Blood of the Assassin

CHAPTER 35





The blaring ringing of his cell jarred Cruz awake from his dozing on the couch, the lights off in his office, the blinds drawn. He’d chosen to spend another night there rather than dealing with getting situated in a new apartment. And truthfully, he didn’t want to see any reminders of his life with Dinah – anything from the old place would be just that. The less emotion that clouded his fatigued judgment, the better.

He stared at the phone like it was radioactive, then noted the time as he picked it up and held it to his ear. Three-twenty a.m.

El Rey’s voice crooned in his ear. “She’s being held in a warehouse on the outskirts of town. Six man armed cartel team.”

“Where?”

He gave Cruz the address, who scratched it on his legal pad and then rubbed sleep out of his eyes.

“We should hit it as soon as possible. Within the next hour or two, best case. Once El Jaguar is discovered, all hell will break loose and they’ll probably kill her in the chaos. There will only be one chance at this.”

Cruz didn’t ask what had happened with the Los Zetas captain. “Do you think that two of us can take them?”

“Who, you and p-ssy boy? Old man, come on. When was the last time you ran a few miles, much less were in peak fighting form?”

“You’d be surprised. I took down three gunmen yesterday. The way I see it, that makes me my best option.”

El Rey grunted noncommittally. “What have you got for weapons?” he asked.

Cruz rattled off his choices from memory.

“That should do. I’ll meet you a block from the location, at a closed market on the corner named La Esquina. The warehouse is in a barrio with mixed residential and industrial. Not a very big building, but fairly well fortified,” the assassin said.

“Meet me there? Where are you?”

“Near the market. I figured a little reconnaissance couldn’t hurt before your goon squad showed up with all the subtlety of a tank.”

“That’s...unexpected. And appreciated.”

“Let’s not get all weepy about this. My best chance of being able to take advantage of the favor you owe me is if you’re still alive, which you won’t be unless I help you. With all due respect, you and your pit bull are no match for six Los Zetas ex-marines, no matter what you think. But this is the kind of thing I do in my sleep. So I’ll throw you a bone and save your bacon.”

“You seem awfully confident.”

“Because it’ll be over before they know what hit them.”

Cruz saw nothing to be gained by arguing. If El Rey wanted to go in with them, his help would be invaluable. For all his arrogance, he was absolutely correct about his abilities. Six cartel gunmen against one El Rey, as well as Briones and Cruz, was a better-than-even match.

“I can be there in an hour.”

“Fine. I’ll want one of the ARX 160s and one of the silenced Berettas, with a few spare clips. And find a combat knife. KA-BAR if you have one. But sharp. Whatever it is, it’s got to be sharp. Hopefully the ARX is sound-suppressed, too.”

“It’s suppressed. Anything else?”

“Try not to attract attention when you arrive. Keep it low-key. It’s dead here, but they might have spotters in one of the surrounding homes. Don’t bring a police vehicle – something unmarked would be best. A beater would be even better. This isn’t the greatest area.”

“I know it well enough. We’ve run operations there before, a few years ago.”

“Great. I’ll see you in an hour.”

The line went dead in Cruz’s hand and he stared at the phone for a few seconds, mind processing the deluge of information, and then he called Briones. The younger man’s voice was thick with sleep when he answered, but he roused quickly when Cruz told him that they were a go.

“I can be there in half an hour to pick you up.”

“Perfect. That should be more than enough time.”

“Have you given any thought to calling in some of the men, sir?”

“Yes, but I’ve decided that won’t be necessary. It’ll just be the three of us.”

“Three?”

“El Rey...Carlos…will be participating in this operation.”

Briones was speechless for a moment. “But...I mean, why on earth...?”

“Maybe he’s bored. Maybe he’s trying to earn some good faith from us. Who the hell knows? What’s important is that he’s lethal as a cobra and has done this sort of thing more times than we could count. And right now, he’s our best shot at getting Dinah out alive.”

“I...all right, but I want it on the record that I don’t like it. I don’t trust him. I don’t know what he’s up to, but you can bet that whatever it is, it’s only good for El Rey, and nobody else. He’s not on our side. He’s on his own side, and we have no idea what that is.”

“I don’t disagree. But he’s the only choice right now. And he’s already there.”

“At the site?!”

“Correct. So better get your butt in gear. I’ll be waiting for you downstairs,” Cruz said. Briones had a point – the assassin served no master but himself. Cruz didn’t know what deal he had made with CISEN, but it had to have been at gunpoint.

And there was the question of the promise. Dangling out there, a liability with no bounds, Cruz’s considerable power now in the hands of the most lethal man in Mexico. Cruz had no doubt that he would have to do something unconscionable sooner or later to wipe the slate clean; but at that moment, Dinah’s well-being was his paramount concern. Everything else was noise.

The assassin had performed, he would give him that. He’d found the Los Zetas boss in a matter of hours, and had somehow extracted information that could save his wife’s life. The hows of it didn’t matter, as far as Cruz was concerned. He had no doubt that whatever mess El Rey had left of the drug lord, the cartel would clean it up and nobody would ever hear about it. The last thing they’d want was any hint that they were vulnerable; so the body, assuming that the assassin had left much of one, would be spirited away and dumped in an unmarked grave somewhere, and a new Mexico City chief quietly appointed.

Which led him to his next concern – if they were successful rescuing Dinah, questions would have to be answered. How had they discovered her location? How had they rescued her? Who had participated in the raid?

He resolved to put them aside until they’d actually saved her. He would have to still be alive by morning for any of it to be an issue. Besides which, he wasn’t especially worried about his career after being blackmailed by Godoy. Perhaps this was all a sign that his time in public service was drawing to a close, and after the German was stopped – or not – he would hang up his badge and turn to other things.

As he pulled on his belt and checked his Glock, his shoulders slumped. He had given the best part of his life to fighting an unwinnable war against adversaries that were interchangeable, and who were more motivated and better funded than the police. For all his efforts, how had the landscape changed over the last decade? Sixty, seventy thousand people dead, Mexico reduced to a war zone, and for what? The cartels were more powerful and richer than at any point in their history, their wealth an entrenched part of the economy, and they now owned more mainstream businesses than ever before.

It was a senseless fight that he was losing. So many innocents killed, and nothing changed, regardless of which politicians were in office or what brave initiatives were floated. He was a cog in an ugly, futile machine that was more for appearances than anything.

He checked the Glock’s magazine and pocketed a spare, then replaced it in the quick-release hip holster.

Whatever obligation he owed the assassin, he would repay.

Whatever the cost.

He would get Dinah back, alive.

That was all that mattered.