Killing Kings by Don Pendleton

Author:Don Pendleton
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Worldwide Library
Published: 2018-11-21T19:21:41+00:00

* * *

“I never trusted you,” Roldán confided as they drove, the traitor lying on the back seat of his silver Audi A8, wrists and ankles tightly zip-tied and immobilized. “I like to watch you slink around the office, true enough—those skirts, that ass of yours—but something always seemed a little off about you. Like fish that’s just gone over, eh?”

He knew he’d been fortunate enough to catch her in the act of spying, just returning to Horizon Enterprises, hoping that he’d find the boss still there, missing him but capturing a traitor. Always stealthy in his movements, even when it wasn’t necessary, he had seen the open door to Sarmiento’s office before calling out to him, and thus surprised the scheming bitch as she rifled through Sarmiento’s files.

In search of what? He didn’t know and hadn’t asked her, satisfied that he had nabbed her red-handed.

She’d tried to fight him when he closed the distance between them, but she hadn’t seen his backup weapon, a compact Mega Stun SA-150 hidden in his left hand, while she focused on the Smith & Wesson pistol in his right. She’d thrown a punch at him, hammering his cheek, but then he’d jammed the shocker underneath her right breast, paralyzing her on contact with 150,000 volts. Before she came around, he had retrieved zip ties, making damned sure that she couldn’t gouge his eyes or kick him in the balls.

Luck had blessed him twice, when he was dragging the woman to the ninth-floor’s special elevator, no other Horizon employees to spot him at it. Once inside the elevator, he had pressed the button labeled “G” for the building’s underground garage. The nearest parking spaces to the elevator were reserved for Mr. Sarmiento and Horizon’s other workers, and a quick look revealed no one around to see him hauling Cabrera to his Audi and lifting her into the car’s back seat.

Even trussed up, still groggy as she was, she’d tried to kick him then, but Roldán dodged it, leaning in to hurt her with one clutching, twisting hand. Now, even as his cheek continued to swell from the punch she’d landed, he was smiling at his own reflection in the Audi’s rearview mirror, talking to his prostrate passenger although he couldn’t see her.

“Mr. Sarmiento was surprised by this development,” he said. “Surprised, but pleased. I phoned him while you were, shall we say, indisposed? We’re on our way to see him now. He’d hoped to meet with someone else, of course—the phantom Pablo Escobar, perhaps—but I’m afraid you’ll have to do, for now.”

“You son of a whore,” she replied, making him laugh aloud.

“Such language from a proper lady like yourself,” Roldán replied. “I would be shocked, but honestly, that’s pretty tame. I’ve seen and heard it all. You, on the other hand, still have a new experience in store.”

To that, she offered no reply, so he pressed on. “You won’t only be meeting Mr. Sarmiento. He is waiting for you with the Butcher. Do you know him?”

No response from the back seat.

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