Return of the Assassin (Assassin Series 3) (16 page)

The villa was perched near the tiny town of La Libertad, in the mountains that formed the natural border between Guatemala and Mexico. It had its own private road, situated on a steep hillside, and was large – about five thousand feet of construction under roof. That was consistent with the description Paolo had given him, and he’d told the assassin that the number of guards varied between eight and twelve, depending upon whether
Don
Aranas was in town or not.

Getting across the border with the necessary equipment wouldn’t be a problem that he could see – there were ample smuggling trails weaving across the hills and through the jungle, so a well-equipped ATV could make short work of the twelve miles from the Mexican side. The information that had come in from Hector on the state of the border was also reassuring – in Mexico, there were army patrols, but in Guatemala there was virtually no regular monitoring. The smuggling and human traffic tended to move from south to north, so Guatemala had little to fear, whereas Mexico was routinely inundated with refugees seeking a more prosperous life than to be had in their home country’s destitution – Guatemala was one of the poorest nations in an already spectacularly poor region.

If he could set up a staging area and get properly outfitted, he estimated that, moving at night, he could cover the distance from the nearest border point in two to three hours, depending upon the trails. To be safe, if he departed Comalapa, in Chiapas, Mexico, at nine, he could be at the villa no later than two to three a.m..

He liked the flexibility of an ATV for travel – even the hardiest four-wheel drive vehicle would get left in the dust by a skillfully-piloted ATV, and it gave him the option of staying off roads. His other issue was more fundamental – he hadn’t given much thought to taking out the eight guards – that was something he was comfortable dealing with. No, his problem was that he didn’t want to tell Hector exactly where the villa was, so he needed to misdirect the government. The last thing he wanted was for the president to launch a commando raid, damn the political consequences, rendering his usefulness at an end. For self-preservation, he wanted an edge, and keeping the Mexicans fuzzy on the location other than to say it was somewhere in northern Guatemala was the prudent course.

Now he just needed the booster shot and to make some secondary preparations for his return from Guatemala – it wouldn’t be a great idea to let the Mexicans know exactly where he planned to come out because there was nothing stopping them from grabbing the girl once he’d successfully rescued her and leaving him to die. Perhaps they would be honorable, or not, but he didn’t like his odds without an incentive for them to do the right thing. Recognizing that human nature wasn’t favorable in that regard, he’d come up with a devious mechanism to ensure they lived up to their side of the bargain.

When Hector called,
El Rey
wasn’t surprised by the response.

“Okay, you win. We’ll give you the booster. When are you thinking you’ll go in?”

“Tomorrow night, if you can get me a few odds and ends I’ll need. Nothing too exotic.” He gave Hector the short list. Extra fuel for the sound-deadened ATV he’d requested, a silenced assault rifle, a sniper rifle with night vision scope and silencer, a silenced pistol, sundry grenades and explosives, night vision goggles. Another half dozen small items rounded it out. He described his plan for entry into Guatemala in broad strokes and wanted to wait to notify the army until the last possible minute.

“We’ll shut down patrols for three hours along the border while you are slipping across. That will ensure you aren’t disturbed on the Mexican side riding an ATV bristling with weapons,” Hector said.

“That’s probably best. And we can sort out the return once I’m successful in rescuing her – there’s no telling whether it will be one day or three from when I go in.”

“But you’ll give us plenty of notice, correct?”

“Of course. Now, one other logistical issue we haven’t really discussed. The antidote. Assuming I pull this off, how can I know that you have given me the proper shot?”
El Rey
demanded.

“I figured you’d get around to asking. The doctors tell me they can do a blood draw before and after. There is a trace protein that will be elevated until you get the antidote, but it will recede to normal range within eighteen to twenty-four hours. The protein is a marker that corresponds to the action of the neurotoxin. We’ll do a pull before, and then after, and put your mind at ease.”

“I have a few further conditions. First, I need to know the chemical composition of the toxin, so I can verify with my sources that it would behave the way you say. Second, I want my blood drawn today and analyzed by a third party lab in Culiacán while I’m still here, so I can verify the elevated protein level for myself. Results can be faked – I can wait while they do the analysis locally. I know of a few laboratories that have spectrum analyzers. Would it show up on one of those?”
El Rey
asked.

“I think so. I’ll have to ask. I’m not a physician. As to the rest, I think we can accommodate you. I’ve been assured that creating an antidote on your own, regardless of your resources, would be impossible given the custom-tailored nature of the neurotoxin, so they don’t mind me telling you enough about it to verify we aren’t misleading you. But I’ll have to ask specifically what test to run on your blood, and whether it can be done by a lab there.”

“Fair enough. When will I hear back from you?”

“Give me an hour. As to the equipment, I’ll give your shopping list to the appropriate people. Where would you like it delivered?”

“Comalapa. Chiapas. With any luck, I’ll be there tomorrow night.”

“
Mi amor
, what’s wrong. It’s like you’ve been somewhere else all through dinner.” Dinah regarded Cruz with concern.

“Oh, it’s just work. I smell a rat on this whole
El Rey
situation but I’m powerless to do anything about it. My hands are tied,” Cruz explained.

“Your instincts are usually right, though, aren’t they?”

“Mostly,” he conceded.

There was an uncomfortable silence. Neither had forgotten the difficulty of moving past the apparent betrayal from only a few months back. The wound was still fresh, and both were taking care not to aggravate the fragile accommodation they now had. For that reason, shop talk had been rare. It was still too close to home.

“I just hate to see you like this.”

“Tell me about it. Every ounce of experience I have says that there is something wrong about this escape, and now that it’s been pulled, I’m wondering whether it’s because we were getting too close to some truth we aren’t supposed to know.”

“The good news is that it isn’t your problem anymore, right?”

“Well, yes. But you know me well enough by now. Sometimes it’s just hard to let go.”

Dinah abruptly changed the subject. “Only a few more months until I’m Mrs. Cruz. Do you want to know how the preparations are going?” she asked innocently.

Cruz instantly recognized that he’d been unforgivably indifferent about the wedding lately. He was so caught up in his own drama he had nearly forgotten one of the most significant days of his life.

“
Corazon
, I’m so sorry. Yes, of course I want to know. Tell me everything. Leave nothing out. Tell me about the decisions you’ve made, about the dress, the ceremony, all of it.”

“I’ll spare you the minutiae. I have a dress I found that I’m having altered. We can do a simple church ceremony with only close friends, and then the civil at the reception, which we can have at my friend Lola’s restaurant. She’ll close off the back area, in the courtyard, and we can have drinks and food there. Only twenty-five people. Which reminds me. You still owe me your list…”

Cruz grimaced. “I don’t really have anyone. Maybe Briones?”

It was true. His family had been killed, his parents were dead, and the only people he had contact with were from work. And because of his rank, there weren’t a lot of friendly relationships there – he kept to himself and was always strictly business with his associates.

“That’s a start. One guest for your side of the table. Start thinking,
mi amor
. You’ll need at least three or four more so it doesn’t look like I’m marrying a sociopath or a hermit.”

“I’ll tell Briones to bring a date. Now I’m down to three…”

She gave him a mock glare. “I can see this is going to be harder than I thought.”

“On the bright side, I love Lola’s place, and her food is great, so at least we won’t starve.”

“
Ah
. What am I going to do with you? Honestly. Start thinking of who else you want. We’re out of time, so you have one week,
Capitan
. After that, I’ll start inviting people from your work myself, and then you’ll have people you can’t stand sitting beside you,” she threatened.

“I’ll do my best. Really.”

~

Deep blue water sparkled like glass on the leeward side of the island. There was no surf to speak of due to the wind direction and the currents, and the white sand of the pristine beach was cinematic perfection. A magnificent white Mediterranean-style home sat thirty yards above the shore on a bluff. The elegant structure occupied the entirety of a point that jutted to meet the sea, ensuring complete privacy from unwanted scrutiny. Stone stairs hewn into the rock face led from the main deck to the private cove, where three men loitered beneath a large canopy, their weapons leaning against their chairs.

Guanaja Island, off the coast of Honduras, was one of
Don
Aranas’ many cherished retreats, where he could stay for a week at a time without fear of being disturbed. The property had cost him many millions, but the presence of an accommodating airport with compliant customs officers counted for much, as did the understanding stance of the local government and his ability to buy most of the surrounding land, ensuring that he had his treasured privacy.

He’d had to ship in all of the materials for his seven-thousand-foot home to the island, preferring a concrete and cinder block structure rather than the ramshackle wood houses the locals preferred. One of Guadalajara’s top architects had contrived the design, with his crack team of engineers overseeing the construction, which had drawn skepticism from the few locals who had ventured past it in skiffs while it was being built. The end result was world class and had survived storms that had flattened many of the surrounding dwellings, so his prudence had paid off.

His cousin Domingo stepped onto the covered terrace, where Aranas was savoring chilled fruit juice as he checked his investment portfolio online.

“Yes?” Aranas asked.

“We have confirmation from our contacts in the police in Culiacán.”

“And? Spit it out.”

“Paolo is dead. They are trying to keep a lid on it, but it looks like a raid got everyone in the compound. I’ll know more in another few hours.”

Aranas flipped the screen on his laptop closed with a snap.

“What? How can that be? He had an army there…”

“My sources say that it has the stink of Los Zetas on it. Too soon to know for sure, but that’s the rumor going around the station. The
Federales
are keeping everyone away, but you know how that works. People talk.”

Aranas gazed into the azure distance as he absorbed the news. “If this is true, I want the earth scorched. I don’t care what it takes. Find me a target – no, find me a captain of equal standing, and I want him taken out. See what we have on Isidro Lucio. If this was Los Zetas’ work, he had a hand in it, so that’s as good a place as any to start. I want him dead. Him, his family, his workers, everyone he knows. I want his head on a pike and his body left in the middle of a street, where it will be found like a dog.”

“It won’t be easy to locate him.”

“I didn’t say pick the easiest target, did I? If they are going to come into my backyard and kill one of my top men, then it’s an eye for an eye. Pay whatever. Someone will know something. But this is personal. Treat it as such.”

“Of course,
Jefe
. But should we wait until we have confirmation?”

Aranas sighed. “Yes. But I have a bad feeling about this. It couldn’t be anyone but them. Nobody else has the ability to take on a force like Paolo’s. He was extremely careful, and they were some of the best. No, I smell Zetas all over this.”

“Could it be a double-cross by the government?” Raul speculated.

“What would killing Paolo accomplish – and isn’t it more their style to trumpet a successful strike against a major cartel figure? We’ve seen none of that. No, my sense is that with the girl in our possession, we own them. They’ve already begun moving against Los Zetas – you saw the news about the explosion at the suspected meth lab in Mexico City. That would have never gotten off the ground two months ago.” Aranas grunted. “Don’t get me wrong. We should trust no one, but so far, to me it looks like the government tide has turned against our enemies. We’ve seen no raids or shipments intercepted in the last three or four days. If that continues, and I expect it will, then actions will show that we’ve forced the president to honor his commitment.”

“There’s another problem. One of succession to Paolo’s position. There are three potential candidates, and they’ll start killing each other if you don’t make your wishes known.”

“I know. I’m thinking Jose Antonio would be the best. He’s the most mature, and Paolo trusted him implicitly.”

“Should I make that official? Put out the word?”

“Bring me the cell phone and I’ll call him first, as well as the other two contenders. I don’t want a bloody turf war over pecking order at this point. I think I can nip that in the bud with a few well-chosen words.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“As do I, Domingo, as do I. Now get the phone, and then go see what you can find out and start putting out feelers on Isidro. Paolo will be avenged, one way or another.”

Aranas reached to the little table in front of him and snatched a piece of banana off the fruit plate, popping the small slice into his mouth.