2. Diego
2
DIEGO
M achines beeped from every room. Another pair of nurses hurried a gurney past me, the patient on the bed wincing in agony and clutching the top of the sheet. It didn’t matter which way I turned, how quickly I walked down every hallway. Every inch of this hospital looked exactly the same.
Where the fuck are you, Rodriguez?
Searching for a target wasn’t that complicated. Hunting for a dead man walking was a skill I’d developed and strengthened over many years of practice. In all the twenty years I’d worked for the Cartel, I’d done a lot of dirty work. Often, whatever task Stefan, the boss, wanted me to complete came with difficulties.
But they were never unsurmountable. I could track anyone. I could sleuth out hidden caches. I was adept at silencing the enemy. And I was damned good at blending in, no matter the disguise or the location.
Except a hospital, it seemed. Navigating the maze of all these hallways in so many departments of all the different floors was no simple route. Trekking through the jungle south of the Cartel’s biggest compound was far easier than this.
It should’ve been simple.
Come in here, find Rodriguez, and kill him in his sleep. The crooked cop and wannabe politician made one mistake too many in attacking Stefan, the boss— my boss. While Martin wasn’t the head of the organization, he was a high-up boss I liked. Martin and I went way back, so much so that I hadn’t hesitated to step up for the request of taking out Rodriguez. He was a hard man to reach, buffered and shielded by his cronies on the force. My best opportunity was now, to ease into his room as he recovered from a slight heart attack and end his life silently without a trace.
Killing Rodriguez would be my pleasure, but I respected Stefan for wanting it done like this. Slipping a drug into his IV would be a silent, invisible means of murder. This way, no one could blame our boss or the Cartel. In fact, it might instigate blame on another, newer Cartel that had formed near the gulf. Rodriguez had made enemies of us both.
If only I could find the motherfucker.
Time wasn’t on my side. This would be the only ideal window of opportunity to kill him to avoid any misplaced blame or incorrectly claimed honor. Since the boss had been attacked and narrowly escaped Rodriguez with his life, many in the Cartel wanted to kill him. Antonio had been most persistent, begging for the chance to prove himself and kill the cop.
I rolled my eyes at the thought of the most annoying ass-kisser in the organization. Antonio had always?—
“Excuse me.”
I didn’t slow as the man spoke behind me. Blending in required that selective deafness.
“Excuse me.” He didn’t give up, raising his voice and tugging on my sleeve.
Dammit. I stopped in the middle of the hallway and kept my face neutral as I turned to face him.
“Excuse me, Dr. Amirez? Oh.” The other doctor raised his brows. “Sorry. I thought you were Dr. Amirez.” He chuckled lightly. “From the back, you sure do look like him. That hair…” He pointed a circle in the direction of his head.
“Nope. Not him.” I smiled, knowing kindness would always put others at ease faster than grumpiness. The art of blending in rested on the ability to slip in and slip out without a lasting impression to damn it all later.
“Have you seen him?” the younger man asked, reverting to a sober and serious expression most of the medical staff wore here. “Or Dr. Thompson?”
I shook my head. “No. I’m afraid I don’t know them. Sorry.”
Turning away from him, I resumed walking. Not only did I not know where those two doctors were, but I also had no clue who the fuck they were. I wasn’t a doctor, but that man’s assumption gave me a boost of confidence that my disguise as one was holding up well.
He’s got to be here somewhere.
Following the arrows didn’t help, either. I assumed that as a heart attack patient, he’d be near the cardiology department, but he wasn’t. All I knew was that the longer I walked around here, someone would notice me.
And that wouldn’t work. I couldn’t stand out.
Where the fuck are you, Rodriguez? I couldn’t ask because someone would recall it. Asking would require my stating who I was and what I was here for, too. My disguise was valid, all the way down to the fake ID card that was made for me, but it wouldn’t work. The barcode on it wouldn’t unlock any records.
“Please!” A woman seated on a gurney reached out and clutched for me before I passed on this part of what seemed to be the emergency room department. Close by, each time the doors opened at the end of this hallway, the sounds of sirens and the glare of flashing lights entered. “Please, help me!”
I stopped instead of jerking my arm out of her grip. As I faced her, I was drawn to the blood streaking down her face from a gash. Bright glints of metal shone from the dangling earrings hung from her ears, though. Small medallions etched with an image of Our Lady of Chiquinquira swayed, catching the light.
“I was just trying to stop them from lighting the fireworks so close to the house and it went off and now I can’t hear! Help!”
I nodded, opening my mouth to say something to get away, but I didn’t even need to pass the buck. A harried-looking nurse rushed up close with gauze and bandages to tend to the obvious head wounds the woman had suffered.
It just had to be Alboradas. Tonight, the night I was tasked with sneaking in and killing Rodriguez, just had to be a busy, hectic evening of fireworks gone wrong.
“Sorry, Doctor.” The nurse dipped her chin as she helped the patient. “I told her I’d be right back and…”
I held my hand up. “No worries.”
It wasn’t my worry, at least.
Leaving this area of the massive hospital, I tried to imagine where else Rodriguez would be. I picked up my pace, heading down other hallways, but I was still lost.
Dammit. This wasn’t right either. Depictions of babies smiling as they rested on clouds had been painted on the walls beneath cursive letters that declared this the maternity wing.
I’m definitely not in the right place now.
Sticking with my goal to look unhurried and unassuming, though, I didn’t retreat and back up. I strolled slowly, but with a loose aura of purpose. Through these halls, I spotted mothers in wheelchairs, their faces strained as they readied to pop out a baby. Others were on the other side of the fence, walking in gowns and pushing carts with sleeping babies in them.
For a moment, I couldn’t make myself hurry away. I wasn’t losing sight of my mission. I would never give up on a task Stefan had asked of me, but as I walked along the squeaky-clean floors that seemed to stretch endlessly, I sighed and took in the different atmosphere of this ward.
It wasn’t the first time that I’d wondered how—or if—I would ever incorporate a family into my life. Stefan had taken me in when he realized I was an orphan. The Cartel had become my family from that fateful day, my fifteenth birthday. Since then, the boss stepped in as the closest thing to a fatherly figure. My brothers in arms became the varied system of siblings I lacked. We were family, even if the association that bound us was an organized crime family.
They were all I’d ever known, but an inner sense of wanting to belong was never completely sated.
My career wasn’t a traditional one. My calling wasn’t conventional. I was thirty-five already, sacrificing two decades to the Cartel. Married to my work. That was how I lived. Yet, I never gave up on the ember of hope that one day, that would change.
Stefan had already been hinting that I didn’t have to dedicate myself to the family like this, as a skilled soldier, spy, and killer. Over all the years I’d served him, I thought of no other goals, no other plans. According to him, though, if I wanted to, I could look forward to retiring and moving elsewhere. I would have the option of taking another role that would require less of me so I could marry.
I would be honored to have a wife to call my own. I would be thrilled to welcome a child to this world, proud to know that they would always be protected. Not only by my hands, but under the umbrella of security Stefan offered.
But how?
When?
Many of my brothers in the Cartel had settled to marry and start families. More often than not, they acquired their women in the spoils of the business—kidnapped girls, purchased whores, or sex slaves.
I grimaced slightly as I got onto another elevator, leaving the maternity floor.
No thanks to that.
If and when I’d find the motivation to finally seek out a wife and start a family, I’d do so with someone who wanted me. Mutual desire simply made sense. I didn’t want a thing beholden to pleasuring me. I would prefer a partner, a challenge to keep me fighting for more passion.
Finding a woman to grow old with still felt like too far-off of a fantasy. I had more years to give to Stefan. I wasn’t done with this lifestyle of stealth and violence. After all, this was what I knew.
The elevator rose and rose, making my stomach dip with the change of floors.
All I knew was how to kill. How to attack. How to defend Stefan as he did his role in the organization.
My “schedule” didn’t allow for standard work hours, where I could walk into a bar and pick up a potential date. My personality wasn’t “normal” like other men, so that I could soften and not frighten a woman off.
I’d only ever been trained and taught to kill and assume everyone was an enemy. That mentality wouldn’t help in any effort to find The One . And the alternative of the boss arranging a marriage for me—something he’d mentioned before—didn’t appeal either. That was no better than some of the assholes in the Cartel stealing and buying women.
No. Not like that.
It would have to just… happen.
“Aha,” I whispered, finally happening upon an area of the hospital where I’d likely have more luck in finding Rodriguez. Focusing on my purpose to sneak around here again, I shoved all thoughts of women and babies to the back of my mind.
This was game time.
I’d stumbled upon the intensive care unit, and I let myself get my hopes up high.
I strode down the hall, avoiding making eye contact with anyone, at least not direct eye contact. The more I looked like I had something important to hurry toward, the less likely I was to be bothered or questioned.
Pausing at the nurses’ station, I scanned the dry erase board while I picked up a chart lying on the counter. A prop would help.
“Excuse me.”
This time, I turned at the interruption with a stern look. “I’m busy,” I told the young technician.
She blushed. “Yes. Sorry. Sorry, Doctor.” She spun and hustled off.
There you are.
I spotted Rodriguez’s name on the board, noting the number of his room. Dropping the random chart on the counter again, I headed in the direction of where Rodriguez was clinging to his life. He wouldn’t for long. As soon as I ensured his room was empty, without any witnesses, his life would be over.
No one waited in the room. No nurses, doctors, therapists, or technicians were checking vitals or doing anything else in here.
It was just me and the crooked lawman.
“Found ya,” I whispered as I pushed my foot back to close the door behind me.
The lights were already dimmed, which worked in my favor. The last thing I needed was for someone to peer through the window when passing down the hall. An empty gurney waited parallel to Rodriguez’s, though, so I couldn’t assume no one would be coming by.
Monitors beeped and flashed from a tall panel that stood next to his bed. Another bulky cart was positioned next to that, wires and tubes running between the humming machines and the pads and connections stuck to his body.
He was asleep, resting and unaware.
Without a second thought, I removed the syringe from my pocket and reached for the IV line. One last glance over my shoulder showed that no one was walking by.
This was my shot. The time was now.
I pushed the needle into the tube and pressed the lever down. Gold, yet almost clear, liquid leaked from the tube and rushed in to mix with the fluids already dripping into him.
Capping the needle, I shoved the empty container back into my pocket and waited. The poison would kick in quickly. The second his body began to shut down, those monitors would wail and shriek, and the ICU staff would rush in. I didn’t need to be present. I didn’t intend to be here, but I had to linger for at least one minute to ensure his vitals were crashing.
Beeps sounded faster. Lit-up lines showed more erratically on the panel.
There.
He was dying.
I took one step back to retreat, then escape. Blending in to the rest of the hospital staff, I’d ease out of here and go to the compound. Stefan would appreciate the good news of a job well done.
Before I could make that happen, though, I was struck from behind. Agony lanced through my head at the jarring impact on the back of my head. Then again. Pain bloomed instantly as I was hit again.
Falling to the floor as the beeps of Rodriguez’s monitors shrieked and quickened as alarms, I succumbed to the complete and utter blackness that took over me.