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“Yes.” His eyes flashed with intensity. “They turned against each other to survive.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
FBI HEADQUARTERS—J. EDGAR HOOVER BUILDING
WASHINGTON, DC
January 9
“Tell him that a deal might be possible. It’s not too late. Immunity if he testifies against Calakmul.”
Roth wasn’t sure if Lund had the authority to make such an offer, or if Monica or someone else in the room with them had suggested it. He wasn’t sure how Carter would react to it either.
“Look,” Roth said, leaning forward. He stared into his friend’s eyes. His emotions were difficult to process, but there were a lot of years they’d shared. A lot of memories. He hated that his friend had betrayed him. But that didn’t erase their years of history. He still cared about Moretti and his family. “What if survival weren’t the only outcome? With your help, we might be able to stop him. Do you really want ‘Armageddon It’ to happen?” He’d dropped a reference to a Def Leppard song they both knew, hoping to soften him.
Moretti gave him a half smile. “There’s no stopping it, Roth. All we can do is survive it.”
“But what if we could? Isn’t it worth trying? What if you had immunity for testifying against Jacob Calakmul?”
Carter chuffed. “It would have to be very helpful information. Actionable.”
That was apparently Carter’s favorite word.
Moretti glanced at Carter with a look of contempt. “I already have all the immunity I need.”
“What kind are you talking about?” Roth questioned.
“The kind that’ll come in handy when people start getting sick. Or has it already started?” He glanced at Carter again. “I’m going to be fine. So is my family. Besides, I don’t trust any protection the Feds could offer.”
“Why not?” Carter demanded, looking insulted.
Moretti leaned back in his chair and folded his arms—at least the best he could manage while wearing handcuffs. “I’ve worked in law enforcement my whole career. From being an MP in the navy after I washed out of BUD/S to my current job. Do you know how many run-ins I’ve had with the Feds? The politics of my own department? The power trips? It’s pathetic.”
“Not all cops or agents are bad, surely,” Roth said.
“What does it matter? I’ve seen corruption at every level, Roth. I’ve had to provide security details for visiting bigwigs. I’ve busted a state senator’s kids for drugs, only to have the case tossed out because of a favor owed. I don’t know how many people in this building work for Calakmul directly or indirectly. And neither do you.” He glared at Carter. “But I’m not the only one.”
Roth sighed. He had the same concern. When he went to the death game, he’d seen all the people who’d signed up to be part of the new world that Jacob was bringing. There’d been famous faces among them—the ones Lund had told him not to name yet. So Moretti wasn’t wrong to be cynical. Some people felt like they were above the law. And maybe they were right. Jacob Calakmul’s reach was vast. He’d proven that over and over.
Then a little thought niggled in Roth’s mind. Something he hadn’t thought of before. Something that didn’t add up.
“Calakmul sent some MS-13 gang members to kidnap my family,” Roth said. “They were coming for us the night we got back from Germany.”
Moretti’s shoulder twitched. “So?”
“We were just sitting at home. Except for Suki. They could have driven up and taken us. No one would have known. No one should have known.”
Moretti looked down at the table. He said nothing.
Roth scratched the back of his neck. “But someone alerted the FBI they were coming. The FBI came right away to protect us.”
“You’re lucky,” Moretti said, still looking down.
“I know you’re the one who arranged it,” Roth said. “Agent Sanchez told me. You were trying to help me.”
Moretti’s attorney looked startled by the news.
Silence hung in the room. Moretti wouldn’t look at anybody. Although he was stone-faced, Roth could see his jaw muscles clenching. He was wrestling within himself.
