Night of the Assassin: Assassin Series Prequel, Russell Blake [good story books to read txt] 📗

carry the burden of ending her suffering and doing what she couldn’t do for herself. He winced as the roof collapsed, the propane for the stove having provided ample fuel to get the blaze started. A single tear trickled its way down his cheek – his lonely offering to a world that brutalized its children and savaged its meek. His shoulders shuddered as he cried for what could have been, and what Jasmine could have had, at the unfairness of it all and the pointlessness of everything.

Eventually, his sorrow exhausted, he gruffly rubbed the moisture from his face with his shirt sleeve before getting behind the wheel and driving away. There was still much to be done, and he could bemoan his existence later.

Solomon Valiente sat in the office of his furniture store, ranchero music humming forth from the showroom speakers in an attempt to lure pedestrians in, wondering what the gimmick was in this overture from an unknown. He’d gotten a strange call an hour earlier indicating that a stranger wanted to speak with him on an important matter of urgency. He rubbed his neck, absently fingering the heavy gold links that held the crucifix he never removed. He gestured to the two men standing by his door to allow the young man to enter his office.

Valiente was one of the main rivals to Altamar’s iron hold on his empire, and it was well known that he hated the man, furious over some close family members who had been killed by Altamar’s goons when the power struggle over Don Miguel’s holdings was underway. In the interests of prosperity they’d made their fragile pact, but Valiente held a grudge, and he was a dangerous and powerful warlord in his own right.

The young man had approached him through a street-level enforcer that morning and requested a meeting. He claimed to have something of tremendous value to offer Valiente, which had naturally piqued his interest – Valiente was a man best avoided so he wasn’t accustomed to being solicited for anything. Three security men had frisked the young man upon his arrival, verifying that he had no weapons and wasn’t wearing a wire before allowing him anywhere near Valiente’s office; so there could be no trickery or immediate physical threat – always a concern in the cartel game, where you could routinely expect attempts on your life on virtually any pretense.

Valiente leaned forward in his reclining chair as the young man entered and sat at his desk, a stern, armed enforcer bracketing him on either side, ever mindful of the slightest wrong move.

“So, you want a meeting. Here it is. Tell me what it is you have that’s of such value to me,” Valiente started, sipping his coffee while appraising the young man’s face.

“I’m an ex-marine. I want to begin a career as a specialist in contract executions for your cartel. I’ve been trained in every sort of weapons and demolition, and I have a year’s worth of combat experience with over thirty-six confirmed kills,” the young man began.

“That’s interesting, but it’s not of that much value to me. Don’t get me wrong, I can always use good men, but there’s a difference between coming looking for a job, and bringing me something of value,” Valiente observed.

“I know. And I’m not looking for a job. I’m offering my services as a contractor. And what I have to offer you, I believe, is significant. As a good faith token, take a look at this. It was taken seven hours ago.” He removed the small digital camera from his pants pocket, powered it on and thumbed through the photos until he reached the desired one. He handed the device to Valiente.

Valiente peered at the screen and blinked, and then his eyes narrowed to slits.

“Both of you. Get out,” he instructed his bodyguards. The two hulking men exchanged glances, and then with distrustful glares at the new arrival, obediently left the room.

“I could have you killed for this, and Altamar would reward me with anything I wanted.”

“No. He wouldn’t. He can’t give you what you really want. Only I can. Today. Because you don’t want to live in his shadow forever, and I have the ability to make him disappear, now, and never give you any more problems. You and you alone would know he was gone, enabling you to consolidate power and take steps ahead of any of your competitors, ensuring that you’d replace him. Here’s what I propose. You pay me three hundred thousand dollars and he disappears effective immediately.” Valiente’s eyes tracked the young man’s unblinking gaze as he spoke. “You pay me two hundred thousand dollars each for as many of your rivals you want dispatched within the next seventy-two hours, and I’ll make it so. It’s a guarantee that you will take over Altamar’s business at that point, which will make you that amount of money in a matter of hours. I have him right now, so you haven’t attempted anything. I have. So you have nothing to lose and everything to gain.” The young man had spoken in a calm, soft voice, with measured inflection, laying out the options in a methodical manner.

Valiente leaned into his plush chair and considered the proposition while eying the young man. He weighed the options and then rose.

“If you can do this, we have a deal. What payment do you propose?”

“The three hundred I want now, and before the day’s end I will bring you a photo of your enemy dead. The others, half up front, half upon successful completion. It’s actually a bargain, but I’m anxious to make a name for myself and earn your support,” the young man said.

Valiente nodded. It was indeed a bargain. They both knew it. He was being handed the keys to the kingdom for a song.

“I have to say, this comes as a complete surprise. If you can pull this off, you’ll be very, very busy carrying out jobs for me.” Valiente stared into his empty