Culler a one-word acknowledgement, but
didn’t ask any questions. He knew Culler had the Agency and NSA people working
hard overnight trying to garner a lead on Canastilla’s position.
Avery picked up his rental car, a 2010 Honda Inspire
at the airport. From there it was a slow-going thirty minute drive on the toll
road to Panama City. Traffic was a nightmare, worse than he remembered, the
streets congested with near bumper-to-bumper traffic and constant jams at major
intersections. Pedestrians crossed the streets wherever they pleased, weaving
between stopped cars. Local drivers were aggressive and didn’t believe in
giving anyone the right of way. Motorcyclists were an incessant irritation,
weaving in between the lanes of slow-moving traffic and around cars.
Panama is a modern cosmopolitan city of just under a
million and a half people, plus plenty more on vacation or business. The city’s
crowded skyline comprised high rise buildings of shimmering glass and steel
nestled between the sparkling blue water of the Pacific Ocean and the bright
green foliage of the tropical rainforest. The city sat just seven feet above
sea level, and the air and sky were clean and fresh, lacking the thick
pollution and heavy smog of major Western and developing Asian cities.
Founded some five hundred years ago by Spanish
conquistadors, Panama was now considered an international city, given its prominent
role in the global economy. This was due to the Panama Canal, which accounts
for over half of the country’s GDP. Three hundred million tons of cargo passed
through the Canal annually, making it one of the most important waterways in
global trade.
Panama’s role in global trade and commerce also made
the city an important logistics hub for all manner of transnational crime,
ranging from money laundering, to arms trafficking, kidnapping, sex slaves, and
drugs.
Some neighborhoods and nearby districts were ridden
with enough gang and drug violence to make Chicago or LA’s inner neighborhoods
look tame by comparison, and bandits were always on the lookout for wealthy
tourists to rob or kidnap. Consequently, there was a heavy police presence
throughout the city, especially in the areas popular among foreign travelers
and tourists.
FARC was also known to maintain a small presence in Panama,
contrary to the Panamanian president’s recent proclamation that he’d
successfully forced them out of the country, a niggling point of contention
between the Colombian and Panamanian governments. FARC used Panamanian ports to
move drugs and weapons, and it wasn’t a surprise that some of FARC’s senior
political leaders opted to hide out here instead of rugging it out in the
Colombian jungles.
The good news was that Panama didn’t have a secret
police that routinely monitored suspicious foreigners or bugged hotel rooms, so
Avery could operate somewhat freely here, long as he practiced smart tradecraft
and discretion. Panama didn’t even have a military and instead kept only a
Ministry for Public Safety, a police force that wasn’t even specially trained
for counterintelligence and counterterrorism.
Before Aguilar and Castillo arrived later that day, Avery
planned to spend a couple hours doing pre-mission prep work, but first, he had
one stop to make.
He waited now in his Inspire on the top level of a
parking garage four blocks away from the office building housing the American embassy.
He had the wheels pointed to the left and the rear windows rolled half-way down,
the recognition signal to his local CIA contact.
Waiting several minutes past the arranged time, Avery
soon grew impatient. Finally he heard tires screeching at the top of the
entrance ramp, and a black Ford Crown Victoria pulled into the second spot off
his right, leaving a gap between the vehicles.
The CIA officer from the embassy climbed out, removed
two medium-sized suitcases from his trunk, and approached the Inspire.
Avery didn’t get out. He popped the
didn’t ask any questions. He knew Culler had the Agency and NSA people working
hard overnight trying to garner a lead on Canastilla’s position.
Avery picked up his rental car, a 2010 Honda Inspire
at the airport. From there it was a slow-going thirty minute drive on the toll
road to Panama City. Traffic was a nightmare, worse than he remembered, the
streets congested with near bumper-to-bumper traffic and constant jams at major
intersections. Pedestrians crossed the streets wherever they pleased, weaving
between stopped cars. Local drivers were aggressive and didn’t believe in
giving anyone the right of way. Motorcyclists were an incessant irritation,
weaving in between the lanes of slow-moving traffic and around cars.
Panama is a modern cosmopolitan city of just under a
million and a half people, plus plenty more on vacation or business. The city’s
crowded skyline comprised high rise buildings of shimmering glass and steel
nestled between the sparkling blue water of the Pacific Ocean and the bright
green foliage of the tropical rainforest. The city sat just seven feet above
sea level, and the air and sky were clean and fresh, lacking the thick
pollution and heavy smog of major Western and developing Asian cities.
Founded some five hundred years ago by Spanish
conquistadors, Panama was now considered an international city, given its prominent
role in the global economy. This was due to the Panama Canal, which accounts
for over half of the country’s GDP. Three hundred million tons of cargo passed
through the Canal annually, making it one of the most important waterways in
global trade.
Panama’s role in global trade and commerce also made
the city an important logistics hub for all manner of transnational crime,
ranging from money laundering, to arms trafficking, kidnapping, sex slaves, and
drugs.
Some neighborhoods and nearby districts were ridden
with enough gang and drug violence to make Chicago or LA’s inner neighborhoods
look tame by comparison, and bandits were always on the lookout for wealthy
tourists to rob or kidnap. Consequently, there was a heavy police presence
throughout the city, especially in the areas popular among foreign travelers
and tourists.
FARC was also known to maintain a small presence in Panama,
contrary to the Panamanian president’s recent proclamation that he’d
successfully forced them out of the country, a niggling point of contention
between the Colombian and Panamanian governments. FARC used Panamanian ports to
move drugs and weapons, and it wasn’t a surprise that some of FARC’s senior
political leaders opted to hide out here instead of rugging it out in the
Colombian jungles.
The good news was that Panama didn’t have a secret
police that routinely monitored suspicious foreigners or bugged hotel rooms, so
Avery could operate somewhat freely here, long as he practiced smart tradecraft
and discretion. Panama didn’t even have a military and instead kept only a
Ministry for Public Safety, a police force that wasn’t even specially trained
for counterintelligence and counterterrorism.
Before Aguilar and Castillo arrived later that day, Avery
planned to spend a couple hours doing pre-mission prep work, but first, he had
one stop to make.
He waited now in his Inspire on the top level of a
parking garage four blocks away from the office building housing the American embassy.
He had the wheels pointed to the left and the rear windows rolled half-way down,
the recognition signal to his local CIA contact.
Waiting several minutes past the arranged time, Avery
soon grew impatient. Finally he heard tires screeching at the top of the
entrance ramp, and a black Ford Crown Victoria pulled into the second spot off
his right, leaving a gap between the vehicles.
The CIA officer from the embassy climbed out, removed
two medium-sized suitcases from his trunk, and approached the Inspire.
Avery didn’t get out. He popped the
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