Primary Valor by Jack Mars (smart books to read .txt) 📕

which way to fall. There was a car parked in front of it,some generic sedan, like a rental car.

They had sent him there. Yes,he knew it was Darwin King who had sent him, but El Tigre never worked directlyfor Darwin. There was always a go-between, or more than one. They had flown himdown from Washington, DC, landing just an hour ago. Private airstrip, no onearound. An empty car waiting with a gun in the glove compartment.

This gun.

This silencer.

These bullets.

All just waiting for him.

The girl might be here, the samegirl he had stolen just last week. Someone had stolen her back. Now the job wasdifferent.

“What would you like me to do?” hehad said.

“You know what to do,” thecustomer had said. Not Darwin King, because never Darwin King. The middleman. Thearranger.

He shook his head. “No. I like itto be clear. I like you to say it.”

“Eliminate her.”

“Eliminate?”

The man nodded. “Yes.”

“And then?” El Tigre said.

“There are alligators there.”

El Tigre nodded. “Ah.”

“If she’s there, you might find aman with her.”

“Okay,” El Tigre said.

“Eliminate him too.”

Now, in the dim light of morning,he moved toward the house. The gun was out, in his right hand, the silenceralready mounted. He moved cautiously, taking careful steps, completely silent. Hewent up the stairs to the porch, stepping gingerly, testing each board first.

The house was quiet. The caroutside said someone was here. The silence said otherwise.

Maybe they were asleep.

He moved along the porch and cameto the door. He glanced inside. The door opened to a threadbare kitchen. Fromhere, he could see a small refrigerator, a table and a chair. He put his handon the doorknob and very slowly, he turned it. It was unlocked.

That was lucky. Very good fortune.

He took a deep breath and pushedit slowly open. He went through the doorway, careful not to make the slightestsound. Even his breathing was silent. Now he was inside. He could see the restof the kitchen now. It took a second to absorb the scene.

There was a pot of water on thestove, and the water was boiling. There was a mug with some kind of tea bag, orcoffee bag in it. There were a handful of sugar packets.

Someone was definitely here, hadin fact been in this kitchen only a…

A gun was at his head, behind him.

“Move at all and I’ll kill you,” amale voice said.

El Tigre did not move.

“Now drop that gun.”

He did as he was told. The gunmade a loud thunk when it hit the kitchen floor.

Without warning, the man hit himin the back of the head. The impact was vicious, nauseating. Instantly, ElTigre knew what it was.

He’d been hit with a gun. A pistolwhipping was coming.

The man hit him again.

And again.

Each blow was a blast of pain andblinding light. His legs became weak. He reached to grip something to holdhimself up, but there was nothing.

He was hit again. His vision wentblack.

When he opened his eyes, he was onhis back, looking up. His first thought was that he was dizzy and might vomit. Hissecond thought was:

My gun!

He had dropped it here on thefloor somewhere. It might still…

The man appeared, standing overhim. There was no sense looking for the gun because the man was holding it. Theman was tall, and broad, and had short blond hair. His eyes said he was very,very tired. His eyes also said he had killed before, and wouldn’t mind doing itagain.

“That’s quite a scar on your face,”the man said. “Tell me something. Does anyone ever call you El Tigre?”

CHAPTER FORTY FOUR

12:25 p.m. Eastern StandardTime

The Long Trail Tavern

Providence, Rhode Island

 

“Don’t you guys have anythingbetter to do?”

Eddie Alvarez was putting up pintglasses above the bar. He had worked here so long, even he couldn’t rememberwhen he started. Two regulars had just come in and sat down at the far end ofthe bar.

The Long Trail didn’t serve food,other than little bags of potato chips, potato skins, and hot fries. There wasno trail nearby. Technically, the place didn’t open until two o’clock. Theowner, Steve, didn’t like people coming in much before then.

Steve didn’t want to admit whateveryone else already knew, which was that the Long Trail was a place wherealcoholics came to drink cheap alcohol. That would make Steve complicit inpeople drinking themselves to death, and since he had gotten rich owning thisdump, he wanted to be above reproach.

Steve would say, “I don’t want abunch of drunks coming in here at twelve-oh-one because they think thatqualifies as waiting until lunch.”

So Eddie didn’t let people in at12:01. But that was as far as it went.

He sighed. Customers were alreadyhere, so he turned on the TV behind the bar. He clicked around until he found acable news station. In a little while, there would be a baseball game fromsomewhere. There always was.

A pretty, middle-aged woman withdark hair, some impossible to decipher mixed race, was reading the news. IfEddie looked closely, he felt that he would be able to spot the area under herchin where she’d had a bit of a tuck, or the way her skin seemed artificiallysmoothed out under her eyes, where there would normally be crow’s feet, or thearea on either side of her mouth.

He shook his head. What did itmatter?

“Today, multiple federal agencies,and the United States Army Special Forces, in partnership with the Honduran AirForce and Navy, staged an early morning raid on an island off the coast ofHonduras owned by mysterious billionaire Darwin King. King was present on theisland, and was arrested in connection with human trafficking allegationsstemming from numerous abduction cases in Florida, North Carolina, and New YorkCity. He was also wanted in connection with the murder of the lobbyist MilesRichmond, who was found shot and killed in the underground parking lot of hisfirm in Washington, DC. At least half a dozen minors were rescued from DarwinKing’s island during the operation. Their names and genders are being protectedfor their safety.

“The Honduran president, SalvadorRuiz-Campo, issued a statement denying any previous knowledge of King’spresence in Honduras. His spokesman said the government of Honduras was shockedto discover that an international criminal like King was living just off theircoast, and the