Free Return of the Assassin (Assassin Series 3) by Russell Blake Page A

Money.”
    “Fine. Tell Hector, and he’ll make it so.” The president turned in the doorway. “Maria is twenty-two years old. She’s my world.” His voice cracked.
    “Then let’s not waste any time.”
    The president exited, and the remaining men looked at El Rey expectantly.
    “I’ll make a list of what I will require. Do you have a pen and a piece of paper?” he asked.
    Hector slid a tablet and a pen to him. El Rey momentarily considered leaping over the desk and driving it through his throat, but then discarded the idea, satisfying as it would feel.
    He scribbled a column of items – a private jet for transportation, a rental car in Culiacán, a passport with a new name, an ATM card with a hundred thousand dollar limit, ten thousand dollars in cash, a silenced Beretta 9mm and a backpack with grenades, a set of night vision goggles, and a variety of assault rifles and ammunition.
    He slid the tablet back to Hector and watched him read it, nodding.
    “I’ll need it within twenty-four hours. Now tell me more about this injection so I know what I’m dealing with,” El Rey demanded.
    Hector looked at one of the men who had remained silent until then.
    “It’s a synthetic time-released neurotoxin that attacks the protein coating of the nervous system, slowly degrading the synaptic bridge and ultimately resulting in respiratory failure. For six days you should be fine, and then you’ll start to experience…problems. Neuro-muscular control will degrade, tremors will begin, auto-immune symptoms will start presenting – joint pain, headaches, insomnia, auditory and visual hallucinations, and then ultimately, complete loss of all bodily functions culminating in death by suffocation.”
    “What’s the bad news?” El Rey asked.
    “With a booster shot, the six-day period can last as many as ten before you go terminal, but if you don’t get the antidote by day ten, I’m afraid the progression becomes irreversible, and it will be a matter of hours before you…before the sequence is complete.”
    “I see. And that’s okay to do because you’re the government. If I kill people, I’m a monster, but when you do it…” El Rey said.
    “There’s no point arguing over what’s done, although coming from an assassin who’s terminated more targets than I’ve eaten steak dinners, I find it amusing that you are indignant.” Hector smiled. “I think at this stage you would be better served considering how you’re going to accomplish your mission than focusing on recriminations.”
    The assassin glared at him, and Hector shivered involuntarily. The sentiment on El Rey ’s face couldn’t have been clearer.
    “I’ll need everything you have on the kidnapping – the communications with Aranas, what you’ve done to date…the works. Leave nothing out.” He stopped and looked around the room. “Who will I be coordinating with to get additional intelligence, or to request assistance?”
    “You can reach me on this phone. Your call will go straight through, twenty-four hours a day,” Hector said, extracting a BlackBerry from his pocket and sliding it to El Rey . “I’m on speed dial. Just hold down the number two key and it will automatically reach me. I’ll get you a charger for that before you leave.”
    El Rey hefted the phone and nodded. “Get me the files. I want to hit the ground running as soon as I can. Oh, and get me a Panerai diving watch and three sets of clothes – one all black, another green camouflage, and the last a federal police uniform and identification.” El Rey took back the pad and wrote the new items down, then slid it to Hector.
    Hector raised one eyebrow.
    “I can’t think of anything else for now, so if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to return to my room and get some rest. Oh, and I’d like two one-liter bottles of water delivered there, and two chicken breasts and a three-egg Swiss cheese omelet for dinner, with spinach on the side. Sautéed, with garlic.” El Rey stood.