20. weird, world.
“Sir, I’m afraid it looks as though they’ve gone into Mexico City.”
Alyosha didn’t curse, or sigh, or mutter. He simply pinched the bridge of his nose and took a silent, steadying breath. “Remind me,” he said in an undertone to Elisabeta. “To put another petition before the Council next fiscal year. Surely we can afford to root out the cancer that is Ovidio Navarro. It rankles so that we allow a thug like him to curtail our movements in the country.”
“Especially given the debt he still owes us,” Elisabeta said, resting her hand on his arm. “I’ll stand by you when you petition. Do we still have access to the traffic cameras, Francis, so we can at least track their movements through the city?”
“Yes, Miss Volos. I’ve got Samantha and Ty playing connect the dots-”
“Excuse me, Miss Volos? Mr. Kovalenko?” The young woman in the pink dress, her beaded dreads hanging over one shoulder, was breathless from her run down the hall. A handful of glossy photo print-outs were clutched to her chest. “I think I may have found something.”
“Yes… Jasika, was it?”
“That’s right, miss. I’ve been going over the footage from the border and the towns we know they went through, and I think there may be a second vehicle involved.”
Alyosha straightened as if a bloodhound catching a scent. “Show us.”
“See, it’s a silver or white truck. It’s here, here, and here. Over seven hundred miles and still within a few car lengths. I doubt it’s coincidence.”
“Excellent work, Jasika,” Alyosha said, favoring her with a rare smile. “Good eye-you’ve earned a commendation for this. Francis, put someone on this with Miss Jasika-I want to find out who’s driving this truck.”
Elisabeta’s phone chirruped. She glanced down at the text message. “Keep me posted,” she told the agent sitting at the computer. “Alyosha, I’ll see you back at the hotel.”
“Jaswinder?” he asked quietly, receiving only a nod of confirmation in reply.
The man who greeted her in the private office was so far removed from the man she had seen three days ago he could have been someone else entirely. This Jaswinder was calm, steady, and had an easy, charming smile twisting his lips when his bright eyes fell on her. “Hello, Elisabeta,” he said pleasantly. “What news?”
“Our targets are in Mexico City. The tech department is doing what they can to track their movements via the traffic cams. Feeling better, I see.”
“Infinitely better. A dose of medicine and a full night’s sleep or three-just what the doctor ordered. What do you need me to do?”
“Be ready to move as soon as they step outside of the city’s borders.”
“I could go in after them-flush them into the open.”
“No, Jaswinder-”
“I’m not afraid of El Pastor.”
“But I am. I have seen what that man is capable of. I will not risk losing you to his rage.”
“I would face any dragon or demon for you, Elisabeta.” He shifted in his chair, and there it was: the red hot light flickering in his eyes. He may look sober and sane at times, but there was always the flame of a zealot’s passion banked down in his heart. Few things could be as terrible and awe-inspiring as a true believer.
She reached out and brushed a stray curl of dark hair behind his ear. “I know you would, and I am grateful for your devotion. But better to be patient and bide our time for an opening rather than rush blindly into danger. Soon, dearest, we will have our chance.”
It had been years-how many? He refused to count, to think too hard or deeply on that period of his life. That had been another life entirely, one marked only by pain and guilt, and he was a different man now than he had been. The city had changed, too, in a thousand small but inescapable ways. Louder, bigger, it now loomed over him like some crouching wild animal. He half-expected it to sink claws into his shoulders and pin him to the ground. To demand in the strident, harsh tones of its honking cars and construction sites that he pay for past sins.
He did not want to be here. Though, in truth, there were few places on earth he wanted to be; for someone like him, existence was not meant to be comfortable. And he had learned a long time ago that wanting and needing were two completely different things-his own personal wishes counted for nothing in the larger scheme of things, and he had been sent here on a very particular mission.
On the subject of debts that must be repaid...
There was the market, and there the booth where the old woman sat selling her cheap plastic dolls in their mass produced white dresses. He would wait, an eye on the table of dolls, and watch for them.
It wouldn’t be a long wait.