An Infiltrator Betrayed: "One of my close underworld contacts was mercilessly murdered, and subtle signs caused me to think my cover may have been blown....".

• Author: Mazur, Robert
• Position: LITERARY SCENE

BEFORE writing The Betrayal: The True Story of My Brush with Death in the World of Narcos and Launderers, I reached out to Emmy, Tony, and Golden Globe best actor award recipient Bryan Cranston, letting him know I was thinking about writing a sequel to The Infiltrator: My Secret Life Inside the Dirty Banks Behind Pablo Escobar's Medellin Cartel. Who better to seek counsel from than the man who played me in the starring role of the internationally released film by the same name, based on my first book?

I walked Bryan through the aftermath of The Infiltrator, a time when I transferred to the Drug Enforcement Administration where I was recruited to carry out another two-year undercover journey into the treacherous underworld. I envisioned the story of that separate underworld infiltration to be the basis for a new book.

It started with my reinvention--a new name, home, businesses, and underworld contacts. In that reincarnated persona, I became a member of Panama's underworld, laundering tens of millions for the hierarchy of Colombia's ruthless Cali Cartel. My Panamanian partners in crime were serious players. They assured me that, if I should turn out to be an undercover agent, there was no place I could hide from a promised death. Their contacts included rnafiosos from many countries, KGB generals, and corrupt foreign intelligence officers with a history of eliminating their opposition by any means necessary.

Initially, my success as a launderer skyrocketed but, within a year, hints of mistrust began to circle me. One of my close underworld contacts was mercilessly murdered, and subtle signs caused me to think my cover may have been blown, but how? I came within a heartbeat of death, first at the hands of a plan by a Colombian hit squad that lurked near my office in Panama, carrying an arsenal they intended to use to blow off my head. Not long thereafter, Cali drug cartel henchmen planned to kidnap me in Bogota while I met there with cartel launderers. Had that kidnapping succeeded, no part of my body ever would have been found.

Eventually, thanks to a very highly placed secret DEA informant who attended a meeting with leaders of the Cali Cartel, my greatest fear was confirmed: I had been betrayed by one of the agents within my own department. He fingered me as a DEA undercover agent, while he moved dope, laundered money, and sold secrets to the cartel. Despite knowing that, we had no legally admissible proof of the agent's corruption because...