Page 105 of The Fourth Option
“That’s right, but she did say something, well, different…”
“What?”
“She said the shooter looked like a cyclops. One eye. Killed everyone with, in her words, ‘a gun that made no sounds.’?”
Mendez raised an eyebrow.
“A cyclops with a silencer?”
“Yeah.”
Stanton pulled a folder from his bag and slid it across the table.
“Best sketch artist in the district,” he said.
Mendez studied the pencil sketch, looking at a man in a tactical helmet, a monocular night vision device over one eye, and a long-barreled rifle.
He let out a low whistle.
“Helmet. Mono NOD. Suppressor. Looks like something out of a fucking Clancy novel.”
“What do you think?” Stanton asked.
“I can see why you have questions.”
“Sicario? Some sort of contractor? He looks military.”
“We have reports of former U.S. mil selling their training to the cartels for top dollar.”
“We’ve seen those too, but this feels different.”
“Feels?Jarrett, you’re not going soft on me, are you? What about your data?”
“Try this on for size: A few days ago, a guy walked into the federal building, looking to talk to the DEA. When he was given the appropriate forms to fill out for a contact, he got spooked. Bolted. The U.S. marshal on desk duty said he drove off in a blue VW camper van.”
“Sicariosdon’t drive VW buses. And they don’t ask to talk to the DEA. Who was he looking for?”
“Javier Gonzalez. You know him?”
“Gonzo? Yeah, I know him. Hasn’t worked Cajun Country for a few years. Not sure where he is now, but I can find out. Did some interagency time back in the day.”
“What kind of interagency work?” Stanton asked.
“The CIA type. In Afghanistan.”
“No shit?”
“No shit, Jarrett. That’s not unusual. You Bureau guys did a lot of that too.”
Stanton lowered his voice.
“Do you know what Leigh Ann Staub’s husband did for a living?”
“I have a feeling you are going to tell me.”
“Former SEAL who worked for the CIA.”
“Now it’s my turn: No shit?”
