John set the elevator in motion again.
“Listen a damn minute,” Mitch said. “You risked everything, your whole career, to catch that blood moon creep, when nobody—nobody—was even looking at him. I put my ass on the line to help you because I trusted your gut. I would expect the same from you now. Go with my gut, John. Busby is Oz. I know it.”
Before John could respond, the elevator door slid open, emptying them into the CAP unit. Every head turned in their direction. John stepped out first. Looking over his shoulder, he gave Mitch a meaningful look and said, “We’ll pick this up in my office in five.”
Chapter 39
El Paso couldn’t get over the rain. In his life, he’d never experienced this kind of rain, the gray, noisy,wetmonotony of it. How did people live in a climate like this? Give him a blistering sun, hot air, and the dry, dusty desert any day of the week.
He hunched deeper into the high collar of his sweatshirt, but it had absorbed a lot of moisture and felt clammy. The least Oz could have done was give him a raincoat before sending him on this assignment.
Last night seemed like a weird dream. He’d been in that spooky warehouse watching Malone tightening the garrote destined for his throat. He’d been pleading for his life and promising to obey any future orders without hesitation or question.
That’s when Oz had said, “I’m very pleased to hear that.” Then, “Kill Roland.”
Without thinking twice, he had plunged his blade deep into Malone’s gut, thrust it upward beneath his rib cage and through layers of dense tissue, and the deed was done. Before Oz’scommand had fully registered with Malone, he was already dying.
He’d fallen backward onto the concrete floor. He’d pawed at the gaping wound that had ripped open his torso, but he hadn’t had a chance of living, and he’d known it. El Paso had watched dispassionately as he’d drowned in his own blood.
Later, El Paso would admit to himself that he had feared what Oz then had in mind for him. There’d been no cause for worry, though. Oz hadn’t revealed himself, but a calm, disembodied voice had come to him from out of the concealing darkness. “Well done, El Paso.”
Then Oz had told him to put on the gear hanging from pegs in the wall. Rubber boots, a long rubber apron, a clear visor that covered his entire face, gloves that came up to his elbows. He thought he must look like Darth Vader.
Oz had proceeded to issue instructions on how to do this, how to do that, where to find certain implements to use on Malone until he was dangling from a meat hook, his entrails scooped onto the floor.
“Cut off his right pinkie finger below the ring.”
By then, feeling more confident, he’d had the gall to ask if he could keep the ring as a souvenir.
“You cannot,” Oz said. “Wrap it in some of that butcher paper and then toss it to me.”
He’d done as told and pitched the bundle into the darkness. He hadn’t heard it hit the floor, so he’d said, “Good catch. I guessyouwanted the souvenir.”
Oz didn’t seem to appreciate his attempt to lighten the mood a little. He said, “Now, get Roland’s phone and the keys to the panel truck. Toss me the phone, hang on to the keys.”
He’d found them in Malone’s coat pocket and pitched the phone. It hadn’t landed on the floor, either. Oz thanked him.
Then, he’d said, “I know you’re a Caballero spy.”
And he’d almost shit his pants.
“Youwerea Caballero spy,” Oz continued, smooth like. Like he hadn’t just dropped a bombshell.
“You have a choice to make. With a phone call, I can see to it that you’re arrested, charged, tried, convicted, and executed for killing Roland Malone. Or you can start working for me.”
“I’ll work for you.”
“Not so fast. We must come to an understanding first.”
“What understanding?”
“You’re obviously skilled and extraordinarily efficient. But your smug and arrogant attitude won’t do. Get rid of it. As of now, it’s history. Have I made myself clear?”
“Yeah. Clear.” For good measure, he’d added, “Sir.”
Oz had left him standing there shivering in the refrigerated cavern for what seemed like forever before he spoke again. “The contraband I stole from the Caballeros arrives tomorrow, as I’m sure you know. You were sent to intercept it, kill as many of my people as you could, then oversee the return of the product to Mexico, yes or no?”
“Yes.”
