Yes, I Do Mind

"As you may already know, I'm a retired Army intelligence officer," I said. "And I like to know as much as I can about my enemy."

"Enemy?" she asked. "Is that how you see me?"

"Pretty much the way I see both you and Marcy, actually. I read your book," I said. "I also read the interview you did for the New York Times. I know you like to recruit your clients into your lifestyle. Is that what you did to my wife? Recruit her?"

"Mr. Weston, that's privileged information," she said.

"Of course," I said. "Did you know Marcy was going to Colombia for six weeks? And did you know what she planned to do during those six weeks?"

"Again, Mr. Weston, that's privileged information and I'm not at liberty to disclose that," she said. I nodded my head.

"I see you're married," I told her. She briefly looked at her rings. "I found your chapter on controlling husbands quite... interesting. Tell me, do you treat your husband the way you suggest in that chapter? Do you keep him locked up in a chastity cage and make him call you 'mistress' as he serves you hand and foot? Do you humiliate him, control his every movement and make him watch as you entertain your lovers?"

"That is none of your concern, Mr. Weston, and I think this interview is over. Please, you know the way out," she said. I smiled as I nodded my head.

"I'd like to say it's been a pleasure meeting you, Mrs. Hargraves," I said as I stood up. "But that would be a lie. I'm sure we'll see each other again. Good day." I went toward the door and stopped long enough to face her one last time. "By the way, I personally found your book to be quite disgusting. Have a good day." I walked out of her office before she had a chance to respond. The receptionist looked at me with a smile as I left. I wondered if she heard what transpired.

Finally, the day of our 25^th anniversary came. I had plenty of comp time on the books so I took the day off. I knew it would be a busy day and I wanted to be home to keep up with the developments. I had gotten a text from Diedre early that morning telling me she was able to do what I asked. I nervously awaited word from Ernesto.

About mid-morning, I got a text from him: "Check your email." After booting up my computer, I pulled up my email client and saw that he had sent a video, so I opened it up.

It looked as if the video had been taken at a point overlooking a dirt road where a hastily-constructed check point had been set up. I could see three SUVs coming down the road toward the check point. As the vehicles approached, armed military men stopped them. They barked orders to the two people in the SUV before opening the doors.

As I watched, the soldiers began opening boxes and rummaging through what was inside. The next thing I knew, one of them hollered out and several more armed soldiers came running. They looked in the boxes, then started carrying them to a military vehicle parked nearby.

One of the soldiers pointed his rifle at the driver side door and barked an order. The door opened and I saw Trey stepping out, his hands in the air. Marcy came around from the passenger side, walking between two armed soldiers. The two of them were roughly handcuffed, then placed in the back of a military vehicle.

A tow truck came and the SUV they were in was connected up and hauled away. The soldiers inspected the other two vehicles before finally waving them on. To say I was shocked was an understatement. I pulled up my phone and called Ernesto.

"Hola," Ernesto said when he answered. "I take it you've seen the video."

"I have, Ernesto," I said. "What the hell happened?"

"Well, we got the stuff, just as you asked. Only a couple grams, just enough to get her deported. Unfortunately, my men weren't able to plant it on her," he said. "Turns out her lover, Dr. Trey, has been smuggling fairly large quantities of cocaine and heroin for a while. There was already several kilos in the vehicle in boxes marked for medicine. My men saw the stuff being packed and loaded so they backed off. They didn't want to get mixed up with any cartel business and I don't blame them."

"Neither do I," I said. "So, where is Marcy and Trey now? Was she involved with this?"

"They're both being held in jail," Ernesto said. "It looks like she may have known about it, but I'm not sure to what extent. They have 48 hours to turn this over to a judge and it could take up to 90 days for them to investigate and decide whether or not to prosecute. From what we saw, though, I don't think it'll take them that long."

"So what happens to them?" I asked. "Do you know if the Consulate has been made aware of this?"

"I'm sure the Consulate in Bogota is aware of it by now," Ernesto said. "This happened fairly early this morning."

"Keep an eye on things for me, Ernesto," I said.

"I will, boss," he said. "I'm sorry this happened. I know it's not quite what you were expecting."

"Don't be sorry," I said. "It's not quite what I had in mind, but if she's involved in trafficking drugs with Trey, she deserves whatever she gets." We ended the call and I immediately called Diedre to let her know what happened. She didn't sound all that surprised.

"Do you have a line on what's going on down there?" I asked.

"That's not my particular area of concern," she said. "But I know the station chief down there and I can make a call to see what I can find out."

"Please do," I said.

"I'll call you as soon as I hear something," she said. While I waited to hear back from her, I gathered a trash bag and went through the house, removing all the cameras and microphones Marcy's PI installed. I also went into the attic and grabbed the receiver and laptop. I shoved it all in the bag not caring if anything got broke, then set it in the driveway in front of the garage. I called Smith Investigations.

"Smith Investigations," a female voice said.

"I'd like to speak with the head shithead there, please," I said.

"Uh, okay, sir. One moment, please," she stammered. A few seconds later, I heard the man I had encountered earlier at Yancy's.

"James Smith, what can I do for you?" he asked.

"This is Rick Weston," I said. "You remember me. We met in the parking lot at Yancy's the other day. Your client is sitting in a Colombian jail on charges of drug trafficking. I've pulled all of your shit out of my house. It's in a garbage bag in my driveway. If it's still there tomorrow morning, I'm tossing it out with the rest of the garbage. Got it?"

"Uh, yes, sir," he said. I ended the call not caring what he had to say. The stuff was gone the next morning when I went to work. I assumed Smith picked it up, but I really didn't care if someone had come along and stolen it. A few moments after I got off the phone with Smith, my phone rang. It was Diedre.

"I just got off the phone with the station chief in Bogota," she said.

"What did you learn?" I asked.

"The feds in Colombia have been watching Trey ever since he got to Bogota," she said. "It turns out he's a distant relative of the guy who runs one of the most vicious drug cartels down there. If Marcy is involved with him, then she's looking at a long stretch in prison down there. The judge assigned to the case is known for being especially hard on foreigners involved in drug trafficking."

"How much time is she looking at?" I asked.

"At least ten years," she said.

"Well, I'd say if she couldn't do the time, she shouldn't have done the crime," I said. "How much were they carrying?"

"According to my source, at least 20 pounds of cocaine and heroin," she said.

"Damn," I said.

"You can expect a visit from the State Department pretty soon," Diedre said. "Let me know how it goes."

"I figured as much," I said. "I'll call you when I hear something."

"So what are you going to do now?" she asked.

"Get a divorce," I said. "No way am I staying married to a cheating, lying drug smuggler."

"Good," she said. After we ended the call, I dialed the hotel in Bogota where they were staying. Pablo answered the phone.

"Good morning, Pablo," I said. "This is Rick Weston. Can you please put me through to Penny Washington's room, please?"

"Si, Señor Weston, I will be happy to do that for you," he said. Penny picked up the phone after the first ring.

"Hello," she said nervously.

"Penny, this is Rick Weston," I said. "I've been trying to get in touch with my wife," I lied. "Today's our anniversary and I wanted to say hello. Any idea where she is? Is she out celebrating with Trey or something?"

"No, Rick, she's not out celebrating," Penny said. She sounded like she was about to start crying.

"What's the matter, Penny?" I asked.

"Oh, Rick, it was horrible," she said. "We were heading out to a village and we got stopped at a checkpoint. Marcy and Trey were arrested. The soldiers said they were transporting drugs. They questioned us at gunpoint. I thought they were going to kill us. They took Marcy and Trey away and escorted us back to the hotel. They kept asking us if we also had drugs, but we didn't know what they were talking about. They finally told us to stay at the hotel and not go anywhere. We're all pretty much on house arrest here."

"I see," I told her. "Sounds like you had a bit of excitement. So, what's going to happen now?"

"I don't know," she said. "The Doctors Without Borders people told us to stay put for now. They said we may have to stay here for as long as three months."

"I'm sure they just want to do a thorough investigation, Penny," I said. "Have you told Josh yet?"

"No, I haven't," she said. "Have you talked to him since the last time we spoke?"

"No, Penny, I've had enough on my plate since you guys left for your little South American sex adventure," I said. "But I do plan on speaking with him soon."

"Please, Rick, you can't tell him what's been going on," she pleaded. "It'll destroy him."

"Not as much as your cheating will destroy him," I said. "Don't you think your husband deserves to know what kind of a woman he's married to?"

"I'm begging you, please don't," she begged.

"Have a good day, Penny," I said before ending the call. What she didn't know was that I already had video of her with her doctor lover. I looked through my contacts and found Josh's cell number. I decided to give him a call.

"Josh," he said when he answered.

"Josh, this is Rick Weston," I said. "You got a couple minutes?"

"Yeah, sure, Rick," he said. "What's going on?" I gave him the abridged version of what had been going on in Colombia, including the drug arrest, and offered to email him video of Penny's activities.

"Yeah, email it to me," he said. "I had a feeling something was going on. Penny just didn't seem to be herself the last few times I talked to her."

"I'm sorry, Josh," I said. "I just didn't feel it was right to keep it from you, and I've had an awful lot to deal with myself."

"No problem, Rick," he said. "I understand. I'm sure it hasn't been easy for you."

"So, what are you gonna do?" I asked.

"I can't see getting past this," he said. "It's not the first time she's cheated on me. But by God, it's going to be the last. Thanks for letting me know." We ended the call and I emailed several videos that had been captured in Penny's room. My next call was to a divorce lawyer. I got an appointment to see her in three days.

A couple days later, I was called up to see my immediate supervisor, Bill Hastings. When I got to his office, I noticed a tall man in a dark suit. He stood as I walked in.

"Rick, this is Thomas Herman," Bill said. "He's with the State Department." Tom held out his hand and I shook it. "Tom, this is Rick Weston."

"Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Weston," Tom said.

"Pleasure is all mine," I said. "And call me Rick, please. What can I do for the State Department?"

"Well, Rick, your wife, Marcia, has been taken into custody by federal authorities in Colombia," Tom said. "She's been charged with drug trafficking."

"Drug trafficking?" I asked. "Are you sure about that? She's supposed to be down there with a group from Doctors Without Borders. I find it hard to believe she'd be involved with drug trafficking." Of course, I lied -- I felt it better to put on a good face and play the part of the grieved husband. "Is there anything you can do to help her out? I mean, she is a U.S. Citizen."

"I'm afraid not, Rick," Tom said. "You see, Americans in Colombia are subject to the laws there. If they break the law, they're subject to arrest by local authorities. We can't just go in and get them out of prison. We can keep an eye on her, arrange for visits, do welfare checks, that sort of thing. But we're not allowed to interfere with the judicial actions down there."

"I see," I said.

"And there's another problem," he said.

"What's that?" I asked.

"Even if she were set free today, she wouldn't be able to fly home," he said. "It seems she's already been placed on a no-fly list."

"Really?" I asked.

"Yes," he said. "It could be just an administrative error. It happens sometimes. But it takes quite a bit to get someone off that list."

"So, what is she facing?" I asked.

"Well, the drug laws in Colombia are some of the toughest in the Western Hemisphere," Tom said. "If all she had were a few grams for personal use, chances are they would've handled it as an administrative matter and simply given her a fine and deported her. But she was found with a considerable amount of drugs, and they believe that was just the tip of the iceberg. She could be facing up to 12 years in prison."

"12 years?" I asked.

"Yes," he said. "After about seven or eight years, the judge can put her on what's known as conditional liberty, but she won't be allowed to leave the country and she won't be able to get a legal paying job in Colombia since she's a foreigner. So chances are, she'll be stuck in prison for the duration. Of course, there are things that be done to help, but with her being on the no-fly list, she's pretty much stuck there.

"She will need some money for expenses, legal fees and so on," he added, pulling a pamphlet out of his briefcase. "This pamphlet will help explain how to do that. Make sure you follow the directions. If you don't, it could delay her getting the funds. If you wish, I can help arrange for visitation. Is that something you'd be interested in?"

"Yeah," I said. "I have a few things to do first. Can I call you in a couple days?"

"Of course," he said, pulling a business card out of his pocket. "That's my direct line. Just call anytime during normal business hours." I took the card and slipped it in my pocket.

"Just one thing, Tom," I said. "What about the rest of her team? Are they also being held?"

"One other person was taken into custody," Tom said. "The others have been asked to remain in Bogota for a while. I'm really not at liberty to say any more than that."

"Okay," I said. "Thanks for all your help. I'll be in touch." We shook hands and he left the office. Bill motioned for me to remain behind. Once we were certain Tom was out of the area, Bill closed his door and turned to me.

"This isn't good, Rick," he told me. "It could impact your security clearance and possibly even your job. You need to get a handle on this, ASAP."

"I understand, Bill," I said. I gave him an abbreviated version of what I already knew. I didn't tell him what I had planned with Ernesto and Diedre, however. He listened, shocked at what he heard. "I have an appointment to see a lawyer tomorrow. I intend to personally deliver the divorce papers to her in Colombia."

"Alright," Bill said. "Listen, you have plenty of comp time coming to you. Take a couple weeks. Do what you gotta do and get this shit under control."

"I will, Bill," I said. "Thanks." I went home and started going back through Marcy's email, this time looking for specific terms or phrases. I got several hits and looked at the emails. Most of them seemed innocuous, but I found one exchange that looked promising.

"You interested in making a lot of money on our trip to Colombia?" Trey asked in an email he sent about three months before their trip.

"Sure," Marcy replied. "What do you have in mind?"

"Not here," he answered. "Let's meet in private after work and I'll explain." Nothing more was mentioned for a week, then Trey sent another email.

"Well?" he asked. "Have you decided yet?"

"Are you sure this will work?" she asked.

"Of course," he said. "I've done it before. Don't worry, I know what I'm doing."

"Alright," she answered. "I'll do it."

"Good girl," he said. "Trust me, you'll be glad you did." I printed out the email chain and exported it to PDF and saved it to a thumb drive with other emails. I turned to the videos, this time, listening for anything that might suggest a plan to haul drugs.

I fast-forwarded through the sex scenes and caught a conversation between them the day before they were captured. I took note of the date and time stamp on the video.

"Are you ready?" Trey asked. "Tomorrow's the big day."

"I think so," she said nervously.

"Good," he said. "The product will be placed on our vehicle tomorrow morning. We don't even have to touch it or see it. It'll be in boxes marked for medicine."

"And you're sure we won't get caught?" Marcy asked.

"I've been on that road plenty of times," he told her. "There's never been a checkpoint out there before. If this works, we'll be doing it more often. If all goes well, by the time we leave, we'll have enough money to retire."

"Sounds good to me," she said. Bingo, I thought to myself. I made a note of the video and saved it to my thumb drive. After collecting my thoughts, I sent an email to the kids, asking them to join me in a Skype call tomorrow evening. Then I called Ernesto and told him what I found.

"Damn," he said. "What are you gonna do?"

"I'm going to go through the rest of the videos and her email to see what else I can find," I said. "I'm seeing a lawyer tomorrow about a divorce and I intend to hand-deliver the papers to her myself."

"You're coming here, then?" he asked.

"That's my plan," I said. "While I'm there, I also intend to hand-deliver this evidence to the prosecutor."

"You can stay with me and my family if you want," Ernesto said.

"I appreciate that, Ernesto," I said. "I look forward to tasting Lupe's cooking." He laughed.

"Trust me, you haven't eaten till you've had some of her cooking," he said. "Call me when you're ready to come down and I'll pick you up at the airport."

"Will do, my friend," I said. "Talk to you soon." I looked at my watch and realized I needed to send Marcy's money out. I read the pamphlet Tom gave me. According to that, the State Department's Office of Overseas Citizens Services would set up a trust fund for her, which would cost $30. Tom wrote a note at the bottom of the page, telling me the trust fund had already been established and the initial $30 fee would be subtracted from the money I sent.

The OCS, in turn, would transfer the money to the Embassy, who would transfer the money to the prison authorities in Colombia. The whole process could take up to three or four weeks, according to the pamphlet. I decided to use Western Union, since that was supposedly the fastest way to get the funds to her.

I already had all of Marcy's account details, so I checked her account, logged into the Western Union site and sent all but $5.00. Once I verified the money was gone, I grabbed a pile of trash bags and tossed all of her things, including our wedding album, into them, not really caring if anything got messed up or not. The filled bags were then crammed into her car.

I called her parents and explained the situation. They were heartbroken to hear of my plans to divorce her and tried talking me out of it. I refused to relent, and told them this had been a long time coming. They were also upset to hear she was in a Colombian jail on charges of drug trafficking.