Rage Of The Assassin (21 page)

“Which is?”

“Doesn’t matter what the trial name was. It might be just a string of letters and numbers now that it’s a finished product – I’d have to see the list in order to narrow it down.”

He edged nearer, a scowl creasing his face. She held his stare without flinching.

“Look,” she continued, “you’d have to understand how their system functions to know where it’s stored, and if you haven’t worked with it, you’d never stand a chance. I’m not inventing this. I could guess, throw out a list of possible names, but it would be just that – a guess, which might do you no good.” She hesitated, and when she spoke again, her voice was stronger. “So that leaves us at an impasse. You need me alive and cooperating if you’re to survive, and your little interrogation won’t achieve what you require.”

“Is that so? What if I think you’re lying?”

“Right. I’m willing to risk my daughter’s life to…to what? Protect the secrets of a company I don’t work for anymore?” She gave him a withering stare. “I want to live. I want my daughter to live. Which means I’ll have to help you – I get that part. Without me, you won’t find it.”

“Let’s say I believe you. I’d have to get into the plant, with you, correct? And you’d have to locate it in their system. How would you envision that working, exactly?”

“I don’t know. But there’s no way I’ll help you unless you set Courtney free immediately. You can keep me prisoner, but my daughter walks.”

El Rey shook his head. “That’s not going to happen. What I might be willing to do is let you both go once I have my shot. At that point I’d have no reason not to.”

“No. You could kill us both once you have what you’re after.”

“Why would I do that? What’s the logic?”

“You kidnapped my daughter. There’s no logic that applies to the kind of man who would do that.”

“Dr. Hunt, you’re smart. Think it through. I did what I needed to get your attention. I have it. If you’ll help me get the antidote, there’s zero reason I wouldn’t release you.”

“What if I went to the police?”

“Assuming I cared, which I don’t, you’d have to start with how you committed an act of treason, purportedly under duress, and got an enemy agent into a top-secret area. How do you think that would sit? Because I guarantee you that’s how they’ll view it. I’d be willing to bet they’d more interested in hanging you at that point than chasing me.” He shrugged. “Besides which, I’ll have vanished, so you’ll be the only one left to take down. Would you risk that? Maybe, but you’d be the one who’d have to be insane at that point.”

“Why should I trust you?” she asked softly.

“You don’t have any choice, do you?”

She studied him. “Your eye is twitching. If you’re going to have a running chance, you better untie me, because you don’t have a lot of time. Have you been cramping?”

“Some.”

“Trembling?”

“Yes.”

“Dizziness?”

“Comes and goes. Getting more frequent,” he admitted.

“Confusion? Paranoia?”

“That’s next.”

“Then there’s only one option, and we both know it – release my daughter, and I’ll help.”

He shook his head. “Out of the question. Help, and I’ll give my word you won’t be harmed. Neither one of you. That’s the best I can do. Now do you want to save yourself and Courtney, or do you want to play poker?”

Hunt closed her eyes and El Rey watched a complex array of emotions play across her face. He could understand what she was going through – she wanted to save her daughter and herself, but she’d be committing a felony doing so, and would have to believe that the man who’d taken them hostage would release them once he had what he’d come for.

Assuming they were even successful.

“What if we can’t find it?” she asked.

“Then we both lose.”

“No. I need a guarantee you’ll still release me.”

“Dr. Hunt, we’re wasting time I don’t have. I came into this prepared to do whatever it takes to get the antidote. I want you willing to do the same. If you want to see your daughter again, if you want her to have a shot at a long, happy life, you’ll stop trying to negotiate something and start trying to figure out how we’re going to pull this off. You’ve already heard my best offer.”

“And if I refuse?”

El Rey sighed. “Then I wind up cutting pieces off you until I’ve gotten at whatever’s in your head and I take my chances, because you’ll have left me with no choice. Your daughter will die in indescribable agony, and you will have made the decision to allow it. You could have saved both of you from a horrific fate, but chose not to.” He looked at his watch. “I’m done talking. What’s it going to be, Dr. Hunt?”

Chapter 35

Four hours earlier, Mexico City, Mexico

El Maquino spun at the sound of the intercom’s chime, alarmed at the intrusion. He thought rapidly and set down the drone he was carrying to move to the screen. He thumbed the camera to life and saw the faces of three of Aranas’s men, who he knew guarded his building and who’d successfully fended off the attack only minutes before.

“Yes?”

“Let us in. We need to get you out of here. Boss’s orders.”

El Maquino nodded and shut the intercom off. He’d known what was coming when he’d seen the gun battle.

Resisting the urge to go through his ritual with the light switches, he hurried downstairs and unlocked the door. The men pushed through and the leader gave him a hard look. “We’re running on borrowed time. The police will be here any moment. You need to leave.”

“I’m almost ready,” El Maquino said, turning and making for the stairs.

“You don’t understand. If they catch you–”

“I have the building rigged with explosives. I need to finish arming them or the police will find everything. That can’t happen.”

The leader and his men exchanged a look as the big man ascended the steps.

“You have one minute. No more,” he called after El Maquino.

Back in the loft, El Maquino worked quickly. He moved to his window and slid it open, and then returned to where he’d set down the drone and carried it to the aperture. He flipped a switch to activate it and smiled slightly when the motors engaged, and then it was off, flying away from the building.

The other two drones took only moments to put into action, and then they too were following the invisible signal he’d programed them to target. Satisfied that he’d done all he could, he walked to his bedroom, grabbed his go bag, and crossed the floor to the intercom again. He flipped up a small panel, revealing a keypad, and pressed in a four-digit code. Craning his neck, he nodded to himself when a hiss sounded from the kitchen – gas had begun to flood the rooms, and when the mechanism he’d designed sensed sufficient density of the explosive fumes, his loft would cease to exist.

He closed the door behind him and, after a rueful look at the deadbolts he didn’t have time to lock, rushed down the stairs to where the men waited. “I’m ready,” he said, and followed them out into the street to where a green van idled at the curb, its side cargo door open.

“Get in,” his escort said.

El Maquino placed his bag inside and climbed in, followed by the three men. The last slid the panel closed, and the driver gave the van gas. “Hang on,” he warned them, and took off down the street.

Sirens echoed in the distance as emergency vehicles headed toward the building, and the driver leaned forward as he drove, scanning the sky.

“No helicopters yet,” he said over his shoulder.

“They won’t be long. Let’s ditch this thing and get out of town,” the leader growled. “I don’t understand how they found him.”

“Neither do I,” the driver agreed. “But it doesn’t matter now, does it? Six dead cops will have all hell breaking loose. Roadblocks, searches, the whole nine yards.”

“You’re sure they were police?”

“Who else would it be? I’m just surprised they came in so light.”

“Is it possible they didn’t know what they were walking into?”

“I’d say that’s pretty obvious, wouldn’t you?” the driver sneered. “Either that, or we were lucky enough to be hit by the most incompetent squad in the city.”

“Where are we going?” El Maquino interrupted.

“Our priority is to get you clear. We’ll take care of ourselves. We’re taking you to a safe house. The boss will figure out what to do from there.”

The leader glanced at him. “What took you so long?”

“I told you. I was arming the building.”

“That’s all?”

“And finishing up a project. It’s not good to leave projects unfinished.”

The leader stared at him like he was mad. El Maquino leaned his head against the van wall and closed his eyes, his interest in any further discussion nil. His uncle would know what to do.

He always did.

Chapter 36

Cruz circled the district in his car, waiting for the cavalry to come over the hill. It was taking forever for backup to arrive, and he cursed Mexico City’s congestion, which added to the delay. He slammed his hand against the wheel in frustration. They’d made a major miscalculation on the operation, which had resulted in everyone but Cruz being slain – a fact that would weigh heavily on him at the men’s funerals, he was sure, even though he hadn’t made the operational assessment that had led to their deaths. But as the ultimate field authority, he bore full responsibility for the botched raid. Those men would have still been alive were it not for his idea to grab the driver without a substantial contingent of support troops.

Then again, there was no way he could have known that the surrounding buildings were hiding multiple gunmen. And he still didn’t know the answer to the key question: what had the driver been watching, day after day? Was it possible that Aranas was holed up in one of the apartments on that block? Earlier it hadn’t seemed likely, but now Cruz wasn’t so sure.

His radio crackled, and dispatch informed him that units were en route and would be at the shooting scene in a few minutes. Cruz acknowledged the communication and reported that he would return shortly to oversee the search of the area. That Aranas had been so close was frustrating, but it was a huge city, and the drug lord could have been anywhere, including in the car next to him. That was part of the logistics that worked against the police and benefitted the criminals, and it would do no good to rail against what he was powerless to change.

Sirens wailed through his open window and he made a U-turn. He was accelerating back in the direction he’d come when an explosion behind him blew chunks of asphalt through his back window, shattering it. He swerved, floored the gas, and zigzagged halfway down the block before stomping on his brakes and sliding to a screeching stop.

Cruz threw open his car door, pistol in hand, and scanned the street. Had someone thrown a grenade? Fired an RPG at him? The cartels had more than their share of both, pilfered from army bases or purchased from arms dealers who were more than happy to accept their money. But how had they pegged him? Had he been followed? Was he so shaken by the shooting that he wouldn’t have noticed?

He heard an odd whirring from above and squinted at the evening sky. Something was hovering no more than thirty yards over his head. He blinked and tried to make it out, and then took off at a run when he saw that it was dropping straight toward him.

Cruz ducked into a doorway and peered around the corner just in time to see the drone pause, hovering, and then accelerate straight toward him. He fired six times, and three of his rounds hit the aircraft, disabling it. The drone wobbled in the air twenty yards above the street and then pitched down and dropped like a rock until it crashed next to the sidewalk.

Cruz’s ears rang from the sharp report of his pistol. He pushed himself from the cover of the doorway as windows opened overhead, the explosion and gunfire having drawn the neighborhood’s attention. Cruz holstered his Glock and walked toward the drone, but froze when he heard the whir of multiple rotors overhead.

He sprinted away, moving as fast as he could, but a glance over his shoulder told him that the drone had locked onto him and was following at the same speed. It was tracking him.
But how?

He rounded the corner to test his theory and bolted down the street; sure enough, the drone made the turn behind him, accelerating. Cruz felt for his phone – it had to be his cell the thing was locked onto. How, he didn’t know, but that was the only item he was carrying other than his gun. He stopped by an abandoned lot half filled with trash and hurled his phone deep into the lot, and continued running a swerving course, just in case he was wrong.

The drone performed a balletic arc and dove straight at the middle of the lot. The explosion shook Cruz’s fillings and he heard screams from several of the open windows. He paused and drew his weapon, scanning the sky for more airborne threats. After a tense minute, he lowered his gun and walked back to the lot, where there was a crater ten feet wide and at least five deep. Smoke drifted from it and the surrounding debris like the aftermath of a bombing run – which he supposed it was.

He returned to his sedan as curious residents spilled from the doorways, and stopped by the car hood to make a short announcement. “I’m Captain Cruz, with the Federal Police. This street is now a crime scene. Don’t touch anything, and stay indoors until we clean it up. Do you understand?”

Heads nodded and fearful glances took in his gun. The population was accustomed to being ordered around by the police and the military, and nobody wanted to incur the ire of a Federale captain to satisfy their curiosity. The handful of spectators returned to their buildings as he stared at them with a face that could have cut glass.

Satisfied that he’d done what he could, he used the car radio to alert headquarters about the drone attack and settled in to wait for a field team to arrive, along with the bomb squad. His hope was that they could disarm the downed drone and identify something that would lead to its operator. He would have to forego directing the tactical team at the shooting site until backup arrived here, and he called in the change of plans before ordering the dispatcher to patch him through to Briones.