Revenge of the Assassin

“Isn’t he ex-military?” Starone countered.

“Mmm, I don’t think so. He’s an economist. Economic reforms are the basis of his government, and he pissed-off a lot of the country’s creditors when he declared the national debt invalid due to having been accrued due to corruption. Argentina could learn from that and take a page from his playbook,” Antonio fired back.

Apparently satisfied, Starone closed his little book and gave a smile that was more a grimace. “Can you think of anyone who would want to hurt your friend, Gustavo? The reason I ask is because in our routine discussions with the neighbors this morning, one thought she saw a younger man with longish hair. Very much like yours. Do you know anyone like that?” Starone delivered the body blow with quiet sincerity.

Antonio’s mind raced, but he didn’t even blink. The cop was probably bluffing, doing some fishing, otherwise he wouldn’t have said anything. He was almost sure of it. Almost.

“Everyone seemed to like him, but as I said, I didn’t know him beyond playing some chess a few times a month. But I hope you get the bastard who killed him. Too bad this haircut is so popular — that description only narrows it down to a third of the males in Mendoza. But if I think of anything, I will absolutely give you a call. Do you have a card?” he replied.

The detective’s eyes narrowed, just a little, and he fished a business card out of his pocket and put it on the counter as he looked around the small shop. “What do you sell the most of?” he asked conversationally.

“The steak knives are very popular, as well as the leather goods. But it’s a tough time of year. Nothing’s moving as much as I’d like,” Antonio lamented.

“Well, you’re not alone in that. Please do call if you think of anything.” Starone appraised him. “Have a nice day.”

The two policemen shuffled to the door and disappeared into the fray. Antonio considered the discussion and felt a tingle of alarm. He didn’t think the taller detective had bought his story, or rather, the cop seemed to sense something off about him. That might have been stylistic — a technique to make potential suspects squirm — but it hadn’t had any visible effect on ‘Antonio’. Still, a small part of him elevated his threat level assessment up a notch. He hadn’t anticipated a visit in Gustavo’s killing. That was stupid, and lazy.

His brief days of relaxed, worry-free existence were officially over, all thanks to the meddling old man. It wasn’t a crisis yet, but if they really did have a witness, it could be difficult. He hadn’t worn his glasses that night, and his clothes had been unremarkable, but it was an unknown, and he didn’t like unknowns.

Perhaps it was time to move on to somewhere even more remote than Mendoza. A pity, but things changed, and a smart man changed with them.

Chapter 6

When El Rey closed up that night he took his laptop with him in its shoulder bag, along with a few items from the store that might come in handy. He wasn’t sure he’d ever see it again; he was back to his old self now, no longer Antonio — and El Rey always expected the worst, and planned for it.

Reality was that he’d been borderline delusional believing he could ever live normally — whatever that meant. Like a shark, he needed to keep moving, or he’d die. There was no point in wasting any time wishing things were different — his life to date had been extraordinary, and he’d just need to continue down whatever path he found himself on. Gustavo had set a course in motion, and he’d reacted in the only way that made sense — he’d neutralized the threat. Now the police were sniffing around, and while there probably wasn’t anything to worry about, probably wasn’t good enough. Probably got you caught, or killed. Probably was for others.

As El Rey pulled down the steel grid security door he surreptitiously scanned his surroundings. He knelt and padlocked it into place, noting that there were a lot of people on the promenade — so it was hard to be sure he was clean, but what he was looking for was anything atypical — something that didn’t belong. He didn’t immediately detect anything, but that didn’t mean he was safe — taking the long way home would indicate whether there was a problem.

He ambled slowly towards the park, moving with the flow of the pedestrian traffic, mindful of potential surveillance without giving any outward appearance of being on guard. He stopped abruptly across the street from the stock exchange building and examined a jacket in a display window — its reflection revealed a figure fifty yards from him had stopped to tie his shoe. It would have been innocent, except that with an eighth of a second glance he confirmed that the man’s laces were still tied. Sometimes it was the small things that gave you away.

Confident he was being followed, he now needed to decide how to deal with his pursuers. He didn’t think it was police. They would have no reason to sneak around. Rather, they’d walk through the front door, as they had earlier, and pick him up. No, this was someone else, which was worse. Probably Gustavo’s crew. Perhaps the old man hadn’t been entirely truthful with El Rey. Yet another of life’s small disappointments. Sometimes people weren’t completely honest.

The shoelace tier resumed his casual following once the target made for the street that separated the park from the pedestrian thoroughfare and murmured into his cell phone, “He’s crossing into the park. If you get into position on the far side, you’ll be able to pick him up as he exits. He’s wearing a dark blue long coat and has longish hair and glasses. Black pants. I’ll stay on him, but lay back. He’s all yours. But remember. He’s extremely dangerous, so be careful.”

He watched as his quarry jaywalked, a car honking angrily as it nearly missed him. The target seemed unfazed and picked up his pace past the street vendors at the park entrance. The light turned green, and he joined the crowd in crossing to the verdant expanse, trying to maintain a fix on the target’s trajectory.

The young man was now a good hundred and fifty yards ahead of him, and he watched as the distant figure cut through a line of people waiting to enter the small underground theater that was the central hub of the park. He could just make out the lights and distinctive white facade of the Park Hyatt hotel across the far street and knew his men would take over once he’d crossed that street. If the man made a right or a left, they could still track him, but it would be more obvious. It wasn’t a perfect scenario, but it was the only one they’d been able to improvise on short notice.

A few lights glimmered dimly in the area he was walking towards, which could work well for them. The target seemed to have no idea he was under surveillance, so it would be straightforward enough to corner him. He wished he could still see him, but the theater crowd was now in his line of sight as he moved past the massive fountain.

He wasn’t worried. It would be over shortly.

El Rey could just make out the pair of shadows lurking beneath one of the large tree trunks twenty yards from the path he was on. A pair of teenage lovers lay sprawled on a darkened park bench, exploring each other’s charms with single-minded intensity, oblivious to anything but their passion as he hurried past. An old woman moved out of his way, clutching her purse tightly as if afraid he’d assault her. He nodded as he walked by, offering a non-threatening look.

At the street, he made a split-second decision, and instead of crossing straight over as he normally would, he instead moved diagonally across the empty thoroughfare to the far block. He registered the two shadows beneath the tree begin their pursuit and considered the desolate sidewalk he was now on. There were a few construction projects over the next two blocks he’d seen while wandering the neighborhood, one of which was a large remodel of a turn of the century building. That could provide exactly the cover he was looking for.

He slowed to give his followers a chance to get closer, and judging the timing, turned the corner onto the smaller street — empty now that the business district had closed down. He spotted the building he’d remembered and smiled to himself. The old habits came back easily. Like riding a bicycle.

The pair watched as their quarry rounded the block and momentarily disappeared from view. They exchanged worried glances and increased their speed. The last thing they needed was to lose him now that they were this close. One of the men pulled a stun gun from his jacket pocket in preparation for taking him down. With any luck it would be over within a few minutes, on the outside.

They turned the corner and found themselves on an empty street. There was no sign of him.