Revenge of the Assassin (Assassin Series 2) (19 page)

The task was finished within a few minutes, and the men loaded back into the van after carting sixty-two one kilo packages of crystal meth out of the barn and wedging them into the cargo area of the second van, cutting the space for passengers by sixty percent. It was a tight fit, but nobody complained. It was just a matter of time until the gunshots attracted the military, even in this rural area, so everyone was anxious to get on the road.

The second in command jogged over to the barn and pulled a pin from a hand grenade. With a grunt, he tossed it through the doorway and then ran for the vans. He made it in seven seconds. The vehicles were pulling away when a huge series of explosions blew the structure apart, a massive fireball billowing into the sky as the drivers accelerated dangerously down the rustic trail in a white haze of dust.

Briones stood in Cruz’s office, sorting through reports at the small circular table set up for three and four person meetings. They were expecting their counterparts from CISEN to appear at any moment, and Cruz multi-tasked as they waited, signing documents and creating piles of paper in his outbox. In the larger main room, uniformed men and women circulated between the cubicles, busy with the business of battling the cartels.

“Which do you think he’ll hit?” Cruz asked Briones.

“I think the president’s security detail has a nightmare with having an open speech on the congress steps. I don’t know whose bright idea that was, but it stinks.”

“Fortunately, that’s not our problem. I don’t envy the poor bastards responsible for it.”

Briones nodded in accord. “It’ll require a massive outlay of manpower to lock down every possible place in the area where an attack could come from. Sniper at up to a thousand yards, bomb threat, a gas attack…it’s a lot of ground to cover. I’d recommend to them that they move it inside, like they normally would. This is a reckless risk.”

“We’ve already had that discussion, and they’re adamant that the president doesn’t want to appear to be skulking around hiding. He’s hell bent on being the brave bull in public, no matter how much difficulty it presents.”

“Then we do what we can to track down
El Rey
, and pray a lot,” Briones said.

The receptionist entered, followed by the two men from CISEN. Cruz motioned for them to take a seat. She closed the door behind them as she left, her offer of soda or coffee rejected by all.

Cruz greeted the pair, Dario Pareto and Solomon Quiniente, of unknown rank. Solomon seemed to be the senior of the two, but as with all the others of their ilk, they weren’t big on sharing information, including what office they held. They shook hands with Briones and Cruz, and then Dario set a yellow legal pad on the desk and uncapped his pen.

Cruz launched into a ten minute briefing of their efforts to date, describing the steps that had been taken, and finished with a glance at Briones.

Solomon was the first to speak. “You have no leads?”

“No. Nobody has heard or seen anything, and even with extra staff on the streets, we’re coming up empty.
El Rey
works alone, so it’s not surprising. We’ve always believed that the best chance we have is another information leak from your side. We simply don’t have any way of mounting this sort of a manhunt with any hope of success, given the lack of any new info,” Cruz admitted.

“None of the photos or the arrests over the last week have resulted in anything?”

“No. I wish they had. Then we’d have something more material to discuss. As I told you at our last meeting, we could really use any help you can offer.”

“I’m afraid nothing has surfaced on our end, either,
Capitan
Cruz. As always, we’ll keep you informed, but this isn’t an exact science,” Dario said with a trace of condescension.

“Why is it that whenever we get together, we do all the reporting and you tell us zip? I mean, what good is our cooperation with CISEN doing us? So far we’ve gotten nothing but the initial warning, which has done us exactly zero good,” Briones pointed out, echoing his earlier discussion with Cruz.

Solomon regarded Briones as though he had just wiped him off his shoe.

“Well, probably because we have nothing else to report. I mean, that would be the logical explanation,
no
?” he said.

Cruz decided to defuse the situation before it escalated. He rose from his seat, signaling that the discussion was at an end.

“Gentlemen, it’s always a pleasure. Please let us know if you hear anything at all that might be of interest, or if you have any suggestions on how we can be more effective in tracking
El Rey
down. You have considerably greater resources than we do, and no doubt more expertise in sensitive areas.” Cruz stood. “Thanks for coming in.”

Once the two CISEN men had left, Cruz fixed Briones with a neutral gaze. “I’d say that went well…”

“This is bullshit, sir. They’re just here to get a status report and take it back to their bosses and are giving us nothing in return. How is having them in our hair helping us? It isn’t,” Briones griped.

“All true, but it won’t do us any good to get into a fight with CISEN right now. They gave us the lead, probably to set us up to fail, so just accept it. I’ll work with the president’s staff to ensure he stays safe. If we can’t track
El Rey
, then the least we can do is push the president to do the right thing. Even if he is as stubborn as a burro.”

They finished up their routine reports and Briones departed, obviously unhappy with the situation, still.

Cruz studied his watch and rubbed his burning eyes. He was tired and wanted to leave. He didn’t have the patience for these pointless sessions, or for his subordinate’s emotional storms. Dinah had recovered and had been discharged from the hospital, and he’d committed to himself to spend more time with her – making them a priority. He’d been a workaholic for too long, and he knew it wouldn’t fly, especially once he was married. He had to create boundaries, and one he’d decided on was to be out of the office by six every evening, unless it was an emergency. A real emergency – not one of the routine emergencies that seemed to happen daily.

He finished his paperwork and hurried out of the office, anxious to see her. She’d taken a few days off on her doctor’s advice and was waiting at home. Dinah had seemed different after the incident, and Cruz attributed it to shock. Part of being a decent partner was to be there for her when she needed him, not at work till all hours.

His car took him into the underground parking garage at the condo, and he deliberately made more noise than necessary when he entered, so she’d know he was home. Dinah came out of the bedroom, looking ravishing in a red silk robe. Cruz registered with mild concern that she hadn’t gotten dressed all day. That couldn’t be good.

“
Hola, mi Corazon
. How’s my heroic crime-fighter tonight? Did you conquer the world?” she asked playfully.

“No more than any other day. How are you doing?”

“Oh, you know. Just being lazy, taking it easy. Might as well relax on my days off.”

“Why not? Hey, do you want to go out, or eat in? Or I can call for some food…” Cruz asked.

“Let’s eat here. I can make something,” she replied. Her tone and mannerisms were the old Dinah, but something was different. She seemed preoccupied, her mind elsewhere.

Over dinner, they made small talk, about how Cruz’s day went, and the topic of what he was working on came up.

“Same as always,
mi amor
. Struggling to keep the world safe from the cartels,” he said.

“Anything really interesting? You had mentioned
El Rey
a while ago. Is there anything happening with that?”

He told her about his progress, and she seemed to finally perk up, engaged and interested. That encouraged him, and he regaled her with the minutiae of the case, taking care to leave out anything classified.

When they finally got ready for bed, he was upbeat. Dinah had bounced back during their interactions during dinner, and now seemed as vital and immediate as ever.
Perhaps she was just depressed or frazzled from the attack and felt left out of his life
. It had to be hard being with a man who was married to the job. He vowed to include her in more of his daily affairs and make her feel more connected to him.

As they drifted off to sleep after making tender love, a solitary tear rolled down Dinah’s cheek, unnoticed by Cruz as it absorbed into her pillow.

As the morning wore on, CISEN headquarters in Mexico City was buzzing with activity. Solomon approached Rodriguez’s office, tapped discreetly on the door and waited in the harshly illuminated hallway, holding a report. After an appropriate delay, he heard his boss call for him, and he entered, taking care to close the door softly behind him.

The office was large, furnished in a Mexican contemporary style, all angles and lines, fashioned from Danish birch and glass. A collection of modern oil paintings were featured on the main wall, abstract renderings with swatches of color on a dark gray background. Rodriguez sat behind his desk, his suit jacket hung on a hook on the back of the door, shirtsleeves rolled up as he typed busily on his computer.

He glanced at the new arrival and indicated with a nod of his head that he should take a seat. Solomon complied, saying nothing.

“Yes, Solomon. What have you got for me?”

“A delicate development on the
El Rey
front, sir. Our asset is scheduled to deliver a package of material to the assassin tomorrow, here in Mexico City.”

Rodriguez stopped typing and pushed back from the keyboard.

“That creates a problem for us, doesn’t it?”

“I’m not sure I understand, sir.”

“If we pass the information on to Cruz, the positive is that he may be able to apprehend the assassin. The negative is that the information couldn’t have come from too many places, so it potentially jeopardizes our source – who is crucial to our ongoing operation, as you know,” Rodriguez explained.

Solomon shook his head, but chose his words with care. “I don’t see it quite that way, sir. I see it as us having information that could prevent a successful attack on the president by an assassin with a miraculous track record of spectacular hits. Which, if we didn’t pass the info on, would have us looking like traitors – especially if the execution attempt was successful.” He hesitated before continuing. “I see it as life in prison, versus doing what we have to.” He slid the report across the glass desktop.

Rodriguez took the file, stood up and paced the length of his office, reading the two pages carefully. A few minutes later, finished, he stared at one of the paintings, as if the solution lay in its inscrutable brushstrokes.

“You have a point. But the danger to our ongoing operation is still very real. And the truth is that the likelihood of information leaking about our having this information after the fact is small.”

Solomon took a breath, and realizing he was in delicate territory, put his most convincing disinterested expression forward. “So there’s
only
a
small
likelihood that everyone who knows about this spends the rest of their lives in prison. That would be you, and I, and two others who have already seen the report – at least two others. I’m sorry, sir, but I don’t like those odds. Bad news has a way of breaking at the worst possible time…”

Rodriguez frowned. His subordinate was right, unfortunately.

“Get Cruz on the line. Or better yet, have him come over here.” He looked at his watch – a newish Rolex stainless steel Submariner. “Put a rush on it. We don’t have much time.”

Solomon stood and moved to the door. “I’ll let you know if he is available to come in today.”

“Do that. Tell him if he delays, it’s on his head. That will get him motivated.”

“Yes, sir.”

~

When Cruz returned from CISEN headquarters he practically ran from the elevator to his office. Briones spotted him as he crossed the floor, and after one look at his superior’s face, stopped what he was doing and followed him in and closed the door.

“Call a meeting. Now,” Cruz ordered. “All the
El Rey
task force heads. We just got a major break – this will probably be the best lead we’ve had on him since this case started.”

“When are you available?”

“Five minutes.”

Briones trotted back to his cubicle and hastily called the various members of the team who weren’t in the field. A few minutes later, they were gathered in the conference room. Cruz entered and moved straight to the head of the table. He surveyed the expectant faces and then launched into a condensed version of the information he’d gotten from CISEN.

“Tomorrow, eleven o’clock, he’s to meet a cartel member to take delivery of some explosives and other items, at a machine shop six miles from here. Obviously, we need to take him. We can expect that he’ll be disguised, so it’s paramount that we be discreet. We can’t circle the building with
Federales
until he’s confirmed as being inside.”

A hand shot up. “I know that area, sir. It’s dense, even for Mexico City, and the buildings are packed together. Maybe we can get a few apartments or offices that are proximate and set up surveillance he won’t see?”

“Excellent suggestion, Guerrero. But it has to be low key. Get a team to canvass the area once this meeting breaks up. Softy and gently. We don’t want the neighbors freaked out, or the contact to get spooked,” Cruz warned.

“Maybe we can bug the machine shop tonight while it’s closed?” Briones suggested.

“Not a bad idea, but we have no intel on what counter-surveillance gear is in place, so we could give ourselves away if we try. We need this meeting to take place, gentlemen. We can’t do anything that would spook either
El Rey
or his contact. Let’s just assume that the shop is a front for illegal activity, and that as such, it is likely wired with security equipment,” Cruz advised.