The place smelled like beer and wood polish and blue chalk from the pool cues. The dark-paneled walls and low light made it feel like a cave. In other words, it was the perfect sort of place for drowning our frustrations in dollar pitchers of beer.
We were on our third round when Morales challenged Shadi to a game of pool. Mez got up to go put some blues on the jukebox and then went to provide color commentary for the pool match.
I leaned my head back against the cracked vinyl of the booth and let the smooth Mississippi currents in Muddy Waters’s voice wash over me. Gardner nursed her beer across from me and seemed as content as I was sharing a companionable silence.
Eventually, though, I opened my eyes and leaned forward to take a sip. As I did, my gaze landed on the tiger-eye cabochon on her left hand. “Where’d you get that?” I asked, nodding toward her hand.
She held up her hand and looked at the large gold-and-brown-streaked stone. “Bought it from a street vendor in Mexico. I was on vacation after a tough case and it just kind of spoke to me. Helps me stay grounded.”
I nodded. “You were with the MEA then?”
She nodded and leaned back. I wasn’t sure if the move was deliberate or if the retreat was meant to distance herself from my questions.
“You don’t have to talk about it,” I said. I knew from Morales that there was some drama in Gardner’s past that risked her job with the MEA. According to him, this task force was her chance at redeeming herself.
“No, it’s fine,” she said on a shaky breath. “I’m surprised Morales or Shadi didn’t tell you already.”
I shook my head.
Her eyes widened, as if she’d expected me to admit the opposite. “It happened four years ago. We were working a long-term case to bring down a big-time wizard in Miami. The guy was smuggling weapons, young girls, and rare rain-forest flowers into the country. The weapons sales and the human trafficking funded his lab, where he was trying to develop a new super potion. We’d heard from an informant, he was trying to develop the elixir of life.”
I chuckled. Every wizard boasted about trying to find the elixir at some point.
“Anyway, we had a big task force going—ATF, FBI, Postmaster, you name it. But we were in charge of things. It was our guy undercover in the gang, see?”
I nodded. “Which gang?”
“A Morte.”
My eyes flared. “The Brazilians? Holy shit.” In Portuguese, the name meant “the Death.”
Back in the ’80s, when narcotics were the substances destroying the moral fabric of America, the Colombian cartels had dominated the drug trade. But once magic had usurped narcotics as both the bigger threat and the bigger moneymaker, the Colombians had been dethroned by the Brazilian shamans. These powerful wizards controlled access to certain rain-forest plants the United States now controlled due to their use in dirty potions. Uncle Sam preferred to sell those flowers, herbs, and plants to Big Magic companies. Not only did that net the government healthy tax incomes, but the FDPA also earned tons of money vetting all the legal potions for sale in government-run apothecaries and through med-wiz practices.
Anyway, when it came to potion cooking in the southeastern United States, especially, the Brazilian covens were to be feared because they controlled the substances wizards all over America wanted to get their hands on. They controlled the flow of controlled ingredients in and also had their hands in almost every arms deal and human trafficking outfit from Florida up to New York.
“So what happened?” I asked.
She leaned forward. “Our guy on the inside got word to us that he was getting a bad feeling. There had been rumblings among A Morte that the leader suspected a snitch.” She adjusted in her seat, as if the memory made her physically uncomfortable. “So I went to my ASAC and said we needed to call off the sting. He called a meeting of the heads of the other groups in the task force to discuss it. Naturally, they all agreed too much money and manpower had been invested to back out based on rumors.”
“Shit.”
“Right. In their defense, we were close to having what we needed to make the case. We had one of the A Morte guys willing to testify and a judge ready to issue a warrant under the RICO statutes.” She exhaled a shaky breath. “What we didn’t know was that one of the ATF guys was in the coven’s pocket. Somehow he found out the identity of the undercover and told the coven leader.”
I closed my eyes. “Fuck, Gardner.”
“No one becomes the head of a Brazilian coven without being pretty crafty, right?” Her tone was dripping with scorn. “So he came up with a sting of his own. Let it leak to our guy that a big buy was coming up. Naturally, our guy got word to me about it. I should have known better, but all I could think was that I wanted that case tied up quickly so I could get him out of there.”
The clocked ticked in the background as she gathered her courage to continue.
“See, the guy who was undercover? He and I…” She trailed off. “Anyway, I let my feelings cloud my judgment. So I sent my team in while I sat in a fucking van a mile away with the ATF fucks and my ASAC and the other high-ranking agents.” She swallowed hard. “The guns started firing almost immediately. By the time the rest of us made it across that unending mile, the entire team was dead and the cowards who killed them were gone.”
Silence settled over us like a black shroud. My chest felt tight out of sympathy. I knew a thing or two about carrying around the guilt of causing someone’s death. But I couldn’t imagine carrying around the karmic debt of leading an entire team to its slaughter.
“Sir, I know it wasn’t easy for you to share that story with me. But hindsight’s a bitch. Makes you think you should have seen things you couldn’t possibly have seen.”
She sighed. “I guess you’re right. Still, this stuff with the mayor? Got me wondering if we’ve missed something.”
“Probably,” I said, “but that’s Eldritch’s problem now, right?”
She shook her head. “Just because he says he’s taking point doesn’t mean we can’t pursue the potion aspects of the case. After all, this Dionysus prick’s violated about twenty federal laws.”
A little dose of adrenaline had me shifting in my seat. “So what’s our play?”
“Way I see it BPD’s gonna have their hands full for a while with Aphrodite.”
I shook my head in disgust. “That’s bullshit, sir. I’d bet my left hand Dionysus killed Owens.”