Angel Eyes (20 page)

Cruz's woman, Sonia, was servilely making the rounds, getting drinks for everyone. Tori thought she looked a little pale beneath her rich tan.

Tori sat next to Russell on a long sofa covered in pinto horse-hide. A Chinese vase-one of several throughout the room-sat on the center of a Lalique crystal cocktail table just in front of her. She noticed that the brocade curtains half closed across the windows were lined with metal foil. She wondered whether this made them bulletproof as well as soundproof. "Do you know what you're doing?" Russell asked her.

She said, "Are you good at improvisation, Russ? I hope so."

Cruz grunted. "So. Now you are here.'' His tone and manner suggested that this was all she was likely to get from him by way of a thank-you for saving his life: an invitation to the great man's sanctuary. He gave the impression that he was already bored with their company. Perhaps he had come to believe that he was immortal, that her intervention had been irrelevant. Or, just as likely, his absolute power had corrupted him absolutely, and he was now nothing more than a pig.

Either way, Tori decided, she was going to shake him. This fat man, Cruz, was not so different from others of his ilk. She knew what made him tick: power and sex, in that order. But for him, as for the others like him, sex was not so far away from power, and often the two were inextricably entwined.

Sonia was important to him. When she ceased to be important, Cruz would see to it that she disappeared from his life. She would be thrown into the gutter and made to stay there. But for now he conferred his power upon her like a shadow, and she in turn gave to him the aura of her sexuality. And this aura of hers had about it a kind of magic. Like a dice shooter on a roll, Cruz was convinced he had luck on his side. Luck in the form of Sonia. This, too, made her his showpiece, in bed as well as out there in the streets of Machine-Gun City, where he cut his deals, cut down his enemies, where he was king. The paisas watched her coming and going, and they envied Cruz his ability to attract and keep this woman with the sultry eyes.

Cruz was looking pointedly at his watch when Estilo rose from the plush sofa and said, ''Are you sure it's secure in here?''

Cruz looked up. "Secure? What do you mean by secure?"

"I was wondering about the Orolas," Estilo said. "Was that man the only assassin they have in Medellin?"

Cruz snorted derisively. "Are you crazy?" He pounded has chest like a gorilla, only with a good deal less charm. "This is my heart. My empire extends in all directions from this point. The Orolas are nothing. They have always been nothing. They do not have the cojones to worm their way into this building."

Sonia excused herself, and a moment later Tori did the same. Quickly, she followed Sonia through the apartment. As Sonia closed the door to one of the bathrooms, Tori stuck her shoe in the doorway, shoved the door open and stepped inside.

''Jesus.'' The place was as big as a football field. There were two of everything, including six-foot whirlpool spas and live palm trees. Tori could not tell whether there was more marble or mirror. She locked the door behind her, watched carefully the play of emotions on Sonia's face.

"Your days are numbered here," she said to Sonia. "Any fortune-teller would tell you that.''

"In fact, one already has," Sonia said with surprising candor. "Her face was white when she told me." Sonia waited a minute, trying and failing to get the measure of Tori. ''Did Cruz send you?" She seemed unafraid, almost defiant.

Tori laughed. "Madre de Dios, no."

''But you're a friend of his."

"I want something from him. That's not the same thing."

"Almost," Sonia said. "But no, not quite." Her shoulders slumped a little, as if she had been maintaining a pose. "You're just another business associate here to cut a deal."

"Maybe," Tori said. "But if I do, it won't be with Cruz." She put her back against the door. "Whose mistress are you?" She said it so abruptly and in such a different tone of voice that Sonia started. "Which one of the Orola brothers do you sleep with?"

"You must be crazy!''

Tori said, "There's someone in here who's crazy, but it isn't me. I saw you signaling the Orola assassin at the corrida. What do you think you're doing? This isn't a game."

"Of course it isn't," Sonia hissed. Her handsome face was twisted into a mask of hate. "The man who Cruz murdered at El Cerrito, Ruben Orola, was my lover. When his brothers told me what I had to do, I didn't think twice. Why should I? What is left of my life? Nothing. Nothing but revenge. I have a purpose now."

"What kind of purpose?" Tori took Sonia by the shoulders, faced her toward the mirror. "Look at yourself. You're a walking, talking automaton, nothing more."

Sonia licked her lips. "I appear just as Cruz wants me to appear. The man is crazy."

"So are a lot of people."

"You don't understand. This man is insane. All the cartel heads are. There is something in the air here, or maybe it's a by-product of the power they lust after with their very hearts. Cruz is dangerous-as much to me as he is to you. When maniacs move, you get out of the way. Period.''

"Then you have to find some way to immobilize him."

Sonia stared at Tori in the mirror. "The moment Cruz is dead, I will put a gun to my head and pull the trigger."

Tori spun her around. "Is that so? Is your life worth as little as that punk assassin Cruz killed as casually as a fly? Then why haven't you killed Cruz yet? How many opportunities have you had lying beside him while he sleeps?''

"At night, after we have made love, when I hear his snores, when I see the rhythmic rise and fall of his belly, even then I am afraid to move. His power paralyzes me; his wealth surrounds me like a prison." She shrugged. "But I don't expect you to understand what I am telling you.''

But Tori did understand, better than Sonia could ever imagine. "There must be a way for you to break his power."

"You know nothing," Sonia said. "Cruz is already dead, he just doesn't know it yet. But it is the manner of his death that is of importance to Ruben's brothers."

"A public execution," Tori said. "Like today."

"Why did you stop it? You're no friend of Cruz's."

"He has information I must have," Tori said. "After I get what I want, the war can resume. I am not involved."

Sonia gave her a cold smile. "But you are involved. It is not a matter of choice. Wars are enormous things, unwieldy, difficult to stop. You have gotten in the way. Now you and your friends are part of it."

When Tori said nothing, Sonia continued. "Tell me what you want from Cruz, and I will ensure you get it. But, in return, you and your friends must help me kill him."

"Why should I bother? This is your vendetta, not mine," Tori said. "I can get what I want from Cruz just by turning you in. Knowing you work for the Orolas will shake him to his core. He'll be so grateful, he'll give me anything I want."

"Then you don't know Cruz." Sonia took out a Marlboro cigarette but did not light it. She studied Tori's face much as a fencer will study her adversary before they put on their masks. "He takes, but he does not give. Unless proper payment is presented, you'll get nothing from him." She shrugged, placed the Marlboro on the vanity top, slit it neatly open. "Besides, I am not the only plant the Orolas have here. One of Cruz's lieutenants, Jorge, works for them as well. The Orolas are freer with their money than Cruz is. Jorge does not know about me, but I know about him.''

Estilo was right, Tori thought. There is no loyalty here but to money. She said, ''Why should I care about you or the Orolas?''

"You owe me," Sonia said. "You destroyed something that was mine: Cruz's death. Now you are obliged to recreate it."

For the first time her face held a measure of doubt, and Tori understood just how important her revenge was to her. It might destroy her, in the end, but it was the only thing she could call her own. She had already given up on herself.

Sonia produced a sheet of rolling paper, transferred the tobacco into it. To it she added what Tori recognized as cocaine base. She rolled the mixture in the paper, sealed it. Then she lit up, inhaling the smoke deep into her lungs. In a moment her brown eyes went opaque, the pupils expanding.

Tori wanted to help her, to reach out and show her that she, Sonia, still existed, independent of Cruz, the Orolas, even the ghost of her lover, Ruben. But she could see that it was useless. She had no illusions that Sonia was a good woman trapped in a bad situation. At the moment Sonia had agreed to the Orolas' plan, she had sold her soul to the devil. There was no turning back now, and Tori recognized that all she could do for this woman was to make her journey as painless as possible.

Tori wondered to what degree she could trust anyone here. For trust, one needed people, but there were none here, only soulless husks driven by greed, lust, vengeance. The sins of the damned. The cocaine-impregnated smoke filled the room, making her slightly sick to her stomach. The stink of corruption was everywhere in flower.

"All right," Tori nodded. But the tiny hairs at the back of her neck were stirring. This mission had become a two-edged sword, as perilous a situation as was possible. She might be helping out a woman in distress, but she knew that she had also just made a deal with a demon.

"You two girls have a good time in there?" Cruz laughed. ''What is it you do together? Men don't want to see each other's pricks, so what is it you girls want to see?" He was being deliberately crude, baiting them, still feeling good after the kill. Blood did that to some men.

"Actually," Tori said, "Sonia discussed something important in there."

"Yeah?" The contempt was plain on his face. "What could that be? The name of a more effective douche?'' Cruz guffawed, and his lieutenants grinned like trained animals.

Tori stood in front of him, said, "Sonia saw one of your trusted lieutenants signal the Orola assassin at the corrida."

"What? You're a liar." He yelled this with such vehemence that Sonia jumped. ''Why didn't you say this to me right away?''

"She didn't really understand what she saw," Tori said, intervening. "But when I began to question her, it came out."

"This is impossible!" Cruz shouted.

"On the contrary," Tori said. "That's how the assassin was able to get so close to you. Close enough to use the handgun."

Cruz said nothing.

"Think. It's the only way the assassination attempt makes sense," Tori said. "The Orolas have someone inside your organization."

Cruz whirled on Tori. "Nevertheless," he said with a great deal of menace, "why should I trust you?"

"Besides the fact that I saved your life at the corrida, I can't think of a single reason.''

Cruz leered at her. "Perhaps you saved me for a reason, eh, chica?" He rubbed his thumb and forefinger together.

"That makes no difference," Tori pointed out. "You've still got a lieutenant on the Orola payroll."

"So you say."

Tori made a show of considering his challenge. She said, "I think I have a way of proving to you that we can help you further." She nodded toward Russell. "Senor Slade here is our resident expert in moles."

"In what?" Cruz asked.

"Moles," Russell repeated. "Enemy agents placed within your cartel."

"Ah, yes, burrowing underground," Cruz said. "I see." He scowled at Russell. "What do you do?"

Russell remembered what Tori had said to him. Are you good at improvisation? I hope so. "I find moles," he said. He got off the couch, passed by each of Cruz's lieutenants in turn. He looked them straight in the eye. Some looked back curiously, others were overtly hostile. No one looked away.

Cruz came over beside Russell. "This is interesting," he said.

Tori said, "I will whisper to you the name of the lieutenant Sonia saw signal the Orola hit man at the bull ring. Without knowing what I have said, Senor Slade will find your mole."

"Is that so?" Cruz grunted. "Tell me, Senor Slade, what do you do when you find these moles?"

Russell felt an overwhelming desire to look at Tori, but instinctively knew that even making eye contact with her now would make the paranoid Cruz suspect they were working some kind of scam on him. his mind was racing. "There was a Soviet agent. I interrogated him until he dropped. That took nearly thirty straight hours, but in the end the mole broke and gave us everything we wanted to know."

"Like what?" Cruz said suspiciously.

"Like everything he knew about the operations of his own organization."

Cruz shrugged. "I already know much of what is happening inside the Orola cartel. But it would be beneficial to know everything." Now it was Cruz who was parading in front of his lieutenants, scowling, fingering an enormous hunting knife. "And just how did you discover this mole, Senor Slade?"

"Not any one thing," Russell said, "but many tiny mistakes. They build up, especially during an interrogation. There are signs I am trained to see."

Cruz nodded. "It is now almost four months since I executed Ruben Orola. Since then, his brothers have tried three times to kill me, the last one being today." He turned to Russell. "Therefore, I need you, the mole hunter, to track mine down for me. Here. Now."

Tori stood beside Cruz, whispered in his ear.

Russell went down me line of Cruz's lieutenants. He hadn't the slightest idea what to look for, but he found it peculiarly exciting to pretend this expertise. Moment by moment he could feel the power slipping into his hands, just as he could feel the tension and anxiety mounting as he spoke to each lieutenant in turn, watched the cast of his eye, the tic of a facial muscle, the thin sheen of sweat on upper lip or forehead.

He came at length to the last lieutenant and knew that he would soon have to give Cruz a name. Further, it had to be the same name that Tori had whispered in Cruz's ear. How was he to do that?

Russell stood at an angle to the last lieutenant, ostensibly to observe him better. But at the same time he could now see Tori out of the corner of his eye. Russell saw her left hand down by her side. Then he saw it move marginally. Her forefinger and middle fingers were extended, the others curled into her palm. Like a baseball catcher calling for a curveball, Russell thought. The second lieutenant.