Blood of the Assassin - By Russell Blake Page 0,37
a look of fury, hurt, and...something else. Revulsion. A part of him died when he saw it, but it was unmistakable – and, he supposed, understandable. But how to proceed from here? He couldn’t tell her the truth. Not when she was like this.
“So help me, if you don’t tell me what’s going on, I will flip out. I mean it. Don’t test me on this.” Her voice had an edge, as well as a tinge of hysteria. She was barely holding it together, the revelation of the assassin’s escape from justice eating at her even as she cast around for an object to hate – Cruz being the obvious, closest target, in spite of his protestations.
Had he grown so inured to constant compromise, living in a no-man’s land of moral ambiguity, that his own outrage had been blunted to this degree? Her reaction brought back all of his emotions when he’d heard that the assassin would walk, a free man, untouchable. He’d had the same response, but had buried it, choosing to be pragmatic rather than righteous. Had that been cowardice or prudence? he wondered, watching Dinah pace. Had he just seen too much, made too many pacts with the devil, lived in a brutal purgatory of sin and corruption so long that he’d lost any moral barometer he’d ever had?
Something snapped inside of him. He was done with the subterfuge. If she wanted the truth, she would have to deal with it, just as he had been forced to. She would get what she wanted, even though the reality of their situation might destroy anything they had.
“Honey, why don’t you come over here and sit down. I’ll get you a glass of wine. You’re going to need it,” Cruz offered, gesturing to the couch.
“Don’t honey me. Just spit it out. What the hell is going on here? What could possibly be worse than my father’s killer walking away scot-free?”
“Fine. Then I’m going to have one. And please, try to remember that I haven’t done anything bad or wrong. I didn’t decide to let the assassin loose. I didn’t pardon him. None of what I’m taking the hits for from you was anything I had control over.”
“That’s not true. You could have put a bullet in his skull when you captured him,” she said contemptuously.
“Dinah. That’s not the job. I’m not the judge and executioner. I’m supposed to catch them, not catch and then kill them,” he said, padding to the kitchen in search of a glass.
“Maybe you should change the job description.”
“Don’t think it hasn’t occurred to me.” Cruz opened the refrigerator and extracted a bottle of white wine, uncorked it using his teeth, and poured his glass half full before returning to the living room, where Dinah was waiting, glaring at him like he’d just killed her puppy. “I really wish you’d sit down. You’re making me a little crazy with the nervous energy.”
“Deal with it. Now tell me what else is happening.”
Cruz exhaled with a groan and contemplated where to begin. “There’s going to be an assassination attempt in eight days,” he started.
“Another one? How many times are they going to try to kill the president in any given year? Doesn’t he have his own security team to protect him?” Dinah demanded.
“Yes, he does, but it’s not going to be against him. It’s another dignitary. But it’s almost as bad.”
“That’s where you’ve been all evening?”
“Yes. In a planning session. But you’re really not going to like the rest of this. First off, I’ll probably have to spend most of the next eight days in the office. Every minute will count in foiling this plot.”
She digested that. “So I’m not going to see you for a while, is that it?”
“Sort of. As part of the assignment, I’ve been ordered to work with CISEN on stopping the assassin.”
“CISEN. I thought you hated them.”
“I do. And never more than today. They’ve assigned me a specialist I have to work with on this operation.” He paused, waiting for it to register. “It’s El Rey. He works for CISEN now.”
“What! Are you all insane? The man is an animal – a vicious killer. He’d just as soon cut your throat as shake your hand. What are you thinking? You can’t do it.”
“I told them I wouldn’t. And they said I had to. It came from the president’s office. I still refused, and they threatened to fire me.”
“Fine. Quit. Take your pension and go do something else. One of those security things