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also has not been mentioned in
any transmitted cables that the Venezuelans may have intercepted. We took
operational security very seriously.”
    “Not seriously enough,” Culler said, “because we’re
obviously compromised.”
     “Daniel,” Slayton said, “tell us again, what were
Canastilla’s exact words?”
    The Colombian consulted the sheet of paper in front of
him and read, “Compromised. Initiate Omega protocol. Send Carnivore. Carnivore
is the only one we can trust. Central High Command discussing possible terrorist
attacks inside US.”
    “Okay,” Slayton said, trying to make sense of it. “Canastilla
is on the Central High Command’s operations staff. It stands to reason that
he’d have access to information coming in from FARC intelligence networks. Maybe
Canastilla knows just how badly ANIC’s compromised and doesn’t trust your
people. Maybe FARC’s already received the Phoenix after-action reports from
their source, and Canastilla knows there’s a specialized, lone wolf American
operator in the theater, someone who he knows isn’t compromised.”
    Avery nodded. It was a nice explanation, but it didn’t
offer him much comfort, since he was the one going in, and he didn’t like leaving
anything to guesswork.
    “Regardless,” Daniel said, “we can speculate all day
long, but it won’t do us any good, and it certainly won’t help Canastilla. We
need to make a decision, gentlemen.”
    “It’s up to you,” Culler told Avery.  He knew what
Avery’s answer would be, and for once he felt guilty handing him a shit job. “Frankly,
I don’t like it, and if it was my ass on the line, I sure as hell wouldn’t go.
It’ll have to be deniable, non-official cover.  We’re sure as hell not alerting
the Panamanians that we’re running an op on their soil.
    “I’ve already said I’ll go,” Avery snapped, annoyed. He
thought they were wasting time.
    “What about Canastilla’s family?” Slayton asked. “How
will w bring them out? That is, if we can even find them. If they’re left in
place, FARC’s internal security units will snatch them up the moment they
realize what happened.”
    “They stay in a village in Santander,” said Daniel.
“The army is making arrangements to extract them by helicopter. There may be
complications. His wife is a staunch FARC loyalist who Canastilla met after Deep Sting began. She might not be interested in going with us. But that is
significant. She’s an enemy sympathizer, and what happens to her does not
concern us as long as she has no bearing over Canastilla’s cooperation.
Canastilla is the priority.”
    “I’m not doing this one alone,” Avery said. “Do we
have anyone in Panama, Matt? Paramilitary or contractors?”
    “Not any who are readily available.”
    “I will assign two members of our Special Forces,
seconded to ANIC, to accompany you,” Daniel offered. “Captain Felix Aguilar and
Sergeant Jon Castillo. If that is acceptable to you, of course.”
    “Completely.”

FIVE
     
     
     
    Avery
flew in from Bogotá aboard a Copa Airlines flight, arriving at Panama’s Tocumen
International Airport at 11:47AM. He breezed through customs on his forged
passport and tourist card, which the CIA Bogotá station had prepared for him on
the fly. Though he carried business cards for a CIA front company with a
professionally designed website and a front office number, his cover as a
Canadian investor was paper thin, poorly backstopped, and wouldn’t stand up
against close scrutiny. But this was Panama, not Cuba or Venezuela, and the
Panamanian customs and immigration agencies weren’t likely to look into it.
    When Avery turned his phone back on after the flight,
he had a text from Culler, telling him that they were 90% sure Canastilla was
inside the hotel, that the job was on, and to check his e-mail if he wanted
details. In this case, e-mail meant Intelink, the secure Internet network used
by American intelligence agencies.
     Avery sent