FBI Agent Winston Powell looked innocuous enough like a tourist in a white Ralph-Lauren shirt, a pair of white Nike Air Max sneakers, and Dockers khaki slacks. He was a blond-haired blue-eye gringo with a quick, disarming smile. And his flawless bleach-whitened teeth hinted at a touch of vanity. The disguise was effective because the locals thought Agent Powell was just one of many other well-to-do Americans in Mazatlán on vacation. And they were partly right—the vacation part: He was a tourist in Mexico having fun with his family. Furthermore, with deliberate intent, his appearance focused attention on him in a dismissive sort of way, making his identity as an FBI agent appear unlikely.
Despite her FBI contact, Margarita was not privy to privileged information on Agent …show more content…
. .” Roger goaded, still not ready to play.
“I heard you were hired to find him and maybe I can help,” Agent Powell pressed.
That comment was a slip of the tongue and Roger was quick to jump on it: “Where did you hear that. You, a private citizen vacationing in Mexico knows about me! So, where did you hear that?” Agent Powell’s comment served solely to validate Roger’s suspicion about who paid his upkeep, including the bill for funny clothes he chose as his cloaking devise. Roger did not discount the likelihood the gaffe was on purpose.
Agent Powell grinned lamely because he couldn’t fetch back his verbal gaffe. Both men decided to stop dancing around each other and speak frankly. Roger assumed there was nothing to gain by continuing to dissemble about why he was in Mazatlán. I’m interested in locating C.E. Mason, too, Roger thought. Time to admit it and maybe Agent Powell could help in that effort.
“Okay, I’m looking for C.E. Mason and I believe he might have been kidnapped, but I don’t know why, do you? It seems unlikely money is the motive. Drug lords are
Despite her FBI contact, Margarita was not privy to privileged information on Agent …show more content…
. .” Roger goaded, still not ready to play.
“I heard you were hired to find him and maybe I can help,” Agent Powell pressed.
That comment was a slip of the tongue and Roger was quick to jump on it: “Where did you hear that. You, a private citizen vacationing in Mexico knows about me! So, where did you hear that?” Agent Powell’s comment served solely to validate Roger’s suspicion about who paid his upkeep, including the bill for funny clothes he chose as his cloaking devise. Roger did not discount the likelihood the gaffe was on purpose.
Agent Powell grinned lamely because he couldn’t fetch back his verbal gaffe. Both men decided to stop dancing around each other and speak frankly. Roger assumed there was nothing to gain by continuing to dissemble about why he was in Mazatlán. I’m interested in locating C.E. Mason, too, Roger thought. Time to admit it and maybe Agent Powell could help in that effort.
“Okay, I’m looking for C.E. Mason and I believe he might have been kidnapped, but I don’t know why, do you? It seems unlikely money is the motive. Drug lords are