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“In our defense, there is a big backlog, what with a whole new Presidential administration coming in, and the need to clear all the political appointees because of the current transfer of agencies. That switch only aggravated the problem.”
“For fucks sake,” Raven growled. “So let me guess, Cabe’s new spouse, has some kind of ties to the cartel or something?”
“Yes,” Judy said. “Her brother is believed to be a mid-level guy in the cartel.”
“Okay, so assuming this Roy Cabe was such a good FBI agent in the past, why did he turn bad all of a sudden?” I asked.
“We think they offered him huge money to do really mundane work, and that led to more and more. You know how these things work,” Lincoln said.
I nodded.
“Eventually, that led to him leaking where a cartel witness was going to be. Whether it was through blackmail or threats, we don’t know. We do know that Roy Cabe has disappeared. No one in the agency can find him anywhere. On Friday, he and the new wife vanished.”
“They’re dead?” Raven asked.
“Well, he most certainly might be,” Mac said. “The cartel got what they needed from him and they no doubt learned of his suspension. So when he was ordered to stay home until OPR cleared him, the cartel probably did what they do best.”
Raven looked horrified and I couldn’t blame him. It took some mighty big balls to disappear an FBI agent and his wife, even if the wife was related to someone in the cartel.
“I can honestly say, Cabe was in a really bad place,” Lincoln said. “The minute he began working for the cartel, he knew it was only a matter of time before his ticket would be punched.”
He turned back to me. “Who knows? Maybe when he saw you coming out of the store with your gun drawn, he saw it as a perfect opportunity to prove his loyalty to the FBI. He didn’t know who Miguel was, just saw him as Mexican. He came up with the story about thinking he was a cartel thug and justified his actions to the FBI as having made the mistaken identity while acting with too much adrenaline during the takedown. Either way he was screwed. If the cartel didn’t kill him, he’d lose his job and possibly go to jail. I could almost feel sorry for the guy if you hadn’t been hurt.”
I nodded. “Can you prove the money part? I mean, his bank accounts would have had to look clean when OPR investigated him, right?”
“Yes,” Noah said. “And OPR did look into them. They just didn’t find the Cayman Islands account that Judy was able to, because it was in the new wife’s name. It was one of the things that led her—” He nodded toward Judy. “You tell it.”
“I did a deep dive into the wife’s finances and found a hundred and fifty thousand dollars in an account in her name. It was deposited the day Rufus Modelo escaped from the FBI’s safehouse.”
I sat back, stunned. “So, this FBI guy really was dirty. How does an incorruptible FBI agent suddenly decide to follow his new woman’s wishes?”
“I suspect there were threats to children he shares with his first wife,” Lincoln said. “They live in Maryland and have always had a good relationship with their dad. He got along well with his ex as well.”
I looked back at the screen when Agent Burgess started speaking. “Judy and I couldn’t find anything there, no threats in email or anything else, but that doesn’t mean anything. When Rufus Modelo turned on the cartel and became a cooperating witness, he told the FBI that the cartel boss, Oscar Castillo, made all his people carry untraceable burner phones. Cabe was probably given one by his new wife. Hell, she may have even delivered the threat.”
“Great marriage,” Raven muttered.
“She probably targeted him, Raven,” Lincoln said. “That’s how these things work. She could have made him think he couldn’t live without her and once they were married, the threats were delivered and he flipped sides, becoming the FBI’s inside man for the cartel.”
“Jeez…that’s just frightening,” Raven said.
“So, going back to the LAPD,” I said to Cassidy. “Why do you think there’s a problem there also?”
“We can’t be sure,” he replied, exchanging a glance with Mike. “When we looked into the murder of Dave Reynolds, one of the first places we looked was at his friends and acquaintances.”
“It turns out one of the reasons he was a good insurance investigator was that he had a lot of friends with the LAPD. In fact, he was a cop himself until he got hurt on the job and decided to retire from the force,” said Mike.
“So, Dave Reynolds was dirty too?” I asked.
“I couldn’t find any evidence of that,” Judy was quick to add, “and believe me, I looked. What Iwasable to find was that he liked to go to a cop bar after work hours and drink with his buddies from the force. With friends in the LAPD, he’d be in a position to learn things that helped him with the lawyer’s cases. It could be that he opened his mouth and let slip the work he was doing for Gregory Aston. If a cop on the cartel’s payroll happened to overhear him, then it might have led to his death.”
I had to smile at that. It was clear to me that our dear, sweet Judy, had turned into quite the law enforcement junkie. She even had the lingo down to a tee. Still, I had a question. “Don’t investigators working for law firms have to maintain attorney client privilege just like the lawyers?”
“Yes,” Mike replied, “but that doesn’t mean he didn’t accidentally screw up when he had a few drinks in him. It’s been known to happen.”
“That makes sense,” I conceded. “And that information, just might have gotten him killed.”
“Sadly, yes,” Cassidy agreed.