Blood of the Assassin - By Russell Blake Page 0,48
risk area. Personally, I would cordon off the entire Congress building grounds effective immediately and make it a high security area until the event is over. The more of the vicinity that’s off-limits, the lower the likelihood of a threat. You’ll also need to be on the alert for everything from contact poison on any surface the Chinese leader comes into contact with, to a gas attack, to an assault on the motorcade. Oh, and a helicopter from the airport to the Congress would be preferable to surface transportation. Otherwise the route is going to be a nightmare. What is it, about two and a half kilometers from the airport? Every inch of which could pose a threat.”
“All of this is threat reduction, not catching him,” Cruz observed, making a note with his Blackberry.
El Rey continued, ignoring the complaint. “The biggest problem with a chopper would be a surface-to-air missile strike, or some kind of sabotage of the craft, like a hidden explosive charge, or hidden damage to the rotors or engine. I know what I’m talking about – let’s just say I speak from experience.”
“You...when...?”
“It’s not important. But have all the maintenance staff checked and rechecked, and have the chopper gone over by explosives experts and mechanics looking for anything suspicious. And have the phone company block all cell phone use in this area until he’s on his plane back home.”
“Are you joking? That will impact millions of people.”
“So will having the Chinese leader shot on Mexican soil. Or did I get that part wrong?”
Cruz took a few steps away from the assassin and stood, pensive, studying the buildings across the highway, each one concealing a potential deadly threat. Even now the German could be watching, undetected, putting the finishing touches on a plan they were powerless to stop unless they had an unprecedented stroke of luck – something that rarely happened, he knew.
“I’ll also want to get a blueprint of the sewer system. I remember the last time I looked at this location that the sewers were a potential point of entry. I briefly considered a gas attack using the sewer system as a red herring, but then opted for the explosive device in the plant your men found.”
“My men didn’t find that – it was the security forces. They aren’t complete incompetents, you know,” Cruz corrected.
“Yeah. I know. Look at how effective they were at stopping me.”
Both men stood studying the area, minds lost on the imponderables involved in averting the crisis.
“You’ve had a chance to look this over. How would you do it?” Cruz asked.
“Every assassin will have his preferred technique. One of my strengths was that I wasn’t married to any particular one. I’d just as soon use a knife as a gun; a bomb as gas or poison. But our man is a shooter. Most of his attributed kills are with a sniper rifle – a shot, usually to the head. There’s probably some ego involved there. He likes the challenge, the difficulty of the impossible shot.”
“Then that’s a weakness we may be able to exploit.”
“Perhaps. But he’s also used an RPG to blow up a car, as well as a pistol, at least twice, and has strangled, stabbed, and used explosives. So while he may prefer a rifle, he’s flexible enough to alter his approach if circumstances dictate it. My hunch is that he’ll try for a rifle shot, though, at first blush. It’s just instinct, but if I was going to bet on it, that would be his method.”
“If you’re right then that would narrow things down, I would think.”
“Yes, to only the buildings within a thousand meters or so. Which as you pointed out is a huge number. I wouldn’t get celebratory quite yet.”
“I know. But it’s better than nothing.”
“True. Right now we have two advantages. First, we know what he’s planning – at least in a large sense. Second, he doesn’t know we know. But you can expect that he will sooner or later – he’ll have contacts either at Interpol or with the German police, and possibly also with the BND. He’ll get word that he’s been flagged, and then the real cat and mouse game will begin.”
Cruz shook his head, fatigue from the prior night slamming into him as the enormity of the job ahead loomed large before him. It was worse than a needle in a haystack or being struck by lightning. At least you could increase your chance of a lightning strike.