We could be looking for someone homegrown, such as a disgruntled former armed service member who knew C-4 and was recruited. Aspects of that profile are what made Beatty a person of interest. If AQAP could recruit and train a sleeper cell, then why not a homegrown bomb maker trained by our military? That was possible, but I doubted it.
I divided bomb makers into two basic categories: Religious zealots and the ideologically driven were filed under Righteous. This included the Timothy McVeigh and Osama bin Laden types. It didn’t matter to me what religion or political belief they killed for, so long as they were true believers and were willing to murder for their particular religion or political persuasion. They were always right. Their bombs were always just. The dead were always infidels or labeled with some dehumanizing word.
The second group I called Trolls. Trolls had zero interest in doing God’s or Allah’s work, or engaging in politics. They built bombs for money, the thrill, power, or all three. They had no more or less morality or lack of it than the religious true believers, but they had key differences. They weren’t driven by a sense of outrage or purpose. They weren’t seeking retribution, validation, or a prestamped ticket to the afterlife.
Some trolls made a lifestyle out of bomb making. They lived well from job to job and were shrewd about what projects they took on. A few were adept travelers and dangerous anywhere. That’s what I thought we were looking for here. A traveling troll. Mondari’s claim of a cartel delivering a fabricante de bombas fit the traveler group. On my list there were twenty-three who met that criteria. That didn’t rule out a new bomb maker, but I felt odds were, we were looking for somebody known.
I scrutinized that list and was at my desk when an audio file came from Beatty. I listened, saved it, and forwarded the e-mail to Venuti just before Jo called.
“I’m at the hospital,” she said. “They’re telling me Julia had another very hard night. I think she needs grief counseling to start now. I know a retired nurse who isn’t a counselor but who would be really good. She’s seen it all and has a huge heart. Should I send you her phone number? What do you think?”
“Send it. I’ll call her.”
“There’s something else. One of Julia’s friends thinks Julia isn’t going to see them very much anymore. She thinks that when she lives with you, she’ll have to go to a different high school and will lose all her friends.”
“If I can’t get it approved for her to attend the same high school, then I’ll lease my house to someone and move to her school district.”
“I know and I’m sure she wouldn’t think of saying anything. I’m not even sure she said anything to her friend. It may just be that her friend thinks that.”
“It’s legit. I’ll figure it out.”
An hour later I took a call from Rosamar Largo, who wanted to meet for lunch. I was on the fence about that and threw it out for Venuti to decide.
Venuti said, “We’ve found no evidence that Menderes was her brother, and she’s not exactly grief stricken. We talked to her ex yesterday. He says their marriage ended because she was sleeping with a drug dealer boyfriend. He also said cocaine cost her a good casino job. Go ahead and have lunch with her, but make it clear that if she holds back anything more, she’s dealing herself in. She met with two agents yesterday. Why call you?”
“Juan Menderes’s murder. When the homicide detectives questioned her, they used me as the bad guy. They told her I believe she knew what would happen to Juan.”
“Do you believe that?”
I nodded.
“Do you want to do this lunch with her?”
“I’ll do the lunch and then I’m out.”
“Meaning what? Meaning you think Largo and Menderes are about drugs only and everything to do with them is unrelated to the bombings. They killed him, so he couldn’t talk about the drug deliveries.”
“Probably. He’s got a history of moving drugs. He worked for a coyote. Under his former name he’s got enemies in the drug world, and she’s got money she can’t explain.”
“Why does she want to have lunch with you?”
“Good question.”
“I’ll send a couple of agents in ahead of you, so look for them when you get there. What’s the coyote work Menderes did?”
“The roommate Enrique Vasco told me Juan ran a crew for a coyote who led border crossers to their deaths from dehydration and heat exhaustion. Juan’s crew followed and stripped the bodies of anything valuable, including gold fillings. I think there’s something there that ties to the cocaine peddling, and it worries her.”
“I can’t even follow that.”
“Never mind, I’ll go do the lunch.”
The restaurant was large, cool, and quiet inside. I was ten minutes early, but Rosamar was already at a table with a margarita. Two agents sat at a table behind her. She ordered sparkling water and an appetizer. I ordered a chicken sandwich and iced tea. Before the waiter left, she changed her sparkling water to another margarita then stared at my hands.
“You don’t have a ring.”