Читать книгу Dying for You - BEVERLY BARTON, Beverly Barton - Страница 6

ARTURO TORRES-RIOS killed his first man when he was fourteen, his first woman when he was seventeen and his first child when he was twenty. Some would call him a murderer. He disagreed. He was an executioner. In his thirty-two years, he had acquired many useful skills that he used for profit and occasionally for pleasure. As an assassin, he had few equals. He preferred jobs where he had little or no personal contact with the victim, but on occasion and for the right price, he used his talents as a torturer or a kidnapper or a thief.

He disliked Americans, especially the owners and employees of wealthy companies here in South America like the ones who were making deals with Ameca’s government to go into partnership with his country’s oil tycoons. Ameca was oil-rich, but the people lived in poverty, as Arturo had lived as a boy. His dislike for Americans was well-known and although he had been hired by more than one American to do their dirty work, Arturo never had direct contact with the bastards. Josue Soto, a lawyer and long-time friend, brokered all of Arturo’s deals, working as a middleman. Josue was well worth the ten percent Arturo paid him. His childhood friend could be trusted.

They never met at Josue’s office or his home, nor did they meet at Arturo’s home. Instead, whenever a new business deal was in the works, they met at St. Salvatora, the old mission church in Puerto Colima, the fishing village where they had both been born.

“If you accept this assignment, you will be paid a quarter of a million dollars, then another quarter million after Phase One and the final million and a half at Phase Two when the assignment is completed,” Josue told him.

“Two million dollars makes this a tempting offer.”

“You don’t even have to get your hands dirty. All you have to do is oversee the job and make sure nothing goes wrong. I am certain you can put together the right team for an assignment such as this.”

“Is the person hiring me for this job an American or someone from Ameca?” Arturo asked.

Josue sighed heavily. “Why do you ask when you know it is better for you and for our client if that information is not shared, to protect both your identity and the client’s?”

Arturo smiled. Josue was right. It did not matter to him who wanted to employ him. His skills were for hire on the open market. “Forget I asked.”

“You have less than a month to prepare. Everything must be in place by the fifteenth of September. It will be up to you to choose the exact time and place, but the opportunity to act is brief, a few days at most.”

“That is not a problem.” He eyed the thin folder in Josue’s hand. “This contains all the information and instructions?”

Josue nodded.

Arturo took the folder, opened it, scanned the three pages several times, and then returned the folder to his friend. Arturo had taught himself to memorize data quickly, to keep information in his head. It was safer for him that way. No paper trail.

“Then I can make contact today and say that we have accepted the assignment?”

“Yes. Tell them to wire the money to our account immediately. Once that is done, I will formulate a foolproof plan and assemble the perfect team.”

“No one is to be killed,” Josue reminded him. “Not until the order is given.”

Arturo and Josue rose from the wooden bench and shook hands. Josue left first, exiting through the front doors. Arturo slipped out the back door, put on his sunglasses and, after checking the debris-strewn alley, walked briskly to his parked car two blocks away.