Read Online Horns of the Devil - Jeff Trask [02] by Marc Rainer - Free Book Online Page A

Salvadoran sugar.”
    “You may have a career ahead of you in diplomacy,” the ambassador replied. His smile was brief. “You are here, of course, on much sadder business.”
    “I’m afraid so, sir. Mr. Doroz has some photographs for you to look at, if you don’t mind. We’d like to know if you recognize any of these individuals.”
    Doroz removed the spread from a manila envelope and handed it to the ambassador. Six photographs of young Hispanic males, three above three, were arranged on an 8x10 sheet of paper. The face of the late Diego Morales appeared in the fourth photograph.
    “I’m afraid I do not know these people,” Lopez said after looking hard at the spread. “There is a member of my staff who might, however. Do you mind if I ask him to look at them?”
    “Of course not,” Trask replied.
    “Excellent. I’ll show the photos to him later, then, and—”
    “Mr. Ambassador, our courts have rules of evidence which require that we witness any identification which your staff member might make. We would need him to sign and initial any photograph he recognizes. We can’t just leave this with you.”
    “I see.”
    The ambassador was silent for a moment. He rose from his chair and opened the door to the waiting room.
    “Marissa, please have Señor Rios join us.”
    The ambassador returned to his chair. He did not speak, and stared vacantly at the photo spread on the table until the door opened again. A man dressed in a black suit and wearing a black patch over his left eye entered the room.
    Trask had always heard cops talking about their antennae, their investigative intuition or sixth sense that let them know when somebody was just “wrong.” If I’ve actually managed to grow a pair of the things, they’re about to overheat with this guy.
    “Gentlemen, may I present José Rios-García, my deputy chief of mission?” the ambassador said. “I’m afraid he may have been more familiar with my son’s activities than I have been lately, with the pressing duties of my office. Much to my regret, as I’m sure you understand.”
    “Of course,” Trask said.
    Rios merely nodded to them, not offering a handshake. The ambassador handed him the photo spread. Rios scanned it and looked at it again. Trask noticed a small hesitation on both passes, at the point where the man’s good eye was focusing on the fourth photo. Rios handed the sheet back to the ambassador.
    “No, Señor. Lo siento mucho.” Rios gave a nod to Trask and turned and left without another word. Trask had the feeling he had just been x-rayed.
    I need to ask the ambassador the hard question. No sense in sugarcoating it .
    “There was an eighteen tattooed on your son’s right shoulder, Mr. Ambassador,” Trask said. “Was he involved in Barrio 18?”
    Lopez-Portilla shook his head. “Not really. Ten years ago, I was working on my master’s degree at UCLA. Armando was eight years old. We didn’t live in the barrios , but my son naturally gravitated to others from our home country. His mother and I were not happy with the tattoo, of course, but it was my impression that Armando got it simply out of desire to identify with the other boys. If he was actually involved in any gang activities, I never knew it. Perhaps I was too busy.”
    “I’m sure you did your best, sir,” Trask said.
    “I am sorry, gentlemen,” the ambassador rose, signaling they were being dismissed. “We do not seem to have been of much assistance.”
    “Thanks for trying, Mr. Ambassador,” Trask said. “We’ll keep you posted. Would you have a set of your son’s records from school on hand? There may be something there that gives us some leads.”
    “I have some papers at home. I’ll have them brought in today. Leave your contact information with my secretary, and she’ll see that you get them. Let me know if there is anything else you think might be of assistance.”
    They left the way they had entered, each leaving a business card with the ambassador’s