The Shaman: Book Two in the Dan Stone Assassin Series

by David Nees

  “In the fall,” Pérez said.

  “Let me know what you need for resources,” Hector said. “I know Don Jorge was generous and I want to continue the same way.”

  “That is good to know, Don Hector.”

  The small talk continued until a servant informed them lunch was ready. It was a sumptuous affair with champagne, fresh iced shrimp, carved duck, and small filets of beef. Brandied peaches, vodka infused pineapple and fresh fruits along with imported chocolates finished the meal.

  “So you are taking over the mansion?” Alejandro Pérez asked.

  “It is important for everyone to see continuity in our leadership. María was gracious enough to invite me to set up my residence and office here.”

  Alejandro looked over at María who smiled back at him. “I am sorry about what happened to Don Jorge. He was a great friend to us and was trying to make the business work without so much violence. Now he was the victim of it.” He was not sure about Ortega and wondered if this whole lunch was a false show of strength.

  “Thank you for your concern, Señor Pérez. I know my husband was in a dangerous business that sometimes got violent, but he always sought a better, smoother way.”

  “And that is what I am going to work for as well. It is the least I can do…carry on Don Jorge’s work.” Hector declared.

  “And so you support Don Hector in this?” Alejandro asked. He looked closely at her, measuring her response.

  “Yes I do,” María smiled again.

  Alejandro smiled back. The woman put up a brave front but something in her voice betrayed her. Still if she was a willing supporter of Hector, it would help him maintain control. That was the important thing for him and his boss: maintain control, which would keep the violence down and the money flowing.

  After the lunch, Hector and Alejandro moved into a small smoking room while María excused herself, and the aides went off to relax in the living room.

  “Can you control the other cartels Don Hector?” Alejandro asked when they were alone.

  “I can but I also need you to do your part.”

  “What is that?”

  “What you did for Jorge. I need you to help us and keep pressure on the other cartels that try to operate in your state.”

  “And the arrangements? They will continue?”

  “Yes. I have the details in Jorge’s books. You and your men will be paid as always. Just keep them in line. Don’t let them try to double cross me or try to find a better deal. I will be ruthless when it comes to challenges. I can’t afford any right now so there will be little warning if someone crosses me.”

  “No one will cross you. Just keep everyone happy.”

  “We have an understanding. But remember, you have to keep any investigations by the Centro de Investigación y Seguridad Nacional or Policía Federal under control.”

  The meeting ended by three in the afternoon. Hector and María saw the convoy off at the front door.

  Hector turned to María. “You did a good job. He is satisfied that things will go smoothly and I warned him of dire consequences if his people don’t obey orders.” He reached up and stroked her cheek. “It was nice to have you with me and to hear you voice your support. I hope you mean it.”

  “You will keep things together. I am grateful for that.”

  “Remember, I’ll do more than that. As we go along, if things go well, you will become a very wealthy woman. I’ll see to it.”

  She smiled at him. “I must go see to the children now. They are done with the tutors.”

  María turned to go. She could feel Hector’s eyes on her as walked down the corridor. How soon would he be coming around to her bed? A chill ran through her body.

  Dan arrived in Mexico City at 4:30 in the afternoon. His leg had started to bleed again. There was no way to elevate it to relieve the throbbing pain. He wanted to go to the Lomas de Chapultepec neighborhood where Rodrigo had said Jorge’s mansion was located. But when he got to the neighborhood he realized his dirty and battered pickup stood out in an uncomfortable way with all the new, expensive cars on the street. He made a quick decision and turned away from the area. He couldn’t risk attracting unwanted attention from the police which he surely would have done by cruising the streets. Dan had the address and knew where the neighborhood was. He would scout it later. What he needed to do now was find a place to stay and take care of his wound. He turned and headed back towards the central part of the city, slogging his way through the traffic.

  Chapter 43

  ___________________________________

  D an found a cheap hotel at the edge of the Doctores neighborhood, near Roma Sur. It was an area that tourists avoided and prices were cheap. Not a lot of questions would be asked and he wouldn’t attract any undue attention. In short, it was perfect for his needs. He was happy to finally be out of the traffic and out of the truck.

  The lobby was old and tired. The desk clerk looked bored. Dan limped up to the counter hoping the clerk would not notice the blood stain on his pants. He paid for a week’s stay in cash. After registering, he got directions to a garage where he could rent a space for the pickup on a weekly or monthly basis. Dan climbed the stairs and limped to his room.

  He dropped his bags on the floor and lay down on the bed. It was a relief to get his leg elevated. He lay still, letting the throbbing slowly subside. Just like to lay here for ten hours. He allowed twenty minutes and then made himself get up. After checking the bandage, he limped back down the stairs and drove to the garage. There he paid for a week of parking and left the truck in the garage.

  It was a three block walk back to the hotel. Dan was exhausted when he got back to his room. He stripped off his clothes and took off the bandage. The wounds looked angry. There was red around the entrance and exit holes. He wasn’t sure it was infected; there were no threads of red running from the damaged tissue. Could he risk cleaning the leg in the shower? Or were there bacteria in the water that would infect the injury? Dan knew the water system in Mexico City was not the cleanest. He lay back on the bed. I have to go out and find some more supplies.

  Dan needed more bandages, more gauze wrapping, antiseptic, clotting pads and something to wrap his leg that would strengthen it for the work to come. But first I need to rest. He relaxed. He would go out in a half an hour.

  An hour later Dan jerked awake. Damn. Got to get moving. He got up and put the last of his bandage supplies on his wounds, got dressed and went down to the check in counter. The clerk gave him directions to a pharmacy that carried medical supplies and Dan gave him a five dollar bill. Want to keep him happy.

  Dan limped out to the street and looked for a taxi. The street was crowded with locals; not many tourists went to this part of the city. Most people ignored him. A few touts were shouting out the attractions in front of the shops that employed them, trying to get anyone passing by to stop and enter. He finally was able to flag down a cab and gave the driver the address.

  At the pharmacy Dan found all the supplies he needed. They didn’t have any clotting pads but the antiseptic powder would help the wound to clot. Dan hoped time would be on his side and he would have less of a problem with the bleeding by tomorrow.

  Back at the hotel, he stripped again and this time got into the shower. The water pressure was not very good, but the water was warm. He let the water run over him, flushing away the dirt and grime from the last few days. He felt weariness in his body, deep in his bones, something he had never felt before. Am I getting old? The thought rose in his mind and he laughed out loud. Of course you are. Everyone is from the day we are conceived. We get older and older.

  He stepped out, toweled off, and, with the towel under his leg, poured a liberal dose of hydrogen peroxide on the wounds. It burned and foamed but Dan knew it was doing its work. When he was satisfied, he lay back on the bed, naked. The question is, are you too old? Not finished with your first mission and you’re already feeling old and worn out? He stretched. Fuck it. I’m just tired…and w
ounded. He put his hands behind his head and began to think about this final part of his mission as he started to relax.

  When he awoke it was dark. He was thirsty and hungry. There were only two bottles of water left in his pack. Dan drank them both. Now he needed food. He put new bandages on his wounds. They still were red, but the throbbing was gone. Probably start again when I start walking. He went downstairs and into the street. Within a block were four vendors selling food. Dan stopped at the one that smelled the best and ordered two meat and cheese burritos. The vendor had bottled water and Dan purchased six bottles from him.

  His hunger satiated, he looked around. He would have liked to walk the streets but his leg had already started to throb again. He needed to blend in with the city; he needed some new clothes. The dusty, dirty clothes he was wearing would stand out. He needed a car as well, something nice to blend into Mendoza’s neighborhood. Tomorrow. Tonight he needed to just sleep. He walked back to the hotel favoring his wounded leg.

  His rental of an upscale BMW sedan raised some eyebrows due to his disreputable clothes but his money convinced the agent. The car was clean, modern, and didn’t look overtly like a rental. Just the sort of nice vehicle one would find in Jorge’s neighborhood. He paid cash and had to put a thousand dollar deposit against damages. Wonder if I’ll see that back? He drove the BMW back to the hotel and arranged to park it in their short driveway. The car leant some upscale ambience to the place so the clerk allowed it was okay to park in the drive. The extra fifty dollar bill didn’t hurt to convince him either.

  Next Dan took a cab to Centro Histórico, a neighborhood full of tourists and shopping. He found a men’s clothing store and purchased two new pairs of slacks, a pair of sturdy shoes to replace his boots, and four casual collared shirts. He looked properly business casual. He could be a salesman or a security analyst and would fit in around the Lomas de Chapultepec neighborhood. He had shed the look of the desert and now blended into Mexico City. After getting dressed in his new clothes, Dan hailed a cab to take him to the Tepito district. Here he wanted to purchase some tactical clothing for his mission and replace his soiled desert gear.

  Tepito was almost a city unto itself. Many of the streets were covered over with canopies reaching out from either side to meet in the middle. Vendors shouted out their wares, touts proclaimed the delights of various bars and sex parlors. The stalls were filled with an abundance of clothes and shoes, all from China and other places in the Far East and probably all smuggled into the country. You could purchase anything including weapons. Dan knew the gangs did some of their purchasing here. The police patrolled the neighborhood but didn’t intrude on the illegal trade. They only kept public disturbances under control.

  He moved along the narrow, canopy covered streets with people jostling him. The odors from the many vendors competed with each other to fill the air with an exotic mix of cooking aromas. His senses were overwhelmed by the assault of the sounds and sights. He made multiple inquiries as he walked the labyrinth of streets. His questions were met with suspicion and no information. He was wandering, still asking where he could find some special clothing, when a large man came up to him and asked him what he was doing there.

  “I need some tactical clothing for an expedition,” Dan answered in Spanish.

  “What kind of expedition?” the man asked.

  “That is not important for you to know. I am not with any government or policía.”

  The man looked at him. Dan stared back, confident in his abilities, not afraid, even with his wounded leg. Maybe the man recognized something familiar in Dan, someone who knew how to operate outside of the law. He nodded.

  “Follow me,” he said.

  He led Dan through a back alley to a shop that was filled with tactical and camping gear including knives and other weapons, everything short of firearms. No one walking the streets would have found the shop, only those directed to it or with advance knowledge of its location. He purchased some black tactical pants, black shirt, sweater, and knit facemask and two twenty liter plastic jugs. After leaving the store, he found an electronics shop and purchased two more burner phones and a coil of 12 volt wire.

  Dan exited the warren of awning covered streets into the sunlight. It was still crowded, he was still in the Tepito district, but he felt he could breathe easier now that he was out in the open. He walked along, weaving through the people. No one made eye contact. They were all in their own private spaces as people do when they are in dense urban environments. The occasional tout would try to catch his eye with a shouted phrase or shaking some piece of merchandise in his direction. Dan just did as the others, avoid eye contact with them, and not change his pace. The buskers, playing their instruments, added music to the sound track of the scene. Dan stopped to drop a ten dollar bill into the violin case of one particularly talented young man.

  His limp increased as he walked towards the wider streets where he hoped to catch a cab. He continually scanned the crowd out of cautious habit. No one looked back but he registered most of the faces as he limped along. Then his eyes passed over an old woman. She was standing across the street from him. Her stare halted his scanning. She was looking straight at him. Not just looking but seeming to see into him. Her eyes were intense. They were dark, almost black, but they shone like they were lit on fire. He had the uneasy feeling she knew who he was and why he was in Mexico City.

  When she had Dan’s attention, she dipped her head slightly and started walking. She was only about five feet tall, wrapped in a shawl over a dark skirt. The shawl covered her black hair. She had the prominent, sloped Mayan nose barely mixed with Indian traits and without any trace of the conquistador’s blood in her. Dan could not take his eyes off of her. He watched the woman shuffle down the street. Dan walked forward, in the same direction but on the opposite side of the street. She stopped occasionally to look back, directly at him, as if to make sure he was following. After a block and a half, she stopped at a narrow alley and turned to look at him. When their eyes locked, she nodded to him and stepped into the alleyway. The gesture seemed to be an invitation.

  He walked forward until he was across from the alley. It was narrow and dark. Not inviting after the sunshine of the larger streets. He could see the woman walking slowly with her stooped shoulders. Did she know who he was? She acted as though she did. He paused. She had deliberately made eye contact with him in a way that was clearly purposeful and now seemed to be inviting him to follow her. To what end?

  His mind jumped between caution and intrigue. So many strange things had happened to him in Mexico, but he couldn’t deny the events. They had saved his life; they were too real to dismiss. Was this another encounter he should experience, or a trap? Then Dan remembered. Tlayolotl had spoken of an old woman in Mexico City who would help—a Watcher like himself. Dan crossed the street and followed after her.

  Entering the alley, he was immediately in deep shadows from the buildings. It took his eyes a second or two to adjust before he could see the woman. He was on high alert. The alley was confining and there were so many places for an ambush. The woman stopped at a door and turned again to him. Her eyes were just as fierce in the dark shade as they were in the sunlight. They focused directly on him. Then she turned and entered the door and disappeared.

  Dan paused at the entrance. Should he go in? He’d already gone down a rabbit hole out in the desert and found Tlayolotl. Was this more of the same? There was no one who could give away his mission except Rodrigo and he was probably on the run by now. Besides, Rodrigo wouldn’t know where Dan would be in the city. Dan hadn’t given away any of his plans; in fact he didn’t have any formed when he left for Mexico City. How did anyone know where he was? Was this the woman Tlayolotl had spoken of? There was only one way to find out; Dan opened the door and pushed into the dark room.

  He stood still as his eyes adjusted to the even dimmer light in the room. It was square, about twelve feet by twelve feet. There was a wooden floor that creaked as he shifte
d his weight. At the back was a hallway leading further into the building, to what, Dan had no idea. There were no windows facing out onto the street. The woman sat in a chair at a table in the far right corner of the room. The small overhead light on the ceiling cast a dim glow in the room and left dark shadows in the corners, but Dan could see the woman. Up close her gaze was even more penetrating than it had been on the street. It was as though she was looking through him. She motioned for him to come over and sit down.

  “Sit here. I want to talk to you.”

  Her Spanish sounded odd, difficult to understand. Her dark eyes continued to burn into him. They were black as midnight and seemed to glow. He went across the room and sat down opposite her on a wooden chair. There was an uncomfortable silence between them.

  Finally he asked, “Do you know me?”

  “I know who you are.”

  “How did you find me?”

  “I knew when you came into the city. After, I searched and found you.”

  “But here? How did you know I’d be here, on this street?”

  “You ask many questions. Questions not needed.”

  “Did Tlayolotl tell you?”

  She ignored his last question.

  “I know why you are here. You are to strike deep into the darkness and shatter it. This is what is important. Pay attention.”

  Dan nodded and didn’t speak.

  “I am a Watcher, like Tlayolotl. I saw the darkness grow here in Mexico City. It is centered at the mansion. The man who took over the mansion wants to increase the dark and overcome what you did in the desert of Chihuahua. Your strike here will defeat him.”

  “So I’ll be successful?”

  She didn’t answer him.

  “How many of you are there?”

  The woman continued to look at him without answering.

  “I mean ‘Watchers’. How many of them are there?”

  “Still the questions that do not matter.”