Blood of the Assassin - By Russell Blake Page 0,93
The purple discoloration on her face had faded to ochre, but she didn’t want to be seen in public, and he didn’t blame her. The doctor who had come the day after her rescue had advised her to ice it and to rest in bed, and she’d taken his instructions to heart. Thankfully, she didn’t want to discuss Cruz’s assignment or his working with El Rey – not that she seemed any more positively disposed towards the assassin since he’d saved her life, but rather because she knew it was a fait accompli. Now a precarious cessation of hostility was in effect, and life had returned to a tranquil pace, with no discussion of what had transpired while she’d been held captive, or about their future long-term plans.
Cruz gazed through the car window as the driver beat a path to headquarters, his mind preoccupied by the innumerable details of the search so far, none of which amounted to much. The security force had deployed countless advance personnel; the president had agreed to hold the signing indoors rather than on the Congress steps; the Chinese had approved a helicopter to transport their leader from the airport; and the most comprehensive precautions in Mexico’s history had been put into place, every subcontractor entering the meeting hall having been investigated and the maintenance and security staff thoroughly vetted, and a new system requiring all entrants to pass through a metal detector having been deployed.
They were doing everything they could, and yet he had the sense of spinning his wheels, which was reinforced each time he met with El Rey. They would listen patiently to the reports, consider all the available data, and then exchange a worried look. Neither believed for a second that any of it would be adequate to stop a committed killer, and the best they could hope for was to deter him – the German wouldn’t pursue the hit if he didn’t have a clean way to escape. He was doing this for money, not ideology, so he would want to live to spend it. The punt strategy they’d arrived at was to make it almost impossible for anyone to take a shot at the target, and if they managed to, completely impossible to do so and not get caught.
It wasn’t perfect, but it was the best they had.
When the car coasted to a stop inside the headquarters parking structure, Cruz groaned as he climbed from the back seat, and made a mental note to stop doing that. It was becoming habitual, more a clue as to his state of mind than a sign of any particular physical discomfort.
In Godoy’s office he found the pomp strangely reassuring, the consistency mildly grounding for him. The receptionist was typically snotty, Godoy’s assistant an ass, as always, and Godoy, once he’d forced Cruz to sit doing nothing for fifteen minutes in his antechambers, as artificial and condescending as ever.
“Capitan Cruz. Very nice to see you again. I’ve taken the liberty of asking our colleague at CISEN to join us so that we’re on the same page,” Godoy said, scrawling something of no doubt huge importance on a sheaf of stationery – his grocery list, or perhaps he’d taken up poetry.
“My pleasure,” Cruz responded in obligatory fashion, his tone making clear the lie.
Godoy made an elaborate display out of checking the time on his gleaming, patently expensive watch. “Our associate should be here any moment. In the meantime, may I just say how relieved I am that your wife was returned safely, and that the attack on you was unsuccessful. What are we to do with these predators? It’s shocking, the levels of barbarity they’ll stoop to...”
“Thank you. I’d say they got the worse end of that deal, though.”
“True, too true. Are your current accommodations suitable?” Godoy asked, equally uninterested as Cruz in the discussion so far.
“Fine. I spend so much time at the temporary offices now, it hardly matters where I call home.”
“Yes, well, fortunately not for much longer. Ah, that must be our man!” Godoy practically trilled when his intercom buzzed.
Rodriguez strode into the room, a palpable presence, impeccably coiffed and dressed, as usual, and acknowledged Cruz with a nod before taking the other seat in front of Godoy’s massive desk. “Capitan. Godoy.”
“Rodriguez. Thanks for coming – I know how busy you must be. Very well. Let’s begin. I asked Capitan Cruz here today to fill us in on progress on the Rauschenbach matter,” Godoy announced with an unctuous air of authority.