Blood of the Assassin Read online

  “All right, honey, dinner is served,” Dinah called from the kitchen, and then swept into the dining room and placed two plates on the table with a flourish. Cruz gazed at her with adoration and turned off the TV, taking a final pull on his beer before standing.

  Whatever was going on with Godoy, he wasn’t going to let it bother him any more tonight. He’d know what it was all about tomorrow. No point in speculating.

  “It smells wonderful. Let me grab another beer and I’ll be right in.”

  Dinah watched as he strode past the dining room into the kitchen, and felt a warmth course through her. This was the man she loved, whom she had married, and he had proven himself to be a good and honorable mate. She felt fortunate that circumstances had conspired to thrust them together, and as she sat down and dropped her napkin into her lap, she felt a wave of gratitude wash over her. Two souls had found each other, and persevered through some difficult times. That was more than many got during their lives, she knew, and her mind flitted to the thoughts she’d been having increasingly of late – thoughts of a dog, a house, and a family, of a normal life where they could stay in one place and not have to worry about being safe. Right now, a dream, she knew; but hopefully not forever.

  “Do you ever get tired of this, Romero? Moving constantly, the job, the pressure...the danger?” she asked, waiting for him to sit before taking a taste of her meal.

  “Of course. I’m hoping that this will only last a few more years, and then maybe I can get a job as a security consultant with one of the big firms here, or in Monterrey or Guadalajara...”

  They’d had this discussion increasingly of late, Dinah subtly lobbying for him to think about a future. A future without the job in it. A safe future together. Some days it seemed attainable. And then others, like this, when he was getting calls at night, it was a million years away.

  Both sat, making appreciative noises, lost in their thoughts: Cruz dwelling on the next day’s meeting in spite of his best intentions, Dinah on how to get her husband to pursue a safer line of work. When they were done with dinner, she curled up in his arms on the couch as they watched one of the inevitable talent shows that seemed to dominate the airwaves. She snuggled against him and the tension fell away, and they were finally both able to relax, secure in the moment, their troubles fleeting as long as they had each other.

  Chapter 9

  “The director will see you now.” The receptionist sized Cruz up in his civilian attire with an expression he was sure she reserved for vagrants. “You know the way to his office, yes?”

  Cruz stood, having been kept waiting for fifteen minutes past his appointment time – an expected part of the ritual whenever he was summoned before his superior, to underscore who was in charge. Cruz didn’t take it personally, but the receptionist’s attitude annoyed him. He bit back any of ten terse responses and merely nodded and strode down the hall to Godoy’s door, which was closed, forcing him to knock.

  “Yes. Come in,” Godoy called out, and Cruz pulled the door open. “Ah, Capitan Cruz. Come in. Have a seat, won’t you?”

  Cruz did as instructed, and waited for Godoy to broach the topic of the meeting. He eyed the man’s urbane, too-slick countenance that had all the warmth of a granite statue, and remarked to himself for the hundredth time that men like his boss had to have come from some factory where they removed all semblance of humanity before shunting them off the end of the assembly line.

  “Congratulations are in order for the apprehension of El Gato, I think,” Godoy started, as if uncertain whether the capture of one of the most wanted men in Mexico City warranted praise. “It’s a pity that we lost so many officers getting him,” he continued, a faint reprimand in his tone.

  “I agree. I spent most of yesterday calling and meeting with the spouses of the dead men. It’s a shame that these cartel thugs are so well armed, and think nothing of taking the lives of honest police.” Cruz’s rebuke was subtle, but it registered on the arrogant peacock; he could tell by the flash of anger in Godoy’s eyes.

  “Yes, well, what’s done is done. The important thing is you got your man. Has he talked yet?”

  “No. And he’s unlikely to, I know from experience. The cartel bosses at this level rarely say anything. They know better.”

  “Hmm. And what are you planning to do with him? You still have him detained downstairs, correct?”

  “Yes. But the district attorney is getting anxious. He’d like him moved to a proper facility to await trial. We’re not really set up for long term stays, as you know.”

  “That’s one of the matters I wanted to mention. I got a call from him yesterday afternoon. He wants El Gato out of here before the end of the day. I assured him that would be no problem,” Godoy said.

  Cruz decided to play nice. “No problem here, either.”

  “Good. Again, job well done,” Godoy said with a wave of his hand.

  “Thank you. It was a team effort.”

  Godoy rocked in his overstuffed executive chair, and Cruz wondered how long it would take the man to get to the real reason he had summoned him. He didn’t have long to wait.

  “I have some other news, which you may not be excited about. I’m going to take you off active duty with the task force.”

  Cruz’s eyes widened. “What! Why? We’re finally making real progress...”

  “Don’t worry. It’s just temporary.”

  “Temporary...,” Cruz echoed.

  “Yes. We have another matter that takes precedence. Something I need you to manage. I have it straight from the president’s office – you’re to handle this issue personally, and I will provide whatever support you need.”

  “What issue?”

  “Ah. Just so. We received information from CISEN yesterday about a threat we need to get in front of. An assassination attempt.”

  “Assassination,” Cruz repeated, his mind churning furiously.

  “Yes. As you might have seen in the news, Mexico is getting ready to sign a historic accord with the Chinese, ushering in a new age of mutual cooperation. It’s something that we’ve been working on for a year. The Chinese leader will be here in eight days to ratify the agreement in a ceremony with the president. We got word that an assassin is targeting the Chinese leader, and that an attempt on his life will take place while he’s in Mexico. A German – Werner Rauschenbach – is going to try to kill him. Your job is to stop that from taking place.” Godoy went on to explain about the German.

  Cruz didn’t say anything for a few moments. “Why me? Isn’t this more the territory of the security force that guards the president?”

  “In theory, yes, but you made quite a reputation for yourself with the capture of our own super-assassin, El Rey. The president is very impressed with your performance, and your name was mentioned as the perfect candidate to head up a team. So you’re a victim of your own success, I’m afraid.”

  Cruz knew better to fight this if the president was involved. That was a battle he couldn’t win.

  “Fine. What resources do I have access to, and who do I talk to in order to get all the information you have?” he asked.

  “You’ll be coordinating with CISEN.” Godoy held up a manicured hand at the expression of distaste on Cruz’s face. “It will be your show, but the information came through them, so they’ll stay in the mix. No way around it.” He glanced at his watch. “Commandeer whatever staff or resources you require. There are no limits, within reason, on this. Oh, and one other thing.”

  Cruz waited for what he was sure would be another piece of bad news.

  “CISEN has graciously agreed to provide a liaison for your team, as well as an expert in these kinds of things. I think we’re fortunate they are providing the expert, but it will cause some friction, so I want to head that off now.”

  Cruz rubbed his face with one hand, feeling ten years older than when he’d walked into the room. Godoy had that effect on him – he was like a dwarf star that sucked any positive energy out of the surroundin
gs.

  “You’ll have to put aside any animosity you have, in the interests of the country. I know that won’t be easy, but you’re a professional, and I expect you to behave professionally,” Godoy warned.

  Cruz’s gut did a somersault at the preamble. Whatever this was, it wasn’t good. “And...what specialist does CISEN propose I work with on keeping the Chinese leader safe?” he asked, afraid to hear the answer.

  Godoy leaned back, as though he was afraid Cruz might try to strike him. His eyes flashed with a decidedly satisfied look – a look that Cruz knew meant serious discomfort for him. Godoy hesitated, as though savoring the words he was about to speak, and then picked up his coffee cup and took a long sip before dropping his bomb with a smirk.

  “El Rey.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Cruz stared open-mouthed at the bureaucrat, and had to force his breathing back to normal before responding.

  “Has everyone lost their minds? El Rey? Working with me? Absolutely not. That’s not an option,” he spat, furious at the suggestion.

  “He was a professional assassin. He knows the ins and outs of how this sort of an attempt will be carried out. And he works for us now,” Godoy said reasonably.

  “He is a killer. Completely without conscience. A murdering psychopath responsible for the deaths of countless police, politicians, innocents...”

  “All that is behind us. As you know, he’s a free man with a presidential pardon. And he’s committed to stopping this assassin. And he’s part of your team, whether you approve or not.”

  “No. I won’t do it. If you want my participation, that’s not negotiable.”

  “Capitan. I understand you feel strongly about this, and you have some history with him, so I’m not surprised,” Godoy began.

  “He killed my wife’s father, for starters, as well as some of my best men.”

  “I’m not apologizing or excusing anything he did. But again, that is the past, and he’s now a CISEN asset, to be used for the nation’s good. I need you to put aside your dislike for him and work together. We don’t have the luxury of time to soothe everyone’s feelings on the matter. A hit man is coming for the Chinese – for all we know, he’s already within our borders – and he cannot be allowed to succeed. We have one of the foremost assassins in the world working for us, and we will use him to full effect. That makes perfect sense.”

  “To you, maybe. He didn’t kill a bunch of your friends. And he didn’t murder your wife’s father...”

  “Believe me, I’ve fantasized about how much it would cost to get him to do so...,” Godoy joked, and then seeing the expression on Cruz’s face, cut it short. “Capitan, this is very simple. The president wants you running this task force. You don’t get to say no to that. And CISEN insists on using El Rey, so you don’t get to decline that generous offer, either. This is an extremely delicate and important assignment, which is why we’re drawing on the very best we have. Between you and El Rey, we all believe this is our most promising chance at stopping Rauschenbach and saving the accord. So let me put this as plainly as possible. You will work with El Rey, or you won’t have a job with the Federales any longer. Your career will be over, and any expectations you might have of a pension will turn out to be sorely mistaken. Refusal to do this will result in your dismissal, without benefits, and I’ll be unable to offer any kind of positive reference for you.” Godoy’s voice had a tinge of steel in it, and then his expression softened. “Which would be a shame, because we really need you now more than ever before. And nobody wants to deny you what you’ve earned. But the stakes are too high to screw around. We need you on board, and we’ll use whatever we have to in order to ensure you are.”

  “So you’re blackmailing me, threatening to withhold a retirement I’ve already earned,” Cruz stated flatly.

  “I’m trying to convince you to play ball, Cruz. Trying to get you to see reason, and earn the new president’s undying gratitude. And offering you a chance to save your country. This accord is critical to Mexico’s prosperity moving forward. It cannot be allowed to be derailed. Too much is riding on it.”

  “You’re no better than an extortionist,” Cruz spat, furious at the turn the discussion had taken.

  “Welcome to the real world, Capitan. When you get to a certain point in government, you have to make decisions – hard decisions – that are distasteful, but required for the common good. Making plain what you have to gain – or lose – based on your response to this assignment is one of the unpleasant realities I have to grapple with today; and it gives me no pleasure, I assure you. But I do it because I have no choice. So understand that if you refuse, I’ll have no alternative other than to take the action I described. It’s not an idle threat. And it would be a shame to have a twenty-year career go down the tubes over one decision. Think this through. You work with this killer for a few days, and then you’re done. Like taking a dose of unpleasant medicine. Don’t throw an entire career away over one ugly episode. You’re bigger than that. And we wouldn’t be asking if it wasn’t critical.”

  Cruz shook his head and gave him a venomous glare. “You aren’t asking. You’re holding a loaded gun to my head and dictating terms.”

  “Out of necessity. Believe me, I wouldn’t do it if it wasn’t imperative that you cooperate.”

  “So the ends justify the means?”

  Godoy snorted. “Always. Are you really that naïve?”

  Cruz had to bite back an angry retort. It wouldn’t do any good to lose his cool. He was already too close to the edge. He wouldn’t give his arrogant superior the pleasure. And a part of him believed that Godoy would rather he not go for the deal than take it, for all his protestations to the contrary.

  “Yes. I guess I am. I thought we were the good guys. Good guys don’t blackmail each other to get their way. I suppose that’s a moral nicety that you never learned – obviously didn’t, by the tone of this conversation. Be that as it may, it sounds like you’ve got a real situation on your hands. I’ll think about this and get back to you later today with my decision. Is there anything else?”

  Godoy scowled. “I need your answer now.”

  Cruz shrugged. “No, you want my answer now. You need me to say yes. Which I may. Or may not. But you won’t know until later, like I said. I need to think this through. Especially since I may be a civilian very soon, which would mean that your needs and wants wouldn’t matter to me at all at that point. You’ve made abundantly clear the lengths you’re prepared to go. So now you’ll wait for my decision. Or you can always claim I said no, which I’ll rebut as a lie – and then you’ll be forced to explain to the president why you didn’t give what you’re calling ‘your best hope’ a chance to think through your demands. Your choice; but I wouldn’t want to have to do that – especially if the Chinese leader winds up eating a bullet on Mexican soil because of your impatience.” Cruz stood. “Your problem is that you misjudged me, Godoy. You think I’m afraid of a future without a safety net. Guess what? I’m not. I’ve stared death in the face too many times to care about any of it. Give the president my regards. I’ll be in touch.”

  And with that, Cruz walked out, leaving a stunned Godoy watching as the door to his office closed, his sure-fire ultimatum having backfired on him in as big a way as possible.

  Chapter 10

  The exterior of El Cordon didn’t offer a warm welcome to lure in reluctant customers – slightly peeling orange paint slapped over a façade that had seen better days in a district on the edge of downtown that was sliding inexorably into squalor. Cruz pushed through the saloon-style doors into the darkened wooden interior and approached the bar. At ten in the morning there was nobody else in the establishment other than an aging man behind the counter with a pock-marked, mustachioed face that time hadn’t been kind to. Cruz glanced around, as if not trusting his initial take, and then took a seat. A crooning voice lamented love’s folly over a strident melody pulsing from the overhead speakers, the song a favorite with the honest working men who
frequented watering holes like it. Usually the clientele arrived in the late afternoon or evening, but the bartender wasn’t there to judge, and studied Cruz with a neutral expression.

  “What’ll it be, Jefe?” he rasped at Cruz with a sandpaper baritone.

  “Tequila. El Jimador. And a Modelo to wash it down.”

  The man nodded as though Cruz had just offered him the winning lottery numbers for that evening’s jackpot and turned to retrieve a tall bottle filled with smoky fluid. He expertly palmed a shot glass and set it down in front of Cruz – a double tall one for seriously committed drinking. Seconds later the glass was filled and an icy cold can of beer appeared next to it, and the bartender retired back to the far end of the bar, the tequila bottle returned to its place in front of a smudged mirror with its brethren.

  The burn of the tequila made Cruz’s eyes water as it seared its way down his throat, the beer affording cooling relief after the liquid fire. The glow of warmth radiated from his stomach outward to his limbs, and his fury at Godoy’s ultimatum slowly abated. He took another long pull on his beer and then nodded at the bartender, who obligingly returned and topped off the empty shot glass again without comment.

  The second slug of tequila went down easier than the first, and Cruz closed his eyes after another swallow of beer. After over twenty years of loyal service to the Federales, of sacrificing everything, of giving them his very life, to be treated so shabbily was like a physical blow. And to demand, no, to order him to work with a sociopath, a serial killer who had been responsible for countless deaths, including his own men – men he’d had to bury while their grieving mates and children cried in anguish only feet from him – that insult couldn’t stand. He wouldn’t do it. It was impossible. Godoy and the whole power structure could go screw themselves. To try to blackmail him out of his pension was just the lowest betrayal he could imagine, although it didn’t surprise him that the ruthless bastard had gone there without hesitation. Godoy was a shit, to whom nothing was sacred. Of course, he would be crying the loudest if he were ever forced to confront the sort of danger Cruz did on a daily basis, but that gave him slim comfort. Like it or not, Godoy held Cruz’s financial future in his hands, and could destroy it with a few phone calls.