Return of the Assassin (Assassin Series 3) (15 page)

Good. He would live. For at least a while longer.

“Stand up and get dressed. Now,” he instructed the girl.

She rose, blinking, and hurried over to where her pants and top were draped over a chair. She was dressed within seconds and stood watching him, waiting for instructions.

“Okay. Let me slide my friend here to one side, and then you walk without stopping to the front of the house and out the door. Don’t stop on the way. If you do, or if I suspect any trickery, I’ll shoot you. If you scream or otherwise annoy me, I’ll shoot you. If you were lying about being alone in the house, I’ll come outside and shoot you. Is that clear?”

She nodded, petrified, her eyes darting from his helmeted face to the bloody cartel honcho.

“Go.”

She padded, barefoot, to the door and then moved cautiously down the long hallway to the salon. He heard the front door open, then his com line crackled again.

“We’ve got her.”

“Good. Send in a three man team and check the house. I don’t want any surprises. I’m in the master bedroom at the far end of the south hall, so stay away from that door – you can’t miss it. Just avoid the one with all the bullet holes. Go through the rest of the house and let me know when it’s all clear.”

He heard the men conducting their search, going room to room.

After a few minutes the word came over his headphone. “You’re good to go.”

“All right. Pull back. I’ll let you know if I need anything else.”

He bound Paolo’s wrists, and then moved through the house, looking for items that would prove useful for his interrogation. After a few minutes in the attached garage, he returned with a drill, a soldering iron, a bread knife and a bottle of ammonia. He placed the items on the nightstand and then pulled the closest chair towards him, and then hoisted Paolo onto it.

As Paolo stirred, the assassin busied himself binding him with a roll of duct tape he’d found in the garage.

El Rey
opened the bottle of ammonia and held it under Paolo’s nose. His eyes flew open and he sputtered, jerking his head, fighting against his binding.
El Rey
stood in front of him, watching him calmly. He slowly pulled off his helmet, set it on the bed and grinned.

“Hello, Paolo. I’m sorry to intrude in such a presumptuous manner, but I don’t have a lot of time and my errand is an urgent one. I’m
El Rey
. You’ve no doubt heard of me. So you know that when I tell you I could easily kill you in the most horrifyingly painful way imaginable, I am not lying. I have no reason to hurt you any more than necessary, though, so I’ll make this simple. I require information, and the sooner I’m convinced that you’ve told me everything you know, the sooner this will be over. I will not kill you unless I have to. But you will wish you were dead – you’ll beg for death, unless you cooperate,”
El Rey
explained matter-of-factly.

Paolo’s pupils contracted to pinpricks, and his brow beaded with sweat. His bottom lip trembled, and color returned to his face through the waves of pain from his ruined legs. “This is impossible.”

El Rey
shook his head and studied the implements spread on the bed.

At first Paolo showed remarkable commitment to Aranas.
El Rey
honestly believed the
Don
would have been honored by the level of loyalty he inspired.

Three hours later,
El Rey
was satisfied that the drug lord had nothing left to hide. He used the bed sheets to wipe the blood splatter off his face and hands, and stripped off the clear plastic raincoat he’d brought with him for the interrogation. Paolo hadn’t gone easily, but in the end, he’d told what he knew. They always did.

As he exited the house, flames licking out the windows, there was a dull thump, and then an explosion from the open propane valves in the kitchen igniting. To the weary commandos watching him stroll from the house as a neon fireball blew a hundred feet in the air, taking most of the roof with it in a hail of shards flung into the sky, it looked as though the devil himself was approaching, clad head to toe in black, trailing a cape of fire and destruction, straight out of hell.

Cruz sipped his coffee as he sat at his desk, carefully considering how to proceed now that the surprising turn of events had pulled the
El Rey
investigation out of his hands. He had never heard of CISEN taking over a manhunt or an investigation and had no doubt that whatever was going on was unlikely to result in the assassin’s capture. The question in his mind was why.

Briones knocked softly on his door. Cruz responded by inviting him in. “Close it, would you please?”

Briones pulled it softly shut behind him.

“Coffee?” Cruz asked, beckoning to his meeting table in the far corner of the office.

Briones shook his head. “No, thanks. It gets me jittery if I drink too much, and I’m way over my limit already today,” he smiled, “and it’s not even lunch time yet…”

They took seats, and Cruz took another gulp of coffee before broaching the subject that had been nagging at him.

“As you know, the
El Rey
investigation has been shifted from our task force. So officially, our interest and involvement in the matter is over,” Cruz began.

“I still don’t understand that. Was it just me, or was the whole explanation that another group was going to handle it vague, to put it mildly? Besides, who knows
El Rey
better than we do? Who is this mystery group of super sleuths, and what makes them experts, to the point where the case is pulled right in the middle of an investigation?” Briones griped.

“It was irregular, but as you know, sometimes decisions are made for political reasons, not operational ones,” Cruz added. He had been forced to concoct a story about a nebulous other team within law enforcement taking over, since he couldn’t tell his staff about CISEN’s involvement.

“Well, with all due respect, sir, it sucks.”

“It does indeed. But I didn’t ask you here to bemoan the decline of the rule of law. I wanted to know exactly where you had gotten when you stopped investigating. You were handling the guards and the driver – what was your impression of them?” Cruz probed. They hadn’t really discussed Briones’ findings since the case had been terminated so abruptly, and then things had become so hectic with the attack on the meth lab.

“I got a weird vibe from the driver. It’s hard to pin down. Just a gut feeling, but I don’t think he was leveling with me, or at least he wasn’t telling me everything he knows. But everyone’s stories were nearly identical, so I believe the attack went down the way they described. I just…” Briones sighed. “I didn’t like the driver’s attitude. He didn’t seem like the other two, trying to help and remember everything he could. He was more…guarded, I guess I would say.”

“Hmm. Well, perhaps he was just nervous due to his role in the episode? Nobody wants blame pinned on them,” Cruz observed.

“That isn’t it. If anything, he seemed, I don’t know, cocky. The two armed officers were on edge, sort of like I would be in that situation. After all, not a shot was fired by our team, and yet the most dangerous prisoner in existence was broken out in broad daylight. That doesn’t look good, even though I’m satisfied with their account. But the driver was less agitated, and more…polished. More sure of himself. The other two were still reeling from the attack, but the driver was very calm. I thought it was odd.”

“Maybe that’s just his personality.”

“Could be, but I don’t think so. After doing this for a while I’ve sort of developed a nose for things being wrong. And my instinct was that he was wrong, somehow. I just don’t know how. I was going to circle back and grill him again, but then the files got pulled and everything ground to a halt.” Briones studied Cruz’s face. He knew his boss well enough by now to see that he was troubled.

“Do you remember his background? Age? Name?”

“That was all in the files. I remember he was a career man, older than me…you know, come to think of it, I still have all my notes – I never had time to type them up from when I took them in the field.” Briones paused and narrowed his eyes. “Why? I thought we weren’t on this anymore…”

“We aren’t. I was just curious, is all. But it can’t hurt to look over your notes, can it? I mean, it’s not like I’m authorizing you to pursue an active investigation or anything,” Cruz said evenly.

Briones did a double take. “No, because another group is handling it. As you said.”

“Exactly. I’m simply remarking that it’s awfully slow around here since the meth lab debacle, so if you were to spend a few moments glancing over your notes, it wouldn’t take away from any pressing duties. Note I am
not
telling you to do anything in an official capacity. I was just tying up loose ends, now that this is out of our hands. Which it is. Completely.” Cruz finished his coffee with a slurp. “I trust I make myself clear?”

Briones hesitated. “It’s a shame to let all that work go completely to waste. But I understand. There is no investigation on our end. Nobody is working the case here because there isn’t one.” Briones smiled. “It is rather slow, isn’t it?”

“That’s the business. Even the bad guys take a break occasionally. Hopefully, you can find something to occupy your time until the next crisis. But under no circumstances are you to investigate any of the officers involved in the assassin’s escape, or work the
El Rey
case any further. That’s off limits.”

“Right. Because that would be bad. As my commanding officer, I don’t think you could put it any more unmistakably, sir,” Briones confirmed. “Will that be all?”

Both men grinned.

“Idle hands, young man. Try to stay out of trouble during this lull.”

“Of course, sir. I’ll just be going now.”

“Carry on.”

~

El Rey
pressed the speed dial button and waited for Hector’s distinctive voice to answer.

“I presume you got the information you were after?” Hector asked, having already been informed of the raid’s success.

“Yes. I have a target now.”

“That’s wonderful. What’s the plan? What logistical support do you need? Another armed incursion? Just say the word. We’re ready to go.”

“I’m afraid not. I need to do this one alone.”

Hector digested that in silence. When he spoke, he was clearly skeptical. “Why?”

“You can’t be involved.”

“Explain.”

El Rey
did. Forty-five seconds later, Hector fully appreciated the difficulty the situation presented.

“What do you need?”

El Rey
ran down the list he’d compiled, ending with his probable equipment requirements.

“The actual weapons may change once I get a chance to study the variables more closely. I’m just guessing right now.”

“I understand. When are you thinking of going in?” Hector asked.

“As soon as possible. Only this time, I’ll be doing it solo – I work best alone. But I have a condition. Given what I’ve just explained to you, it will be impractical to coordinate a meeting for the booster shot. So I will need you to get it to me so I can inject it myself, in the event the timeline slips.”

“I’ll check, but have to say that is a non-starter. The pr– the powers that be were inflexible on that point.”

“I’d advise them to reconsider. Before, this was theoretical. Now it isn’t. I know exactly where the girl is being kept, and I have a fair idea what will be necessary to get her out safely. And I’m telling you that it could get messy, and I’ll need to be flexible, meaning that I may be off the grid for a while. You really don’t want this whole thing failing because I missed the shot, do you? We’re close and have made a lot of progress from where you were three days ago.”

“Noted. I’ll pass it up the line along with my counsel.”

“Alternatively, I can just wait until day six, and we can hope that nobody is raping Maria during the interim, or chopping her up for sport. You might want to share that possibility with the big man. Obviously, if I’m forced to wait for the shot, the odds increase of her being mistreated or killed with each passing hour. So in a way, it’s your call whether she gets rescued as soon as I can do it…or as soon as I can do it,
after receiving the shot
. But I’m telling you, I won’t be able to do both, so it’s decision time.”

“I think I’m clear on the situation. Leave the phone on. I’ll get back to you.”

The line went dead.

~

Hector thought through the ramifications of
El Rey
’s news. They were already walking a tightrope with the raid in Culiacán. They’d taken steps to make it appear to be the work of Los Zetas cartel, leaving liberal evidence implicating the group. Fortunately for the cover story it was believable that Los Zetas could carry out an attack on Paolo’s headquarters, and as long as the news validated that spin, that would be the official story. It wasn’t like Los Zetas would hold a press conference insisting that they hadn’t killed one of their hated enemies.

But the assassin was right. There was no way that the Mexican government could participate in an attack on foreign soil, regardless of the reasoning. And it couldn’t approach the other country’s administration. The second they contacted their counterparts, it was likely that word would get to Aranas, and the whole operation would be blown.

No, it would have to be a one man show.

Selling the president on giving
El Rey
the booster would be another matter. But perhaps the assassin had framed the scenario convincingly. They could either wait, at Maria’s expense, or do as he asked and give him a little more rope.

Hector racked his brain, groping for a viable alternative but finding none, and then made his decision. He rose from his position behind his desk and adjusted his tie before putting on his suit jacket.

It was time to see the president.

~

El Rey
studied the satellite images he had accessed online, debating which of the myriad possible approaches would be most likely to succeed. Unlike when he was performing a sanction, he would need to consider getting the girl out in one piece – and he had no idea what condition she was in, or even whether she could walk. He had to assume she couldn’t. If she was ambulatory, that was a plus.