Blood of the Assassin

CHAPTER 15





When Cruz finally made it back to the condo it was already ten o’clock, and he could hear the drone of the television from the living room. He closed the door gently behind him and twisted the deadbolt, then walked towards the clamor of a studio audience applauding the latest contestant in a singing contest. Dinah was lying on the couch in sweats and a T-shirt, one leg swinging off the edge. She looked up when he stepped into the room, and a warm smile broke across her face.

“Hola, amor! You’re back! There’s a plate of food in the refrigerator with your name on it. Enchiladas. Just pop them in the microwave for two minutes,” Dinah said, rising to greet him.

“Perfect. Let me get out of my monkey suit and I’ll be right back,” he said, kissing her lightly on the cheek.

Cruz emerged from the bedroom a few minutes later wearing his favorite jeans and a sweatshirt. The aroma of enchiladas filled the air, and Dinah placed the warmed-up meal on the table in front of him, along with a cold beer. Cruz looked at her gratefully and dug in, the rich sauce reviving him as he shoveled heaping forkfuls into his mouth. She sat across from him, watching him eat, and sipped her soda, waiting for him to finish. He made short work of it, and soon was patting his stomach appreciatively.

“You’re the best cook in the world, my love.”

“Is that the only reason you married me?” she teased.

“That, and other obvious reasons. Which I’m looking forward to exploring later...”

She lifted his plate and slid past him into the kitchen, then turned to study his face. He looked fatigued and worried. Tense.

“Why the long hours? What’s going on? Is it something you’d like to talk about?” she asked.

Cruz closed his eyes. Here it was – the moment of truth. He’d agonized about how to break the news to her on the way home, but hadn’t come up with anything that he was happy with. Still, he couldn’t lie to her. Maybe not tell her the complete truth, but he couldn’t flat out lie, much as that had appeal just then.

“It’s a special assignment. I’ve been painted into a corner, and I’ve had to accept a mission that’s going to have me working around the clock for the next eight days.”

“Good lord. Will you be safe? What is it?”

“It’s classified. I can’t really say much, other than that it involves an assassination attempt.” Perhaps that would be sufficient to satisfy her curiosity. He hoped it would be.

“Assassination? I thought...I thought your problems with El Rey were over. Did he resurface?” she asked with alarm. For months after she’d been blackmailed into helping the assassin she’d had recurring nightmares, and the fallout from her revelations about it had almost resulted in her and Cruz breaking up.

“No, it’s a different killer. But as dangerous, if not more so.”

“At least it’s not him. That’s a relief. He’s a menace.”

“He was, but he’s out of the game. This is a new threat, but equally deadly.”

She did a double take. “How do you know he’s out of the game? You seem so sure. I thought he was still at large...escaped from prison. Did something change?”

“I...” Cruz debated his next words carefully. “It’s classified. I’m sorry, Dinah.”

Her eyes narrowed. “This is the monster who killed my father with a sword we’re talking about, remember? Who forced me to turn on you? He destroyed my life, and nearly destroyed our relationship. And the best you can manage is to say it’s classified?” Dinah was getting angry, which was extremely rare, but when it happened, not to be trifled with. “That’s not good enough, Romero. On anything else it might be. But not this.”

“I can’t discuss it, mi amor. You’ll have to just accept that...”

“No. Not on this. Tell me what happened.” Dinah’s voice was dangerously quiet. He’d never heard her like that before. A host of possible responses ran through his head, but none seemed adequate.

He sighed and plopped down on the couch. “You have to swear to never repeat this to anyone. Ever. It would be grounds for arrest – for treason. I’m not making this up,” he warned.

“Treason?” she repeated, not comprehending the sudden change in Cruz’s mood. “Treason in what way?”

“Treason in the way that they would throw you in prison and throw away the key. And me as well. I’m not joking. It’s that serious. You have to promise me, and mean it, or I can’t tell you another word.” Cruz stared deep into her large brown eyes, trying to decide whether she fully grasped what he was saying.

“Fine. I’ll never tell a soul. I swear. Satisfied?” she demanded, still agitated, and struggling to maintain control.

He nodded. “It all started with his prison break...”

Five minutes later he was finished, and the look of shock on her face was worse than anything he’d expected.

“So all of his crimes have been forgiven? His record expunged? For Christ’s sake, he tried to kill the president, not once, but twice. He murdered those men right in front of the cathedral...” Her voice trailed off as she fought for understanding, but failed to find it. “And his punishment was to have his slate wiped clean? What about justice for the countless he killed? What about my father? How can anyone just wave their hand and let this animal walk?” Her eyes had widened as she asked questions that he couldn’t answer. The truth was there were no good answers.

“It’s done. There’s nothing I could do. I was told by...by some of the highest authorities in the administration. It’s already taken place, and it’s final.”

“And you allowed this? You let them do this?” The hurt and betrayal were palpable, each word like a slap across his face.

“I had no choice in the matter. I fought it, protested it, even threatened to quit my job – but none of it did any good. It came down from the very top – a presidential pardon.”

“The same president he nearly killed? Pardoned him?” Dinah was sputtering now and turning red, flushed from fury and agitation. Her mouth worked, but she was at a loss for words. Cruz sympathized. He remembered the day he’d been told that El Rey was a free man, immune from prosecution.

“I know, mi amor. It makes no sense. The whole thing is just so wrong...but there’s nothing I can do about it. The pardon has been granted and in the eyes of the law he’s now as innocent as you or I. It’s not fair, it’s not right, but it is what it is.” Cruz shrugged.

“How long have you known about this?” she asked quietly. Too quietly. Cruz chose his words with the care of a surgeon excising a brain tumor.

“Long enough to know that he’s out of the game and no longer a threat.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“It’s the only one I can give. Call it a few months. I don’t know, exactly.”

She stood and began pacing – another very bad warning sign of a pending meltdown. He’d never seen her this upset before. Sad, yes. Devastated when her father had been murdered, yes. Fearful and remorseful when her forced betrayal of him had been discovered? Yes. But never with this much...rage. That was the word. She looked like she was going to explode from anger. Her hands were clenched tightly into fists, she was trembling ever so slightly, and she was regarding Cruz like he’d raped her.

“So for months you’ve known about this, and every night, come home to me, chatted with me like everything was fine, made love with me...all the time living with the biggest lie I could imagine,” she stated flatly.

“It’s not like that, Dinah. Please. Be reasonable. It’s classified. I’m the only person other than the president’s staff who knows. And with all due respect, the last time you had access to classified material–”

“How dare you. How f*cking dare you bring that up and throw it in my face. I was blackmailed by the same shitrat you pardoned!” Chances of a full-blown melt down had just doubled. When Dinah swore, which was almost never, the situation had reached critical. Like a nuclear reactor, this would be about the time that the klaxons went off and the normally calm technicians began running panicked from the plant. Cruz understood the instinct. Part of him wished he could do the same.

But he couldn’t. This was his wife. The love of his life. Who right now looked like she wanted to strangle him with her bare hands.

“It’s not me. I didn’t pardon him. I would just as soon have put a bullet in him, and I told you, I fought this tooth and nail. But my influence doesn’t extend to the decisions of the new president. Don’t make this about me. It’s been hard enough...”

“Then he’s out there. Right now. Walking the streets, a free man, rich, young, with absolutely nothing to worry about. While my father is forever dead. As are your men. Everyone butchered by him, permanently robbed of another moment of life, their children growing up without fathers...and you remain a part of this, this...abortion you call a system? How can you do it, Cruz? How could you?” Now she was calling him by his last name. No Romero or amor.

“I considered quitting, but it wouldn’t have changed anything, and there’s still tremendous danger out there for me. For us. Every cartel miscreant in the country wants me dead. In case you haven’t noticed, that’s why we have to move every six weeks. That’s why we have the armed guards downstairs, why my car is armored and I’m not allowed to drive it, why we can’t meet with your friends anymore, why you had to be transferred to a different school and use a new last name...we need that kind of protection, and we won’t get it if I quit. So I’ve done what I had to do. Which hasn’t been easy. Especially now.” Cruz regretted the last words even as he said them, and desperately wished he could pull them back into his mouth. His only hope was that Dinah was so enraged she wouldn’t notice.

It wasn’t his lucky night.

“Especially now? Why now? What’s happened that it’s even harder now?” she asked with glacial calm. Probably the single most alarming trend yet.

“What I meant was, now that I’ve told you,” Cruz explained, hoping his dishonesty wouldn’t be obvious.

“No, you didn’t. You’re lying to me. I always know when you are. So one more time. What happened? Why is it even more difficult now?” Dinah would have been a brilliant prosecuting attorney. She was relentless and had an impeccable nose for the truth.

He rose from the couch and approached her, but she backed away, refusing to be mollified, holding his gaze with a look of fury, hurt, and...something else. Revulsion. A part of him died when he saw it, but it was unmistakable – and, he supposed, understandable. But how to proceed from here? He couldn’t tell her the truth. Not when she was like this.

“So help me, if you don’t tell me what’s going on, I will flip out. I mean it. Don’t test me on this.” Her voice had an edge, as well as a tinge of hysteria. She was barely holding it together, the revelation of the assassin’s escape from justice eating at her even as she cast around for an object to hate – Cruz being the obvious, closest target, in spite of his protestations.

Had he grown so inured to constant compromise, living in a no-man’s land of moral ambiguity, that his own outrage had been blunted to this degree? Her reaction brought back all of his emotions when he’d heard that the assassin would walk, a free man, untouchable. He’d had the same response, but had buried it, choosing to be pragmatic rather than righteous. Had that been cowardice or prudence? he wondered, watching Dinah pace. Had he just seen too much, made too many pacts with the devil, lived in a brutal purgatory of sin and corruption so long that he’d lost any moral barometer he’d ever had?

Something snapped inside of him. He was done with the subterfuge. If she wanted the truth, she would have to deal with it, just as he had been forced to. She would get what she wanted, even though the reality of their situation might destroy anything they had.

“Honey, why don’t you come over here and sit down. I’ll get you a glass of wine. You’re going to need it,” Cruz offered, gesturing to the couch.

“Don’t honey me. Just spit it out. What the hell is going on here? What could possibly be worse than my father’s killer walking away scot-free?”

“Fine. Then I’m going to have one. And please, try to remember that I haven’t done anything bad or wrong. I didn’t decide to let the assassin loose. I didn’t pardon him. None of what I’m taking the hits for from you was anything I had control over.”

“That’s not true. You could have put a bullet in his skull when you captured him,” she said contemptuously.

“Dinah. That’s not the job. I’m not the judge and executioner. I’m supposed to catch them, not catch and then kill them,” he said, padding to the kitchen in search of a glass.

“Maybe you should change the job description.”

“Don’t think it hasn’t occurred to me.” Cruz opened the refrigerator and extracted a bottle of white wine, uncorked it using his teeth, and poured his glass half full before returning to the living room, where Dinah was waiting, glaring at him like he’d just killed her puppy. “I really wish you’d sit down. You’re making me a little crazy with the nervous energy.”

“Deal with it. Now tell me what else is happening.”

Cruz exhaled with a groan and contemplated where to begin. “There’s going to be an assassination attempt in eight days,” he started.

“Another one? How many times are they going to try to kill the president in any given year? Doesn’t he have his own security team to protect him?” Dinah demanded.

“Yes, he does, but it’s not going to be against him. It’s another dignitary. But it’s almost as bad.”

“That’s where you’ve been all evening?”

“Yes. In a planning session. But you’re really not going to like the rest of this. First off, I’ll probably have to spend most of the next eight days in the office. Every minute will count in foiling this plot.”

She digested that. “So I’m not going to see you for a while, is that it?”

“Sort of. As part of the assignment, I’ve been ordered to work with CISEN on stopping the assassin.”

“CISEN. I thought you hated them.”

“I do. And never more than today. They’ve assigned me a specialist I have to work with on this operation.” He paused, waiting for it to register. “It’s El Rey. He works for CISEN now.”

“What! Are you all insane? The man is an animal – a vicious killer. He’d just as soon cut your throat as shake your hand. What are you thinking? You can’t do it.”

“I told them I wouldn’t. And they said I had to. It came from the president’s office. I still refused, and they threatened to fire me.”

“Fine. Quit. Take your pension and go do something else. One of those security things you were talking about. You don’t need this, or them. Tell them to screw themselves.” Dinah’s tone was final.

“I did. And they told me that I’d lose all the retirement I’ve accrued, as well as the security that’s keeping us alive. And they’d probably find some reason to prosecute me, or at least make my life hell.”

“So be it. I have some money from my father. We’ll go someplace where we can live simply, open up a shop or a little restaurant on a beach somewhere, and they can rot in hell.”

He shook his head. “It’s not that simple, mi amor.”

“It is to me. You can’t do this.”

“I don’t have any choice. I told them I would.” There. The bomb had been dropped.

“Change your mind. It’s too much to ask. Walk away from it. I’ll stand by you no matter what happens. But don’t do this. I’m begging you. Don’t.”

“I have to. They’ve got me in an impossible position. I can’t lose everything I’ve worked for my entire life. I just can’t.”

“What about me, Romero? What about losing your wife? Has it occurred to you that that could happen? Do you think I’m just going to stand by, barefoot in the kitchen, while you work side by side with the man who killed my father? Because I won’t. So deal with that impossible position. Figure out what’s more important to you – your job, or me. Because this is a relationship ender. There are few things I’d leave you over, but this is one of them,” she seethed, and then whirled and stormed to the bedroom.

“Dinah. Come on. Please. Take some time to cool down, to think things through.”

“Plan on sleeping on the couch. Get drunk on the wine. Do whatever the hell you want, but don’t approach me for any reason but to tell me that you’ll quit. I don’t want to hear anything else.”

“Dinah...”

The bedroom door slammed, sounding like a gunshot in the small space, and Cruz was left staring down the hall, wondering what had just happened, and whether Dinah could possibly mean what she’d said in anger and haste.

His instinct was to give her some time to cool down, to think. A day, maybe two, and she’d have perspective. Right now she was just lashing out and making impossible demands. It was purely emotional, he knew. She’d soften with some time to think.

At least, that was his hope.

He downed the glass of wine in three gulps, then rose and went to refrigerator for another one. The astringent Chablis burned on the way down, especially after the afternoon’s tequila, but he didn’t care. The only way he was going to get any sleep was if he was out of it. Hopefully he’d drift off after another bottle. And hopefully Dinah would reconsider her ultimatum. She had to.

Cruz pulled the cork and carried the new bottle to the living room, then sat on the couch and shut off the lights and muted the TV. A long pull emptied a quarter of the wine, and he frowned at the taste – he really should spend more on the stuff they drank, he thought bitterly.

He looked at the glass sitting on the table and dismissed it. More efficient just to drain the bottle directly. Eliminate the middleman. Cut to the chase.

A muffled thud came from the bedroom, where Dinah was making her displeasure unmistakable, even though he wasn’t in there.

It was going to be a very long night.