Lungs heaving, Dinah made a left at the second hall and tore down a flight of stairs, now limping as she moved towards her ultimate destination – a steel maintenance room door that was usually unlocked during school hours, but which she knew had a deadbolt on it.
She slammed into it with her shoulder and twisted at the heavy lever knob. It was open. Dinah slid through the opening and heard footsteps from above running down the hall, then she locked the door behind her before extracting her can of pepper spray in preparation to defend herself, if the gunman somehow made it through the door.
Ten agonizing minutes later, her cell phone rang, startling her in the darkness of the small room. It was the principal asking her where she was, and whether she was all right. The police were waiting at the entrance and had surrounded the building, and several of the parents had told the whole story of the chase, gunfire, and her disappearance into the school. There was no sign of the van or the men.
When she unlocked the door and opened it, she realized that her skirt was soaked with blood and that the ceramic tiles where she’d been crouching were slick with it. It was the last thing she saw before she crumpled to the floor, unconscious.
~
“Dinah. Can you hear me?”
She opened her eyes, to see a very worried Cruz standing by her side. She tried to sit up, and then registered the IV line and the antiseptic smell. She was in the hospital.
“What…the last thing I remember…” she murmured.
“Take it easy. They have you on a drip. You bled a lot – it’s a good thing you came out when you did,” Cruz explained. “By the time the ambulance got there, you were in the danger zone.”
With a noticeable effort, she focused and became more alert. “All from that little scratch?”
“You nicked an artery, my love. Thank God you didn’t sever it. As it was, it was just a very small puncture along with the rest of the tissue, but that was enough.”
“Did they find the men?” she asked in a feeble voice.
“No. Even with ten eyewitnesses, it will be hard. They know it was a blue Chevrolet van, DF plates, no markings or memorable detail. And we have a good description of the man who was chasing you…”
“Two men. I got the first one near my car with the pepper spray. He won’t be doing much for the next few days – maybe you can put the word out to clinics and ophthalmologists,” Dinah suggested.
Cruz looked at her with wonder. “Will do. Can you tell me anything more about him?”
“The first one was big. Maybe six feet tall, and heavy. Moustache, short hair, acne pock marks, around late thirties. Dark complexion. Wearing jeans and a green and yellow horizontally-striped polo shirt.” Dinah had committed both assailants’ descriptions to memory, even after all she’d been through. She seemed to strengthen. “And he should be about blind right now.”
“Did they say anything? Tell me everything you remember.”
Dinah spent the next five minutes giving him a detailed blow-by-blow of the attempted kidnapping and chase.
They were both startled by the door opening, and Lieutenant Briones stepping into the room.
“Hello, Dinah. We have to stop meeting in hospital rooms,” Briones cautioned, recalling when she’d paid him a visit after he’d been shot ten months earlier.
“I agree,” Dinah said.
Cruz waved him off.
“So it definitely wasn’t a robbery?” he asked her again.
“No. I offered them money. They wanted me.”
Briones and Cruz exchanged glances.
“Your car is in the farthest part of the parking lot from the street. Pretty remote,” Briones observed.
“I was way behind schedule. The lot fills up quickly once the parents start arriving to drop off their kids. That’s why I hate being late. One of the many reasons,” she said, and lay back, closing her eyes. “I don’t understand why these animals can operate in places like this, and nobody can do anything about it.”
“The real question is whether you were a target of opportunity, or whether they were after you, specifically,” Briones said, exchanging another glance with Cruz.
Her eyes popped back open. “Me? Why go after me? I don’t really have anything. I’m a schoolteacher…”
Which wasn’t entirely true. She’d inherited some money from her father, but she was hardly wealthy. Kidnappers usually went after the relatives of rich business people or politicians – people who could come up with hundreds of thousands, or millions of dollars, at short notice. Although there was a troubling trend of gangs snatching random well-dressed targets in the hopes of extracting tens of thousands for a day’s work, or keeping their abductees in a car trunk for a week while they forced them to extract cash from their ATM on a daily basis.
“And, Lieutenant, they were shooting at her. That’s fairly rare,” Cruz stressed.
“True. That actually smacks of amateur. Someone who hasn’t thought through the situation and gets spooked. Maybe when she hit the man’s partner in the face with the pepper spray it infuriated the man with the gun. Maybe he’s just a nutcase. It doesn’t make a lot of sense to attempt to kidnap someone and then try to gun them down. You either want them alive for ransom, or you want to kill them. They could have just shot Dinah by the van if that had been their intent. They didn’t. So this seems more like improvisation than anything, which, to me, says they weren’t organized,” Briones countered.
“There’s no way of knowing, unfortunately. I’m going to assign a patrol to trail you for the next week. Just in case,” Cruz said to Dinah. “It’s one of the perks of being high in the Federales, I hear.”
“Oh, honey, really, I don’t think that’s necessary,” Dinah protested weakly.
“Probably not, but I’ll feel better for it. So humor me.”
“How long am I going to have to lie here?” Dinah asked.
“They said twenty-four to forty-eight hours. You lost a lot of blood,” Cruz told her.
They continued speculating about the assault, but Dinah quickly tired. The ordeal had taken a lot out of her, and Cruz gestured with his head to Briones to get the door. He said his goodbyes, and once outside the room, walked slowly with Briones to the elevator.
“Does anyone know about Dinah and I besides you, and the other few people at work? Do you think she’s being targeted because of me?” Cruz asked.
“I haven’t told anyone, and I can’t see the others doing so. Your dating life isn’t a big topic on the job, frankly. I think that’s a longshot. More likely is that she was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, and the shooter is a nutjob, or lost his cool. We’ve all seen enough of these where they kill the victim whether or not the ransom is paid. The line of work appeals to psychos. That’s the likeliest.”
“I still want a patrol car on Dinah, and a guard at the hospital. I agree that the likelihood of the attack being specific to her is probably extremely slim, but I’ll feel better with an officer here. Maybe just having one on the floor would be enough. Please arrange for one round the clock,” Cruz ordered.
Briones complied and was finishing the call by the time the elevator arrived at their floor.
Chapter 16
Don Aranas stormed around the massive great room of his home in Guatemala City, gesticulating as he reacted to the voice on the phone.
“What the hell are you telling me? You not only missed snatching her, but shot up a school? You couldn’t have been more subtle? Maybe stormed into her classroom with machine guns, screaming my name?” He stopped pacing, listening to the explanation. “Don’t you get it? There’s no way to make this work now. We have nothing. Take the shooter out and dispose of him. Better yet, take the whole team out and dispose of them.”
He entertained another few seconds of discussion before cutting in.
“Fine. Then let the driver live. I don’t really care. But the two in charge of making this happen? I want them gone by lunchtime.”
He stabbed the phone off
and slammed it down on the coffee table. A young, beautiful brunette woman knocked on the door, worried about disturbing him. He looked up at her, framed by the late morning light so that her sheer robe was translucent, and waved her away. He needed to think. Pouting, she spun professionally on her six inch heels and sashayed back down the hall, long coffee-colored legs gliding as though on precision bearings.
Aranas plopped down in an overstuffed chair and fumed for several minutes before flipping open an elaborately-carved tabletop humidor and selecting a Cohiba cigar, rolling it between his fingers near his ear approvingly before snipping the end off with a cutter and lighting it. He puffed at it distractedly as he considered his options. What should have been an easy snatch had gone horribly wrong, which meant that he wouldn’t get another chance.
He picked up the phone and selected a number from the contacts.
El Rey answered on the third ring.
“Yes?”
“Are you someplace you can talk?” Aranas asked.
“Always.”
“There’s a complication. I’ve gotten some disturbing news about a task force I need to share with you,” Aranas began, and then tersely described the situation, complaining about that morning’s bungled attempt on Dinah.
El Rey took it all in silently. “Nothing has changed,” he finally responded.
“I’m glad you’re so confident. They apparently got wind of the plan. I would have thought that would give you pause.”
“I have always acted as though all facts were known. It changes nothing. The outcome will be the same. That’s what you’re paying for.” El Rey hesitated. “Although I have need of an item or two that will require the greatest discretion and will no doubt be expensive.”
Aranas’ eyebrows rose when he heard the request.
“You’re fucking kidding me. I mean, I’m sure I can get it, but in my experience it’s not that easy. They tend to keep track of it,” the kingpin warned.
“I will need it within a week.”
“You still think you can pull this off?”
“Without a doubt. But tell me more about the girl. Have you received any news on where she is now?” El Rey asked.
Aranas was surprised. “Are you really interested? I can probably find out in seconds. But that opportunity is over. My men blew it,” Aranas admitted bitterly.
“Perhaps. But it would be helpful to me if you could make enquiries. I have an idea.”
Aranas called back after twenty minutes and gave him the information. Three hours later, El Rey left the apartment he was renting and took the elevator down to the parking garage, toting a brown paper grocery bag in his left hand. He made two stops in downtown Mexico City before proceeding to his ultimate destination, humming to himself. Out of every disaster came opportunity, if one knew how to adapt. This was a perfect example. Now he just needed to be patient, and perhaps he’d convert a negative into an opportunity.
~
The Federal Police officer sat at the far end of the hall, studying the nurses moving around the ward with approval. Some duty was desirable, some not. Watching the floor for threats to Dinah was definitely a plum position, even if some of the staff seemed perturbed by him being there. He’d originally sat in the corridor right by the room, but it wasn’t wide enough to accommodate him as well as the gurneys and carts, and they’d made a position for him at the nurse’s station, forty-five yards away. Over time, some of the cuter, younger nurses had warmed up to him, and by his third hour they were stopping in regularly to chat, there being not much else to do. Unlike intensive care, this was a quiet floor, at least by large hospital standards. A steady hum of physicians and staff buzzed around, doing whatever it was they did, and an occasional patient rolled by.
Around dinner time, a doctor in a white coat moved from room to room, and the officer became alert as he approached the woman’s room. One of the nurses assured him that the physician was fine – he checked on the patients every four to six hours, marking off the forms affixed to clipboards outside every room. Satisfied that he had done his duty, the policeman relaxed again and took up his discussion with Yvette, a pretty petite twenty-four year old from Veracruz.
After another few hours the lights on the floor dimmed, and the ward moved into evening rhythm, with dinner gliding down the passageways on rolling carts. The officer was able to convince one of the orderlies to have the kitchen prepare him a meal, and he was ravenous by the time the tray made it to his position. He dug into the chicken enchiladas with gusto and was done within a few minutes, smacking his lips with satisfaction.
Two hours later he began to experience severe abdominal cramping, and he sprinted for the restroom at the far end of the ward, barely able to keep from vomiting.
A maintenance man moved steadily down the hall, checking the air-conditioning grids with a laser thermometer. He smiled to himself as he watched the guard rush to the facilities and reasoned that he’d be occupied on and off for the rest of the evening. A little Visine in the man’s drink and mixed in with the enchilada sauce had worked miracles – he’d be cramping and vomiting for hours.
He hummed as he verified the temperature of the air coming out of the duct and stopped into every room to ensure there were no anomalies. When he reached the woman’s room, he checked the hallway and verified that the guard had departed once again for the comfort of the restroom before slipping through the door, closing it behind him.
Dinah looked up from the magazine she was reading and then returned to it when the man apologized and checked the airflow. It was only after a few seconds that something caused her to look up – he was standing closer, smiling at her, but with an expression that chilled her blood. He had a beard that obscured most of his lower face, but his eyes were disturbing. The first impression that came to mind was that they were dead.
She saw a flicker of something cross his expression, and he seemed to hesitate, and then spoke.
“Dinah. We don’t have much time, so I’m going to make this short. I am known as El Rey. I am an assassin. The reason I’m here is because I need your help. If you scream or sound any kind of an alarm, you’ll be dead within seconds. If you know of me, you know I’m not exaggerating,” he said in a reasonable, calm voice.
Her hand crept under the sheet to the nurse call button as she absorbed his statement.
“I thought I just told you that you’ll be dead if you do anything foolish. Calling the nurse would qualify. Now if you want to continue breathing, put both your hands where I can see them and listen carefully to me. I have a proposition for you,” El Rey cautioned.
She froze and then slid her hand where he could see it. The other still clutched the magazine, gripping it automatically.
“Wha…what do you want?” she blurted.
“I want you to live. I want you and your boyfriend – no, fiancé – Capitan Cruz, to have a long and healthy life. I want you to be married and happy and have newborn babies you love and care for. All of which I can help you with.”
“I…I don’t understand…”
“I know you live with Cruz. He is running a task force that is devoted to my deeds. I need you to pass me any and all information you can get – and it’d better be good. I’ll know if you’re working with him, or if you’re holding out on me. Trust me on that – just as I knew what room you were in. And there is nowhere you will be safe if you fuck with me.”
“I…there’s no way I can do that. I can’t betray him, and we don’t discuss business.” Dinah sounded stronger now. Defiant.
“Start.” He studied her. “You seem very brave, so I can imagine that you don’t fear that much for yourself. I mean, I will kill you as well, but before I do, your lover will die an agonizing death. I will make sure of it. I trust you know my reputation. I don’t threaten, and I don’t bluff. If you want Cruz to live, and not be tortured in the most horrible manner you can imagine, you’ll do as I ask. If you don’t, he’ll die, and so will you. It’s a simple proposal, really. Oh, and
if you’re thinking that he can protect himself, and you, consider the long list of extremely rich and powerful men who were wrong about their ability to be protected from me. It’s not an option.”
Dinah shook her head in anguished conflict. She couldn’t.
“I know you’re thinking that you can’t do this, that it’s wrong, and that some things are more important than remaining alive. But I can assure you that you’re mistaken. I’m in the death business, and I can promise you that when you’ve seen as many die as I have, you realize that nothing is more important than what remains of your life.” He seemed to grow impatient. “It’s a choice of either ensuring your man lives, or dies. You get to decide that. Do you kill him with your pride, your arrogant vanity, or do you do what you must so he can live. That is the true test of love. I hope you make the right decision – if you don’t help me, it won’t change anything, except for you, and him. I’ll still do what I do, the world will still turn, but he’ll have been maimed and tortured before drowning in his own blood, as will you.” He allowed that to sink in. “But that doesn’t have to be the future. So decide, Dinah. Choose wisely.”
She followed his words and saw the truth in his eyes. He wasn’t threatening. He meant every word, and it wouldn’t bother him in the least to snuff their lives out.
It was an impossible choice.
Revenge of the Assassin Page 13