Ivan laughed. “That is a toy. You don’t really expect me to cower, do you?”
The server produced a silencer from her pocket, screwed it into the pistol, and waved the gun at him. “I said now.”
“Very good. You are very convincing.”
The woman pulled the trigger. There was a soft “thwatt” and Ivan felt the bullet pass close to his ear. The mirror on the wall behind him shattered.
“Holy God.” He shouted and jumped aside.
“Now do you think I’m serious?”
Ivan slowly backed into his room, heart beating wildly.
“Lay down on the bed.”
She is very good. He sat on the bed and swung his legs up.
“Spread your arms and legs.”
The gloves. She was wearing latex gloves. Why did she need those?
She pulled a pair of handcuffs from her apron and latched them on Ivan’s hand, then fastened them to the bed post. She did the same with his other hand.
“Now,” she said, “we can have a little conversation.”
“You are very good, da? What do you have planned for me?”
She set the pistol on the side-table. “This will be beyond your wildest imagination.”
He smiled. This was worth whatever he had to pay for her.
She took two pieces of velvet rope from her apron and tied his legs to the bed.
He lay there spread eagled, grinning up at her.
“Now, that’s better.” The woman pulled off her black wig and shook lose her short blonde hair. “That wig was driving me crazy.”
Da, she is much better as a blonde.
“I suppose you’re wondering what’s going on here?” She laughed. “I bring you greetings from La Reina.”
La Reina? That’s the Baja Cartel. Oh, God. How did they find me?
“She wants you to know that she didn’t appreciate your little stunt.” The woman pulled a switch-blade knife from her pocket. “Just to set your mind at rest, she wants you to know that she’s already transferred the hundred million dollars back to her accounts.”
Ivan tried to yell but she stuffed a napkin in his mouth. He struggled against his bonds.
“It’s of no use. You will die in this bed.”
He stared up into her cold blue eyes. She was easily the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, but to die like this. He tugged at the ropes.
The woman pushed the button on the knife. The blade sprang into place.
“I want you to know that this is very sharp.” She picked up a cloth napkin and dropped it on the knife. The blade cut through the napkin. “I don’t want you to worry that I might be using dull tools on you.”
She’s mad. What does she want?
She gently touched the blade of her knife. “There is no sense fighting this, Ivan Gregorovich. You fate is already settled.”
She put her left hand to her chin.
“Hmmm … What else can I tell you before you die? Oh, yes. Your employers, the Sonora Cartel, will receive the message. Three of their top deputies have been killed. When they learn of your death, they will understand that no one messes with the Baja Cartel.”
Ivan twisted, turned and made gurgling sounds. He tried to spit the napkin out of his mouth.
If I could talk to her. I could offer her twice what they’re paying her. I’m sure she would listen to reason.
“My name is Heidi,” the woman said. “I just thought you would like to know who is sending you to hell.” She flipped his penis to one side with her knife. She grabbed his balls.
Aieee … He screamed in terror.
She took her knife and cut his balls off. Blood flowed from the wound. Next, she took hold of his penis and sliced it off his body.
“This is La Reina’s trademark. From now on, when she kills a man, he will have his privates cut off and stuffed in his mouth.”
She pulled the napkin from his mouth and shoved the parts in.
Blood poured from the cuts in his crotch.
Ivan yelled and squirmed, but Heidi just stood and stared at him, a smile spreading across his face. “This is so much more satisfying than taking you out with a sniper rifle. It is so much more personal.”
****
Two hours later, the Syrian maid entered Ivan’s room. She noted that the room service breakfast had not been touched.
“Hello? Is anyone here?” she called.
No one answered.
She lifted the cover off the plate, dropped it, put her hands to her face and screamed.
A testicle was stuck in the center of each egg and a penis lay between the two sausages.
Chapter 33
Ted sat at his desk, staring at the empty bottle of tequila, holding a half-empty glass in his hand. The door opened.
“What the fuck? Doesn’t anybody knock anym …” He froze.
Standing in the doorway was a tall red-headed woman with pale freckled skin.
“Maria …”
She stepped into the room.
Ted leapt to his feet.
He rushed to embrace her. She stood stiff and held out her hand, palm out.
“Stop, Ted. I’m here for business.”
“Business?”
She reached into her purse and produced an envelope.
“I’m here for two reasons. First, I need to pay you for your services.” She handed him the envelope. “I want to thank you for the help you gave, that only you could have given me.”
“Gregorovich? What happened to him?”
“You don’t need to know that.”
Ted tossed the envelope on his desk without looking at its contents.
“Maria, my son. I need to see him.”
She glared at him. “That’s the other reason. You need to get this idea that he’s your son out of your head. He’s not your son.”
Ted slumped onto his desk. “Then who is his father?” His voice rose. “Tell me that.”
Maria closed her eyes for an instant. Her lips curled in a grimace. “His father is, was, El Pozolero.”
“El Pozolero?” The room spun around Ted. He grasped the edges of his desk to keep from falling over.
“El Pozolero. While he held me prisoner, he raped me every day. He got me pregnant. It’s not your baby.”
****
Ted stood and looked up at the Henry M. Jackson Federal Building. The tall, buff colored building soared into the late summer sky.
He had been summoned, not invited, to attend a meeting by FBI special-agent-in-charge Brice Holloway.
The security screening at the entrance was at least as rigorous as the boarding lines at the airport. Ted always felt violated as he passed through the portal. He rode the elevator to Holloway’s office on the seventh-floor. Once again, security stopped him before allowing him to proceed.
“Mr. Higuera,” a pretty receptionist said. “They’re already waiting for you. May I bring you coffee? Water?”
“A cup of coffee would be nice. One packet of sweetener.”
Ted opened the heavy wooden door and stepped in.
The office felt like a movie set. Pictures of Holloway with various presidents, FBI directors and celebrities hung on the walls. The oak desk was spotless, and no clutter existed anywhere.
“Higuera, good to see you.” Holloway eased himself gently from his chair. He had a bulge under this left trouser leg.
“Mr. Holloway,” Ted said as he accepted Holloway’s hand.
Holloway turned to the third man in the room. “I want to introduce you to John Archer, assistant director of TAO. He’s temporarily stepping into the number one seat while Homeland Security decides on a replacement for Elaine.
He didn’t even blink when he said it. Ted didn’t know the woman that well but was crushed to see her lifeless body in the grass.
“Mr. Archer.” Ted shook his hand.
“I think we’ve just about wrapped up this case,” Holloway said. “Hussaini’s attacks failed, thanks to you. Microsoft got your patch out in time
, and our cyberwarfare team put an impenetrable firewall around the nation’s electrical systems.”
Ted nodded his head.
“The President wants you to have this.” Holloway picked up a framed letter from his desk. “He wishes to express his gratitude for a job well done.”
Ted took the letter. He stared down at it. Even if they went way outside the bounds of U.S. law when they tortured him, even though he didn’t agree with anything the President did, he was impressed.
The letter had the Presidential seal and a well-written expression of gratitude.
“The President, and the whole nation, wish to thank you for your service …” The letter began.
Archer stepped forward. “There’s more. We at the TAO have reviewed your file. We’ve seen you work. I must say, I’m impressed.” He reached his hand out to Ted again.
Ted shook his hand. What’s this baboso up to?
“On behalf of the Secretary of the Department of Homeland Security, I would like to offer you a job. We want you to come to work for us.”
****
Ted’s head was still spinning when he returned to his office. Should he accept the offer? But then what? Leave Catrina’s business to flounder?
And how about his son? He knew that Maria was lying to him. He knew in his soul that he was the father.
A yellow manila envelope lay in the center of his desk. It was from a friend at Seattle PD’s CSI unit.
Ted opened it and pulled out a stack of postcards and a one-page report. He quickly read the report.
Someone had been faking the post cards from Catrina. They didn’t have a single one of Cat’s fingerprints on them.
Holy crap. What does this mean? Why would someone send postcards from all over the world with her name on them? She’s in trouble.
The End
Cyberwarfare Page 24