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“I did.” I nod and light another cigarette. “Like Kruger’s perfect little soldier is supposed to.”
Felix looks away. The rest of the drive passes in complete silence.
* * *
We manage to cross the border without any trouble. When we get off the highway onto a side road that leads to the Sandoval compound, I check the map. I’ve marked all the spots where Sandoval’s men usually kept guard. I doubt that Diego bothered to change the locations. I take another side road that should get us almost to the compound with only one checkpoint along the way. When we near the guards’ location, I park the car behind some foliage and get out to change and arm up.
“What the fuck is that?” Felix mumbles behind me as I’m taking out the weapons.
“Crossbow.” I open the box with bolts and start counting them. “It’s a new model Luca gave me last month to try out.”
“You’re deranged.” He tsks. “Can’t you do anything the normal way? Why not dispatch them with a knife?”
“Because there are usually at least three men at this checkpoint. And it’s not dark enough for sneaking up on that many targets.”
“So, you picked a fucking crossbow? Who do you think you are—damn Van Helsing?”
“Oh, shut up already.”
“What about a sniper rifle?”
“Not on this terrain. I’d need to get too close for that.” I strap a knife to my thigh and take the crossbow. “I’ll be back in an hour. Prepare the cameras, and I’ll set them up around the compound as soon as it gets dark.”
“How many?”
“Twelve. Have Mimi do her business, but don’t wander around. No one should find us here, but have a gun at ready, just in case.”
“You really think you can pull this off? It’s at least thirty security guards, Sergei. Plus, the guests, who will probably all be armed.”
“It’s nothing a bit of C-4 can’t handle,” I say and head in the direction of the guards.
“We drove all the way here with C-4 in a trunk?” he whisper-yells after me. “How much did you pack?”
I look over my shoulder and wink at him. “All of it, Albert.”
* * *
There are four of Diego’s men around the cabin they use as a checkpoint. One is standing by the vehicles parked off to the side, while the rest are sitting on the porch, eating. I don’t like killing people when they are in the middle of a meal—seems disrespectful—but I’m on a really tight schedule here.
I aim the crossbow at the lone man, and when I’m sure no one is looking in his direction, I let the bolt fly. It impales the side of his head, but I miscalculated the angle. Instead of a straight drop, the impact propels the guy onto the hood of the car before his body rolls to the ground. The heads of the other men snap in the direction of the vehicles, but they can’t see what happened from where they are.
I load another bolt into the crossbow and wait.
Two guys take their guns and head around the cabin toward the cars, calling for their friend. The moment they round the corner, I shoot the guy who remained on the porch. I leave the crossbow on the ground and, taking out the knife, run to the vehicles from the other side.
If they see the body, they may call the base to report it, and I can’t have that. The main advantage of my plan for tomorrow is the surprise factor. If I don’t have that, everything may go to hell. Using my gun is not an option because we’re too close to the compound and someone may hear it. Going against two armed men only with a knife is not the wisest course of action, but it’llhave to do. I plaster my back to the side of an all-terrain truck, right next to the dead guy, and wait.
One of the men turns to look back toward the cabin, and I use that moment to jump in front of the other guy and slice his neck. The moment his body hits the ground, I bury the knife in the other man’s side and grab his gun with my free hand. Two more stabs and he’s done.
I hide the body of the first guy I offed in one of the trunks. It takes me fifteen minutes to drag the other three to the cars and hide them, too, before I’m ready to head back. It’s time to set the stage for tomorrow.
“Let me see.” Nana Guadalupe takes my chin between her fingers and tilts my face to the side, inspecting the bruises that are now a disgusting shade of purple.
“Nana, I want you to get me a gun,” I say and turn to face her. “It has to be today. I don’t know when the makeup artist and hair stylist are scheduled to arrive tomorrow morning.”
“And what do you plan to do with the gun, Angelinita?”
“I’m killing Diego tomorrow.”
