Page 47 of Cartel King

She’s one of our informants and has been for years. I hand over the clothes and the money I promised the woman who pretended to be me. My informant will help ensure she gets the medical treatment she needs and can disappear along with any family she wants to take with her. She’ll make sure the rumor spreads that I died out there on the tarmac.

Ignacio will think the hit was a success. He’ll accept the money’s gone even though I’m positive he’s sent somebody to ransack my hotel room. I checked out this morning. It’s a matter of waiting around until it’s dark, so I can finish the very last of this job.

The hours crawl as I hide at another informant’s house. This woman was my guide the first time I came to Rio nearly thirty years ago. That was purely for vacation. At the time, she worked for a resort. We struck up a conversation and hit it off. She warned Tim and me about the cartels and which areas to avoid. There was something in the way she spoke that gave her away.

She knew more than just passing information or the rumors and history most residents know. The second time I came back five years later, I sought her out and tested the waters. She’s been an excellent partner ever since.

“The restaurant’s back door leads into a storage room. My brother’ll make sure it’s unlocked for you, and you can wait there. There’s already a spyhole cut into the wall. It’s one Ignacio had put in.”

“And you’re certain he won’t have anyone there?”

“He definitely won’t because the man he’s meeting with will have already had the entire restaurant swept. He won’t go inside if Ignacio has anyone hidden.”

“Do you know who this man is? Could he be the one I saw last night? The one Benicio’s met with?”

“I haven’t found out his name. No one has. The only people who seem to know him are the ones he met with last night.”

“Ignacio wasn’t there, so I don’t know if he’s back in Rio.”

“I have it on good authority he’s supposed to attend tonight,senhora.”

“I’m counting on that.”

If he isn’t, then it’ll be a long fucking night while I track him down and try to keep anybody from finding me.

Like I did last night, I slip out once it’s dark. I’m wearing the same clothes I did yesterday, keeping me inconspicuous and easily blending into the shadows. My escort strolls across the street from me, blending in like a local. He falls back a block as I approach the restaurant. I recognize the man smoking beside a door.

“Hello,senhorSousa.”

He greets me as the man I’m pretending to be. My response is a nod as he gestures at the building.

“I’ll be out here if you need me. I’ve got the van waiting. Engine’s already on and idling. The moment you come out, I’ll have the door open and waiting for you.”

Again, I say nothing. I merely nod. He eases open the storage room door, and I look around, but it’s pitch black. I shrug out of the coat I’m wearing over the hoodie and backpack. I slip the strap off one shoulder. I pull out a headlamp and adjust it as I put it on. It sits just above the brim of my baseball cap. It provides enough light while the brim refracts some of it. I sweep my gaze around the storage room, satisfied with what I see.

“It’s right there.” The man points to my left and closes the door once I step away.

I flick off my headlamp before creeping toward the wall. I run my fingers over it until I find what I’m looking for. There’s a piece of tape on the wall at someone’s eye level. I stand on my toes. Of course, this was cut into the wall for a man.

I open my backpack all the way and pull out everything I need. It would shock most people to realize rifles can break down into small enough parts to fit in an oversized hiking backpack. I pull over a crate I noticed earlier and pray it can bear my weight once I’m on it. I step up, peel off the tape, and put my eye to the peephole.

There are two men sitting at a table with their backs to me. There’re still six seats open at the table. I climb down and put my ear to the wall. Since it’s dark in the room, anybody who looks in the peephole’s direction won’t realize it’s there since no light will shine through it. I don’t need anyone spotting my white eyeball against it.

The wall was thin enough to cut the peephole, so it’s thin enough for me to hear some of what’s going on. Chairs scrape across the floor as more men join the two who were already at the table. I count each chair as I believe it moves.

When I’m certain all of them are taken, I step onto the crate and peek to ensure I’m right. Ignacio is at the head of the table, which puts him facing me. I inhale silently, keeping my breathing even. I focus on my heart rate and not letting it spike. Despite how many of these missions I’ve been on or how high my body count is, there’s always a moment of apprehension knowing everything could go sideways, and someone could discover me. I’m not in the mood to die today, so I must remain calm.

I hear the voices as the meeting starts, but I don’t understand what anyone says. I speak no more Portuguese than I do Spanish, though I can follow along in Spanish fairly well. I’m fluent in Italian and Sicilian along with English. The first isn’t a language I grew up with. It’s one I learned out of necessity. I have a fair amount of Russian and Polish as well, and some Chinese and Japanese.

I haven’t learned Spanish because I’m always with Vizzini men who speak the language when I’m anywhere I need it. I don’t trust interpreters for any other language because they’re rarely any of Tommaso’s men. Some of the men who’ve traveled with me are my boys’ ages, and I’ve known them their entire lives. I trust them to get me home to my sons.

I pull out my phone, which is already on dark mode, and shield the screen. I tap on the translation app and hold it toward the peephole. I watch the words appear across the screen.

“Ignacio, you played a foolish game, and you didn’t win. The woman Tommaso sent—it sounds like she put your balls in a vise and squeezed. Did she make them pop?”

“I’m at a meeting here with you. I’d say I still have the balls to do that.”

“Fair enough. They just shrank, but they’re still there. Did you pay the Vizzinis the money you owe them?”

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