Free Revenge of the Assassin (Assassin Series 2) by Russell Blake

identification?” Antonio asked reasonably.
    The request seemed to annoy the two men, but they flipped out their badges, which Antonio studied over the rims of his glasses and then nodded.
    “What can I do for you?” he asked.
    “We’re investigating the murder of Gustavo Peralta Malagro. We got your name from his niece, Jania.”
    “Yes. She called this morning. A shocking crime. He was a wonderful man. But I’m not sure how I can help you…”
    “We’re following up with everyone he knew, to see if there was anything suspicious or worrisome about him in his last days. Let’s begin with you telling us how well you knew him,” Starone said.
    “Not particularly well. He and I would play chess a few times a month. I’ve only known him for maybe four months, through Jania. He’d come by, we got to talking, and it became somewhat of a ritual – a way to kill time,” Antonio explained.
    “When did you last see him?” Detective Lombardetti asked.
    “Oh, it must have been four days ago. We sat over at the little French bakery and played a game of chess, as was our custom.”
    “Did he seem preoccupied or concerned? Did he mention anything worrying him?” Starone inquired.
    “No. Not unusually so. I mean, he would complain about things sometimes, but just routine stuff, nothing dramatic. Why? I thought Jania said that this was a burglary? Isn’t that the case?”
    Starone ignored the question. “What kind of routine stuff? Give me some examples.”
    “Well, let’s see. He griped about the cost of gas and energy a lot, and about international banks robbing the country blind, and about how the economy sucked and the government was incompetent…”
    “Basically what everyone in Argentina talks about,” Starone remarked.
    “Yes. That’s what I mean about routine.”
    “Did he ever mention his past?” Lombardetti interjected.
    “His past? No, not really. He mentioned that he had been with the government, but he made it sound like a bureaucratic function. All due respect, I wasn’t all that interested. He was a nice old man I played chess with. I wasn’t thinking about dating him,” Antonio explained.
    “Yes, well, he was a little more than a low-level flunky. He was actually fairly high up in the intelligence service for much of his career. He made a lot of enemies, I’m sure. Those were difficult times for our country. Dark times.” Starone paused, studying Antonio’s face. “So what’s your story, Antonio? I see by your records that you have been in Argentina for eight and a half months. What brought you to Mendoza?”
    “Oh, you know. I was tired of living at home, in Ecuador, and wanted a change of scenery. I inherited a little money when an uncle died, so I decided to see the world. I wound up staying here after falling in love with the place. I’m hoping this business takes off and I can make a go of it. Things could be better, with the economy still in the toilet and tourism off so much,” Antonio complained, convincingly, he thought. But he didn’t like the direction the questions were turning.
    “Yes. It’s been a tough few years. And what did you do in Ecuador?” Starone probed, while making a few notes in a small pad he’d extracted from his coat. “What part are you from?”
    Antonio launched into his carefully rehearsed cover.
    “Quito. The capital. I helped my parents with a little store off the Plaza Grande , by the cathedral. Cell phones and consumer electronics. But there’s not a lot of opportunity there, and I got bored, so I set out for somewhere new once I got some money. I love Mendoza, and I’m hoping I can succeed with my business here,” he gestured at the shop.
    “Who’s president of Ecuador now? I don’t follow those things,” Starone asked.
    “Rafael Correa. He’s on his second term,” Antonio said without hesitation. He was getting really uncomfortable, but outwardly his demeanor didn’t change, and he continued to project polite concern and worry