Revenge of the Assassin (Assassin Series 2) (15 page)

A few minutes later he returned with two pieces of paper. Cruz signed one, and then read it. Three sentences.

“This is Aranas’ main arms dealer! We’ve been trying to nail him for years. He’s working for you?” Cruz asked incredulously.

“I wouldn’t say he’s working for us. He exchanges information when it is advantageous for him to do so. This was a particularly interesting piece, I think you’ll agree. He sourced the rockets used in the Juárez attack, and apparently he’s secured a few other items for Aranas that he believed were for the same contractor –
El Rey
. Aranas has known the arms dealer for over twenty years, and apparently let slip that the new president’s ongoing persecution of Sinaloa would soon be coming to an end. He believes it’s because of the assassin.”

“So this is an inference. He’s
inferred
that Aranas has hired
El Rey
to kill the president? He wasn’t told that he was…” Cruz clarified.

“It is an inference. Aranas didn’t come right out and say, ‘I’ve hired
El Rey
to take out the president’. But the arms dealer felt that was a very distinct possibility based on the discussions they’d had,” Rodriguez affirmed.

“Do you see the problem here? You have a snitch, who is trying to curry favor with you, who passes on a speculation that is highly suspect. I agree that it bears looking into, but it’s a far cry from confirmation of a legitimate threat. And what were the ‘items’? I came to you with far more compelling information than this, and you ignored it…” Cruz pointed out.

“Yes. And we were wrong to do so. That’s why the gentlemen who ran this operation are no longer in charge. As to the items, besides the three Russian rocket launchers, he got several radio-transmitter triggering devices, two types of plastic explosive, several fragmentation grenades, and a silenced pistol.”

“Hmm. The plastique and the radio-transmitters are ominous.” He pushed back from the table. “All right. When can I get the president’s schedule?” Cruz asked.

“I can e-mail it to you before the end of the day. It will take a few hours for the president’s staff to send it over. But you will have it just as soon as I do,” Rodriguez promised.

“Let me ask you a personal question. Why are you working with an arms dealer who is supplying weapons to the cartel thugs, when you know they’re going to use them to kill police, soldiers and innocent civilians? Help me understand that,” Cruz asked Rodriguez.

“I’m afraid I can’t answer that – it’s not part of your need to know. But if it’s any consolation, I find it as repugnant as you do,” Rodriguez said.

“I’m sure that’s a consolation to the families of those who get killed by the cartels, as well as the innocents who are slaughtered whole cloth.” Cruz glared at him. “One last question, and then I’m finished. Did the arms dealer have any idea of timing?”

“No, but based on what he was sensing, Aranas was behaving as though the crackdown on his cartel wouldn’t last much longer. I would consider that it is likely to happen sooner than later.”

“Have you briefed the president’s staff yet?”

“We felt you would be the best person to do so, seeing as your credibility on
El Rey
is high…” Rodriguez admitted.

Cruz folded the classified summary and put it into his shirt pocket, then stood and shook hands. He was still irritated by these spy types’ arrogant superiority, but he had to admit these three were better than the last bunch.

His car picked him up outside, and he sat in the back seat, lost in thought. If
El Rey
was gunning for the president, he knew that there was practically nothing on earth that would stop him. He still remembered his failure at the financial summit, and the quirk of fate that had saved the day. He didn’t think they’d be that lucky again.

Which meant that Cruz needed to begin a manhunt for
El Rey
and focus on protecting the president at all costs.

His day had just gone from lousy to miserable.

El Rey
, back in action, going after the nation’s newly elected leader. And only Cruz standing in his way.

It didn’t get any worse than that.

“Lieutenant, what do you have for me?” Cruz called to Briones.

“We’ll be ready for you in the conference room in five minutes, sir,” Briones responded.

“All right.”

Cruz had called for daily staff meetings at the end of each day since starting the
El Rey
working group within his task force. He stood up, stretching. It had been a long afternoon, and for every step forward it seemed like they encountered another obstacle. Cruz moved to the coffee pot near the entrance of his office, and after pouring his fifth cup, walked through the maze of cubicles to the meeting room. When he entered, a dozen faces swiveled to greet him with worried looks. He didn’t waste any time with preamble.

“Have we narrowed down the possible public appearances? Which looks the most likely to be our man’s ideal scenario?” Cruz asked the room in general.

Briones cleared his throat. “For the last four days, we’ve been working with the president’s staff, and there are only two appearances that look good for
El Rey
. The first is a public speech on the steps of congress in two weeks, and the second is Easter Mass at the Mexico City Cathedral in three weeks. Obviously, the congress speech presents far greater danger due to it being open air for a fair amount of time, so that’s the one we’re focusing on.”

“Have we picked up on any buzz on the streets?” Cruz asked.

They had returned to shaking down every snitch they knew, hoping for a lead. It was a long shot, but they had to turn over every stone. There was no way of knowing which seemingly inconsequential bit of information would prove to be the one that led them to him. That’s how it had been the last time they’d been on
El Rey
’s trail, although then, as now, whiffs of him were few and far between.

Eldiarez, a chief in the plainclothes team, shook his head. “Not really. We’ve been circulating his photo in the hopes that something triggers, but for now, nobody knows anything,” he announced glumly.

“What about leaning on our contacts on the periphery of the Sinaloa cartel?”

“Not a whisper,” Eldiarez told him. “If Sinaloa is behind an attempt on the president, it’s the best kept secret they’ve got. Which isn’t surprising given that it would have come straight from Aranas, who probably wouldn’t have broadcast the fact. Every time we arrest one of their men, we give them the third degree, but so far there’s not much to report. That isn’t surprising considering that anyone rolling on Aranas would be a dead man. Even if someone did know something, it’s unlikely they’d volunteer it.”

“We’re also watching every airport and bus station,” Briones offered, “with the photograph being widely circulated, but you know how that goes…”

Cruz did indeed. The likelihood of a professional of
El Rey
’s caliber slipping up and getting caught through the rookie mistake of not altering his appearance so that it didn’t match the known photo of him was exceedingly slim, but they didn’t have much else to go on, so it was another checklist item. The whole thing smacked of going through the motions, though. Unless they got some kind of a break, all they were doing was taking the predictable steps
El Rey
would expect, bringing their possible success chances close to zero.

Cruz scowled at the room. “We need to do better than this. We’re going on five days since the tip came in from CISEN, and we’re no further along than we were then. I know you’re all doing everything you have been asked to do, but we need to push the envelope and be more aggressive. I’m not sure how to move this along, but my sense is that we’re currently dead in the water. Am I wrong?”

Briones tilted his head. “What about the original lead? Can’t we put pressure there? That seems to be our only viable option at the moment.”

“I’m meeting with some people this evening to discuss exactly that, but for now, consider it a dead end. It was picked up as chatter, so there’s nowhere to push. We just have to wait and see if we get anything more,” Cruz warned.

He couldn’t tell anyone about the true nature of the source, or the identity – hell, he couldn’t even hint that there was a source. But Briones had it right – for all CISEN’s reticence, they needed to lean on the arms dealer if they were going to get anywhere. Cruz had a six p.m. meeting scheduled to broach that very topic, although he wasn’t expecting much to come out of it. Still, it couldn’t hurt to tighten the screw on CISEN.

“All right. I need everyone to get creative. If the president gets killed, it will be because we didn’t do enough. That’s the bottom line. I have our friends at CISEN looking at financial transactions involving known Sinaloa entities on the off chance there’s some sort of a money trail, and I have to believe that if we focus enough energy on the two events, we’ll figure out how he’s planning to make his attempt. Bring me anything, no matter how seemingly inconsequential. Even if it’s a gut feel or a hunch. Because, as of now, we’ve only got a few weeks. That’s all I have,” Cruz concluded.

He had a sinking feeling as he scanned the resigned faces of his subordinates. He remembered the last time they’d been hunting
El Rey
– it had been a needle in a haystack, regardless that they’d been sure he was going to make his move at the financial summit. This time, they didn’t even know when, or even if, he would act.

Cruz shook off the sense of despondency, squaring his shoulders as he stood up. It wouldn’t do for his men to see him in despair. A good leader always projected strength and confidence, even he didn’t feel it.

Briones joined him as he walked back to his office. “Not much, huh? Is there any chance you’ll be able to get CISEN more involved?” he asked.

Cruz shook his head. “I’ve been on the line with the president’s people twice a day, and they feel like they have a good handle on the security aspect, which means nothing to me. And CISEN is being their usual self. They act like we don’t matter, which maybe in their universe we don’t. Cross your fingers because I’m not expecting a lot of further cooperation,” Cruz admitted.

His limp was a little more pronounced today. Even after the physical therapy, when the weather changed it could hurt.

Briones slowed his pace to match Cruz’s. “We need to do something, because as it sits, we’re stalled.”

“Agreed. It seems like this week is going to be a write-off. I’ll let you know if anything positive happens.” Cruz slurped the now-cold coffee he had been nursing and retreated into his office, dreading the meeting that evening with the state’s intelligence service.

~

Lush fields of coffee plants rolled over the grass-topped hills, their full, leafy finery swaying in gentle time to the caress of the light breeze. Workers dotted the green-hued expanse, harvesting the beans. A smear of white clouds lingered over the mountain top, offering welcome shade for the laborers toiling in the field.

This was one of Aranas’ hideaways, in the mountains on the outskirts of San Salvador – a working coffee plantation well away from prying eyes, in a country distant enough from Mexico for the cartel chief to be safe from attack or capture. He paid off all the local law enforcement groups, including the government functionaries, so El Salvador, as well as Guatemala and Honduras, were safe havens.

The colonial home had breathtaking views, and only one winding approach road, which was heavily guarded by hardened sentries under orders to shoot first and ask questions later – and the locals stayed well away, making it one of the most private areas in the region.

Aranas sat on the expansive patio, watching the laborers go about their backbreaking tasks as he sipped rich brew from a Delft china cup. It was a miraculously beautiful day, and he felt strangely at peace – as he always did when at this home.

A man cautiously approached from inside the house, taking care to close the wooden French doors behind him to keep any bugs out as he stepped onto the veranda. “
Don
Aranas, we have more information on the task force that has been set up to hunt
El Rey
. It’s being headed up by Romero Cruz, and it has committed significant resources to finding our operative. Photos are everywhere, and they’ve stepped up activity.”

Jacinto Felestero was one of Aranas’ trusted deputies, who had been with him for as long as he’d been the head of the cartel – over two decades, now.

“How did they get on to him? Did we ever discover that?” Aranas asked.

“No. Cruz is playing that very close to his chest. All we know is that they’re in a state of high alert and believe he will strike at one of two possible events within the next month.”

“That complicates things. Somehow they now know
El Rey
is targeting the president, which is unacceptable. There aren’t many places such information could have come from. My inner circle, or
El Rey
’s contacts. I can’t believe that one of his people, whoever they are, tipped off the
Federales
. That leaves my group – a disturbing idea, obviously. There are only four among us who knew. Including you, Jacinto.”

Jacinto’s face darkened. “
Don
, I swear on my mother’s grave, I haven’t spoken with anyone about it…” The danger of being suspected was obvious.

“I know. I’m not saying I think it was you. I’m saying that the circle who knows is small, and all are trusted beyond any doubt. Perhaps one of them murmured the wrong words to a mistress? Or made a call on a line that has been compromised? It’s a shame our source in Cruz’s group can’t get us better information – I’d like to put a stop to any further leaks,” Aranas speculated. “No matter. I think we need to throw a wrench into the government’s hunt for
El Rey
. I have an idea. I know this man Cruz, and I’ve also gathered a fair amount of information about him. I believe he has a weak spot.”

Don
Aranas pushed his empty coffee cup away from him and glanced up at the thinning clouds as they relented to the piercing rays of the sun. He invited Jacinto to sit, and laid out his plan.