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Authors: Russell Blake
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Mendoza?”
“No. I mean, there are robberies, of course. Just like anywhere. But a vicious murder like this in a good neighborhood…it’s very rare. I’ve never heard of anything like it,” Jania explained.
“So it’s a robbery gone wrong?”
“That’s what the police think. The officer was very nice on the phone. I’ll know more once I go down to the station. They want to take a statement from me. I don’t know how long that will take. That’s one of the reasons I’m calling – I don’t think I’m going to be in today. This is such a shock, and I have no idea what’s involved in claiming the body, or dealing with the cops…” Jania stuttered to a halt.
“Don’t worry about anything here. I can look after the shop in your absence. Take as much time as you need, and don’t come back to work until everything’s settled on your end.” Antonio paused. “I’m so sorry about Gustavo. He was a wonderful man.”
“Thank you. You don’t know how much that means to me.”
“Take care, and do what you need to do. I’ll be here when you’re done.”
Antonio carefully placed the handset back into the cradle and considered the front door of the shop, which was still locked.
So the police had found Gustavo murdered with a letter opener and suspected a robbery gone wrong.
Just as he’d hoped when he’d plunged the spike through the bastard’s chin and up into his brain, after kindly old uncle Gustavo had invited him over for a chat and a glass of wine. The topic had taken a turn for the worse when Gustavo had revealed his research into his true identity and concluded that he was an internationally notorious assassin hiding in Mendoza. The old man had laid out the evidence and given Antonio an ultimatum: either work for him in taking care of some problems in Buenos Aires with his criminal syndicate, or be exposed and the target of a manhunt.
At first he’d pretended surprise and shock, but the old man had been relentless. Ultimately, Antonio had agreed to do as Gustavo wanted after being assured that nobody else knew what he’d discovered. He had done his level best to appear amenable. It sounded like child’s play, actually, to terminate the chieftains who were skimming from Gustavo’s take. The only real problem was that he didn’t respond well to blackmail, or to anyone knowing his identity, even if Gustavo was an outwardly gentle soul who was just trying to get his needs met. And so El Rey had palmed the letter opener when Gustavo had sealed the arrangement with a proposal of a glass of rare Cobos Reserve Malbec and had leapt across his desk and skewered his brain when he’d swiveled around from the credenza to the desk with the bottle – which he’d caught with his free hand and had taken home with him, to be savored as an after-dinner treat.
He’d made short work of wiping Gustavo’s computer of any incriminating files and had painstakingly cleaned the handle of the letter opener, still protruding from the old crook’s chin, his eyes open in shocked surprise, staring off into oblivion as if regretting his ultimate misjudgment.
El Rey ’s pulse hadn’t increased from the effort, nor had he been particularly upset over having to terminate his friendship so abruptly. It was nothing personal, just as the uncle’s researching his past hadn’t been personal. He’d done what he’d felt compelled to do, and El Rey had responded in kind. That was how the world worked. If you played with vipers, you shouldn’t be surprised when one bit you. It was the law of the jungle El Rey lived by, and the incident only served to reinforce why it was a good idea to never get too close to anyone, or too attached to any place or thing. Relative peace and safety could turn dangerous in a heartbeat, and it was foolishness to drop your guard.
Gustavo had been working on his project for over a week – he’d seen from the e-mail dates. Which meant that if he’d been telling the truth, he’d known,
“No. I mean, there are robberies, of course. Just like anywhere. But a vicious murder like this in a good neighborhood…it’s very rare. I’ve never heard of anything like it,” Jania explained.
“So it’s a robbery gone wrong?”
“That’s what the police think. The officer was very nice on the phone. I’ll know more once I go down to the station. They want to take a statement from me. I don’t know how long that will take. That’s one of the reasons I’m calling – I don’t think I’m going to be in today. This is such a shock, and I have no idea what’s involved in claiming the body, or dealing with the cops…” Jania stuttered to a halt.
“Don’t worry about anything here. I can look after the shop in your absence. Take as much time as you need, and don’t come back to work until everything’s settled on your end.” Antonio paused. “I’m so sorry about Gustavo. He was a wonderful man.”
“Thank you. You don’t know how much that means to me.”
“Take care, and do what you need to do. I’ll be here when you’re done.”
Antonio carefully placed the handset back into the cradle and considered the front door of the shop, which was still locked.
So the police had found Gustavo murdered with a letter opener and suspected a robbery gone wrong.
Just as he’d hoped when he’d plunged the spike through the bastard’s chin and up into his brain, after kindly old uncle Gustavo had invited him over for a chat and a glass of wine. The topic had taken a turn for the worse when Gustavo had revealed his research into his true identity and concluded that he was an internationally notorious assassin hiding in Mendoza. The old man had laid out the evidence and given Antonio an ultimatum: either work for him in taking care of some problems in Buenos Aires with his criminal syndicate, or be exposed and the target of a manhunt.
At first he’d pretended surprise and shock, but the old man had been relentless. Ultimately, Antonio had agreed to do as Gustavo wanted after being assured that nobody else knew what he’d discovered. He had done his level best to appear amenable. It sounded like child’s play, actually, to terminate the chieftains who were skimming from Gustavo’s take. The only real problem was that he didn’t respond well to blackmail, or to anyone knowing his identity, even if Gustavo was an outwardly gentle soul who was just trying to get his needs met. And so El Rey had palmed the letter opener when Gustavo had sealed the arrangement with a proposal of a glass of rare Cobos Reserve Malbec and had leapt across his desk and skewered his brain when he’d swiveled around from the credenza to the desk with the bottle – which he’d caught with his free hand and had taken home with him, to be savored as an after-dinner treat.
He’d made short work of wiping Gustavo’s computer of any incriminating files and had painstakingly cleaned the handle of the letter opener, still protruding from the old crook’s chin, his eyes open in shocked surprise, staring off into oblivion as if regretting his ultimate misjudgment.
El Rey ’s pulse hadn’t increased from the effort, nor had he been particularly upset over having to terminate his friendship so abruptly. It was nothing personal, just as the uncle’s researching his past hadn’t been personal. He’d done what he’d felt compelled to do, and El Rey had responded in kind. That was how the world worked. If you played with vipers, you shouldn’t be surprised when one bit you. It was the law of the jungle El Rey lived by, and the incident only served to reinforce why it was a good idea to never get too close to anyone, or too attached to any place or thing. Relative peace and safety could turn dangerous in a heartbeat, and it was foolishness to drop your guard.
Gustavo had been working on his project for over a week – he’d seen from the e-mail dates. Which meant that if he’d been telling the truth, he’d known,
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