Russell Blake - Revenge of the Assassin

Rodriguez scowled and leaned to Stefan, murmuring for a few moments. Stefan whispered back to him. Rodriguez straightened up, and then addressed Cruz.

“I’ll see what we can do. This is highly irregular, and I can’t make a call on it without speaking with the director.”

“Either get him on the phone, now, or I will be calling my superior, who will be calling the president’s people. I don’t want to waste any more time. For all we know, this could be taking place today. Which reminds me — I’ll need a complete list of all the president’s scheduled appearances. If you can’t get that for me, I can get it from him myself. Frankly, it would look better from your end if you got it, because right now, to me it appears that you’re handing me a hot potato with the bare minimum of information — and that’s what my report will say. I’ve gone up against El Rey before, and I can assure you that if he’s in the country and gunning for the president, that’s as real and imminent a threat as if we just found a bomb under the president’s bed. Maybe more so. Now make the call, or I will,” Cruz demanded.

He’d had about enough of their ploy and didn’t have any reason to be nice. He also wanted to let them know he was onto their game and knew how to play it as well or better than they did.

More murmuring ensued, and then Rodriguez stood and excused himself for a minute while he made the call. Cruz stared at the two remaining men, who busied themselves scribbling cryptic notes. Five minutes later, Rodriguez returned with a sheaf of papers and a pen.

“You’ll need to read all of this, and then sign. It is our official secrets act, which will subject you to prosecution if you divulge the top secret information we give you to anyone. It’s mandatory, I’m afraid. Take your time going through it and feel free to ask me any questions that come up. But it can’t be modified, so you either sign it, or I can’t divulge the info you want. Sorry,” Rodriguez said in a tone that clearly suggested he wasn’t, and that he hoped Cruz wouldn’t sign.

Cruz took the pages and spent the next fifteen minutes poring over them. Finally, he signed.

“All right. Now who did you get this information from, and why do you believe it’s credible?” he asked.

“I will have it typed out for you so you have it in writing, and so you can acknowledge receipt of it. Once you’ve done so by signing a copy, you can ask any questions that come up.” Rodriguez nodded at Hector, who left the room.

A few minutes later he returned with two pieces of paper. Cruz signed one, and then read it. Three sentences.

“This is Aranas’ main arms dealer! We’ve been trying to nail him for years. He’s working for you?” Cruz asked incredulously.

“I wouldn’t say he’s working for us. He exchanges information when it is advantageous for him to do so. This was a particularly interesting piece, I think you’ll agree. He sourced the rockets used in the Juarez attack, and apparently he’s secured a few other items for Aranas that he believed were for the same contractor — El Rey . Aranas has known the arms dealer for over twenty years, and apparently let slip that the new president’s ongoing persecution of Sinaloa would soon be coming to an end. He believes it’s because of the assassin.”

“So this is an inference. He’s inferred that Aranas has hired El Rey to kill the president? He wasn’t told that he was…” Cruz clarified.

“It is an inference. Aranas didn’t come right out and say, ‘I’ve hired El Rey to take out the president’. But the arms dealer felt that was a very distinct possibility based on the discussions they’d had,” Rodriguez affirmed.

“Do you see the problem here? You have a snitch, who is trying to curry favor with you, who passes on a speculation that is highly suspect. I agree that it bears looking into, but it’s a far cry from confirmation of a legitimate threat. And what were the ‘items’? I came to you with far more compelling information than this, and you ignored it…” Cruz pointed out.

“Yes. And we were wrong to do so. That’s why the gentlemen who ran this operation are no longer in charge. As to the items, besides the three Russian rocket launchers, he got several radio-transmitter triggering devices, two types of plastic explosive, several fragmentation grenades, and a silenced pistol.”

“Hmm. The plastique and the radio-transmitters are ominous.” He pushed back from the table. “All right. When can I get the president’s schedule?” Cruz asked.

“I can e-mail it to you before the end of the day. It will take a few hours for the president’s staff to send it over. But you will have it just as soon as I do,” Rodriguez promised.

“Let me ask you a personal question. Why are you working with an arms dealer who is supplying weapons to the cartel thugs, when you know they’re going to use them to kill police, soldiers and innocent civilians? Help me understand that,” Cruz asked Rodriguez.

“I’m afraid I can’t answer that — it’s not part of your need to know. But if it’s any consolation, I find it as repugnant as you do,” Rodriguez said.

“I’m sure that’s a consolation to the families of those who get killed by the cartels, as well as the innocents who are slaughtered whole cloth.” Cruz glared at him. “One last question, and then I’m finished. Did the arms dealer have any idea of timing?”

“No, but based on what he was sensing, Aranas was behaving as though the crackdown on his cartel wouldn’t last much longer. I would consider that it is likely to happen sooner than later.”

“Have you briefed the president’s staff yet?”

“We felt you would be the best person to do so, seeing as your credibility on El Rey is high…” Rodriguez admitted.

Cruz folded the classified summary and put it into his shirt pocket, then stood and shook hands. He was still irritated by these spy types’ arrogant superiority, but he had to admit these three were better than the last bunch.

His car picked him up outside, and he sat in the back seat, lost in thought. If El Rey was gunning for the president, he knew that there was practically nothing on earth that would stop him. He still remembered his failure at the financial summit, and the quirk of fate that had saved the day. He didn’t think they’d be that lucky again.

Which meant that Cruz needed to begin a manhunt for El Rey and focus on protecting the president at all costs.

His day had just gone from lousy to miserable.

El Rey , back in action, going after the nation’s newly elected leader. And only Cruz standing in his way.

It didn’t get any worse than that.

“Lieutenant, what do you have for me?” Cruz called to Briones.

“We’ll be ready for you in the conference room in five minutes, sir,” Briones responded.

“All right.”

Cruz had called for daily staff meetings at the end of each day since starting the El Rey working group within his task force. He stood up, stretching. It had been a long afternoon, and for every step forward it seemed like they encountered another obstacle. Cruz moved to the coffee pot near the entrance of his office, and after pouring his fifth cup, walked through the maze of cubicles to the meeting room. When he entered, a dozen faces swiveled to greet him with worried looks. He didn’t waste any time with preamble.

“Have we narrowed down the possible public appearances? Which looks the most likely to be our man’s ideal scenario?” Cruz asked the room in general.

Briones cleared his throat. “For the last four days, we’ve been working with the president’s staff, and there are only two appearances that look good for El Rey . The first is a public speech on the steps of congress in two weeks, and the second is Easter Mass at the Mexico City Cathedral in three weeks. Obviously, the congress speech presents far greater danger due to it being open air for a fair amount of time, so that’s the one we’re focusing on.”