Free Requiem for the Assassin by Russell Blake Page A

settled in for lunch at a small sidewalk café across from the archdiocese, its tables deserted post-lunch hour. CISEN had provided blueprints of the cathedral and associated buildings, and El Rey had already decided on his preferred method of entry to the bishop’s quarters. He had everything he required in his bag and now wanted to soak up the local environment – often, blueprints didn’t capture important nuances about a target, and he’d learned to spend time at the sites of his missions before taking action.
    His leisurely lunch took over an hour, and once he’d paid and walked around the block to verify the position of the traffic cameras, he walked to a moderately priced hotel a quarter mile from the archdiocese that catered to tourists. After suffering through an elevator ride with three American men in town for a bachelor party, their corpulent forms stinking of beer, tequila, and cigarettes, he made his way to his room, where he spent the late afternoon catching up on his sleep in preparation for a preliminary prowl around the archdiocese that evening.
     

Chapter 12
    Mexico City, Mexico
     
    Cruz rolled over and groped for his screeching cell phone on the night table next to the bed. Dinah groaned as he rose and padded to the bathroom, muted the ring, and answered as he pulled the door closed behind him.
    “Yes?”
    “ Capitan , it’s Briones.”
    “Yes, Lieutenant. I recognize your number. What can I do for you at…3:47 in the morning?”
    “I’m sorry to call at this hour, but you wanted to be notified if there was another high-profile kidnapping.”
    “Don’t tell me.”
    “It’s bad, but could have been worse. This time there was a gun battle between the bodyguards and the kidnappers. The kidnappers were all killed except for the getaway driver, who crashed as he was leaving the scene. The bodyguards held him until the metropolitan police arrived, and then we got the call.”
    Cruz was wide awake now. “Where did all this transpire?”
    “Club Vampiro. It’s down on–”
    “I know where it is,” Cruz snapped. “Where are you?”
    “On my way there right now.”
    “Can you pick me up in…ten minutes?”
    “That’s one of the reasons I’m calling.”
    “I’ll see you downstairs. Oh, what about the driver? Where was he taken?”
    “The local police turned him over to us. He’s at headquarters in a holding cell. A doctor’s with him right now – apparently he’s got some bruises and contusions, but the airbag and his seat belt saved him from worse.”
    “I’ll see you shortly,” Cruz said and hung up. He dressed quickly and whispered to Dinah as he was opening the bedroom door.
    “I’m sorry, mi amor . I have to go.”
    Dinah grunted, pulled the covers over herself, waved a limp hand, and was asleep again before Cruz made it to the condo entry. He struggled into his shoulder holster, donned a black windbreaker, and slipped his badge and wallet into a pocket before making his way downstairs. Two uniformed Federales sat in the lobby, his round-the-clock security team, a mandatory precaution ever since he’d been kidnapped by the head of the Sinaloa cartel for an impromptu meeting. The men stiffened when Cruz emerged from the elevator, and then scrambled to their feet.
    Cruz exited the building and waited on the deserted sidewalk, framed by his security men, only the distant rumble of a car passing on the main boulevard for company.
    Briones’ Dodge Charger rolled to the curb a minute later, and Cruz got in. Briones handed him a cup of coffee and pulled back onto the street, cheerfully ignoring the speed limit as he accelerated and blew through a red light.
    “Maybe you should hit the emergency lights,” Cruz suggested, and Briones flipped a dashboard switch. Flashing blue illuminated the car interior from the bar bolted across the upper windshield. “Fill me in on what you know.”
    “The shoot-out occurred an hour ago. The target of the kidnapping was Romeo Saldado,