the men, who rose and exited the room.
El Rey and Rodriguez stared at each other in silence for a few moments. Rodriguez finally spoke.
“That’s it? You’re told that the number one man in China is the target of an assassination plot by one of the world’s most dangerous assassins, and all you can muster is a request for something to drink?”
El Rey shrugged. “I’m parched.”
The door opened and the man returned carrying several plastic water bottles, which he set on the table. El Rey grabbed one, twisted the top off, and downed it. He set the empty container back on the table and regarded Rodriguez with dead black eyes.
“I specialize in killing people. Not in security assignments.”
“I understand that. But it takes a thief to catch one. And you’re our pet assassin, so it was decided to put you to some use. We need you to stop the German before he can carry out his plan. That’s the assignment.”
“I’m the wrong man for that job.”
“Perhaps. But you’re our best shot. And the clock is ticking. You’ve done these types of sanctions before. You’re a specialist. So you know how one would think – what he would look for in the precautions, how he’s likely to respond to events, how he would plan on carrying it out. We need that expertise. And I hate to remind you, but you owe us. Remember our deal...”
“How can I forget?”
“Good. Then it’s agreed. I’ll get you everything we have on Rauschenbach by tomorrow morning. And I’m making an office available for you...”
“Absolutely not. I’ll take care of my own arrangements. I’m not going to work out of this building. That’s not my style.”
Rodriguez frowned. “I don’t care what your style is. You’ll work out of here if I say you will.”
El Rey smiled. “If you want me to be effective, you won’t push your luck, Señor Rodriguez. And a word of warning – men have died for speaking to me more politely. I understand I need to cooperate with you in order to get my shots. But there’s a limit to how much I’ll tolerate. You don’t want to discover the limits of my patience.”
Rodriguez glared at him, but El Rey saw the telltale bob of his Adam’s apple as he dry swallowed.
“There’s another condition, and this one you’re really not going to like. But it’s not negotiable,” Rodriguez said, eyeing him with hesitation.
“Everything’s negotiable.”
“Not this.”
Chapter 8
Cruz pushed his way through the entry of the latest condo the Federales had leased for him and sniffed at the air. A seductive smell drifted from the small kitchen, and as the door swung shut behind him he heard the sound of pans clanking against the stovetop – Dinah’s presence announcing itself in the muted clamoring of the dinnerware.
“Sweetheart? I’m home,” he announced over the culinary din, setting his briefcase down.
“Mmmm. Good. I need another pair of hands in here to help,” Dinah called, sounding her usual cheerful self. How she managed to remain upbeat after working all day in the school was beyond him – but he was always glad she did.
“My hands have been itching to help you all day, my love,” he assured her. “Let me slip into something more comfortable and I’ll be right there.”
Dinah glanced over her shoulder as he passed the kitchen and threw him a harried smile. Cruz made a mental note not to dally in the bedroom changing out of his uniform. He knew that look, and it meant he could earn some points by being a good domestic partner.
Three minutes later he was back, wearing jeans and a rugby shirt, and approached her as she stood at the stove.
“Mmm. You smell good. How did I get so lucky?” he cooed in her ear.
“Somebody upstairs must like you. Now, can you help me with the onions? I need them chopped while I whip this into shape,” she responded, twisting to kiss him on the mouth.
“Absolutely. Chopping, whipping...I’m all over it,” he assured her, and reached to the
El Rey and Rodriguez stared at each other in silence for a few moments. Rodriguez finally spoke.
“That’s it? You’re told that the number one man in China is the target of an assassination plot by one of the world’s most dangerous assassins, and all you can muster is a request for something to drink?”
El Rey shrugged. “I’m parched.”
The door opened and the man returned carrying several plastic water bottles, which he set on the table. El Rey grabbed one, twisted the top off, and downed it. He set the empty container back on the table and regarded Rodriguez with dead black eyes.
“I specialize in killing people. Not in security assignments.”
“I understand that. But it takes a thief to catch one. And you’re our pet assassin, so it was decided to put you to some use. We need you to stop the German before he can carry out his plan. That’s the assignment.”
“I’m the wrong man for that job.”
“Perhaps. But you’re our best shot. And the clock is ticking. You’ve done these types of sanctions before. You’re a specialist. So you know how one would think – what he would look for in the precautions, how he’s likely to respond to events, how he would plan on carrying it out. We need that expertise. And I hate to remind you, but you owe us. Remember our deal...”
“How can I forget?”
“Good. Then it’s agreed. I’ll get you everything we have on Rauschenbach by tomorrow morning. And I’m making an office available for you...”
“Absolutely not. I’ll take care of my own arrangements. I’m not going to work out of this building. That’s not my style.”
Rodriguez frowned. “I don’t care what your style is. You’ll work out of here if I say you will.”
El Rey smiled. “If you want me to be effective, you won’t push your luck, Señor Rodriguez. And a word of warning – men have died for speaking to me more politely. I understand I need to cooperate with you in order to get my shots. But there’s a limit to how much I’ll tolerate. You don’t want to discover the limits of my patience.”
Rodriguez glared at him, but El Rey saw the telltale bob of his Adam’s apple as he dry swallowed.
“There’s another condition, and this one you’re really not going to like. But it’s not negotiable,” Rodriguez said, eyeing him with hesitation.
“Everything’s negotiable.”
“Not this.”
Chapter 8
Cruz pushed his way through the entry of the latest condo the Federales had leased for him and sniffed at the air. A seductive smell drifted from the small kitchen, and as the door swung shut behind him he heard the sound of pans clanking against the stovetop – Dinah’s presence announcing itself in the muted clamoring of the dinnerware.
“Sweetheart? I’m home,” he announced over the culinary din, setting his briefcase down.
“Mmmm. Good. I need another pair of hands in here to help,” Dinah called, sounding her usual cheerful self. How she managed to remain upbeat after working all day in the school was beyond him – but he was always glad she did.
“My hands have been itching to help you all day, my love,” he assured her. “Let me slip into something more comfortable and I’ll be right there.”
Dinah glanced over her shoulder as he passed the kitchen and threw him a harried smile. Cruz made a mental note not to dally in the bedroom changing out of his uniform. He knew that look, and it meant he could earn some points by being a good domestic partner.
Three minutes later he was back, wearing jeans and a rugby shirt, and approached her as she stood at the stove.
“Mmm. You smell good. How did I get so lucky?” he cooed in her ear.
“Somebody upstairs must like you. Now, can you help me with the onions? I need them chopped while I whip this into shape,” she responded, twisting to kiss him on the mouth.
“Absolutely. Chopping, whipping...I’m all over it,” he assured her, and reached to the
Similar Books
