you are gone so long, we wonder, and worry.

But please, come in, it’s so good to see you.

Catherine Chretien seized Kel’s hand and dragged him into the office, where her husband Laurent jumped to his feet, grabbing Kel in a bear hug, then pumped his hand several times.

We thought...we feared you were dead or something. You just disappeared, Catherine told him, her voice trembling.

Well I’m good at that, Kel admitted.

Hah! Yes, I remember, her husband agreed. You can be like a ghost. So come, sit down, tell us everything.

Some wine? Catherine asked him. I’m afraid we can’t join you, we’re operating at two o’clock, but you can certainly have a glass if you like.

No, I’ll have a beer.

Ah yes, I’d forgotten—you and beer, she said.

She rushed to the refrigerator in a corner of the office and returned with a bottle, wrapping it in a styrofoam sleeve, the usual method of serving in tropical climes.

Kel considered the Chretiens to be two of his favorite people on earth, despite the fact that they only knew him by his cover name of Derek Montarra. There was no joy in deluding such good friends, but it was not unusual for CIA field officers to hide their true identities even from next door neighbors. Had the Chretiens known Kel by his name, sooner or later, they might have mentioned to Shannon about his frequent visits and that was something he had not wanted to happen before now.

Catherine peered at Kel in a disconcerting way, as if she were seeing into his mind. Are things really well with you? she said. I mean, you certainly look fine—whatever you’ve been up to seems to have agreed with you.

Thanks, Cathie. I could say the same about you, especially about looking fine, but Laurent might think I was flirting with his wife.

Hah! I could also say, who is flirting with whom? Laurent cut in, winking at Catherine. Look at her, she is practically ready to come out of her underwear over you. I am thinking, should I excuse myself and leave you two to carry on? Or what is it you Americans say, you two should ‘get a room?’

Oh would you, please, Dear? his wife said and the typical banter between the two French doctors eased some of Kel’s nervousness over the mission before him. The fact that their back-and-forth was conducted in English made verified that it was play-acting for the fun of it between them all.

Look, as great as it is to see both of you... and especially you, he leered Catherine’s way, I’m not here strictly for pleasure. I’m afraid it’s because someone that both of you know is in considerable trouble and I’m here to see if I can help.

Oh no? Not one of our doctors? A nurse?

No, Kel told her. It’s the American diplomat who comes up here, the one who is your liaison with the US Embassy.

Oh no, Shannon? You’re here about Shannon?

Yes, it’s her. What I’m hoping is to meet with her at the first opportunity. Do you think she will show up here any time soon?

The doctors exchanged glances and came to some agreement, the way married people can often do, without even having to say a word.

Catherine leaned forward, putting her hand to the side of her mouth as if hiding a secret from someone in the next room. Matter of fact, she is here now.

She is? That’s great. Do you have any objections if I speak to her?

Catherine shrugged elaborately.

"It’s not up to us to say. She can speak to anyone she likes, so can you. But she isn’t immediately here, inside the compound, that is. She is outside, but not far, visiting at a village. She will be back here... later.

Why don’t you settle in one of our visitor’s quarters and we’ll bring her around soon as she’s back.

I’d really appreciate that.

Although he managed to offer a calm exterior to his two friends, inside, Kel was not calm at all. Having expected not to see Shannon here for a couple of days or longer, giving him time to prepare himself, now there was so little chance to marshal his arguments, to plan his recruitment pitch to convince her to listen to him. When he saw her now, the first two or three words out of his mouth had to stop Shannon cold and catch her attention, or he could totally fail in his mission to warn her.

After Catherine led Kel to a room of his own, the possibility of seeing Sharon this very day, instead of focusing his mind, only served to drive every rational thought from his head. When Catherine excused herself, he stretched out onto the bed, hoping to concentrate, and closed his eyes....

It might have been a dream, but the knocking at the door was real enough and he jerked upright, surprised that he had somehow managed to fall asleep under such unsettled conditions.

Derek? a woman’s voice called. Are you decent?

Emerging from the fog of sleep, it was a moment before Kel registered the voice as Catherine Chretien’s. Disappointment that it was not Shannon vied with relief that he did not have to meet with her until he was less groggy.

Derek? Catherine called again.

It’s okay, I’m coming.

When Kel opened the door, Catherine Chretien stepped inside, favoring him with a smile which, under other circumstances, could have lit up his day, even given that she was