Russell Blake - Revenge of the Assassin

Cruz waved it away with a curt gesture. “Don’t be ridiculous. The job is dangerous enough without demanding that you try something that would get you killed. I wouldn’t have done it, either. That’s the difference between being the cornered rat, and being the cat,” Cruz said.

They continued the discussion, moving to the practical logistics of getting maximum coverage of the images they had of El Rey , but the atmosphere remained uneasy as the afternoon wore on. Neither said anything more about Briones’ chance at getting El Rey .

Neither had to.

Both knew Cruz would have jumped.

When Cruz made it home that evening, Dinah was making pasta for dinner — chicken piccata with linguine. He went to the bedroom, changed out of his uniform, and returned a few minutes later wearing sweat pants and a white linen short-sleeved shirt. He obligingly took plates out of the cupboard and set the table, then uncorked a bottle of white wine — after Dinah forbade him a draught of the wine she’d bought to cook with.

He poured them both healthy glasses, and they ate contentedly as he inquired about how her day had gone. She seemed on edge, and Cruz wondered whether it was a return of the anxiety she’d experienced after getting out of the hospital, but it gradually receded as she ate and consumed her wine. He was relieved — even after as many months together as they’d spent, he still didn’t have a clue what was going on inside her head most of the time.

The conversation eventually turned to his day, and he gave her a rundown of the operation and its ultimate failure.

“You were that close, and he got away? He sounds like some sort of devil,” she commented.

“Tell me about it. Briones is convinced he has wings, like a bat. I went up on the roof myself and looked at the pursuit path, and he made a jump most wouldn’t have tried. It’s frustrating. I feel just like I did last year, when we were on his trail. He’s always three moves ahead of us. If I recall, that didn’t end well,” Cruz complained.

Dinah knew all about the attempt at the summit.

“I’d say that some good things came out of it. You and I wouldn’t be together if not for that.”

“Yes, but I don’t want to even think that we’re a couple because of El Rey . Although I suppose I do have him to thank for something…” Cruz acknowledged before sipping more of his wine.

“How did you know he was going to be there?” Dinah asked in a neutral tone, struggling not to show how desperate she was for the information. Her heart ached that she had to mislead him like this, but there was no other option.

Cruz hesitated, and then told her a partial truth.

“It was a tip from one of the other agencies. They’d picked up some chatter, and we got lucky,” he dissembled.

“Another agency? Who? I thought you were the El Rey experts. Is there more than one group hunting him?”

“CISEN. The intelligence agency. They got the lead and handed it over to us.”

“CISEN! What are they doing involved in this?” Dinah fought to keep her voice under control.

Cruz finished his glass of wine and strode into the kitchen to get the bottle, carrying their dishes in and placing them in the sink before he returned and refilled their glasses. He took a large mouthful, swishing it around in appreciation.

“Mmmm. This goes down easy. You may have to lock up the cooking wine. There’s no telling what I’ll do after two glasses of this stuff,” he said, changing the subject.

Dinah smiled. “I’ll see if I can think of something,” she said suggestively. “But you never finished your story. What about CISEN? I thought they were only international operations…”

“Typically they are. But somehow they tripped onto information about the assassin and a plot to kill the president, so they brought it to me. Mostly to set me up for a big fall if he succeeds, I think. They still seem a little testy over having half their top brass fired.” He took another swallow of wine. “This way they can say they passed on everything, and if he’s successful, I am the one who failed.”

“But that’s not fair. What about the president’s guard? His security detail? Surely they would be more accountable for the president’s safety than you.”

“It’s true, but if the assassin manages to kill the president, everyone will be looking for someone to take the blame. CISEN will point the finger at me, and so will the president’s staff. All roads will lead to me — the head of the task force that failed to prevent it.” Cruz shrugged. “It may not be fair, but the world’s not fair. There’s no use complaining about it. I simply need to find this invisible man and take him out of commission, with no new information and no leads to go on. Piece of cake.” He took another pull on his wine and winked at her playfully.

“Romero, this sounds serious. What are you going to do?” Dinah said with concern.

He sighed. “What can I do? The plan is to get his photo everywhere to turn up the pressure, and hope he slips up or someone recognizes him. We’re going to offer a half million dollar reward for information leading to his capture. Hell, for that kind of money most of the city will be mounting a manhunt.” He finished his second glass of wine and regarded the empty bottle wistfully. “It hasn’t been my favorite day ever, mi Corazon . I just want to put it behind me.”

Dinah reached across the table and took his hand, her eyes moist. She finished her second glass and stood, gently pulling him in the direction of the bedroom.

“I can help.”

Dinah called in sick with the flu the next morning and stayed in bed until Cruz had left. After waiting a few minutes to ensure he wasn’t going to return for some forgotten item, she did a hasty search of his office and then rushed to the shower and hurriedly rinsed off before gathering her notes and sealing them in a small envelope. She donned jeans and a silk blouse and then called Cruz’s office to tell him she was going to run to the pharmacy to get some medicine. She knew he wouldn’t be there yet, but wanted him to know she’d gone out in case the officers watching the building mentioned it.

On the ride down the elevator her stomach churned at what she was about to do. It was tearing her apart to pass this kind of information to her fiance’s nemesis, but she could see no other way out. One thing had become apparent from their discussions. El Rey ’s reputation as the most dangerous man in Mexico, if not the world, was deserved, and she had little doubt that he’d make good on his promise to kill them both if she strayed. It wasn’t a risk she could take.

She repeated her trip to the large department store and sighed a breath of relief when she’d stuffed the envelope in the hiding place. As she walked out of the store, she decided she should go to the pharmacy at the end of the block — not that she believed Cruz had an iota of doubt about her, but it was a loose end. She rummaged in her purse for the cell phone El Rey had given her and made a furtive call, letting the phone ring three times as agreed and then disconnecting. There was no need to speak. He would know what it meant.

As she walked along the bustling sidewalk, the eyes of her bodyguard boring through her back from a hundred yards behind, she wondered what she had become. The letter she’d hidden contained two items — a single page summary of her discussion with Cruz, and a copy of a top secret document she’d found in the bottom drawer of his desk that morning, under a pile of monthly expense sheets.

After skimming it, she’d powered on the copier and carefully made a duplicate, then replaced it in the exact position she’d found it. A wave of guilt had washed over her as she checked the copy for legibility. If Cruz found out about this, he would be crushed. Then again, Cruz might be willing to tackle El Rey head on. But she wasn’t.