Blood of the Assassin

CHAPTER 18





Over the next hour Cruz’s handpicked men arrived, and he greeted each newcomer and gave him a quick rundown on why they were there, promising to provide a more detailed briefing at ten o’clock. Each had worked with Cruz for years and were seasoned veterans of the drug wars, having run countless operations, most of which had been successful. Their countenances were grim at the news that they would be working on an assassin hunt – all had been involved in the attempts to bring down El Rey, and they remembered how those had played out. The assassin’s eventual capture had been as much luck as anything, and everyone knew it, in spite of the media’s portrayal of a crack team that had performed flawlessly.

Cruz glanced at his watch at ten, the group waiting expectantly in the common area, and decided to delay the meeting for a few more minutes to give Briones a chance to arrive. He, of all of them, had been instrumental in the prior operations, and Cruz knew that he could have encountered some unexpected delays at headquarters while setting up the link. In the meantime, he issued terse instructions to the technicians wiring up the communications center and networking the computers together – a team from CISEN that went about their business in silence, working efficiently.

Their CISEN liaison, Claudio, appeared five minutes later, looking like he’d just fallen out of bed, followed closely by Briones, who appeared harried.

“Who are the goons in the lobby? They aren’t ours, are they?” he asked as he set down his soft black nylon briefcase.

“No. Courtesy of CISEN, our generous benefactor in this operation. Although I think I’d like two of our own to augment them. I’ll need extremely tight-lipped, dependable men. Can you see to it?” Cruz asked.

“Of course.”

“Round the clock shifts, eight hours apiece, two men per shift.”

“I’ll attend to it immediately.”

“No, after the meeting. You won’t want to miss it.”

“What’s this all about, sir?”

“You’ll find out shortly.” Cruz looked at the gathered officers, some sipping coffee, some munching on breakfast rolls that had been thoughtfully provided. “All right. Let’s get this over with. Everybody into the conference room.”

Once the gathering was seated, he stood at the head of the table and gave them a fifteen-minute presentation, including everything he had been provided by CISEN. When he was done, the room exploded in discussion. Cruz waited until the initial flurry had died down and motioned for quiet.

“Before we wind this down, are there any questions? I don’t want any confusion. We’ll be working very long hours. Lieutenant Briones will be the number two man if I can’t be reached. You have complete authority to commandeer any resources you think you require, from any agency. If you encounter any resistance, let me deal with it. But we can’t afford bureaucratic delays, so don’t screw around or try to massage anyone’s ruffled feathers. They either cooperate, or I’ll get involved, and if necessary, run the issue all the way to the top. We’ve been given carte blanche by the president to do whatever’s necessary to stop this, so there is no higher authority,” Cruz told the room, catching each man’s eyes as he spoke.

“How are you thinking we should proceed with the border checkpoints? They’re notoriously lax, even if we raise the alert level to emergency status,” Briones asked.

“That’s one of the problems we have. It’s not practical to staff each point with additional Federales, so we’ll have to rely on whatever is currently in place. Besides which, the chances that we get lucky and catch him as he enters the country are slim to none. But we have to try,” Cruz said. “I want the German’s information circulated to immigration within the hour, and anyone even slightly resembling him questioned more intensely. Guillermo, what’s deployment of the identification cameras like?”

Guillermo, one of the older officers in the room, shifted uncomfortably. “It’s a joke. Only a few of them are active, and the system is plagued with problems.”

“I thought the system was supposed to be active a year ago?”

“It was. Welcome to Mexico. It’s been a never-ending stream of issues. Equipment theft, problems with connectivity, software issues. Long story short, it’s not operational.”

“How are we supposed to have a chance of catching him at the border if we can’t access the data in anything resembling a timely fashion?” Claudio blurted. Everyone stared at him, and then Cruz spoke softly.

“We’ll just have to do it the old-fashioned way, which is grossly inefficient and further reduces our odds. But we’ll work with what we have.” Cruz paused, then cleared his throat. “One final thing. We’ll have a specialist working with us, courtesy of CISEN, and that may present some difficulty for a few of you. I’m going to ask that you put your personal feelings aside and focus on your duty, not your emotions. Trust me when I tell you that this was extremely unpopular with me, but it’s a done deal, and isn’t to be questioned. And it could turn out to be an advantage for us – at least that’s what the experts have decided.”

The men exchanged puzzled glances, and then a dark-complexioned man in his forties with a face like a losing prize fighter raised his hand. “Who, sir? Who is this mystery man we’re going to have problems dealing with?”

Cruz sighed. “You know him by his professional name. El Rey.”

Half the group was too shocked to speak, and the others uttered stunned exclamations.

Briones went pale, shaking his head. “Is this...is this some sort of a joke, sir? El Rey working with us? How? Didn’t he escape from prison?”

“It’s a long story, but the essence of it is that he now works for CISEN, and received a full pardon for his crimes.” Loud voices protested the announcement, and several of the men cursed, visibly outraged at the news.

“He works for CISEN? The man who tried to kill the president...how many times?” Guillermo barked.

Cruz allowed the men to vent for thirty seconds, and then spoke in his calmest voice. “Look. I don’t like this any more than you do. But it’s done. The authority comes from the president, who has the ability to do what he deems best for the country. And apparently having El Rey working for our intelligence agency is what he thinks is best,” he said, looking at Claudio, who squirmed as the other men turned their attention to him – the only CISEN representative in the room.

“I had nothing to do with any of this. It was decided over my head. It’s above my pay grade. But what Capitan Cruz says is true. This has everyone’s blessing, and the thinking is that it takes one to find one. Remember that in addition to all his sins, he’s also the best assassin anyone has ever seen. That can’t be discounted.”

“As much as I hate to say it, after having the night to think about it, CISEN’s right. We don’t have a lot to go on, so we need any edge we can get. So I’m going to ask all of you to park your objections and do your jobs. If you can’t, speak up and I’ll find a replacement for you – you can go back to headquarters and resume your duties, and I won’t hold it against you. But I’ll be disappointed, because I personally chose each of you. You’re the best we’ve got. Having said that, I’ll understand perfectly if you won’t do it,” Cruz said.

The men grumbled, but Cruz could sense that he’d won the round. Nobody quit, which was positive, even if not much of a victory.

As the meeting broke up, Briones approached Cruz, a look of confused concern on his face.

“Do you really believe this is best, sir?” he asked quietly, obviously struggling to keep his tone even.

“I have my orders, Lieutenant. I wasn’t given a lot of options.”

“You can always choose to decline the job, sir.”

Cruz studied him before speaking, choosing his words carefully. “Who better to lead this group, Briones? Who has more experience chasing assassins than we do? Nobody. If I walk away from this, it would not only be a slap directly in the president’s face, but it would decrease the odds of success in an already awful situation. How could I live with myself if the Chinese leader was slain on Mexican soil because I let my misgivings interfere with my duty?”

Briones sensed there was more to the story than his boss was letting on, but decided not to press. He trusted Cruz with his life, and if Cruz didn’t feel like sharing anything more, it was his prerogative. Briones would follow his lead.

“Then I can hardly refuse to work on this with you, can I, sir?” Briones conceded.

“I mean it when I say that if you don’t think you can bury your history with the man, you should back out. I won’t hold it against you.”

“I understand. That won’t be necessary. The past is the past. And it actually sounds like we’ll need all the help we can get.”

“You got that right,” Cruz said, then gestured for Briones to accompany him to his office.

The common area had already become a working situation room as they passed through it, and the men were settling into their workstations, some already on the phone, murmuring instructions and demands. As they approached Cruz’s office, the entry door swung open and a figure dressed in head-to-toe black stepped in, looking around at the gathered officers before spotting Cruz and Briones, abruptly stopped in their tracks. The newcomer ignored the evil glares from the assembled men and moved towards Cruz, his gait fluid like that of a large jungle cat. Cruz touched Briones’ arm and they continued to his office, where Cruz motioned for Briones to sit at the small corner table ringed by four chairs. The lieutenant took a seat, his eyes never leaving the black-clad figure.

El Rey stopped at the doorway and threw a small off-hand salute to Cruz. “So, I’m here. What do you have?” he asked, ignoring Briones.

“Thanks so much for joining us. Pity you missed the orientation meeting where I described our operation and data in detail,” Cruz said sarcastically, his tone scathing.

If El Rey registered it, he gave no indication. “I’m here now.”

Cruz decided that this wasn’t the hill he was willing to die on, and motioned to the table. The assassin nodded and moved to one of the vacant seats, only then looking directly at Briones, his killer’s eyes taking him in without expression as he eased himself into the chair. If looks could kill, El Rey would have been dead on the floor, but he seemed unfazed by Briones’ seething glare.

Cruz sized up the situation and knew that this was the most difficult moment – he would need to get Briones past it for the man to be any use. He sat down behind his desk and waved a hand at the two men.

“Lieutenant Briones, this is...Carlos. You’ve met before, but it was in different circumstances. Not the best, I’ll grant you.”

“Carlos. How fitting. Someone has a great sense of humor,” Briones said tonelessly.

“I moonlight as a comic. Now can we get to it?” El Rey said, impatience tingeing his words.

“You don’t remember me, do you?” Briones asked, nearly whispering.

El Rey regarded him. “Of course I do. I never forget a face. You’re lucky to be alive. Most who crossed my path aren’t.”

“Last time I saw you, you were wearing a nun’s habit and bleeding out on my windshield,” Briones spat.

“A greeting card moment, I’m sure.” El Rey turned to Cruz. “For the last time. What have you got for me that was so important I needed to come in?”

Cruz took him through the various contingencies he had put into place, and El Rey listened silently until he was finished.

“You won’t catch him at the border. That’s a waste of time and energy,” El Rey said.

“Perhaps, but we have to do it all the same,” Cruz conceded.

“What, do you have some other suggestion? Something we’ve missed?” Briones snorted.

El Rey eyed Cruz. “Capitan, are you going to be able to keep your attack dog leashed, or is this going to be a recurring problem?” He leaned towards Briones across the table. “You need to let it go, or this isn’t going to work. And you might get me angry. You don’t want to get me angry.”

“Are you threatening me?” Briones hissed, his upper body tensing.

“I’m giving you advice.”

“Gentlemen, please. I know this is difficult. For all of us. But Lieutenant, stand down. That’s an order. Remember our earlier conversation – if you can’t do this, say the word and I’ll replace you,” Cruz interrupted.

Briones exerted a visible effort to restrain himself and shifted in his seat, the tension draining out of him. “That won’t be necessary. I’m a professional.”

“Capitan, this is all very touching, but you’re wasting my time,” El Rey said.

Cruz forgave the insolence and decided then and there that he wouldn’t allow the assassin to get a rise out of him. That was simply playing into his game, and he wouldn’t take the bait. “We were discussing the borders.”

“Yes. Put simply, he’ll get in without any effort, and you’ll never know it. He’s a pro. Borders never posed any problem for me. He’ll have multiple identities, and be able to change his look at will. Some cotton in his mouth, a beard or moustache, any of a dozen drugs that will temporarily alter his complexion, skin dye... Even assuming that he comes through an airport or a border crossing, your amateur immigration people wouldn’t know what they were looking at. That’s a fool’s errand. Just accept that he’ll make to Mexico City, if he hasn’t already.”

“I’m not disagreeing, but we have to start somewhere,” Cruz replied evenly.

“Not there.”

“If not, then where, Carlos?” Briones asked, pronouncing his name like an insult.

“I want to know everything about the Chinese leader’s itinerary. How he’s arriving, how he’s going to be transported, where he’s going to sign the document, where he’s going to be staying, if he stays at all. I’ll need not only his agenda but a full rundown on every security precaution being taken. We start at the end – the point where the German will kill the target. Then we work backwards from there. Figure out how he’s going to do it, or is likely to do it, and then we have a chance. But mount a manhunt and you’re just spinning your wheels,” El Rey stated flatly.

“In your opinion,” Briones countered.

“Lieutenant. One person in this room has carried out more executions than you’ve had birthdays. The others are cops who got lucky one time. Do you want to stop this assassin, or do you want to posture like some sort of juvenile peacock? I don’t really care, either way.” El Rey stood. “When can you have that information?” he asked Cruz.

“I’ve already requested it all. We should have it within a few hours.”

“Very good. Call me once you have everything, and make me a copy so I can study it. And I want to look over the location where the signing is to take place.”

“I think the idea was that we work as a team on this,” Cruz said.

“Teams fail more often than they succeed.”

Cruz shook his head. “Maybe so, but we’re going to do this my way.”

“Get me the data, then we’ll talk,” El Rey said, and then moved to the door and opened it without another word.

Cruz and Briones watched incredulously as the assassin sauntered across the situation room floor and through the exit.

“Are you serious about working with him? I’ve never seen a more arrogant, dismissive prick in my life...,” Briones began.

“Yes, Lieutenant, he’s all of those things. But he has a point. Both times we hunted him, it was individual action and intuition that stopped him and ultimately resulted in his capture. Not a team. So while he’s abrasive, he’s also probably right. Which underscores why he’s here. Not to win friends. To be right.”

Briones considered Cruz’s muttered observation. “I still don’t like it.”

“Neither of us do. But if we’re going to be successful, we’ll need to be flexible. And right now, Carlos is our best option.”

“He’s an annoying shit, in addition to all his other faults.”

Cruz nodded. “Yes. He is. He is indeed.”

Briones was seething, but he wore his best poker face as he rose. The stink of El Rey’s aura was like a toxic cloud in the room, and his passing left a subtle pollution of the soul that made Briones want to take a long shower to purge himself of the blight. He understood that Cruz believed this was the best way to progress, but it had been all he could do to resist drawing his gun and blowing the assassin’s head off. The scar from where the killer’s bullet had seared into his shoulder pulsed and burned as though it were a living thing with a mind of its own, and the memory of the other slug slamming into his chest, stopped only by the bulletproof vest, was as vivid as though it had been yesterday. Cruz could pontificate about duty and the mission all he wanted, but at his core, Briones only knew that the assassin had escaped justice and was flaunting that as if daring him to do anything about it. Briones moved to leave, but as he did, a vision of himself pulling the trigger of his weapon and watching El Rey’s filthy head explode clouded everything, and it was all he could do to get out of the office and to the bathroom before he threw himself into a stall and vomited his fury into the uncaring bowl.