“I know.”
“Call me later and tell me when you think you’ll be home. You want me to cook tonight, or should we plan on eating out?” she called to him as she moved down the hall from the bedroom.
“Let’s see what my day looks like. I’ll call. I promise.”
The condo front door shut with a thunk, leaving him alone with his thoughts.
Cruz had considered approaching CISEN with his findings, but reconsidered when he’d thought through the ramifications. Who could he talk to there? Who was guaranteed clean and above suspicion? His run-ins with the group had always been filled with friction, and the truth was, he didn’t trust anyone in the organization. Their goals were usually at odds with his, from what he knew of their operations. Their appreciation of the law was selective and fluid, and they only seemed to notice if they were compliant if it suited their purposes.
No, there was nobody in that crowd he could confide in.
Much as he hated to narrow his choices, he was left with only one option.
The last resort.
~
Two and a half hours later, El Rey sat with Rudolfo in a car outside a hotel near the airport in Tapachula, Chiapas, a laptop on the center console, slim headphones over his ears. Rudolfo excused himself and exited the car, sauntering to the corner market in order to give the assassin privacy for his call. Hector answered within seconds.
“What the hell is going on?”
“I love you too, Mom.”
“This is no time for jokes. We’ve had reports of the Guatemalans going berserk – helicopters, a full national alert, gunfire…and then explosions in Chiapas, a destroyed car…”
“Things got messy,” El Rey conceded.
Hector stifled a sharp response.
“What is the status?”
“I’ve taken two bullets, but I’m okay.”
Hector took two calming breaths. “Not you. The girl.”
“Oh. Her. She’s fine.”
Hector exhaled audibly with relief. “You know damned well that’s not what I meant.”
“Yes, I suspected that you weren’t concerned about my wellbeing, nor with whether Maria has the sniffles or not. So I’ll make this fast.”
“Make what fast? Where are you? I’ll get a team to pick you up.”
“No. That’s not how this is going to work.”
Now Hector was getting angry. He choked back the harsh words that fought to seethe their way across the phone line.
“Oh really. Fine. I’ll play along. Why don’t you tell me how you think things are going to work.”
“First, you need to get the antidote ready. I only got to inject half the booster, and I’m starting to experience symptoms. They began early this morning,” El Rey explained. “I don’t know how long until I’m past the point of no return.”
“We have it. But you know the deal. Bring the girl, you get the shot,” Hector stated flatly.
“See, that’s a problem. I don’t like that sequence. So here’s the new deal. You give me the shot, I give you the girl once I know it worked. That eliminates any temptation on your end to screw me. I verify the proteins are backing off and the symptoms have abated, you get the girl.”
Hector said nothing for half a minute, and the assassin could hear rustling, exactly like that caused by a phone being held against clothing.
He was back on the line shortly. “How do we know you have her?” Hector asked, stalling. El Rey could hear murmuring in the background. This had taken them by surprise, which was positive.
“I can bring you some easily identifiable personal possessions. Or if that’s not good enough, I can cut off a finger or two and bring them to you. Your forensics team can calculate how long the flesh has been severed, so you’ll know she’s alive, or was when I did it…”
He could hear a sharp intake of breath. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Want to bet?” El Rey asked reasonably.
More muttering. A different voice now. Distinctive. El Rey immediately recognized it.
“Is she all right?” the president began.
“Yes. There will be a few things to sort out, but she’s fine.”
“What do you mean, a few things…?”
“I prefer to tell you in person. But she hasn’t been harmed. She’s okay.”
“Then you were successful! But you’re trying to change our arrangement…”
“No, I am changing it. I don’t trust you,” El Rey said.
More hurried discussion.
“Hector tells me that you are symptomatic.”
“Correct. Which means you don’t have much time. Either you do this my way, or I go to my just reward and take your daughter with me. It’s your call. Make it,” El Rey countered.
A pause. Rustling.
“You can prove she’s all right?”
“Yes. I’ll bring some of her stuff. I have her, and she’s fine – for the time being. That’s all you need to know. Now make your choice, or I’ll make it for you, and you’ll never hear from me again. Or her.”
The trick was not to give them too much time to think.
Ten seconds passed before the president responded.
“Fine. Have it your way. How do you want to do this?”
“I can be anywhere in Mexico City within two hours. Have the injection waiting. Once I can confirm that my blood work is normal, I’ll tell you where to find her. The End. No drama, no hair pulling, just an equitable conclusion everyone is satisfied with.”
Hector came back on the line and gave him an address.
El Rey checked his watch. Not that far from either Toluca or Mexico City airports. He could make it.
“I’ll be there within two hours. How long will it take for the antidote to work?”
“I don’t know for sure. But by the time you arrive, I will.”
El Rey disconnected.
A few minutes later Rudolfo returned.
“Let’s roll. I need to be in the air immediately.”
He eased the car onto the road, and they were at the airport in three minutes. Rudolfo drove right onto the tarmac, through a security gate where he was waved through by an unquestioning security guard. The Lear 35 sat waiting, a shimmer of heat waves rising off the runway distorting its graceful shape.
El Rey turned to Rudolfo in the driver’s seat and shook his hand. “If you don’t hear from me within two days, you know what to do.”
Rudolfo looked off into the distance, in the direction of the nearby ocean – the Pacific, a mere fifteen miles away. “I understand the instructions.”
The assassin nodded. Rudolfo was a professional and would do what was necessary.
He gathered his bag and swung the passenger door wide, the heat hitting him in the face like a blast from a furnace. “Talk soon.”
El Rey slung the backpack over his shoulder, then jogged to the business jet and climbed the stairs. The engines wound up with a whine as the stairs folded up and the fuselage door was secured, and after a short taxi the slim tube was launching into the humid sky, leaving a trail of vapor from its wings as it climbed relentlessly into the clouds.
Chapter 25
Two o’clock in the afternoon, and Mexico City was experiencing one of its many summer rainstorms, dense sheets of water slamming it with wind-driven force. The Lear bumped and bucked on approach as black clouds swirled ominously, and El Rey tried not to focus on the now regular muscle twitches that were assaulting him, along with a steadily-increasing aching in his joints. He swallowed three aspirin and washed them down with several swallows of water as the little plane heaved, dropping several hundred feet and jolting like an angry god had slammed it with the back of an omnipotent hand.
Just when he thought that the entire adventure would be over in a fiery crash into one of the mountains that ringed the city, they broke through the clouds and he saw the lights of the runway in the distance, the rain having slowed to a miserable drizzle, at least for a while. The plane dropped from the
sky, the gusting wind batting them around with ferocity as they heaved towards the long airstrip.
The wheels touched down and water sprayed along both sides in a rooster tail as the jet skewed sideways, the pilots battling to straighten it out. They goosed the power and strained at the controls, and after a few heart-stopping seconds the Lear found its footing.
They coasted to the private aircraft charter building across from the main terminals, where a car was waiting to take El Rey wherever he needed to go.
Traffic was snarled, and the assassin checked and rechecked his watch as they crawled along. Eventually they arrived at the destination – a building one block from the unmarked private clinic Hector had told him would handle his recovery. He got out of the car and, once it had rolled away, set out in search of the clinic, his abdominal muscles cramping and a new, troubling cough burbling in his chest – one of the symptoms he’d been told was a signal that he was beginning to drift into the end stage, and possibly a point of no return.
He turned the corner and made his way to the center of the block. The discreet doorway was unremarkable, looking more like a restaurant service entrance than a medical facility that catered to high-ranking government officials. He stabbed the buzzer with a trembling hand, and two armed security men entered the foyer and studied him before opening the door. They quickly searched him, then each grabbed an arm and walked him into the depths of the building.
Hector was waiting for him in the antiseptic lobby area, where they were alone except for the two armed men. He gestured to El Rey to take a seat in one of the contemporary black leather chairs across from where he sat on a matching sofa.
“You look like shit,” he remarked as a greeting.
“So do you. But I have an excuse,” El Rey replied, taking a seat against the wall and glaring at the two guards.
“Change of plans. You give us the girl, then we give you the injection. As originally agreed,” Hector said.
“I guess we won’t be seeing much more of each other, then. This is as good a place as any to die,” El Rey said with an indifferent shrug.
“It will be excruciating. Nobody could face it. You’ll change your mind.”
“You’ll lose that bet. Are you going to tell the president that you just killed his daughter, or should I?” El Rey managed a small smile.
“You’re bluffing.”
He shrugged. “Sure I am. I’m also bluffing about having a cyanide capsule that I can crack with my back molars, killing me within seconds and ending this instantly. You should really avoid betting, Hector. You’re terrible at it. If you went to a casino and tried this, you’d be broke within an hour,” El Rey said.
Hector’s eyes drifted to the two armed goons standing near the wall.
“It will be done before they can make it to me, so unless you want this over right now, you won’t even think about it,” El Rey warned. “You’re a real piece of shit, Hector, and I know how to deal with shit specks. And now you’re wasting my time – time I don’t have. So last time. Does the president want to see his daughter alive, or is this end game?”
Hector shifted gears. “How do we know you rescued her? Or that she’s even alive?” he demanded.
El Rey pointed at the basket where they had thrown his cell phone and his money. Hector nodded, and one of the men approached the assassin with the BlackBerry.
“Keep your distance. Just toss it to me, nice and easy,” he warned.
He caught it and powered it on, watching as the guard returned to his position at Hector’s side, and then thumbed through the menus until he got to the video icon. He selected the only file and pushed play, then held the phone up so Hector could see it.
Maria’s face appeared, smiling, and the camera pulled away from her to show her whole body in the frame. She was sunburned and exhausted, but looked healthy.
“Hi Papa. I’m okay. Everything is going to be fine. The man you sent rescued me, and I can’t wait to see you…” Maria said, and then the phone went dark.
“If you check the time stamp, you’ll see that was taken this morning.”
“Where is she?” Hector demanded.
“You’ve got to be kidding, right?”
Hector said nothing.
“Right now, she is in an airtight chamber, with enough oxygen to last forty-eight hours. After that, she suffocates. And before you waste any more of my time, you have zero chance of finding it unless I give you the coordinates. Now stop fucking around. Either give me the shot, or this is over,” El Rey warned.
The president stepped into the room, shaking his head. “Hector. Come on. It’s finished. Have the doctor inject him so I can get my daughter back,” he ordered.
“I don’t belie–”
“It doesn’t matter what you believe. I am telling you to give the man the shot. Now, Hector. No arguments or discussion.”
Hector went through an obvious internal struggle and then got himself under control, remembering who he was speaking with.
“Yes, sir.”
El Rey studied the president. “Smart choice,” he said.
“You left me no other.”
“That was the whole idea.”
Hector led him into a fully outfitted hospital room and motioned for him to sit on the bed. A nurse came in and instructed him to strip and give her his clothes. Her eyes got big when she saw the two bullet wounds, and she expertly cut the bandage off his leg to clean it. One of the doctors from the introductory meeting with Hector walked in and watched as the nurse drew a vial of blood from his arm before she expertly inserted a canula into the assassin’s other arm and hooked up an IV bag. Glancing at El Rey, the doctor removed a syringe from his shirt pocket and moved to his side.
“I need to inject this into tissue, so roll on your side and let’s get this over with.”
The assassin did as instructed, and the doctor emptied the contents into his buttock before stepping back.
“That’s it. We’ll keep you on the drip for twelve hours and take care of the gunshot wounds. You should start to feel better within three to four hours,” the doctor said.
“How long until the protein markers register normal?” El Rey asked.
“There’s no way of knowing for sure, but from what I was told, within twelve to eighteen hours you should be near normal, if not within the normal range. Right now, the level has to be through the roof. I’ll give you a printout of the result for comparison.”
“Then by this time tomorrow, I should be able to go to an independent lab and get tested, and the result will show normal?”
The doctor and Hector exchanged a look. “Yes. But you’ll know it’s working before then. And there’s no need to go to another lab. We can run the analysis here.”
“Sure you can. But I prefer independent verification.”
“Suit yourself – that’s between you two. But again, you’ll know by then.”
El Rey winced as the nurse swabbed his leg wound. “How? How will I know for sure without a lab analysis?”
“You’ll still be breathing,” the doctor said and then walked out.
~
“Capitan Cruz. Nice to see you again. To what do we owe the pleasure?” the president’s chief of staff asked, shaking Cruz’s hand as he welcomed him into a meeting room and then motioned him to have a seat at the conference table.
“I wish it was better circumstances. I didn’t know who else to turn to,” Cruz explained.
“Yes. You were very cryptic on the telephone. What do you have for me?”
“It’s on the El Rey escape from a week ago.”
“I see.”
“Results came back from a scan of the personnel who were guarding him – the two men in the van, and the driver.”
“I thought you weren’t working on that anymore.”
“I’m not. This was initiated before we handed the investigation over…to CISEN.”
The chief of staff looked impatient. “What do you have?”
“I
think that the El Rey escape wasn’t as it first seemed. I think he had help. From CISEN.”
The chief of staff put down the pen he had been playing with. “That is a very serious allegation, Captain Cruz.”
“I know. Don’t think I haven’t debated coming to you. But if I’m right, and El Rey has somehow compromised CISEN…then the very group now in charge of the investigation had a hand in his escape,” Cruz finished.
“Let’s back up. How do you arrive at this fantastic conclusion?”
Cruz walked him through the phone records and showed him the logs of the calls to, and from, CISEN. The chief of staff followed along and eventually nodded.
“Who else have you shared this with?”
“Nobody. Obviously, I’m unsure of who can be trusted. That’s why I came to you. I remember the amount of importance the president placed on your opinion during our interactions over the assassination attempt, and I figured that you would have a good idea of how to proceed. Perhaps name a special prosecutor, or begin a parallel investigation.”
“Yes, I see the logic. You did the right thing. If this assassin has compromised CISEN…” He didn’t have to finish the sentence.
“What do we do now?” Cruz asked.
“I need to carefully consider the next step. This is extremely damaging, for a longstanding member of the Federales – the driver – but also for the nation’s intelligence apparatus. I don’t think we can just go off and blunder around. This will require delicacy.”
Cruz nodded. “I know. The implications are staggering. That’s why I didn’t even know where to begin.”
The chief of staff pushed back from the table and stood, placing his hand on the files. “May I keep these for a bit? I want to confirm the numbers, as well as the rest of the information. If I contact the attorney general, he’ll want to see what we have. Do you have anything else on this?”
“That’s it. But it should be enough to get a warrant to arrest the driver and put him under rigorous interrogation. As well as to track down who at CISEN made and received those calls.”
Return of the Assassin (Assassin Series 3) Page 22