Requiem for the Assassin (22 page)

“Again, those were all accidental or natural causes.”

“That’s what they were made to look like.”

“That’s crazy. How do you know? I mean, you claim to know they were killed. How?” she demanded, her investigative instincts kicking in.

The younger man removed his glasses and fixed her with a cold stare, absent any malice, but with a quality like that of a snake eyeing its prey. He was actually quite handsome, she thought, an errant notion that took her unawares, and that she quickly shook off. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his thighs, and pursed his lips, as though annoyed at the need to explain.

“Because I killed them.”

Chapter 35

Carla recoiled in shock. She believed him. And the fact that she did scared her more than anything so far.

“You…
you
killed them?”

“
Señorita
Vega, try to resist the temptation to interrupt me with inane repetitions. I’ll tell you what I can, and then it will be your turn,” the younger man said.

She nodded mutely, not trusting herself to speak.

“I work for a government agency. I’m in the problem-solving business. When this agency has exhausted all other alternatives or has deemed someone dangerous to national security, I get a call. To simplify things, I was instructed to terminate those three men because of their involvement in a drug-smuggling operation. I was given dossiers, information on them you can’t imagine, everything I would need about their movements and habits to execute the plan successfully. Which I did.”

She was about to speak when the young man held up a hand and shook his head, just once, closing his eyes as though fighting to control his patience. When he opened them, he continued.

“For reasons I found suspicious, they were all to look like accidents or natural causes. Fine. I did my duty. And then I was given another list, with three more names on it. Yours was one of them.”

Her eyes widened. “I…I don’t understand,” she whispered.

“I’m hoping that you do.”

“I…”

“The other names were Captain Cruz and a farmer in Sinaloa, whose business is tomatoes and pigs, and who’s never harmed anyone in his life, as far as I can tell. His name is Indalecio Arellano.”

El Rey
watched her closely for any giveaways. The name meant nothing to her that he could see.

“What are you saying? That you’re going to kill me? Is that what this is about?”

“Are you dead?”

She didn’t say anything.

“If I wanted to kill you, you’d have passed on in your sleep at your home. A tragic freak accident of some sort – heart stopped, probably an undiagnosed congenital issue.”
El Rey
sighed. “CISEN wants you dead. Not me.”

“CISEN? That’s insane. They don’t go around killing journalists.”

Cruz exhaled noisily. “That’s correct. Or at least, that was my understanding. But apparently they do. And cops, priests, actors… Now I think it’s time you level with us. We need to know what you do if we’re going to have any chance of getting to the bottom of this.”

“What about me?” she asked.

“If you’re honest with us, you can walk away, no harm done,” Cruz said.

“Although I have to warn you that they’ll just send someone else,”
El Rey
said.

“If it’s CISEN, I can blow it wide open. If I report what they’ve done, and that they’ve targeted me, then they can’t do anything. I’d be safe.”

The assassin shook his head. “That’s not how it works. First, you’ll find it never gets aired, for two reasons: no proof – and CISEN has absolute control over the media and can quash a story. And second, you’ll be branded a kook. Stories will appear about you drunk, on drugs, having orgies, whatever. And then one day you’ll be found overdosed. Or your car will go off a cliff. Or your plane will go down. Or a robbery or carjacking will go wrong, with deadly consequences. I respect your line of thinking, but without proof, you’ve got nothing, which you should know. Just unsubstantiated allegations.”

“You could make a statement. Go public.”

“Same problem. I know I killed them, but how do I prove it? Besides which, I have no name. I’m nobody. The invisible man.” He sat back. “But we’re getting ahead of ourselves. Why were you in Arizona?”

Her eyes narrowed. “Why should I believe any of this? You could be making it all up. Or it could be some kind of trick.”

“Trick? To achieve what? We secreted you out of your house to trick you into revealing…what, exactly? Miss Vega, I suggest you think this through. You’re on a kill list. As am I. That’s why we kidnapped you,” Cruz said.

“You?”

Cruz sighed and removed his hat and glasses. “I know we’ve never met, but you can compare my photos online with me in the flesh. Captain Romero Cruz, head of the anti-cartel task force, at your service.”

Her face fell. It was obvious that a part of her had been hoping they’d been spinning her some fanciful tale.

“Do you have ID?”

“Of course.” Cruz removed his badge holder from his back pocket and handed it to her.

“But I saw that you died yesterday…” she said, recognition dawning on her.

“Correct. Because if I wasn’t dead, they’d still be trying to terminate me.” He took his ID back. “Are you starting to understand how serious this is?”

“But if this is true, what can I do? They’ll kill me no matter what.”

“Maybe not. There’s one chance for you,”
El Rey
said. “Which is that we figure this out and put an end to it while they believe I’m still trying to get to you.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Tell me what you were doing in Arizona.”

Carla inhaled deeply, her breasts swelling against her satin top as she did, and nodded. “I have a source. Inside CISEN. The source indicated that there was something going on with Perry and the admiral. A few days before he died, I also heard that the archbishop was implicated in some way. How, my source didn’t know. I went to Arizona to try to get information out of Perry, see what he might be involved in that would connect him to the others. That was the same reason I went to cover the christening. To get to the admiral, whose staff had been stonewalling me.” She held Cruz’s gaze. “I had no reason to believe any of these deaths weren’t what they seemed. I’ve been such a fool…”

“Then you didn’t learn anything new?”

“No, not really. And now that you say Perry was targeted. I mean, he was harmless. A pretty boy. Nothing more.”

“Did he have any connection to Mexico or Mexican interests you know of?”

She shook her head. “No. I mean, his father was Mexican, but he seemed ashamed of that and insisted he was Spanish.”

“That’s it? That’s all you got? Some kind of racial guilt?” Cruz asked.

“I only talked to him for a short while. We were supposed to meet for drinks the night he…the night he died. Maybe I would have found out more. Or maybe there was no obvious reason. What I can tell you is that the story about a drug ring makes no sense. Perry was making tens of millions per year. A guy like that isn’t in the drug business. No way. He wasn’t the type.”

“And the admiral and archbishop?”

“Both honorable men, as far as I could tell. And I never found anything in common, although I stopped looking once the archbishop died.”

Cruz grunted. “What about this farmer?”

“I have no idea who he is or why he’s on the list.”

“Who’s your source?” Cruz demanded.

She shook her head. “I’ll never tell.”

“I’m afraid you don’t have that luxury.”

“It’s not a luxury. It’s a mandatory condition.”

El Rey
stood. “This is getting us nowhere.”

“You said earlier that I had one chance. What were you thinking?” Carla asked.

“You have to disappear. If you don’t, you’re dead.”

“I can’t just disappear. I have a career. Obligations, a home…”

“None of which will do you any good once you’re dead.”

“Where would I go?”

“That’s not the biggest problem. There’s a part to this story I haven’t told you. It involves an injection,”
El Rey
said and gave her an abridged version of his situation with the antidote. When he finished, he frowned. “So you see, you’d have to have a good reason to drop off the radar, to buy me time as an excuse for not terminating you. I can’t get you if I can’t find you.”

“Then I really don’t understand what you’re proposing,” she said.

El Rey
laid out his thinking in precise terms. When he was done, the air hung heavy with tension. Carla studied Cruz’s face and then the assassin’s.

“It could work. Provided I went along with it and didn’t alert everyone I could think of the second I was back in my house.”

“Which you’re free to do. Just prepare a will first, because your life span will be measured in hours at that point. As will mine, and his,”
El Rey
said.

Carla sat in silence for a half minute and then leaned forward. “Presuming I disappear, I have one condition. I want an exclusive on this story, whatever it is. I mean, I can help you dig, too. I’m a researcher. It’s part of what I do. And with three of us trying to find out what’s going on, we might all have a better chance than without me helping.”

“Miss Vega, I have a wife I love very much. She thinks I’m dead. Right now her heart’s breaking, as is mine. I don’t want to have to stay dead, to walk away from the most precious thing in my life. So believe me, if anyone’s motivated to dig, it’s me,” Cruz said quietly.

El Rey
looked at Carla. “You can have the exclusive. It doesn’t mean that you’ll ever get to tell it, though. Our theory that this is a rogue operation within CISEN may be dead wrong, and it may be officially sanctioned at the highest levels, in which case, well…then there’s not much you can do but move to Bora Bora and take up bartending.”

Carla fixed Cruz with a cool stare. “What do you want me to do first?”

“You’re probably not going to like it.”

“I think that’s safe to say. But do I have a choice?”

“Not a good one.”

Chapter 36

Carla’s neighborhood was deserted at 3:30 a.m., the moon now high in the inky vault of the night sky, and when Cruz dropped
El Rey
and Carla off near her neighbor’s townhouse, the street was absolutely still, with only a faint sound of traffic from the nearby Paseo de la Reforma, which was always busy regardless of the hour.

El Rey
led her into the building, her feet shielded from the debris by a too-large pair of his running shoes, and guided her up the stairs to the roof. She watched in disbelief as he wedged the ladder in place between the two buildings and gestured for her to approach. She peered down into the void beneath it and shook her head.

“You’ve got to be kidding.”

“It’s not that hard. I managed it carrying you.”

She closed her eyes. “I’m afraid of heights.”

“No time like the present to conquer that fear.”

She shook her head again. “I can’t do it.”

“You want me to try again with you on my back?”

“That would be even worse. Isn’t there any other option?”

El Rey
considered the question and then nodded and explained the alternative.

She smiled. “I like that one way better.”

“You just need to be convincing.”

“I’m on TV, remember?”

“All right. Let’s do it.” He led her back to the ground floor, carrying the ladder, and when they were in the backyard, he leaned it against the ten-foot-high wall separating the properties. “You go first. Sit on the top of the wall while I come up, and then take my hand, and I’ll lower you so that it will be a short drop to the ground.”

She did as directed, and when both of them were in her yard, he moved to her rear door, his lock picks in hand. Carla watched him massage the deadbolt tumblers until he had it open, and then he stood.

“You know what to do. Give me three minutes to get away. You remember my phone number?”

She repeated it to confirm. “And tomorrow morning…?”

“Just make sure you’re on time,” he cautioned, and then he was running, a dark streak in the gloom. He seemed to defy gravity as he leapt and pulled himself up and over the wall, all the time as silent as the grave.

Carla counted silently to herself. When three minutes had passed, she twisted the knob and opened the door. Sirens howled a Klaxon wail, and her bodyguards came running, weapons drawn.

Carla waved them off. “Sorry. I forgot about the alarm. I thought I heard something out here.”

“
Señorita
Vega, if there’s something on the grounds, it would be best if you allowed us to investigate,” the shift leader said.

She nodded and ran a listless hand through her hair, having no problem doing a convincing job of being sleepy. “Turn it off, would you? That noise is terrible.”

“Of course.” He went to the keypad and tapped in a four-digit code. The clamor quieted, and she offered a fatigued smile.

“Sorry, boys. I thought it might have been a cat I’ve seen back here a few times. I was thinking of adopting it if it’s a stray.” She covered her mouth and yawned. “Let me know if you see it so I can put out some milk.”

She brushed past the men and made for the stairs. They watched her, their faces impassive, and when she was out of sight, the leader rolled his eyes and shook his head.

In her room, Carla opened her floor safe and extracted the money she kept there – twenty thousand U.S. and thirty thousand pesos. She wasn’t unusual in keeping cash in her home; the banks in Mexico didn’t offer safe deposit boxes, so every house had a good safe. She dropped the banknotes into her purse along with her passport and, after spinning the combination dial, returned to her bed, where she lay sleepless, mind racing, for the rest of the night.

Chapter 37

Carla’s street looked completely different bathed in cool morning light, Cruz thought as he sat, his expression stony, behind the wheel of a Ford Mustang
El Rey
had stolen several hours earlier. The assassin waited patiently next to him, an old AK-47 in his hands, his attention focused on the front door of Carla’s home.