The Face of the Assassin by David Lindsey

Author:David Lindsey
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Criminals, Brothers, Mexico, Police artists, Americans - Mexico, Crime, Psychological, Death, Suspense fiction, Americans, Suspense, Twins, Fiction, Mexico City (Mexico), Undercover operations, Brothers - Death
ISBN: 9780446529297
Publisher: Hachette Digital, Inc.
Published: 2004-04-20T10:04:47.151259+00:00

Chapter 28

Kevern’s small team of four, including himself, was well versed in electronics, but for the more complex ops they depended on Mondragón’s techs, who were all ex-Mexican military or intelligence officers. But there hadn’t been time for them to put together video surveillance, though they did have a good audio feed.

Mondragón’s security goons were there, blending in with the crowd, though they were there only as observers this time and had no real responsibilities beyond providing more eyes and ears. Everyone half-expected Baida to have people there also, if he was indeed looking for an opportunity to contact Bern, and Kevern hoped someone would be able to pick up on some of his people. A good percentage of the crowd on Calle Génova belonged to a surveillance entity of one kind or another.

At the sound of the first shot, Kevern’s team bailed out of their car, which was double parked near the French embassy on Calle Niza. But by the time they had all hit the pavement, the last shot was being fired, and by the time they had reached the corner of Calle Hamburgo, they slammed into a tide of screaming Zonistas fleeing in the opposite direction.

When they finally fought their way upstream, the samba dancer was dancing alone, though some people in the crowd were already slowing down and turning around to glance back from a safer distance. Kevern dived into the palmettos, getting bloody up to his elbows as he deftly retrieved Mingo’s wallet.

Then they were gone, leaving the Policia Judicial to discover the body for themselves and to sort it all out on their own, which they weren’t going to be able to do.

Moments later, after they had returned to the car, Kevern discovered that Susana wasn’t answering either her surveillance cell or her regular encrypted cell. But the tracking equipment had picked up her encrypted call to Bern’s phone.

Kevern’s officers immediately began homing in on the GPS signals from the two phones. Bern’s was stationary.

Kevern began going through the possibilities of why Bern’s signal wasn’t moving as their car eased through the streets, sneaking away from the chaos in the Zona Rosa. He had been killed. Or he had been kidnapped and his phone discarded. Whatever Susana’s reasons were for not answering, he just had to trust her.

He hunched over in his seat and concentrated on listening to the playback of Bern’s conversation with Mingo, listening to it again and again. “They went where you said to go; they did the things you said to do.” Kevern replayed it once more and then looked at the agent sitting across from him in the backseat. “I have found a woman who has the thing you want.”

“What the hell’s he saying?” Kevern grunted.

Jack Petersen said nothing. He had worked undercover in Latin America for thirteen years. Buenos Aires, Iguaçú Falls, Bogotá, São Paulo. He had last worked with Kevern in Colombia. He put his head down and listened, shaking his head.

“Shit,” Kevern said. He fast-forwarded to Bern’s response.

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