The Infiltrator by Robert Mazur

Author:Robert Mazur
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781473526624
Publisher: Transworld

15

REVELATIONS

* * *

Bayou Village Apartments, Tampa, Florida

May 31, 1988

THEY NEEDED TO KNOW every name, number, and fact we’d collected in Europe.

Tischler, Jackowski, Cook, Sherman, and half a dozen other agents were sitting in the living room of a safe house at the Bayou Village Apartments near Tampa International. Emir, Kathy, and I reviewed everything that had happened, submitted a report, turned over the dozen or so recordings, and presented a half-foot stack of bank records and corporate papers.

“You aren’t getting a minute past the first week of October,” Tischler said.

“October,” I said numbly as she stared right through me. “Even though we’re meeting new players every day who are at the top of the drug and money-laundering world, it has to be October?”

“You heard me, Mazur.” She glared. “Don’t give me any of your shit.”

Anything more from me would only make matters worse. No one said a word.

Two days later, Armbrecht called. I’d grown used to Latin timing — one week often meant two or three — but Armbrecht was part German, and he obviously had his father’s sense of punctuality when he called just days after I landed. He was in Miami, eager to meet, wanting documents, and anxious to see our operations.

“I’ve got almost everything ready for you,” I lied, “but I still haven’t received a few documents our lawyers in Zürich had to request from a law firm in Gibraltar. I should receive this stuff in a few days. By then I’ll be in Miami. I’ll call you when I’m there, and we can come back to Tampa together.”

“My main business here is you,” he said, disappointed.

Then Alcaíno called with a list of requests. He was promoting a rematch between Rojas and Roman in Medellín. He needed more phony loan documents to cover his financing of the fight, and he wanted me to join him and los duros to watch it. He also had completed his transportation line and was preparing to buy a big load of coke to ride the route. He needed investors and made an unbeatable offer. If I put up $250,000, he’d pay me back $375,000 in forty-five days.

I told him I’d think about it. I had to buy time to formulate an excuse. Seizing dope was one thing, but there was no way the U.S. government was going to invest in it.

When I called Alcaíno back a day or so later with the bad news, Casals answered and provided a clue to the puzzle of Alcaíno’s transportation line. “Roberto’s not here. He went to New York to take care of getting some anchovies through Customs.”

Casals was talking openly — it wasn’t code. He really meant anchovies, but I still needed more intel before we could pinpoint the operation.

In Miami, in Awan’s unexpected absence, I brought an elated Bilgrami up to speed on the new companies and the $4 million in CDs deposited in the Paris branch, handing over an armful of documents on the new corporations formed in Liberia, Hong Kong, and Gibraltar.

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