Blood of the Assassin (Assassin Series 5) (15 page)

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.

Five hours later, Cruz had gotten the itinerary and all the detail on the signing ceremony, and had forwarded it to
El Rey
at a blind account CISEN had created for his use. Thirty minutes later, Cruz’s phone chirped at him.

“I got it. I want to head over to look over the physical location. I know it well – if you recall, it was the site of my red herring bomb gambit,”
El Rey
said.

“Yes, I remember. Then you’re already familiar with the possible approaches.”

“Never assume anything. Things change, and there might be different avenues that he could exploit. I won’t know until I spend some time there. Probably today until it gets dark, then all of tomorrow.”

“What time are you going to be there?”

“I’m headed out right now. I’m notifying you as a courtesy, in the spirit of cooperation with CISEN. Frankly, you’ll be unlikely to spot anything I wouldn’t, so it’s purely a formality.”

“I still want to come. I’ll meet you at the main entrance in...forty minutes.”

“Don’t bring an entourage, and for God’s sake don’t wear your uniform – it’s a dead giveaway. For all we know he’s already here, watching every move at the facility. I would be.”

“Just you and I, then.”

The assassin grumbled, obviously annoyed, then acquiesced. “If you say so.”

Cruz dropped the phone back into his shirt pocket and re-entered the meeting he’d ducked out of and excused himself before going back to his office to change to civilian clothes. He’d brought a light duffle with pants and several shirts in case he needed to go incognito. He hurriedly changed, pulled his black windbreaker over his shoulder holster, and then moved to the bathroom to check his appearance before leaving. He hadn’t slept well, and the hangover from the cheap wine was lingering, and he looked it. Checking his watch, he quickly calculated that his car could have him at the site within twenty minutes.

The ride to the Congress building took longer than he’d expected due to a traffic accident, and he was five minutes late when he sprinted up the steps to the massive array of steel and glass doors. Congress wasn’t in session, so the area only had a few guards loitering around,
Federales
, but not the best-in-show by any means. Tourists climbed the long flight of wide stairs to have their pictures taken in front of the building, but Cruz didn’t see
El Rey
anywhere.

When his phone sounded, he nearly jumped. He stabbed it on and held it to his ear. “Where are you?”

“Behind you.”

Cruz slowly turned around, and watched as one of the doors opened and
El Rey
stepped out, waving at someone inside.

“How did you get in there?” Cruz demanded,
sotto voce
.

“I offered to help one of the maintenance workers with a box he was struggling with. It doesn’t matter. We can assume that the interior of the building will be swept – but we should still insist that the guards get beefed up, effective immediately, and any maintenance or custodial staff be checked on a daily basis to ensure there are no new employees. I would have the area blocked off from now till the signing, and put draconian security measures in place. It would be child’s play at this point to penetrate the building. Remember what I did at the cathedral. I posed as a maintenance worker at least a week before the event and stashed a grenade. Security never starts early enough, and that’s one weakness we can avoid.”

“A valid point.” Cruz made a quick call and relayed instructions to Briones, who assured him that he would contact the appropriate agencies to coordinate it. When he was finished, he squinted at
El Rey
.

“What else?”

“From memory, there are literally dozens of vantage points from which a sniper could shoot anyone on a podium on these steps. Over there, there, there, and there. Just to name a few. And the German is a seasoned long-range sniper, so it opens up hundreds of places. Which means you’ll have to widen the security perimeter to at least one kilometer on this side. Maybe more, just to be safe.”

“What? One kilometer? Do you have any idea how many thousands of people live and work in that large an area?”

“Probably a lot. But you can make the job simpler by being selective and only sequestering the buildings where you would have a direct line of sight. It’s still a huge area, but you can simplify your life by having the signing take place inside, and keeping the target off these steps. Then you’d only need to worry about the south side, near those doors, where he would enter the building.”

“Fair enough. I’ll alert the president’s staff.”

El Rey
had frozen, transfixed by something, and Cruz followed his stare into the distance.

“The metro station will need to be treated as a risk area. Personally, I would cordon off the entire Congress building grounds effective immediately and make it a high security area until the event is over. The more of the vicinity that’s off-limits, the lower the likelihood of a threat. You’ll also need to be on the alert for everything from contact poison on any surface the Chinese leader comes into contact with, to a gas attack, to an assault on the motorcade. Oh, and a helicopter from the airport to the Congress would be preferable to surface transportation. Otherwise the route is going to be a nightmare. What is it, about two and a half kilometers from the airport? Every inch of which could pose a threat.”