Return of the Assassin (Assassin Series 3)
Read Return of the Assassin (Assassin Series 3) Online
Authors: Russell Blake
Return of the Assassin
A THRILLER
Russell Blake
© 2012
Copyright 2012 by Russell Blake. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used, reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage or retrieval system, without the written permission of the publisher, except where permitted by law, or in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. For information, contact
[email protected]
.
Return of the Assassin
is a work of fiction. Any resemblance between the characters and real people, living or dead, is coincidental.
Published by
Features Index
Excerpt from
The Voynich Cypher
About the author
Russell Blake lives full time on the Pacific coast of Mexico. He is the acclaimed author of the thrillers:
Fatal Exchange
,
The Geronimo Breach
,
Zero Sum
,
The Delphi Chronicle
trilogy (
The Manuscript, The Tortoise and the Hare, and Phoenix Rising
),
King of Swords
,
Night of the Assassin,
The Voynich Cypher
,
Revenge of the Assassin, Return of the Assassin, Silver Justice, JET, JET II – Betrayal, JET III – Vengeance,
and
JET IV – Reckoning
.
Non-fiction novels include the international bestseller
An Angel With Fur
(animal biography) and
How To Sell A Gazillion eBooks (while drunk, high or incarcerated)
– a joyfully vicious parody of all things writing and self-publishing related.
“Capt.” Russell enjoys writing, fishing, playing with his dogs, collecting and sampling tequila, and waging an ongoing battle against world domination by clowns.
Visit Russell’s salient website for updates
The Assassin series
Night of the Assassin
is the gritty, edge-of-your seat prequel to King of Swords. A no-holds-barred, breakneck-paced thriller, Night of the Assassin charts the early years of
El Rey
- the King of Swords - a super-assassin responsible for some of the world’s most spectacular and daring executions.
King of Swords
is an epic assassination thriller set in modern Mexico against a backdrop of cartel violence. Captain Romero Cruz discovers an assassination plot to kill the Mexican and U.S. presidents at the G-20 conference in Cabo.
Revenge of the Assassin
is the breakneck-paced sequel to the bestselling international thriller King of Swords. When
El Rey
, the super assassin responsible for Latin America’s most spectacular hits, returns to Mexico for one final sanction, the race is on for Captain Romero Cruz of the Federales to stop him before he can fulfill his contract to kill the president.
Purchase
Revenge of the Assassin
The Voynich Cypher
When a sacred relic is stolen from its subterranean guarded vault, Dr. Steven Cross, amateur cryptographer, becomes embroiled in a deadly quest to decipher one of history’s most enigmatic documents - a 15th century parchment written entirely in unbreakable code; The Voynich Manuscript. Stalked by secret societies, and aided by the daughter of a murdered colleague, a trail of riddles catapults Cross from England to Italy to the Middle East, where a Byzantine web of ancient secrets leads him to a revelation so profound it will change the world order.
Go to excerpt from
The Voynich Cypher
The JET series
Readers are raving about the latest series in Blake’s ever-expanding stable of thrillers. To illustrate why they are reaching for the superlatives in their reviews, included at the end is a special bonus excerpt of
JET
.
JET
Code name: Jet
Twenty-eight-year-old Jet was once the Mossad's most lethal operative before faking her own death and burying that identity forever. But the past doesn't give up on its secrets easily. When her new life on a tranquil island is shattered by a brutal attack, Jet must return to a clandestine existence of savagery and deception to save herself and those she loves. A gritty, unflinching roller-coaster of high-stakes twists and shocking turns,
JET
features a new breed of protagonist that breaks the mold.
Fans of Lisbeth Salander, SALT, and the Bourne trilogy will find themselves carried along at Lamborghini speed to a conclusion as jarring and surprising as the story’s heroine is unconventional.
Visit Russell's website for more details
5 a.m., Mexico City, Mexico, Yesterday
A skin of dirty water from a late night shower coated the empty streets in the industrial district near the city center. A small storm had blown past the valley, leaving a partially overcast sky dotted with stars as a sliver of moon grinned crookedly between the clouds. Dawn would arrive in an hour, and the bustle of the city’s inhabitants would begin anew. But for now, the sidewalks were empty, other than an occasional rat scurrying down the gutter, or a skulking cat, brave or desperate enough to challenge one of the hardy rodents.
The lone dim bulb mounted on the back façade of an exposed brick building struggled to pierce the gloom over a steel-clad service entrance flanked by two overflowing green metal dumpsters, the garbage an ongoing beacon for the night’s scavengers. The door opened with a protesting groan, rusting hinges lamenting the scant maintenance that was a chronic feature of Mexican life. A man emerged carrying a lunch pail and a trash bag, which he tossed onto the pile at the top of the teetering mound.
The distinctive sound of glass bottles clashing sounded through the alley as the bag came to rest, perched precariously on one side of the refuse pile. Satisfied that it wasn’t going to come sliding back down at him, he returned his attention to the door, taking care to lock both deadbolts. The owners would never forgive him if someone broke in on his watch due to carelessness, and he needed the job.
Normally, Pedro would have been finishing his shift at eight a.m., but this was a Wednesday, so the evening had wound down early. By three, the manager had sounded last call, and the handful of lingering die-hards had reluctantly swallowed the remainders of their over-priced, watered-down drinks and had shuffled on in search of other spots to pursue their mid-week fiesta. Once empty, Pedro’s three employees had moved through the space with practiced precision, preparing for the day crew that would be arriving at noon to ready it for the next night.
Pedro sighed, his back hurting, and ran gnarled fingers through his thick salt-and-pepper hair, trimmed close to his skull for ease of maintenance. At fifty-two years old, he felt like he was ninety, particularly when it rained. The damp crept into his bones and made them ache, especially the base of his spine and his right tibia, both of which had endured a car accident decades earlier that had left him immobilized for months. A junker Nissan had run a red light, striking him a glancing blow that forever changed his life, leaving him sprawled on the pavement bleeding as horrified pedestrians rushed to help. Traffic accidents were a common hazard in DF –
Distrito Federal
, as Mexico City was called by its inhabitants – and that had been Pedro’s unlucky day. The driver had never been caught – the car had no plates – so he’d been left to the ministrations of the Social Security hospital that provided free care to workers who were paid current, which thankfully Pedro had been.
He fumbled in his shirt pocket and retrieved a three quarters empty pack of cigarettes, pausing by the door to tap one out. A bus engine roared in the distance as he lit up his reward, then flicked the wooden match at one of the pools of putrid water that had formed in the center of the alley’s worn surface. He waited a few seconds for his eyes to readjust to the darkness, taking an appreciative pull on the smoke before setting off.
Damned things would kill him eventually
.
Then again, so would life, he reasoned. Might as well enjoy the little pleasures while he could. He blew a cloud of cancer at the sullen sky, turned, and began the long walk to catch the bus that would deliver him to his dingy one room apartment over a butcher shop in one of the poorer barrios on the outskirts of the city.
A spike of pain shot through his head from the blow he never saw coming, and he barely registered the vague silhouette of his assailant, who had been hiding behind one of the dumpsters. His knees buckled and he fell forward as he lost consciousness, his cigarette fizzling out on the moist pavement next to his head, the lunch box clattering by his side. He never had a chance to struggle as his attacker slid a nylon cord around his neck and tightened it with a sharp pull, gloved hands gripping the rope with vice-like tenacity.
The killer watched with detached interest as Pedro’s face first turned red, then slowly blue, his appendages jerking reflexively as his body fought to get the air it needed to survive. He held the noose tight, his boot on Pedro’s chest so the knot couldn’t work loose, and maintained the tension until Pedro’s ordeal had ended and his body lay still, pants stained from where his bladder had let go.
The man hastily scanned the area to ensure nobody had seen the assault, then withdrew a cell phone from his pocket and made a call. One minute later a Dodge van covered in black primer rounded the corner and pulled to a stop next to the dumpsters. The side door opened and two men got out to pick up Pedro’s remains. They pitched the body onto a black plastic tarp in the van bed, the head striking the hard metal floor with a clunk.
“Hey, careful there. I don’t want a mess in this thing, okay?” the driver growled at the loaders, eyes darting to the back of the van with a glare.
The door slid shut, the pair crouching on the floor next to the corpse as the strangler climbed into the van’s passenger seat and dropped the lunch pail and the two foot section of steel pipe he’d used to crush Pedro’s skull onto the mat under his feet.
The van’s exhaust burbled softly as it crept to the far end of the alley. Steam drifted lazily from manhole covers as the vehicle rolled up to the deserted intersection. The driver glanced in his rearview mirror, confirming the area near the attack was still empty.
A garbage truck trundled past them on the desolate main street, lights flickering as it continued on its way; the driver waited until it was a hundred yards beyond them before making a cautious right turn and heading towards the freeway.
