Читать книгу The Foreign Girls - Sergio Olguin - Страница 18

The simplest cases can become complicated. He had always known that. He didn’t trust straightforward jobs; in fact, 54they annoyed him. He preferred complicated assignments: a businessman with a security detail, a well-armed police chief, some narco traitor loaded up with guns. For that reason, when Doctor Zero had asked the four of them (One, Two, Four and him) to go and beat up one guy, a skinny runt, it struck him as way more force than the job required. Any one of the four of them could have taken him out alone. Then everything got crazily fucked up. Some Chinese dude turned up to defend the skinny guy, humiliating them with his karate moves. They got their revenge on the Chink soon enough, then they had to go and find the other one, the skinny motherfucker who was hiding in the journalist’s apartment. This time not just to rough him up but to put him six feet under.

All four of them went over there and when they were about to finish off the job on the sidewalk outside the building, the journalist chick turned up and drove over them all in her car. Twice. One and Four were killed instantly. Two died two days later. He was the only one to survive. By a whisker, but still, he was alive. And ready to take revenge on that bitch.

When he reached the corner there was a car, with Five at the wheel. He got into the passenger seat and put on his seat belt. Five put his foot down and sped away from the hospital.

“All good with Chancha?”

“He’s a fool.”

It was all they said on that journey to San Fernando. Three had no idea where they were heading, but he knew there was no point asking. Five took him to a bar beside a river. At that time in the morning the terrace was still full of people having breakfast, except for one table, whose occupant was drinking a glass of wine. Doctor Zero. It wasn’t often you saw him. Usually everything was done by phone. He thought the doctor must want to give him some long instruction, or deliver a warning, or a dressing-down.55

Doctor Zero gestured to Three to come over. When Three arrived at his table, he pointed at the chair opposite. Five had stayed at another table, on his own.

“Have you had breakfast?”

“At the prison.”

Doctor Zero drank some wine but didn’t seem about to call the waiter over to order anything for Three, who was sitting rigidly upright like a dog waiting for instruction.

“I have a job for you.”

“I’m at your orders.”

Doctor Zero wiped his lips with a paper napkin. He crumpled it into a ball and a breeze sent it tumbling to the ground.

“Simple and quick. But you need your brain in gear.”

Three said nothing.

“Are you still thinking about neutralizing the journalist?”

Three nodded while watching the river sweeping serenely along the banks.

“Don’t nod like a pansy. Say ‘yes’.”

“Yes, Doctor.”

“You need to know you’re on your own for that one.”

“I know that.”

“If you fail for any reason, I’m not going to help you.”

“All I need is some time to do it.”

“Get this little job out of the way, then take some leave.”

There was a long silence. Doctor Zero scrutinized him, concerned.

“A professional kills for money. Revenge is a luxury reserved for people who can afford to pay someone else to do the killing. You don’t have the money it would take to hire someone else like you. This isn’t a joke, it’s a warning: don’t start thinking that the person capable of killing this girl isn’t a professional but a guy blinded by his lust for revenge. Because then you’re screwed.”56