The Assassin's Case

by Craig Alexander

  Grant grabbed their baggage from the back of the van and thanked the driver. He navigated between taxis, other arriving guests, and hotel employees toward the entrance. As he walked through the front doors Jaime hooked her arm through his and an electric charge flashed through him when her skin contacted his. Grant knew the action was simply intended to add credence to their cover, but his pulse and breath quickened as if an internal accelerator had been mashed to the floor.

  Stop it.

  Yes, it had been sixteen long years since he had any intimate contact with a woman, but he was acting like a giggly teenager.

  Grant ignored the biological storm coursing through his system, regaining his composure by focusing on the dangers ahead, and escorted Jaime into the lobby of the Krystal Vallarta. The reception area was situated beneath the domed roof, featuring deep red floor tiles, a fountain, and leafy fronds of greenery. To the left of the reception desk a large waiting area and bar beckoned arrivals to begin their vacation while they waited for their rooms.

  “Buenas tardes, señor, señora.” The concierge greeted them with a beaming smile, his teeth glowing against his dark skin. “Welcome to the Krystal Vallarta.”

  With Jaime in tow, Grant stepped up to the desk. “We’re checking in. The Jenkins.”

  The hotel employee tapped the keyboard in front of him and scanned the computer’s screen. “We seem to be overbooked, so I am going to upgrade you to one of the villas.” He looked up and smiled. “Our compliments of course, mi amigos. This is okay, yes?”

  “No problem. Thank you.” Grant was certain the room would be fine, but they would be further away from their cohorts. Making a scene about a room upgrade certainly wouldn’t help their cover.

  The man nodded. “Your room will be ready in a moment. We will take care of your bags. Please feel free to have refreshments in the lounge while you wait.” He clapped his hands and instructed a bellboy to take their bags.

  Grant pulled a wad of bills from his pocket. The money had been drawn from Evans’ corporate credit card to provide them with expense money. Grant couldn’t remember the last time he had more than two quarters to rub together. He had forgotten how good if felt to have spending cash. He ambled over to the currency exchange desk and converted five-hundred dollars to pesos. At an exchange rate of nearly thirteen-and-a-half to one he received almost seven-thousand pesos in return.

  Jaime grabbed Grant’s hand and he escorted her into the lounge. He scanned the area. Tedesco sipped a drink, the case between his feet. Seated next to him on the couch Morgan tried his best to appear calm, but he didn’t quite succeed. His hands fidgeted, sweat beaded on his brow, his eyes darted around the room like a small bird searching for predators. The man was in hell.

  Grant led Jaime to an unoccupied couch. They ordered drinks and it took him about a second to spot Tedesco’s surveillance. Two men. Neither Mexican, but Asian. One sat on a couch leisurely turning the pages of a paper, but he didn’t bother to look at it even once, his eyes stared over its top at the hit man. The other wasn’t quiet as obvious. He sat at the bar alone, stirring his drink with a mixing straw. But every few seconds he stared in Tedesco’s direction.

  Grant and his little band needed to be on their toes. They didn’t know how or when Tedesco would be contacted. His only instructions were to check in at the Krystal and he would be found. Grant believed, he hoped, they would have a little time to get ready. The surveillance on Tedesco was a good sign. It meant the kidnappers were being cautious. They would wait to make a move until they were certain everything appeared kosher.

  Before Grant and Jaime finished their drinks a bellboy appeared to escort them to their room via a six-seated golf cart. They wended their way through towering palms, fountains, water falls, and the multiple pools scattered about the grounds. The driver slid to a stop in front of their bungalow. It consisted of four connected units, two to a side. The covered tiled porch with shaded seating area, stucco walls, and red tile roof, gave it the feel of a Mexican hacienda.

  Their escort stepped onto the porch, opened the door with a flourish, and waved them inside. He moved past the king-sized bed and peeled back the curtains to reveal a private courtyard with a small pool surrounded by dense bushes.

  “Is this okay?”

  Grant pulled a 100 peso note from his pocket and pressed it into the man’s palm. “Yes, thank you. It’s fine.”

  “Enjoy your stay. Just call the front desk if you require anything.”

  “Thanks.” Grant closed the front door and turned to the room. His eyes swept over the king sized bed, the pool, and finally settled on Jaime. She smiled and he realized he was sweating. “I better get moving. Dig out the radios will you?”

  Jaime rifled through her bag and removed two small Motorola two-way radios and wireless earbuds. She passed one to Grant and he switched it on. “Scott. It’s Grant. Do you read?”

  * * * * *

  Grant took time to make sure he hadn’t picked up a tail before following Evans’ directions to his room. Grant knocked as instructed—two short slow taps followed by four quick taps. The door opened and he slipped inside. The ex-ranger had turned the bright little room into a command center.

  “I’ve hacked into the hotel’s security cameras,” Evans said. “Once they make contact we’ll have to move fast. When we ID them we get this on their car.” He held up a small transmitter. “I’ve got a jeep waiting. We don’t have a satellite uplink, so the range is only about two miles in these mountains.”

  Grant nodded. This man was proving to be very useful. “Where’s Morgan?”

  “With Tedesco. I’ve got them both wired.” Scott pointed to a laptop. One window showed small images of the hotel’s cameras. Another smaller window showed two small red dots on a map overlay. “I made them put transmitters in their pockets. Just in case the kidnappers just try to snatch them.”

  “Our gear?”

  “In the jeep.”

  “Good.” Grant pressed the call button on the radio in his pocket. “Boom. Grant. Why don’t you two make your way to the pool? That way I can watch you. Keep your radios open.” Their radios had the option of continuous transmit without the need to press any buttons. As long as everyone in the group remained on the pre-arranged channel they all could hear what the other heard.

  “All right. We’ll be out in five.”

  Grant grasped Evans’ hand and gave it a firm shake. “Here we go.”

  * * * * *

  Grant sat on a submerged bench at the edge of a swim up bar. A thatched roof blocked the sun. Though he could have used some rays, his position allowed him to keep an unobtrusive eye on Tedesco and Morgan. The two of them sat on the other side of the bar in the poolside cantina. An open air affair, also covered by the same thatch roof, perched next to the beach with a view of white sands and cobalt waters. The two Asian men from the lobby watched them from beneath the umbrellas of poolside tables.

  The ocean scented breeze cooled and refreshed Grant’s wet skin. The bartender passed him a frosty mug garnished with a lime and filled with Negro Modelo, an amber Mexican beer. “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome, sir.” He turned to the next customer and took his order. Grant flinched as the bartender raised a small machete over his head. The blade flashed down. With a deft cut he lopped off the top of a coconut. Grant relaxed his bunched muscles and watched in fascination. The barman proceeded to pour in shots of every clear liquor within his reach into the top of the coconut. Enough alcohol to plaster a Cape Buffalo. He inserted a straw and passed the drink to a customer.

  The other denizens of the bar cheered as another patron chugged a shot of the drink du jour. Tequila slammers. With a flourish the bartender would slam the shot glass on the bar, making the drink fizz, before it was passed over and downed in one gulp. Judging from the laughter around Grant quite a few coconuts and slammers had been consumed.

  Grant hadn’t taken the time to return to the room. He just entered the pool wearing his khaki sho
rts. The radio sat on the bar wrapped in his shirt. Everyone around him was positively jubilant. Who could blame them? This place was paradise. He wished he was here under different circumstances. In a different life.

  He studied the glass in front of him, the sweat dripping down its side beckoned him. One glass couldn’t hurt. He needed to fit in after all. He squeezed the lime into the dark brew and raised it to his lips. Pure ambrosia.

  After downing a healthy swallow he placed the mug on the bar. He turned in his seat to scan the pool area just as Jaime began to enter the pool. She wore a black one-piece bathing suit with a matching black and white wrap around her hips. It seemed the trip to the hotel gift shop had been a success. She spotted him and waved.

  She navigated the steps into the shallow water and waded toward Grant. As she drew closer he realized his gut was tensed so his stomach muscles would be visible. She sat next to him and looked him over, being unabashed about checking him out. Her eyes sparkled and a mischievous smile lifted the corners of her mouth.

  Grant felt heat rise in his cheeks. He had tried to keep himself in shape, as much out of necessity as anything else. But for a woman to notice it, a beautiful woman … well it was flattering. “You want something to drink? How about one of those big coconuts?” He inclined his head toward a man sucking the concoction through a straw.

  “Maybe later. I better just have a coke.” She cut her eyes at him again. “Better make that a diet coke.”

  * * * * *

  Tedesco sipped his beer trying to remain calm. This was his third Tecate, but he had surreptitiously poured them into the sand after only taking a couple of small swigs. He had a high tolerance for beer but he needed all his faculties about him. He patted the case on his lap, its feel reassuring. If it was stolen Alfred’s family would die. Underneath his Tommy Bahama short sleeve button down, the cold steel of the forty-five automatic tucked in his waistband provided very little assurance. The thought of having to use it galled, but until Alfred’s family was safe he would do what was necessary, whatever the personal cost.

  Tedesco tensed when a figure approached from the beach. He breathed a sigh and relaxed the white-knuckled grip on his mug. It was just a boy. The youngster had an Iguana perched on each of his shoulders. The creatures had skin of bright green and their long tails almost touched the ground. “You buy, senor? Good pet. Very good.”

  “No. No gracias.” Tedesco waved him off.

  “Just five-hundred pesos.”

  “No thank you.” Head hanging low, the boy turned away.

  “Wait,” Tedesco waved him back. “Here.” He handed over a twenty dollar bill.

  “Gracias. Muchos gracias, senor.” The boy’s face beamed and he held out the lizard.

  “No. You keep him.” Tedesco held his palm up in front of him.

  The boy nodded, smiling as he backed away to find another sucker.

  “You’re a kind hearted man, Ted. I mean, Jimmy,” Alfred said. “It’s going to take me a while to get used to calling you by your real name.”

  Tedesco forced a smile. As hard as it was on him to wait like this, time must be creeping for Alfred. They continued waiting in silence until a mariachi band began to play. During the first few notes of the song their wait ended. A man dressed as any other tourist, his almond colored skin the only hint of his ethnicity. At least until he spoke.

  The man joined them at the table and slipped into a chair. “Greetings senors.” His accent was thick. Senors came out like seeen-yors. “Where is the case?”

  Alfred remained silent. His eyes betraying a combination of dread and hatred.

  Tedesco leaned on the table. “We have it. Before we go further we need proof of life.”

  “We are businessmen. We will only kill Dr. Morgan’s family if it will benefit us. Right now it doesn’t. Give us what we want and we’ll return them unharmed.”

  “I’m sorry,” Tedesco responded. “That’s not good enough.”

  The man leaned forward. “You are in no position to barter. You are lucky we haven’t already killed them. We lost two men.” He held up two fingers. “Two. Some of my compradres were ready to slit the prisoner’s throats.”

  “You son of a bitch,” Alfred said. “If you hurt them I’ll … I’ll …”

  The smile vanished from the kidnapper’s face. “You’ll do nothing except what I tell you.”

  “Okay let’s calm down.” Tedesco reached to his lap and pulled out the case. “Here’s the deal. You take what I give. In this case is a sample of the cure and the formula to make the virus. Of course we have omitted a couple of key processes. You won’t be able to duplicate it without our help.” He leaned back in his chair and took a sip of beer. “Take it to your people. Then call me. I want to hear the voice of everyone in the Doctor’s family or no deal. We walk.”

  “We can just take it.”

  “Good luck with that. You try, I kill you. Period.” Tedesco leaned forward again and glowered at the little man, filling his vision with his bulk. “Besides. You know we’re not stupid enough to let you find it. I know you’ve been watching us. Are you willing to risk losing what you want?”

  “You drive a hard bargain, amigo.” The man spat the word amigo like a curse. He grabbed the case and stood. “I’ll get back to you.”

  Tedesco tapped his watch. “You better make it quick. I don’t hear from you by nine p.m. we disappear. The formula with us.”

  The man tilted his head, gave a two fingered salute, and walked away.

  * * * * *

  “I’ve placed the tracking device. Meet me in the parking lot.” Evans’ voice broke into the conversation between Tedesco and the kidnapper’s representative. Tedesco was being very persuasive.

  When the man stood to leave, Grant leaned in close to Jaime, just two lovers sharing an intimate moment. “The guy’s leaving now,” Grant whispered into the radio Jaime held near his mouth. “When he’s out of sight I’ll ease to the parking area.”

  As soon as the man strolled out of the pool area Grant stood. He leaned to kiss Jaime on the cheek. He had to keep up appearances after all.

  “They’re all yours,” he told her. “Keep an eye on them. Call me if you see anyone tailing me.” He grabbed his wadded shirt and the radio off the bar.

  “Watch yourself,” Jaime said.

  Something in her eyes made Grant feel she wanted to say something else, and they locked gazes for just a moment, but she didn’t say anything. As he turned to go she gripped his fingertips and gave a gentle squeeze. “I’ll be careful.” With an effort of will he forced himself to turn and wade out of the pool.

  FOURTEEN

  Grant mounted the pool steps and crossed the bridge separating the shallow end of the pool with the bar and the deep end. Once he reached a sidewalk it only took him a couple of minutes to reach the parking lot. When he arrived he scanned the area, searching for Evans. The majority of vehicles belonged to the hotel. An engine turned over and a faded green convertible jeep, with the top down, pulled out of a space behind a shuttle bus. Evans pulled next to Grant and he hopped in the passenger’s seat.

  They pulled out of the hotel onto Federal highway 200 and headed south. They left the northern hotel zone, passed through the downtown area known as the Malecon which featured the landmark Iglesia de Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe, the church of Saint Guadalupe. The area also featured a seaside boardwalk and Gringo Gulch, so named due to the numerous homes in the area owned by rich norteamericanos. They continued driving into the south hotel zone, past the romantic zone, and finally out of the city itself.

  Evans tailed their quarry using a GPS with map overlay mounted on the dash, allowing them to remain out of sight of the car they were following. With Banderas Bay on their right, they rolled down the highway for four or five miles and passed through the small village of Mismaloya. From the travel info Grant read, this little hamlet had been the setting of Night of the Iguana, the film which made the area famous and began its popularity in the early s
ixties. Since then scores of TV shows and movies had been made in the area, including one of Grant’s favorite action flicks, Predator.

  Once out of the village the scores of buses and taxis thinned steadily to the point that they were virtually alone on the road. The highway wended southeast away from the coastline and into the mountains.

  Evans removed his foot from the accelerator. “He’s slowing down.” The blinking dot stopped altogether then began to move west at a much slower pace than before. “Looks like he’s left the main road. This is probably it.”

  They allowed the man plenty of time to get out of sight before proceeding. While they attempted to locate the turn off the blinking dot stopped again, about a half mile off the road. They drove past a gated drive, equipped with cameras, and a keypad access panel.

  Grant pointed to a curve in the highway. “When you round the bend slow down and I’m going to jump out.” Grant grabbed a duffel bag from the back seat and placed it in his lap. “Is everything here?”

  Evans nodded but Grant un-zipped it anyway and dug through its contents. “All right.” He sealed the bag. “Give me six hours.”

  “I’ll head back to Mismaloya. That should still be in radio range, depending on how far you have to go in. I won’t be so conspicuous there. If I don’t hear from you I’ll head back this way. Meet you right here.” Scott pulled to the side of the road. “You sure you don’t want me to come.”

  “No. Not this time. I think this is a one person job. But thanks.” Grant stepped out of the jeep and it pulled away. He turned and sprinted away from the road into the jungle. As soon as he was out of sight of the road he stopped, set the duffel on the ground, and began to unpack, laying the items out beside it. Backpack, olive drab fatigues, hat, boots, GPS unit, camera, binoculars, canteen, his pistols, face paint. A case he pulled free contained a Heckler and Koch 911 semi-automatic rifle with a collapsible stock. He assembled the weapon and attached the scope. He pulled out the only item left in the bag, a ghillie suit. It was a pre-fab job of the type found in hunting stores. If he needed to don the suit to get close he would have to add some leaves and twigs from the local trees to make it more convincing.