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the
assault team. FARC would not have sacrificed someone as senior as Reyes to
protect their source.”
    “No,” Culler
agreed, “but SEBIN wouldn’t think twice about sacrificing Reyes to protect
their source in Bogotá. The Venezuelans have stabbed FARC in the back before
when it suited their own agenda. The Colombian attack on Venezuelan soil also
gives Caracas a nice little international incident to exploit. They’re already
complaining at the UN, and they’ve got Russia and China, plus most of Latin
America, on their side.”
    “Where’s
Canastilla based?” Avery asked Daniel, steering the conversation back on topic,
at least far as it pertained to him. His body sure as hell wasn’t up for making
another trek through the jungle, deep into FARC country. 
     “Presently, he
is at a jungle camp, where he’s unreachable, but he is due back in Panama City
in five days. That is when we will have access to him.”
    Avery nodded and
reached for another sandwich from the tray.
    “My superiors
and I would be most grateful for any assistance you may offer us in this
matter, as will Canastilla and his family,” Daniel told Culler and Slayton.
    Culler stood up,
and Slayton took his lead, indicating that the meeting was over.
    “We will discuss
it and look into the options we have at our disposal,” Culler promised Daniel.
    “I can’t make
guarantees, Daniel,” Slayton added, “but I feel the same way you do. Canastilla
has been an invaluable asset and has always been there for us, often at great
personal risk. We owe him a free ticket out, but I’ll have to run this up the
chain of command.”
    Daniel left, and
the Americans returned to their seats.
    “What do you
think?” Culler asked Avery as soon as the doors shut and locked.
    “Is this guy
Canastilla really as important as everyone’s making him out to be?”
    “Absolutely,” Slayton
replied. “The intelligence Canastilla has provided has been first rate. Men
have died to protect Canastilla’s identity. Look, what I’m about to tell you
doesn’t leave this room. The Colombians would have my ass for this. Canastilla
is one of their most closely guarded secrets.”
    Agent
Canastilla’s real name was Pablo Muňoz, a former rifleman in the National
Army of Colombia. When he enlisted at age eighteen, he’d never intended to
enter the world of espionage and deception. But given the immense difficulty in
cultivating informants within FARC, the Colombian security services implemented
a clandestine undercover operation, codenamed Deep Sting, to recruit, train,
and insert agents into FARC’s Central High Command. Pablo Muňoz, twenty
three years old when he was first approached by Daniel, then a DAS case officer,
fit the mission profile requirements.
    He was an
orphaned child, a loner, raised in a peasant family. Although his adoptive
parents had connections with the communist party, Muňoz himself remained
apolitical, never interested in politics or social issues.
    Daniel
orchestrated the cover story for Muňoz’s departure from the army. As far
as FARC was concerned, as well as official army records—which also documented
Muňoz’s very real trouble with authority and run-ins with superior officers,
as evidenced by numerous disciplinary demerits—Muňoz deserted shortly
after his patrol came across the remains of a tiny village slaughtered by
government-supported right-wing death squads.
    He travelled
alone across the country on foot, hitchhiking, stealing vehicles, and traversing
the jungles and mountains, into the deep FARC controlled-territory of the southwest
Popayàn, where, wanted by the army and police, he presented himself to the camp
commandant as a defector.
    The FARC
intelligence officers who interrogated him were at first skeptical, but Daniel
provided Muňoz with just enough enticing details on troop movements and army
operations to capture the Central High Command’s interest and gain their trust.
    Muňoz
played his part well, and over