Читать книгу Andrew Gross 3-Book Thriller Collection 2: 15 Seconds, Killing Hour, The Blue Zone - Andrew Gross, Andrew Gross - Страница 74

Every cell in Kate’s body slammed to a halt.

Oscar Mercado was the cold-blooded killer who had murdered her mother right in front of her eyes. The chief of the Mercado crime family. He had probably killed her father, too. She didn’t know what to do. His henchman was standing only a few feet away. She had to get out of there. She latched onto Fergus, tightly. She stared into the old man’s icy blue eyes. A cry of panic was paralyzed deep in her throat.

“Kate, please.” He gently reached across to her but let his hand fall to the bench. “You have nothing to fear from me. I promise you. On the contrary, it is I who should be alarmed. It’s I who has something to fear from you.”

Kate rose.

A revulsion that was almost uncontrollable surged up in her chest, and she wanted to kill this man—this man who had murdered her mother. Who was behind the attempt to kill her on the river. His cartel, his fraternidad, was responsible for everything bad that had befallen her family.

“Your father—” the old man started to explain.

“My father what?” Kate glared at him. “My father’s dead. You—”

“No, Kate.” Mercado shook his head, unthreatening. His blue pupils shone like opals in his sagging eyes. “Your father is not dead. He is alive. In fact, it is your father who is hunting me.”

“What? I don’t believe you.” Her own eyes filled up with rage. “You’re lying.”

She balled up her fists as if to strike him, but something held her back. He just sat there. He didn’t make a single move to defend himself against her rage. In his face she saw the destruction of everything she once trusted and loved. But suddenly she felt no fear, just uncertainty and anger. His words echoed inside her.

“What do you mean he’s hunting you?”

“It’s why he arranged for his company to be raided, Kate. Why he orchestrated his own arrest. It’s why he had himself placed in the government’s Witness Protection Program.… I think you know these things, don’t you, Kate?”

She locked on his gaze, unable to let go. “What the hell are you saying? That my father destroyed his life, destroyed our lives, just to get himself placed inside the program?”

“Not to be protected by it, Kate.” The man smiled. “In order to infiltrate it.”

Infiltrate? It made no sense. But there was something about what he was saying that she felt was close to the truth. “Why? Why are you telling me this? You say my father’s alive. Why should I believe you? You murdered my mother. I was there! Why should I believe anything you say?”

“Because your father and I both had the same case agent, Kate. Margaret Seymour. Because we were part of the same WITSEC section that specializes in drug-related informants.” He reached out and touched her arm. This time she did not stop him.

“For twenty years”—he looked up at her—“I’ve been in the program, too.”

Kate stared at him. This animal, whose very name was synonymous with violence and death. Whom her father had gone to trial in order to bring down. His eyes were soft and blue and clear.

“No.” She jerked her arm away. He was a killer, a hunted criminal. “You’re Mercado. The FBI said it was you who wanted to kill him. You’re just trying to use me, to find him.”

“Kate …” He shook his head. “The FBI claims many things in order to keep my cover. I haven’t been running the Mercado drug cartel all these years. I’ve been informing on them. I’ve been inside the witness program. The cartel wants me dead, Kate, just as you believe they want to kill your father. Margaret Seymour was my case agent. She knew my whereabouts, my identity. That’s why your father disappeared. To find me, Kate. To hunt me down, for turning on them. And I can prove this to you. I can prove this as sure as I am standing before you, Kate Raab.”

The sound of him saying her name was like a punch deep into her solar plexus. How did he know this? How did he know about her mother? She had never divulged it. She scanned his face, the sharp cheekbones, the rounded chin hidden under his beard, the purpose and lucidity in his blue eyes.

Oh, my God …

Suddenly she saw it. It was like a riptide of shock sweeping through her body. She stared at him, transfixed, breathless, barely able to speak.

“I know you. You’re the person with him in the photograph. The two of you, standing under a gate …”

“In Carmenes.” The man brightened and nodded.

Kate drew a breath. “Who are you? How do you know all this? How do you know my father?”

The old man’s eyes gleamed. “Benjamin Raab is my brother, Kate.”