Black Site—Mexico CityT
he man who calls himself Bayer sat at a rickety card table with Supervisory Special Agent Joe Carr and his Mexican National Police counterpart on the International Counter-Terrorism Task Force. Neither man seemed overly anxious to get started. Bayer accepted a paper cup of coffee brought into the room by a uniformed Mexican cop and explained his visit. The DNI wanted a full report on their most recent captures, and both governments had authorized an all-access detailed briefing. The FBI man and the senior Federale both nodded. They’d been told that much.
Bayer fiddled with the briefcase at his feet. The place was depressing. Despite the altitude on the outskirts of the capital, the air felt muggy and cloying. On his way in, he’d not seen much more than some small
