Return of the Assassin (Assassin Series 3) (30 page)

Soldiers swarmed into the interior, weapons sweeping the area, red laser dots bouncing giddily on the walls. The leader pointed at the closed bedroom door and made a signal with his gloved hand, and the two soldiers with the ram repeated the process of slamming the door to pieces.

Inside, a diminutive figure sat on the bed, her hands bound together with a plastic tie wrap and a black hood over her head. The leader approached her and gently pulled it off.

Maria looked up at him with relieved eyes.

“I think the door was open.”

~

Hector marched into
El Rey
’s room, where the three guards were standing, weapons at the ready, as if he was going to leap from the bed like a tiger and eviscerate them before they could shoot him. The assassin cracked one eye open and, seeing Hector, sat up.

“She’s okay,” Hector said.

“I know.”

“The room wasn’t airtight. She was bound, but judging by what the soldiers tell me, it wasn’t much of a restraint system.”

“I exaggerated. Dramatic effect. To get your attention.”

“You were drugging her. The syringes were on the table.”

“It was necessary. The cartel had been shooting her up with heroin. You can’t just stop the drug or she’ll fall apart. She needs a controlled setting so she can be weaned off of it gradually.”
El Rey
watched Hector’s expression. “You can ask her. I’m not in the rehab game, so it’s your problem now that she’s safe.” He looked at the security guards. “You want to get this harness off me now? I did as instructed. I found and rescued the girl. It’s time to keep your part of the bargain.”

Hector nodded, and one of the men handed his partner his weapon and then reached into his pants pocket for the padlock key.
El Rey
held his shirt up obligingly as the explosive device was removed.

“I’ll need my cash back before I leave. Don’t worry about the cell phone. I can get another one if you’ve grown attached to mine. It’s of no consequence to me…”
El Rey
said.

“Come with me. There are some people who want to talk to you.”

El Rey
nodded. He’d been expecting some sort of a double-cross. This was probably the start of it. He idly contemplated the back of Hector’s neck and considered what he could use to sever the spinal cord before anyone could react. Instead, he followed him down the hall to a meeting room.

Inside, the head of CISEN waited, along with the doctor who had been attending to him, and two more armed men. Hector took a seat near the head of the rectangular table and stared at
El Rey
. The assassin took a seat where indicated by the doctor and offered the assembly a blank look, giving nothing away.

The doctor spoke first, as if uncomfortable with the tense silence.

“How do you feel?”

“Like I’ve been shot twice, spent a few days in the jungle, and was injected with poison. Other than that…”

“You present us with a problem,” the head of CISEN said in a matter-of-fact voice.

“I suspected we would wind up having this talk,”
El Rey
confirmed. “But I have the president’s word I wouldn’t be imprisoned if I carried out this mission for him. I did, and I expect him to keep his word.”

As if on cue, the door opened, and the president entered. Everyone stood. Except
El Rey
.

“I want to personally thank you for saving her,” he began, approaching the assassin, offering him his hand.

“That was the deal.”
El Rey
shook it. Too bad there was nobody memorializing the odd encounter with a photo.

“Yes, but she says that you saved her life a number of times, even after you broke her out of the villa.”

“Hard to collect if she’s dead,
no
?”
El Rey
shrugged.

“Yes. Well, you have my gratitude.”

“We were just discussing the problem that he represents,” Hector offered.

“Ahh, then I’ll let you get back to it,” the president said, obviously anxious to avoid the topic.

“I was just reminding your people that I have your word I won’t be imprisoned. As well as a written pardon – everyone remembers the pardon, right? I can get you a copy of it if it’s slipped anyone’s mind.” He studied the faces of the men in the room before returning his eyes to the president.

“And so you do. I intend to keep my word. You’ll see. You are pardoned and a free man.” He looked at the wall clock. “Unfortunately, I must get going. I have a daughter arriving in a short while who I need to greet. I just wanted to express my gratitude in person.” The president nodded at the men and then left. The door closed softly behind him before anyone spoke.

“You’re a cold blooded killer,” Hector spat.

“It’s true.”

“We can’t have you out on the streets plying your trade.”

“I understand. I’m retired. Effective immediately.” He placed his hands on the table and made as if to stand.

“You might want to stay for the rest of the discussion,” the head of CISEN observed.

“I doubt it.”

“Well, let’s start with the most important part, then – see if it gets your interest. Just as you exaggerated about the airtight chamber and Maria, I’m afraid we didn’t tell you everything about the neurotoxin.”

El Rey
fixed each man in turn with a cold glare. “If I’m still dying and you lied, each of you will be dead in a week. Nothing will save you. Nothing. Your families, your children–”

“You see? That’s what I’m talking about. Most people don’t greet a disagreement by threatening to butcher the other party,” the CISEN chief said, palms raised to emphasize his point.

El Rey
remained quiet, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

The doctor leaned forward, his hands folded on the table. “It’s not like that. The Americans warned us that the antidote works, but its initial curative effect is short lived. They estimate that it will take at least two more shots for the toxin to be fully neutralized.”

“Two more shots. Fine. Let’s do it.”

Hector smiled humorlessly.

“You still don’t understand. Not two more shots today. Or tomorrow. Two more spread out over a year. One every six months,
mas o menos
,” he recited dryly.

And there it was. The double-cross.

He waited for more.

“You’ll need to come back in every six months to get another shot. In a year, we’ll monitor your levels and scan for any further trace of the toxin. If at eighteen months your protein levels are still normal on their own, you’re fine. If not, one more shot will do it,” the doctor explained.

“Eighteen months.”
El Rey
bit off each syllable with precision, managing to make the words sound obscene.

“Correct. And seeing as you will need us to get your next shots, we have a proposition for you,” the CISEN man said.

“Proposition? You mean an ultimatum.”

“Whatever. Here’s the proposal. You’re a killer. It’s what you do. You are also extremely good at it. Better than anyone we’ve ever seen.”

“Get to the point,”
El Rey
said.

“The point is that you will be working for us. Doing what you do. No more cartel work. Only for us, on a few operations, as needed. We may not have to call on you, in which case, the deal stands – every six months you come in and we give you the shot, no strings attached. But if we have something that requires your special services…”

El Rey
considered his words. They had lied to him. Not lied, but rather omitted critical information – a very lawyerly way of lying, perfected by politicians and bureaucrats since time immemorial. But it was what it was. They had him by the balls. And was the offer really so much worse than what he had been doing to amass his fortune?

He smirked at the thought.

“So I’m a menace when I’m working against you, but a prized asset when I’m on your side of the table?”

“Welcome to the real world. For the record, I am against this. I’d just as soon see you rot in hell as take one step as a free man,” Hector said.

“Your sentiment is touching.”

“But it’s not my call.”

“No. It doesn’t sound like it is,”
El Rey
said. “We finally agree on something.”

The assassin leaned back in his chair, thinking. Nobody spoke. Finally, he leaned forward and steepled his fingers.

“I reserve the right to refuse an assignment for whatever reason. I won’t be thrown into suicide missions so you can kill me off that way,” he said.

The CISEN chief sat back. Now it was a negotiation. “That’s not unreasonable, but it won’t work. If we have to call on you, it’s because there is no other choice.”

El Rey
shook his head, then stopped. “Then you can’t omit anything about the sanction. No little missing pieces, like with the antidote timeline. I find out that you have, it’s automatically aborted, and I still get my shot. I want that in writing, signed by the president. And I get to live wherever I like, with no conditions, other than my professional arrangement with you.”

The CISEN chief nodded. “Provided it is in Mexico. We can’t have you prowling the streets of other countries if you’re in our employ…”

“Fair enough. So Mexico, but no strings other than I am available to you for occasional…errands.”

The discussion lasted another twenty minutes.

Three hours later,
El Rey
walked out the clinic door into the welcoming blaze of Mexico City sunshine, the signed presidential agreement safely in his pocket.

Cruz passed through security at the compound, surrendering his sidearm and emptying his pockets for scrutiny. Formalities completed, he approached the lobby of the executive offices, where the chief of staff’s assistant was waiting for him.

“Right this way. He’s expecting you,” the officious young man said, gesturing for Cruz to follow.

His shoes echoed off the marble as they walked to the conference room adjacent to the chief of staff’s offices, and Cruz was taken aback when he entered. The chief of staff was sitting at the oval table, chatting with the head of CISEN. Both men looked up as he entered.

“
Capitan
Cruz. Thank you for joining us on such short notice. Have you met Benicio Salazar, the Director General of CISEN?” Hector asked, introducing him obliquely.

Cruz was momentarily speechless, but he quickly regained his composure.

“I recognize the name and the face from photographs,” Cruz stammered, shaking both men’s hands.

“Please. Have a seat,” Hector invited, indicating the third chair.

Cruz obliged, looking uncertain.

“Captain Cruz. You’ll recognize these documents. They are required for receiving classified clearance – in this case, top secret – on a topic of national security. I’ll need you to review them and sign where indicated before anything can be discussed,” Hector said, sliding a folder to him along with a pen.

Cruz read the papers, then signed. “Now what is all this about?”

Benicio leaned forward. “It begins with a story – of a willful girl in a nightclub, trying to live as though there was no evil world outside its walls…” he began. Five minutes later, he stopped talking. Both men stared at Cruz, waiting for his reaction.

“You have got to be kidding me.”

Hector shook his head. “I’m afraid not.”

“The government broke the most evil killer ever known out of prison to take on his former cartel employers, and he now works for CISEN, after receiving a full pardon from the president? The man who tried to kill that same president, as well as the one before?” Cruz was flabbergasted. “And this doesn’t seem like a bad idea to anyone?”

Hector shrugged. “For what it’s worth, I was against it.”

“
Capitan
Cruz, I know this is hard to swallow. But it’s already done. We are telling you, taking you into our confidence, because you need to understand that there is no
El Rey
anymore – the King of Swords is now officially dead. In his place is a CISEN asset who is not wanted for any crime – who whether you agree or not, or like it or not, is cleared of any prior wrongdoing and is as free as you or I, with all the same rights. There will be no more task force focusing on him, no more clandestine, unofficial investigations, no back door inquiries. That is just the way it is. Do you understand?” Benicio asked, his question an obvious warning.

Cruz frowned, but said nothing. The world had lost its mind.

“As of right now,
El Rey
will cease to exist. For your purposes, he’s gone forever. There’s nothing to see, nobody to hunt. That’s not an option. It is a presidential directive, and by signing that document, you agreed to keep what we have shared with you confidential. Nobody can know about any of this. Ever. Am I clear?” Hector warned.

Cruz exhaled, only afterwards realizing that he had stopped breathing during the chief of staff’s monologue, his stomach muscles bunched up, tight from tension. He needed a few minutes to process the information.
El Rey
on the government payroll? It was unthinkable.

“Tell me something, gentlemen. I’m really actually curious. I presume you both have children.” He took in their wedding rings. “What I’d like to know is, how do you live with yourselves?”

Benicio stood. “Doing what I do is not for everyone. Very difficult decisions have to be made on a daily basis that many people wouldn’t understand. I don’t have to explain myself to anyone – certainly not you,
Capitan
. But I will say this, out of respect for the work you’ve done, and for your station. All of us have impossible jobs, and do things that others probably wouldn’t like. That’s what we do. It’s our role.” He moved to the door. “I’ll leave you with Hector here, but this conversation is over. You are bound by the secrets act from this point on. Not a word about any of this or you will be in prison for the rest of your life. And that would be tragic, and a waste, because you are very good at what you do.” Benicio inclined his head in a parting salute and then stalked out, his business concluded, his message delivered: stay silent, or else.