Songbird Read online

  “I’m changing my strategy. If I don’t, I’ll end up with just another Gina, and I’m fed up with greedy sluts.”

  “So you’re going to pretend to be poor and look for a virgin maiden who’ll love you for yourself?”

  Kyle can be such an asshole sometimes. I motioned to him to refill our glasses. “I know what I want. She’s got to be easy on the eye, hot in the bedroom and quiet outside it.”

  “Sounds simple enough.”

  “Yup, I don’t want someone local; she’ll be too tempted to talk to her friends and family. I’ll make a few calls and get some photos sent over from LA and Moscow.”

  “A pro?” Kyle frowned. “You’ll be bored in a week. Even the best ones are brainless unless it comes to money.”

  “I don’t mind gold-diggers. Money motivates everyone.”

  “Not Chloe.”

  “No, not Chloe! Chloe is perfect. Chloe is wonderful!”

  Kyle was grinning. “And don’t you forget it.”

  “Be reasonable, Kyle. I’m stuck here most of the time because of security. I’ve had six relationships in two years, and none of them has worked. Regular girls don’t understand that our business comes with a price.”

  “We could take a trip to Bogotá or San Salvador. I hear the Mara have some sweet looking daughters. And they’d be easy to assimilate here.”

  “Sure. And the second I dump her or have a bit on the side, we’ve got a turf war. No thanks. From now on I’m sticking to pros. They’ll do the job, without the fuss and bother.”

  Kyle sank another shot. “Sounds like a plan. Let’s get drunk.”

  “Sure thing.” I looked at the empty house behind me. Really, it had been a crappy day. I picked up the phone. “Let me make those calls first. I think I’ll start with a double deal: One blonde and one redhead. That should keep things interesting.”

  “If you’re going to rebound, do it in style.”

  Chapter One: Arturo

  We drove round the back of the house, parking the SUV out of sight from the road. There were just five of us. Kyle had assembled his best men: Quique, Chema and Pedro Rojo, all ex-Special Forces, and me.

  They were sitting in the back dressed in camo gear, body armour, night vision goggles and carrying HK416 rifles. I was wearing jeans and a pullover, so I was acting as driver. In Nuevo Laredo the police know better than to interfere with us, but in England it still pays to be discrete.

  Fucho should have been waiting, but the house was in darkness.

  “Trouble,” Kyle breathed as he pointed at the kitchen door. A pane of glass had been broken. At the sight of it, my heart began to beat faster.

  Fucho was my inside man at Escamilla’s and it was his call to me the day before that had brought us here.

  “Escamilla is ready to set up as an independent. He’s cleaning house, moving money and reaching out to the Polish mafia to make a mutual protection deal.”

  “Hang tight. We’re on our way.”

  “Sure boss, but he’s moving fast. Very fast indeed.”

  “I’m leaving in ten minutes. If you get an opportunity to take him out before I get there, do so.”

  “I’ll try, but he hasn’t been seen outside of his office since yesterday afternoon. A cold, they said, but it looks like he’s holing up and mobilising.”

  “Fuck!”

  “Sorry, boss. I should have called sooner.”

  “Not to worry, we still have time. See in you in a few hours.” I realised Fucho was hurting, pissed at being taken in by Escamilla. “Fucho, don’t take undue risks. I’m bringing a team.”

  Unfortunately, Escamilla had smelled a rat. I found Fucho in the living room. By the look of the scene, the end had been quick. A shot to the back of the skull, and from the way he sprawled on the sofa, he hadn’t even heard it coming. He still had his gun in his hand, a nice little Glock, perfect for a quiet assassination.

  Chema swore. He and Fucho had gone to school together. “This will kill his mother,” he said. “Fucho was always her favourite.”

  “We’ll have our revenge tonight,” I told him.

  It was cold comfort, but he nodded.

  “I’ll arrange for a clean-up,” Kyle murmured.

  “Wait a sec.” I knew Fucho had been keeping records, and by the look of it, Escamilla had known, too, because the place had been searched. Fucho, however, was a tricky bastard, and the little safe downstairs contained only money and coke. The real valuables had been stashed in a floor safe in the bedroom.

  “I don’t think he’s onto me,” Fucho had growled a month earlier, “but better safe than sorry. The safe is under the bedroom rug, and the combination is my ex’s birthday.”

  I went to see what he’d kept there and found a phone.

  Switching it on, Escamilla’s voice came through loud and clear. “When I take over, you deal with the heroin, and I’ll do the coke. We can split meth revenues.”

  “Sounds good.” From the heavily accented reply, this was a representative from Poland. “We should also talk about cars. I have an order from Warsaw that needs to be filled. Porsches, Beemers – you know, luxury items.”

  I switched off the phone and stuck it in my pocket. I’d listen to it later, after Escamilla was six feet under. The safe also held a wad of cash. I shoved it in my jacket, deciding it would be a final alimony payment for Fucho’s ex. Thank God they never had kids. At least that was one grief spared.

  We left the house and gathered by the SUV.

  “So with Fucho out of it, we’ll have to go on to plan b,” I said to the men.

  They nodded, their faces grim. Everyone had liked Fucho, so we were dying to take revenge. Tonight was going to be bloody.

  Kyle and Quique spoke quietly, and then Quique, Chema and Pedro vanished silently in the dark.

  “Arturo, you ready?”

  Kyle looked perfectly relaxed, but I know him better than I know myself. I knew he was nervous, and it wasn’t the prospect of storming a heavily defended house that was making him edgy. Kyle was nervous because he was working with an amateur: me.

  “Maybe you should tell me the plan again. I don’t think I got it the first thousand times you went over it.”

  Kyle grinned. “All right. I’ll see you inside.” He slapped me on the back, and then he took off after his men. He moved at a run without making a sound. It was eerie as hell.

  I checked my watch and waited fifteen minutes. It was cold and wet, the rain drizzling down in a steady stream, but tension was keeping me nice and warm. When the quarter of an hour was up, I got behind the wheel and drove quietly up to the house.

  Abmynde Priory was built a thousand years ago according to the guidebooks, but it’s been destroyed and rebuilt several times, so it looks plain Victorian. Still old, right? Except for the security, which was state-of-the-art. Tucked discretely around the walls and roof were cameras with infrared and motion sensors, while the house itself was protected by an E-field. I’ve visited bank vaults with fewer defences.

  I drove up to the gate, looked into the camera and announced my name. A few minutes later the gates opened, and the porch was flooded with light.

  By now Escamilla would be wondering what the hell I was doing here, and knowing him, he’d be armed. As long as he didn’t shoot me in the head straight off, I was prepared. I was wearing a type III vest; it’s just a few millimetres thick, but if Escamilla tried for a body shot with his favourite Magnum – gold plated for Christ’s sake – those magic fibres would be enough to protect me. It was also thin and flexible enough to be invisible under the Shetland wool pullover I’d bought in London on my last trip here. There are times when you want people to know you’re prepared for trouble, but this wasn’t one of them. My mission was to get inside and to drop the E-field defence, so I had to look harmless.

  When the door opened, I didn’t recognise the man inside it or the second one hanging out at the top of the stairs. Over the last four weeks, Escamilla had been quietly recruiting people who�
��d be loyal to him and sidelining mine. These men acted tough, a sure sign of amateurism. Serious people can afford to relax.

  Luckily, their amateurism extended to not giving their boss a heads-up that he had company. The damn fools had looked at the approved visitors list and then just let me in. It was a lucky break, and I planned on taking full advantage.

  I spotted a backpack by the door, and there was yelling coming from a room off the entrance hall. I knew Escamilla had a local girl move in with him a month ago, but it didn’t seem to be working out. From the sound of it, she was a virago. Good. While Escamilla had his hands full with her, I’d take out the two morons downstairs and then go find him.

  I turned to the doorman, smiling and acting the idiotic Mexican. “Man, it’s good to be here! Que pinche lluvia! I’m soaked! I’m Arturo. How’re you doing?”

  I put out my hand, and the fool shook it. I held on tight, pulled him close, and shot him in the heart. Holding him up in front of me as a shield, I sighted past him and took out the one on the stairs. My favourite gun, a Heckler & Koch USP, is nice and discrete, just like my Kevlar. The suppressor muted the roar, and the thick carpet on the stairs muffled the sound of the body tumbling down. The yelling from down the hall hadn’t quit, so I was all set to go.

  By now Kyle and his people would have dealt with outside security. There were two fixed security posts and two roving patrols, a total of eight men and four dogs – no problem for Kyle. We didn’t know how many men were inside, but Kyle reckoned there would be six of them at least, all sleeping in the servant quarters at the back, as well as up to a dozen on duty in the main house. Escamilla knew I’d come for him eventually, so he had surrounded himself by an army. They were protected by the E-field, and as we didn’t want them hiding behind it and picking us off one by one, my job was to find the command centre and switch it off.

  Yesterday, when I told Kyle I’d do it, he told me to forget it.

  “I should be the one going in,” Kyle had insisted. “Security and clean-up is my responsibility.”

  “If you turn up, he’ll know we’re onto him.”

  “He’ll know it when he sees you, too!”

  “No, he won’t. I told him I’d be over for a visit. Also, he’ll be delighted to see me. He’ll invite me in, and he’ll try to kill me. I’ll just make sure I shoot him first.”

  Kyle knew I was right, but he didn’t like it. Kyle’s younger than I, but he comes over all protective at times. Being an ex-Marine, he also thinks everyone who hasn’t been in the Corps is an amateur and should be behind the battle lines.

  I put my foot down. “Kyle, don’t be a fool. Escamilla knows us, so he’ll be nervous. He’s set everything up, and now he’s going to send his people out while he stays snug in that fortress. Fucho will try to get to him, but if for some reason he can’t, we need to go in fast if we’re to prevent a war.”

  “This is my fault.”

  Kyle was beating himself up, but we both knew it was just one of those things. We’d both been watching Escamilla, but he’d still come very close to fucking us over. Close, but not close enough.

  It’s not an easy matter to keep an eye on everyone all the time. We’re constantly at war, so if it’s not one of the other cartels trying to muscle in on our business, it’s one of our own looking to take a shortcut up through the ranks. When Kyle was still in the Corps, I had three men running security, and we had constant trouble, a lot of it from totally unexpected sources. We spent practically half our time fighting our own people.

  After Kyle took over, that changed. We now have the same rate of trouble, but we get wind of it so fast that we take the fuckers out in the planning stages. It’s efficient, and we’re spending less than a quarter of our time now dealing with internal hassles.

  Kyle knew it, I knew it, but it was time to say it out loud. “Kyle, we’re here because we did see it coming. We’ve still got time to stop it. Not just that, but we have Fucho, and we’re the back-up plan. I mean, seriously, it’s a shitty situation, but we’re not exactly caught unprepared. Also, we haven’t had a serious threat in three years. Everyone else has at least one every six months.”

  “I know. But he still got closer than I’m comfortable with.”

  “He grew up with us, and we trained him. We’re the best, so he’s the best.”

  “We’re the best of the best, and we’ll take the fucker out.” Kyle was grinning. “But this is a mission, so we do this my way, and you take orders from me.”

  There’s no point in having a dog and barking yourself, and I’m an ace at knowing when and what to delegate. “Yessir!”

  So there I was, two men down, and making my way to Escamilla’s office. I hadn’t been there before, but the voices led to a nicely carved wooden door just off the main hall. For a moment I stood outside, listening in.

  “Fuck you!” It was a woman’s voice, shrill and furious. “I’ve nobody left now, so there’s not a damn thing you can threaten me with!”

  “You try walking and see what happens to that pretty face of yours, Solitaire.” That flat voice was definitely Escamilla, and by the sound of things, he was furious.

  “You’re a freak, a goddamn coward, and I hope to God that someone shoots you!”

  It sounded like an invitation. I opened the door and got a brief sight of Escamilla struggling with a girl. There was a roar from him, a scream from her, and then she reeled back and fell into my arms.

  She looked up at me: huge, dark blue eyes in a heart-shaped face, a delicate straight nose, lovely slanting cheekbones and hair that was so black, it had a blue sheen. Her body was ripe, luscious, and her skin smooth and creamy, except for a large red mark on her cheek. From the shape if it, it looked like Escamilla had slapped her.

  I looked at that lovely face and understood why Escamilla had moved her in. She was a heartbreaker.

  “Arturo!” Escamilla was looking pretty fucking awful. He’s always been skinny and nervy, but now he was white as a sheet, skeletal, and his hands were shaking. I’d known he was obsessed with his health, but by the tray of pills and the boxes of sanitary wipes on his desk and the thin latex gloves he wore, I guess stress had turned hypochondria into full-blown OCD. I was glad to see it. The fucker had betrayed me, and I was going to make him suffer.

  He should have gone for his gun, but Escamilla was clutching a bloodstained letter opener and trying to stem a deep cut on his arm. Solitaire had stabbed him.

  I held onto her tightly and lifted the USP. “Hello, José.” Then I shot him carefully in the shoulder. Solitaire screamed and jumped, but I kept a good hold on her. I didn’t want her running around; I might need her to convince Escamilla to talk. Most men are tough for themselves, but they fall to pieces if they see their women take the heat. I ignored the stabbing – a lover’s quarrel doesn’t always mean much. Solitaire might come in useful. “What’s the security code, José?”

  “Fuck you!”

  I shot him in the other shoulder. “There’s no hurry, José. I’ve got all night.” I looked at Solitaire. “While José makes up his mind, you and I can become better acquainted.”

  Solitaire gulped and those sapphire eyes opened even wider. “Listen,” she said hurriedly. “I know the code!”

  “Shut up, cunt!” Escamilla was discovering the pain of betrayal for himself.

  “It’s one two three four,” Solitaire gasped.

  Un-fucking-believable! To put in a security system and be too lazy to remember a decent code struck me as insane. “Are you certain?” I asked her.

  “One of his favourite things is to have me under the desk sucking him off during meetings.” Her tone was venomous. “The panel is in that cabinet on the back wall, so I saw him put in the code.”

  While Escamilla stood swearing helplessly at her, Solitaire took me over to his desk. She opened a cupboard, revealing a neat looking information console with half a dozen monitors. It was a top grade security system, linked to an office in London. If it was triggered, the
y’d put through a call thirty seconds later. Giving the right code meant they would assume it was down for maintenance or other routine reason. The wrong code would trigger a police alert.

  Solitaire was watching me. Her hands were trembling, but she wasn’t crying. Definitely a girl who could hold it together.

  I put the USP to her head. “Switch it all off, and without alerting anyone.”

  Most people fall apart when you stick a gun to their head. Solitaire blinked, swallowed, and then straightened and looked down her nose at me.

  “There’s no point in threatening me,” she said icily. “They’ll call, and you have to give a codeword. I don’t know it, and it’s not like putting a bullet in my brain is going to make me clairvoyant.”

  She wasn’t shaking anymore, and by the derisive look in those blue eyes, I could see she didn’t give a shit if I pulled the trigger or not. Solitaire was quite a package.

  “No problem.” Our hacker got us the correct response code from the office’s database, but he couldn’t get us the four digit in-house code, as it’s set manually. One two three four. My God, what a fucking moron. “Switch it off, Solitaire.”

  She typed in the numbers and flicked a switch. The board flashed up amber, counted down from ten and flashed red. Now we’d get a call in thirty seconds. I looked at my watch and after fifteen seconds, I lifted the gun and shot Escamilla in the leg, shattering his right knee. He squealed and fell to the floor just as the phone rang. Solitaire flinched, but she didn’t scream. Motioning to her to keep quiet, I picked it up. “Broccoli.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  A little pain makes you scream, but lots of it produces a whimper. With Escamilla’s shattered knee keeping him quiet and Solitaire silent, the security people didn’t suspect a thing.

  “Thank you,” I said, imitating Escamilla’s flat tone, and then I hung up. I took the phone out of my pocket and texted Kyle. He’d set his phone on silent, but the vibration would alert him, and our codeword ‘Geronimo’ would tell him he was clear to go.

  Seeing Solitaire staring at me, I worried she’d try to cut and run. I pushed her into Escamilla’s chair and stood over her, watching the action on the monitors. I could see Kyle slide over a low wall and cut a guard’s throat. Quique was doing the same on another monitor. It would all be over in minutes now.