“And that person is here in Maestro?”
“We think so. We think that person is Rafael Salazar.”
Griffin felt the shock of surprise. Surely not possible. But—“We’ll get into that in a minute. Start at the beginning again. What do you know about him?”
“We heard last summer from the Spanish National Police—the Cuerpo National de Policía—that Rafael Salazar was a person of interest to them. He’s part of a powerful Salvadoran family, the Lozanos, involved in guns and the drug trade. They spread their business into Spain, primarily through North Africa some two generations back, and now they could be branching into the U.S. The Spanish police alerted us Salazar was on his way here, to Stanislaus, for at least a year. That jibed closely with our own investigation, and it rang big alarm bells.”
“You thought that Salazar’s coming to Stanislaus meant the Lozano family was widening their influence to the local Maras?”
She nodded. “And the establishment of new sources for them from Mexico and South America.”
Griffin was shaking his head. “Salazar is a world-famous classical guitarist. You believe he’s a drug trafficker, too? It sounds nuts. Why would he do it? It makes him a criminal, and surely he’s got to realize if caught he’d be playing guitar to prisoners for the rest of his natural life. No more fame, adoration from fans, no more money in his pockets. You’re saying he’s also involved with his family in drugs? He’s the one running organization MS-13 here at Stanislaus? I can’t get my brain around it.”
“Neither could I, at least for a while, but our information was solid. Salazar’s mother, Maria Rosa, belongs to the Lozano crime family, originally out of San Salvador, as I said. At least three generations of extortion, weapons, drugs, prostitution, you name it. Several of the cousins are high up in the Mara Salvatrucha in El Salvador. The Spanish police told us they didn’t believe Maria Rosa had any involvement with the criminal part of the family enterprise, and that like her sons, she was a fine musician.
“But Salazar—we discovered he spent a good deal of his time with his mother’s brother, Mercado Lozano, when he was growing up. His mother sent him there every summer from Spain. Mercado is now the kingpin of the Lozano operation in El Salvador. So the Spanish police have watched him for years now. But nothin’ has stuck yet.”
“I understand Salazar’s brother invited him here,” Griffin said. “Is Hayman involved, too?”
She shook her head. “To the best of our knowledge, Dr. Hayman has never dealt with the Lozano family, except, of course, his mother, Maria Rosa. She seems to have kept him out of the family business. Don’t forget, he never lived with his mother, has never met any of his relatives in San Salvador, so far as we know.”
Griffin nodded. “Twins, separated as boys. Look what happened to the two of them.”
“Very different upbringings, but the same deep well of talent.”
“Don’t you think it’s strange Dr. Hayman has no clue who and what his twin brother is? And his mother?”
“Yes, I agree with you, and so do my bosses. I’ve been keeping an eye on Dr. Hayman, but in six months I’ve seen nothing suspicious at all, and his name hasn’t appeared anywhere it shouldn’t. And so, Griffin, this is why I was sent here undercover. No one outside the DEA knew I was here, not even local law enforcement.”
Griffin spoke his fear aloud. “Anna, he wants Delsey very badly.”
“It bothered me as well until I realized she was probably only his obsession du jour. Since his arrival in September I’ve seen him focus on other graduate students, and after a while, he moves on.”
He prayed she was right. “How did the DEA get Stanislaus to let you in?”
“Three of us agents applied, with the help of some imaginative letters of recommendation supplied by the Agency, but I was the only one to pass the audition.”
He gave her a long look, nodded slowly. “What were you supposed to do exactly, search Salazar’s house, his office? Or lie low and listen?”
“Maurie’s Diner is gossip central, the perfect place to pick up random information and news. I know about every extramarital affair in Maestro. Now, as for Salazar’s house, he’s got a state-of-the-art alarm system, no gettin’ around that, and I did try. But I did have occasional access, since he invites students to his house. But I could rarely look around alone; he’d have noticed.
“Finally in December I got into his office long enough to find a hidden drawer in his desk with records of large foreign bank transactions, and this was enough to get a federal warrant for electronic surveillance.