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  ‘Latest-issue, military order,’ Guiterrez said, ‘heat sensors to lock-in on human targets, infra-red night viewing gear with inbuilt communications, but you won’t need to use the rifles unless you meet with something unexpected – police, neighbours, visitors, all highly unlikely.’

  The three men with the cases now removed another item, a small pistol.

  ‘These are the weapons of choice,’ Guiterrez continued, ‘and they don’t fire bullets.’

  The two men examined the equipment.

  ‘When do we move?’

  ‘There’s no time like the present,’ Guiterrez said.

  ‘Tonight?’

  ‘All being well, yes. I’ll give the final “go-ahead” when you’re on site.’ Guiterrez’s next stop was the conference room along the hall.

  Under his influence and guidance, final agreement would be just a formality.

  The cartel members were waiting.

  Four

  In the Senate Public Reception area, Alison met with Carpenter. It was shortly before he was due to give his televised address.

  Her cameraman/sound guy, Sam, was set up, and had special permission to continue behind-the-scenes filming after the interview, when Carpenter entered the hall and took to the specially arranged podium.

  Alison was seated on the large, plush visitor lounge, across from her interviewee, and for the first time in a long time something was stirring those inner fires. She was drawn in by his eyes, brown and hazel-flecked, the strong jaw, the light brown hair with just a few premature specks of grey, the lanky frame and the open-necked, slightly crumpled designer suit.

  He had a natural, easy charm.

  ‘Ready to rock and roll,’ said Sam.

  Alison nodded to Sam and then focused on Carpenter.

  ‘Thank you for inviting us into your world, Matthew.’

  ‘My pleasure.’

  ‘Congratulations on the rapidly growing support you’ve been getting.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘It’s a bold concept, one that must mean a great deal to you, not just in a professional sense, but personally and emotionally, given the inspiration.’

  ‘It’s certainly gratifying to see true bi-partisan support, Alison.’

  ‘I hope you won’t mind me touching on old wounds, Matthew, but I believe it was the deaths of your parents, when you were just a teenager, that set you off along this path.’

  ‘I don’t mind at all. It’s a very important part of my story. Perhaps the most important part. My parents loved DC and they were passionate followers of its art scene – true bohemians,’ he broke into a broad grin at this memory and the reporter returned the smile ‘-my Mom was an artist and she ran a small but highly regarded gallery, my Dad was a jazz muso. They were the ones who originally launched the annual Riverside Arts Festival.’

  ‘They’d be amazed to see what it’s grown to today.’

  ‘Yes, they would.’ Carpenter paused momentarily, a far-away look in his eyes as the past projected its images before him. Great happiness. Terrible tragedy.

  ‘But my parents were both drug users and they had been most of their adult lives. It started with weed, but later they got into cocaine. They were addicts and as the years rolled on it became more and more a part of their lives. Initially it didn’t stop them doing what they did. It didn’t prevent them from being the best parents they could be. But over the years it took its toll. It ravaged their health, their moods became increasingly erratic, the financial pressures of maintaining the habit caused chaos.’

  Carpenter looked as though he was going to continue, but then he stopped. There was a silence as he stared off.

  ‘And your father died from a drug overdose when you were fourteen?’

  ‘Yes. It plunged my mother deep into depression and even deeper into the coke. She overdosed herself, eighteen months later.’

  ‘Go on.’ Alison’s voice was gentle. Right then and there on camera, for the millions of viewers, was an intimate moment, rarely captured in a news show of this type.

  ‘I went to live with my aunt. She was terrific. But as I got a little older, Alison, I looked at the world around me, at the politicians, at the media, at the health professionals, at the law enforcement and legal systems – there was a loud, broad, ongoing dialogue agreeing that something had to be done about the drug problem – but there were no new ideas, and little or no progress. It seemed to be one huge merry-go-round, lots of noise and smoke and mirrors, but no real action. The problem grew, the statistics got worse, the drug lords got richer.

  ‘My situation was, admittedly, an unusual one. Instead of being a parent who lost a child to drugs, I was a teen who lost both his parents. I was young enough, and perhaps silly enough, to think I could set out and do something – something that really could make a difference.’

  ‘And after graduating college,’ Alison said, referring to her notes, ‘while studying law, you began seeking financial support for an organization that would do just that. Ultimately, while you practiced law, and later became a fulltime Washington lobbyist, you created what you call The Initiative, but which the media have labelled The Carpenter Initiative.’

  Carpenter grinned. ‘I don’t mind what it’s called. As long as it’s put into operation. As long as it starts getting results.’

  Occasionally, as he spoke, Carpenter raised his right hand to chest level, briefly running his fingers across a silver medallion that he wore around his neck.

  Alison leaned in a little closer, recognizing the engraved image of a lizard-like creature with large, inquisitive eyes. ‘Is that a chameleon?’

  ‘Yes. Belonged to my father. He had something of a fascination for exotic creatures. This was his favourite and he always wore it.’

  ‘So it’s obviously very special to you.’

  ‘Oh yeah.’ He lifted the medallion up level with his chin, affording Alison a better view and a sliver of light sparkled off its silvery surface. ‘And I certainly take after my Dad where the chameleon is concerned. Intriguing creature.’

  ‘I have to confess some ignorance here, I don’t know too much about them,’ Alison said. ‘They can change color.’

  ‘Their skin can take on many different colors, enabling them to blend into any background. The perfect disguise from predators. And their eyes rotate fully, giving them a 360 degree view. So they can move at high speed with vista-like observation and the ability to hide in plain sight.’

  ‘Sounds like a politician.’

  He laughed.

  ‘Or maybe a lobbyist,’ she added with a mischievous wink.

  ‘Or perhaps a TV reporter,’ he countered, and the comment caught her off guard and she threw her head back with a hearty laugh of her own and said, ‘Touché.’

  ‘Or just maybe, ‘he said, ‘in life, to get by, to achieve, we all have to be chameleons from time to time.’

  ‘I’ll drink to that,’ she said, raising an imaginary glass.

  It was another great moment, she reflected, caught on camera, offering a glimpse of the real man behind the public persona.

  That was when the Secretary of the House Sub-Committee approached. ‘Mr. Carpenter, it’s time.’

  Five

  Guiterrez took his place at the head of the boardroom table.

  His instincts had never been wrong, and his guidance had ensured the success of one project after another for the cartel members. They had flown in from all over North and South America. There were a number of items on the agenda, but on this occasion everything else paled by comparison to the Carpenter problem.

  None of them had foreseen just how much support there would be for the Anti-Drug Initiative.

  Guiterrez knew when he and his colleagues were facing a formidable enemy.

  Growing up, Guiterrez had spent time on both sides of the border, the son of an American mother and a Mexican father. The family owned a transport business, a cover for a drug smuggling operation. Guiterrez had been a young man when he took over
the business, expanding the distribution, moving into manufacturing, creating the cartel with other drug runners.

  Ambitious and ruthless, he knew the sure-fire way to success was to eliminate your enemies before they became too great a threat.

  Carpenter represented just that. Charismatic and driven, with extensive contacts throughout the political parties, the media and the Fortune 500.

  He’d slowly been building his profile over the years, but to many it seemed like he’d appeared out of the blue, stepping magically into the light.

  He wasn’t just flavour of the month, he was the man of the year. Everybody and their dog wanted to leap up onto his blasted bandwagon.

  ‘There are three options for how we could dispose of Carpenter,’ Guiterrez addressed the group.

  To each and every one of these men it was essential the Initiative was derailed. And quickly.

  ‘The first option is we simply send our “kill” team to Carpenter’s house and leave his body behind as an example of what happens if you rise against us. But Carpenter has too high a profile, his murder would simply make him a martyr. I expect the media would elevate him to saint status. Support for his plan would continue.’

  ‘Agreed,’ said a bald-headed man at the end of the table. ‘Effective most of the time, but not in a case like this.’

  ‘The second option,’ said Guiterrez, ‘is that we remove the body and make certain it’s never found. But the effect of this would be similar to the first, if not worse. The media will speculate forever on the mystery of what happened to him. The search for Carpenter, and the speculation that he was murdered, will keep support for his Initiative alive. He’ll be a cause celebre in absentia.’

  ‘And the third option?’ asked one of the newer members, the son of a Cuban family who’d long been major players in the trade.

  ‘The third option is we call on one of our associates, a lower-tier brothel owner that operates just outside the city. He will choose one of his girls to be our patsy.

  ‘We send in our “kill” team – not to kill Carpenter but to render him unconscious with tranquilizer darts. They will spirit him away from his home to the brothel and pump him full of drugs. He’ll be placed in a room with the girl, who will also be doped up to her eyelids.’

  Guiterrez took a breath and cast his gaze over the men at the table. All eyes were fixed on him in anticipation.

  He continued: ‘We then have Carpenter stabbed to death and the knife used placed in the hands of the prostitute, with his blood smeared over her. The brothel owner will testify that Carpenter was a regular customer, that this time he’d been out of his mind on drugs, attacked the girl when they were alone in the room, and that she’d murdered him in self- defence. The girl herself will have no memory of what really happened. She’s a whore and an addict and she’ll attract no pity. What happens to her is of no further consequence to us.

  ‘The “revelation” that Carpenter himself was a drug user and a sleaze will dominate the media, his reputation will be in tatters, the politicians and the do-gooders will quietly step back and dissociate themselves from him. His campaign won’t be dropped. It will still have strong vocal support, but of course it will be subtly and slowly abandoned over time.’

  The bald-headed man, energized by the plan, stood and addressed the group. ‘If this plan can be staged effectively, then this Initiative will eventually be dead-in-the-water.’

  ‘Precisely,’ Guiterrez responded. ‘He simply becomes, not a symbol, not a hero, but just another high-profile imposter who dies a tawdry and pathetic death, an embarrassment to all those who’d supported him.’

  ‘I say we take a vote on the third option,’ said the bald-headed man.

  The vote was unanimous.

  ‘One question,’ said a stern-faced, bespectacled man near the head of the table. ‘Carpenter is due to give a televised address to a Senate Sub-Committee this afternoon. Aren’t we running too far behind to stop this runaway train?’

  ‘It’s true there’s been a rapid escalation this past fortnight,’ said the leader, ‘which is why I suggest that the time to put our plan in to action is right now. Tonight.’

  ‘Tonight?”

  ‘Our team is in place, awaiting the order to strike. Carpenter’s immediate fall from grace will overshadow any influence his speech will have.’

  The cartel members grunted their approvals.

  Occasionally, Guiterrez liked to create a dramatic effect. Right then and there, standing at the head of the table, he tapped a number into his cell phone, placed it to his ear, and said, ‘Proceed.’

  He pocketed the phone. ‘You’ve watched the rise of Matthew Carpenter,’ he said, ‘now get ready to enjoy his spectacular fall.’

  Six

  The Secretary of the Sub-Committee introduced Carpenter to the meeting. He announced that this testimony would outline reasons for turning the Initiative in to a draft bill.

  From the moment he strode to the podium, Matthew Carpenter owned the audience. His gaze was penetrating. His voice commanded attention.

  He’d trained himself for years for moments like this.

  The hearing was attended by the public, the media, and members from the House of Representatives and the Senate.

  ‘For as long as I’ve been alive,’ he announced, ‘there has been a war going on.

  ‘I’m not talking about a war against a foreign country, or against a military dictatorship. I’m not talking about a war because of an invasion, or a war over land, or a war against slavery or racism.

  ‘I’m not even talking about the gender wars.’

  Carpenter paused after that last comment, with just the hint of a smile on his face. It was a moment this audience hadn’t expected. There was a subdued ripple of laughter around the chamber, but that was to be the only light moment.

  Within a beat Carpenter resumed his serious air.

  ‘I’m talking about the War Against Drugs, a term with which we’re all familiar. I grew up with it. It’s been woven into our country’s social fabric for four decades.

  ‘A number of years before I was born, in ‘73, President Richard Nixon created the Drug Enforcement Administration. The DEA was part of, and I quote, his “all-out war on the drug menace.”

  ‘Thirty five years later President Bush signed the Mérida Initiative, to provide Mexico and other countries the partnership and funds to disrupt organized crime. So, how are we doing? Are we winning the War?’

  Carpenter paused again.

  There wasn’t a sound.

  Every thought in that room was paralyzed by the unspoken answer to that question.

  All eyes were riveted on the speaker.

  In offices and homes around the country the effect was the same.

  ‘Over the past forty years our government has spent over two and a half trillion dollars on this War. It’s estimated that in our country today, there are more than nineteen million illicit drug users. The current estimate on the annual income to the drug cartels, from U.S business alone, is more than sixty four billion dollars.

  ‘Sixty four billion.

  ‘I lost my parents to drugs. You may have known a friend, a neighbour or a family member whose life was lost to drugs. Their memories deserve better than this.’

  Carpenter looked restless. He turned from the podium, took a few steps to his left, nodded to the dignitaries who sat to the side, looked out on his audience, almost forlorn in his expression, and then purposely strode back to center stage.

  All of this took less than ten seconds.

  Carpenter was just getting warmed up.

  Another speaker might not have been able to convincingly pull off a momentary pause and walk gimmick like this, but to Carpenter it came naturally, and struck a chord with his audience.

  ‘Here’s what I believe with every ounce of my heart and my soul. We can win this War but we have to be utterly ruthless and obsessively one-eyed.

  ‘The first major change we have to make is to the wa
y we perceive the problem. The War On Drugs isn’t just a slogan. It really is a war, but like no other war that’s ever been fought. It has no boundaries. It has no armies. The enemy is, to most intents and purposes, invisible.

  ‘Our police forces are equipped to investigate and combat crime – but our police, our SWAT teams, our DEA and other law enforcement agencies – whilst they are doing an excellent job – do not have the military prowess or funding to fight a global assault against the international drug cartels.

  ‘We need less emphasis on prosecuting the victims, and more on going after the manufacturers, the distributors and the corrupt officials.

  ‘This war has to be fought as if were fighting the Nazis, as though we were fighting to abolish slavery or to hunt down terrorists.’

  There was a thunderous wave of applause. This crowd wasn’t waiting for the address to be over. They were reacting now.

  Seven

  ‘I want to change tack here and look at some images from our drug enforcement history.’ Behind Carpenter three men moved a large viewing screen in to place.

  There was a slight dimming of the lights and the screen came to life with news footage. Armed troops moved around the exterior of a large building. Loudspeakers, placed around the perimeter, blared heavy rock music at thunderous volumes. A helicopter hovered.

  The legend across the foot of the screen read: Panama, 1989.

  ‘The Panama Canal Treaty granted US forces access to protect the canal, and they were there to arrest and remove a drug kingpin, Panama’s military governor, Manuel Noriega.

  ‘Noriega had retreated and taken sanctuary, out of reach, in the Embassy of The Holy See.

  ‘The Army used psychological warfare. They secured the area, set up helicopter landing pads and used loudspeakers 24/7 blaring heavy rock and US propaganda. The intent was to wear Noriega and his guards down. Eventually, Noriega surrendered.

  ‘Is this an operation that can be mounted at any time in any place? No. But it’s a stunning example of what can be achieved by combining psychological tactics and military force.