Blood of the Assassin

CHAPTER 17





The CISEN-supplied offices were nondescript, a three-story building in a commercial area that would raise no eyebrows. After spending a fitful night of scattered sleep on the couch, Cruz rose early and was behind his new desk in his headquarters for the next eight days, already making calls at seven-thirty. He had carefully considered whom from the Federales he wanted to work with, and had a short list of fewer than a dozen men who were able, talented, and entirely dependable. He called each at home and gave them the new address, swearing them to secrecy and ordering them to hand off whatever they were actively working on to others on the task force, and report to the new offices by ten.

The lingering after-effects of the wine had his head pounding, and he dry swallowed three aspirin as he dialed the last of his picks for the team – Lieutenant Fernando Briones. The younger man answered on the third ring, and was as surprised as any of the others when Cruz gave him a series of precise instructions, ordering him to stop by the headquarters offices before coming, to set up a direct link from the new digs to the Federales’ servers.

“What’s the new assignment, Capitan? And why work from a remote location?” Briones asked, the sound of the television droning in the background.

“I’ll tell you everything when you come in. Just get the link taken care of and clear the boards. We’re going to be working round the clock until further notice.”

“Not even a hint, sir? Nothing you want me to bring?”

“No. Just yourself. It’s going to be long hours, that’s all I can tell you.”

“No problem, sir. I’ll be out the door in a few minutes,” Briones assured him.

Cruz disconnected and reclined in his executive chair, staring into space. He had thought long and hard about bringing Briones into this, but on balance had decided to include him. He had as much experience from the El Rey attempts as Cruz did, and sometimes his perspective was valuable. Looking at the dearth of information they had to work with, they would need all the insight they could get. He just hoped that Briones could put his history with El Rey behind him. It was a chance Cruz had to take, although he had misgivings at just how much Briones could compartmentalize. After all, he’d taken one of the assassin’s bullets – Cruz knew from harsh experience how difficult it was to forget something like that.

He rose and moved to a small table in the corner of his new office and poured himself another cup of steaming coffee from the pot he’d brewed upon arriving. He had to give CISEN credit – everything he’d asked for was there: equipment, supplies, and a subtle security presence in the lobby consisting of four hard-looking men, their concealed pistols bulging through their dark, loosely tailored suits. Cruz supposed if you had an unlimited budget like the intelligence agency did and literally no restrictions on how you spent it, you could afford the best. He contrasted the computers at his headquarters with the new systems sitting in the common area and decided there was no comparison – his task force gear was coming up on three years old and showed it, whereas these systems were cutting edge technology.

His thoughts turned to Dinah and the fight they’d had the previous night. He could appreciate her perspective, but things weren’t as black and white as she had made them out to be. She wasn’t seeing the big picture, and was so focused on her hatred for El Rey that it was coloring everything else. But he had faith that she would cool down, given some time. He knew her pretty well by now – she wasn’t volatile and had a level head on her shoulders. She would come around, he was sure. She would think it through, consider the safety issue, the retirement benefits, and arrive at the same conclusion he had. It was a lousy situation, but there weren’t a lot of alternatives, and when push came to shove, she’d support him.

Which reminded him that he couldn’t put off the call he’d been dreading any longer. Procrastination would take you only so far, he thought, as he slid his cell phone from his pocket and dialed a local number.

When the assassin answered, it was with that eerie calm voice that Cruz was already learning to hate. “Yes?”

“We’re getting set up. The offices are ready,” Cruz said.

There was no response, the faint hiss of a cell line the only noise.

“I was thinking that you would want to come in and go over the intelligence as it arrives.”

“Intelligence. I see. What have you gotten so far?”

“Nothing besides what was in the file, yet. But the team will be assembling by ten.”

“That’s nice. Maybe order breakfast. As for me, there’s nothing I can do without more information.”

“You can study the location of the accord signing and meet your fellow team mates.”

More silence.

“Capitan, I don’t have any team mates. I have an assignment I don’t want, with a group of inept cops who couldn’t find their asses with both hands. I’d just as soon skip the prayer meeting. Call me when you have something more substantial.”

“Fine by me, but that wasn’t how CISEN thought it was going to go. Have you informed them you won’t be participating? I didn’t get the impression that was an option, although I’m overjoyed to hear that we won’t be rewarded with your presence...”

The assassin waited a few beats. “If I see you, I see you.”

“Here’s the address.” Cruz spat out the building number and street, then hung up.

It was pretty obvious to him that he wasn’t going to be getting a Christmas card from El Rey. That was fine. There was no love lost on either end. He sipped his coffee and considered the morning’s agenda. Meet with everyone, give them marching orders, and start coordinating with immigration and the security teams that were going to be responsible for the delegation’s protection. If they were lucky, the German would be picked up at one of the ports of entry – his first order of the day would be to get the name and photo onto watch lists at every airport and border crossing point in Mexico, although he wasn’t optimistic. The cartels moved hundreds of tons of drugs, cash, and guns across the borders without detection every week, and there were just too many crossing points to manage effectively.

He flopped back down in his chair and jiggled the new wireless mouse, activating the computer monitor, and tried not to sink into a pit of despair before the hunt had even started. It was hard, because as he knew from trying to stop El Rey, the search for a single, skilled professional was incredibly resource and labor intensive, with a slim chance of success. If the odds had been better, then his last two run-ins with El Rey wouldn’t have turned out the way they had. As it was, both had been successes from the assassin’s standpoint – he had reached his target both times, even if circumstances had colluded to save the president’s life.

The ugly truth was that a determined pro could almost always outflank even the most dedicated and conscientious security. It was simply impossible to safeguard against every eventuality. That was the dirty secret of security teams the world over, reinforced by assassination attempts against even the most protected men on the planet – Kennedy, Reagan, Sadat. A killer with enough motivation was every team’s worst nightmare, and for good reason, as Mexico had seen on both of El Rey’s attempts. Now, for the third time, Cruz was faced with the grim duty of trying to keep the unthinkable from happening, against impossible odds, with almost no time and precious little information.

Other than that, it was shaping up to be a good day.