The younger man shook his head. “Our CISEN contact has no idea of the bigger picture, so it’s impossible that anyone inside tipped her to anything, because nobody knows anything to tip. Even if you’re correct and there’s a leak, what could the informant have told her? Only the names and the phony drug ring story. I’m arguing for caution because each step we take could complicate this matter. That’s all.”
“Noted. Now do as I’ve instructed. I’m tired of this debate. I want to go play with my granddaughter, not bicker over how to handle this.”
“I’ll meet with our man and make your wishes known. It’s safe to say it will require more money changing hands.”
The dark-haired man gave a small shrug.
“The good news in all this is that there are only two more to go, and if for some reason your intuition is off on this one, it’s entirely possible that the assassin will terminate them before we get him. He’s been remarkably efficient so far, you have to admit.”
“That he has. I hope you’re right. But let’s plan for the worst. Make arrangements to get someone else on the farmer and the journalist. We need a backup plan, and right now we’ve got nothing.” The dark-haired man stood as the little girl dragged her mother toward the house, the net with her trophy clutched tight in her hand. His face cracked into a reptilian smile and he beamed at the pair, the discussion forgotten as he moved to the steps to greet them.
The younger man slipped into the house, his marching orders issued, already thinking through how to explain to his contact that their assassin would need to be neutralized.
Chapter 39
Mexico City, Mexico
Unlike in his nightmares, the morning of Cruz’s funeral was picturesque, the air crisp and clear, the sun bright in a robin’s egg blue sky devoid of clouds. The memorial ceremony was held in Chapultepec Park only a few blocks from headquarters, the towering glass and steel edifice with the image of a battle-ready federal policeman gripping an assault rifle embossed on one side visible from the grassy field where hundreds of Federales were gathered in honor of their captain.
Cruz watched through a pair of binoculars from the parking lot near the Museum of Anthropology, El Rey beside him, while the mourners stood in the sunlight as speaker after speaker offered their condolences.
“Quite a eulogy. You must be touched,” the assassin said.
Cruz ignored him and kept his eyes on Dinah, who looked pale and drawn, and who spent most of the service leaning on Briones’ arm.
“It looks like it’ll be over soon,” Cruz commented as the blue-uniformed officers broke into groups and stood, clumped, waiting in a rough line to offer the widow their sympathies.
They’d been there for the longest forty-five minutes of Cruz’s life, a kind of slow motion torture for him, knowing what his wife must be going through but unable to offer her any reassurance. El Rey had turned the radio on low and was humming along with a Mana song, clearly enjoying Cruz’s discomfort.
“The coverage on Vega is pretty amazing. Every paper, every news program, it’s the top story. Not that your demise wasn’t newsworthy,” he said.
“I’m sure you shed a tear.”
“Are you positive about the bar?”
Cruz had told the assassin that following the ceremony there would probably be a memorial service somewhere else, after which his closest subordinates would likely gather at a bar near headquarters to drink in Cruz’s memory. “Yes.”
“It would be a lot easier to approach him here than in a crowded room.”
“Let’s see how it plays. Who was it that was so big on relaxation in the car recently?”
“That was different.”
Cruz’s eyebrows rose. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say that being surrounded by cops makes you a little jumpy.”
“Fortunately you know better.”
Most of the officers returned to the buses and cruisers that were parked nearby. Cruz wasn’t worried about being recognized, not having shaved for three days and wearing sunglasses and a hat. Still, he sank down in his seat, waiting for Briones and his wife to make their way back.
After an unbearable ten minutes, El Rey started the engine. “They’re over there. Looks like your buddy’s driving. So you called that one right.”
“No chance of an interception here,” Cruz said, his voice glum.
“Nope. Not with Mrs. Cruz in the car. She’d recognize me.”
“Fine. Hang back and follow them. Maybe we’ll get lucky at whatever hall they’re going to.”
Briones surprised them both by driving Dinah home. They trailed his unmarked car at a safe distance and pulled into a bus stop when he double-parked in front of the building. Cruz felt a part of his heart tear when Dinah disappeared into the lobby, but shook off the sentimentality. If he ever wanted to be with her again, he needed to concentrate on the matter at hand, not wallow in self-pity. Briones returned a minute later and roared off. El Rey cut into traffic to follow him, drawing the ire and a blare of horns from the cars behind him.
“See if you can get next to him. That would be easiest,” Cruz said, and El Rey nodded.
“He might rear-end the guy in front of him if he sees his dead boss, but you know best.”
Briones was driving like a man possessed, and try as they might, they couldn’t close the gap in the dense traffic. Eight minutes later, after being cut off by a delivery van, El Rey popped the glove compartment, retrieved a new burner cell phone, and handed it to Cruz.
“Do you know his phone number?”
Cruz dialed it, cursing himself for being so preoccupied that he’d missed something so obvious. As he waited for the call to connect, he turned to El Rey.
“How do you get all these phones? I thought that with the new laws you couldn’t get undocumented cells.”
“Laws only affect the law-abiding. Criminals never have a problem getting illegal goods.”
Briones answered on the fourth ring. “Hello,” he barked.
“Lieutenant? You might want to pull over. I’m having a hell of a time catching up to you.”
Silence hung on the line for several pregnant seconds.
“What is this? Some kind of sick joke?”
“Lieutenant, it’s no joke. Don’t say another word. Pull to the curb at the next light, and I’ll be right there.”
“I…”
“Not another word. See you in a minute.”
Cruz hung up, and they watched Briones’ vehicle swerve right and screech to a halt in a loading zone. El Rey stopped behind the car, and Cruz jumped out, tossing the phone to him.
“Follow us. We’ll find someplace quiet where we can talk.”
Cruz trotted to the passenger door of Briones’ car and opened it. Briones’ face was a study in conflicting emotions: surprise, anger, hurt, relief, confusion.
“Good morning, young man. Can you give me a lift?”
“Capitan! I can’t believe it. You’re alive!”
“Yes, well, it appears the rumors of my demise might have been exaggerated. I’ll explain everything, but for now, let’s get going.”
“Where to?”
“We’re not far from Central Park, in the historical section. That should do.”
Briones pulled away, obviously shaken by Cruz’s reappearance. Cruz buckled in and smiled. “Don’t be alarmed if you see we’re being followed. That’s my guardian angel.”
“What’s going on, Capitan?”
“It’s complicated. There’s a contract out on me, and the only way to be safe was to fake my death.”
“A contract? Half the cartels have a contract on you.”
“This is different. Those, I’m used to. This is our own people.”
Briones frowned. “I don’t understand.”
“I’ll start at the beginning. It’s hard to believe, but we’ve known each other for a long time, so you have to trust I’m telling the truth.” Cruz explained about the killings, CISEN’s involvement, his investigation, and finished
with the events of the last forty-eight hours. When he was done, Briones was speechless, and they drove in silence the rest of the way. Briones parked in one of the lots north of the park, and they waited as El Rey pulled into the slot across from them and got out.
Briones eyed the assassin with his customary distaste, a habit that he hadn’t been able to break even after working with him. El Rey maintained his usual poker face. They walked slowly down the sidewalk toward the market stalls that were set up all along the periphery of the greenery, and Cruz filled Briones in on how they planned to proceed. When he was done, Briones slowed.
“So you want me to coordinate with you and handle the research from inside. I understand. But I still find it impossible to believe that CISEN would order the execution of innocent people,” he said.
“As do I,” Cruz agreed. “But there’s no arguing the facts. I’ve read the CISEN dossiers. They’re real. And I’m fortunate that our friend here decided to disobey his orders and warn me instead of putting me out of my misery.”
“Where do we even start?” Briones asked.
Cruz handed him two sheets of paper. “I’ve prepared a list. We’re looking for anything that ties these people together. And anything you can find on the farmer, who’s the only one left alive, other than Vega.”
“That’s just crazy about her. I saw the news yesterday. The attack.”
“That was us.”
Briones’ eyes widened. “You?”
“We needed to give her an excuse to hide. That was the best we could come up with.”
“I’ll say. It’s all anyone’s talking about.”
El Rey glanced around and leaned into Briones. “This little reunion’s been touching, but the real question is, can you keep your mouth shut? Your captain’s life hangs in the balance.”
“Sounds like you’re driven by self-interest here, too. As usual. Unless I misunderstood, your life’s on the line as well,” Briones fired back.
“True. But my question stands.”
“Of course I can keep this confidential. I’m a professional.”
“Right. But you have to play it completely straight. Even a small slip could be disastrous.”
Briones glared at him. “Nice to see some things never change. Still arrogant as ever.”
“There’s a phone number and a blind email address on the list. Use that to contact me,” Cruz said, interrupting the exchange. “If you call, do so from a landline, preferably not in your office. I don’t think CISEN would be eavesdropping on you, but at this point, paranoia’s in order.”
Briones frowned. “I agree.”
They ambled along while Briones read the list and then returned to the lot. Cruz shook his hand. “How’s Dinah doing?”
“She’s in pieces, as you can imagine. I don’t get the sense that reality’s set in yet.”
“Let’s hope we can get this licked before it does. If there’d been any way to spare her, I would have. But El Rey’s right. She can’t know. Not even a hint.” Cruz stepped closer. “See to it that the department doesn’t demand that she move out of the condo just yet, would you? And if she needs anything, get it for her. Hopefully my credit’s good.”
“Of course, sir. That goes without saying.”
“Bueno. I presume you’re off to have a drink with the troops?”
“That’s right.”
“Remember. I’m dead. The world’s a poorer place for my passing. Not a word to anyone.”
Briones got into his car and started the engine, the door still open. He looked Cruz in the eye and answered without hesitation.
“You can depend on me.”
Chapter 40
El Rey had arrived two hours early at the rendezvous location where he’d agreed to meet Tovar. He’d watched the pedestrian traffic moving down the sidewalks from his position on the street corner, from where he could see not only the little restaurant but also both sides of the street, including the surrounding buildings. His natural caution had been heightened by the brusque tone the CISEN man had adopted when El Rey had demanded a meet.
Tovar’s car stopped down the block from the restaurant, and he emerged from the rear, looking annoyed at having to rub shoulders with the great unwashed in the working-class neighborhood. El Rey could see his frown of displeasure as he approached the entry and went in. He hadn’t spotted El Rey, who had donned the clothes of a laborer and darkened his skin, finishing the transformation with a glued-on mustache, sunglasses, and a filthy cap.
The assassin watched the car until it pulled away, and then cut across the street and down the service alley. He stopped at the rear door of the restaurant, which was open for ventilation as the cleaning crew worked. He swung the screen door wide and walked through the kitchen as though he owned the place, and when he emerged into the dining room, he noted the back of Tovar’s head at a booth – the only patron.
Tovar started when El Rey materialized next to him and almost dropped his cell phone, which he’d been fiddling with. The assassin took a seat across from him and folded his hands on the tabletop. Tovar took in the disguise and pursed his lips.
“Practicing your tradecraft, I see,” he said.
“Wouldn’t do to get complacent.”
“What did you want to meet about?”
“I got Cruz. But I still haven’t been able to locate the farmer, and Vega disappeared.”
“Yes, I saw that. Bad luck, isn’t it?” Tovar said, his tone revealing nothing.
“Your briefing never mentioned I’d be competing with cartel incompetents.”
“We were unaware of her involvement with them.”
“Well, it’s significantly complicated things. A target on alert is much more difficult to reach than an unsuspecting one.”
“I understand. But we have confidence in you. Look at what you achieved with the admiral.”
“That was different. He was immobilized, and I knew where he was.”
Tovar shook his head. “You’ll deal with it, I’m sure.”
“I need more on the farmer. What you gave me is insufficient to track him down. I’ve put wheels in motion, and he’s not at his farm and hasn’t been seen for a week – after a murder there, I might add. So now it’s two targets on the run. None of that was in the dossiers.”
“It’s a fluid situation.”
“I need you to run a scan of all the transportation databases. Buses, planes, rental cars. And hotels. He’s got to be somewhere. I don’t have the resources you do.”
“I’ve already done so. We have a lead in Cancún.” Tovar studied the assassin’s fake mustache and then slid a sheet of paper across the table. El Rey took it and scanned the information, then folded it and put it in his pocket without comment.
Tovar shifted in his seat. “How do you plan to find the woman?”
“That will be harder. But she’s an amateur, and she’s in a business where she’s sure to communicate with someone in her circle. I need you to put a trace on her cell phone. We might get lucky with that.”
“Thanks to the internet, even civilians know their phones can be tracked these days. Don’t bet on it.”
El Rey seemed unperturbed. “I’m not. I just want all bases covered.” His eyes narrowed and he paused, eyeing Tovar. “You know, if I didn’t know better, I’d think you have another team on these two, and they blew it in both cases.”
“You’d be wrong.”
“So you say.”
Tovar looked at the entrance. “Is there anything else?”
“I’m scheduled for my injection on Friday.”
“Then you better get busy.”
“With the current circumstances, it’s unlikely I’ll be able to locate the woman by then, and only fifty-fifty I can set up the farmer in time and be back here. I need time to reconnoiter his situation, presuming your data is correct, and then devise the hit. That doesn’t happen in a matter of hours.”
“I wouldn’t waste any time, then.”
“What I’m sayi
ng is that I expect my injection on schedule, whether or not I’ve been able to close out the two contracts.”
Tovar sighed. “I anticipated this. Here’s what I got authorization for: Get the farmer, you’ll get the shot. That’s the best I can do.”
“That was never our arrangement, and you know it.”
“As I said in our last little chat, the arrangement’s been changed. We need you to perform. So perform.”
El Rey’s stare was arctic, and Tovar looked away in spite of himself.
“There will come a time when you’ll wish you’d behaved honorably,” he said, his voice a whisper.
“Look. I don’t make these decisions. So don’t blame me or take it personally. I have a job to do and so do you. Let’s not make this any harder than it has to be. Go deal with the farmer, get the shot, and then get the woman. Simple for a man of your talents.”
El Rey stood. “I’ll take it extremely personally if you don’t give me my injection on time. Job or no job. I hope I’m completely clear on that. Don’t test me.”
The assassin returned to the rear of the restaurant and was out of sight by the time Tovar had slid out of the booth and spun around. Tovar’s face was white, and he held the edge of the table to steady himself as he considered the assassin’s last words. He had no illusion that the threat was an empty one, and he was already dialing a number he had been told to only call in the event of an emergency as he pushed through the entry doors to the street.
Chapter 41
Briones’ satchel was overflowing with paperwork as he strode across the task force floor to his office. He glanced at his watch, flipped on the coffee maker, and checked his email messages as the device percolated and hissed, and after pouring himself a steaming mug, marched to the conference room, where his kidnapping team waited. The conversation died as he took his seat and tapped the laptop before him. The image of Isabel’s face appeared on the wall.
Briones stood and recapped the events of the kidnapping and the subsequent interviews, which had yielded nothing of substance. When he finished, he scanned the faces of the men and women working the case for him as he sat down.
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