Will nodded. “Never hurts.”
The four men shared a quick laugh before Mauricio turned his attention to their female companion. “And who is this?” he asked as he stopped in front of Adriana.
“My name is Adriana Villa,” she answered for herself and offered her hand. He began to shake it gently but she squeezed his hand just as firmly as Will had. “Pleasure to meet you.”
His look of surprise turned to one of respect. “The pleasure is all mine. Bienvenidos a Cuenca.”
“Gracias,” she replied.
“De donde eres?” he continued.
This time she answered in English so the others would understand. “My family is from central Spain. But I have lived in many places.”
“Intriguing.” There was a brief moment of awkward silence before he got back to business. “We will head to the hotel where you can check in and get refreshed. After that we will have a light dinner. I understand you want to visit the church as soon as possible?”
Everyone nodded.
“Good,” he said, lifting his hands. “We will take a look around this evening. I’ve made arrangements with the head priest. He said we can have a few hours tonight after their evening prayers.”
Chapter 48
Eric Jennings had played the game a long time. He’d worked hard for the government and done more for the protection of the nation than most people in his line of work. In his mind, the things he’d done were justified.
Protecting his retirement and the well being of his finances was worth a few sacrifices. For what the Prophet was paying him, it was worth a few more.
The dead man on his living room floor had been an asset he’d used a few times, a mercenary with no family or known acquaintances. It had been easy to lure him there under the guise that another well-paying job was waiting.
Upon entry, Eric had invited the man in towards the direction of the kitchen. Jennings’ had his back turned so there was no way the unsuspecting asset could see the gun in hand. When the man was a mere few feet away, Eric spun around and fired three bullets into the chest of the visitor. The weapon couldn’t have been audible outside of the apartment. With the curtains drawn, the gun’s flash couldn’t have been visible either. To people watching the news, it would look like a burglar had gotten his just desserts, a simple cover up to an otherwise intricate plan. After the execution, Jennings wrecked the place, destroying mirrors, picture frames, vases, and even crushing the coffee table. It had to appear as if a struggle had occurred and as a result, he’d killed the intruder.
The next step would be trickier. His target from earlier in the day had somehow managed to escape the car explosion, though he wasn’t sure how. Witnesses had said they saw a homeless man climb into Townsend’s car. It didn’t matter. The arrogant prick had only postponed the inevitable.
Sam Townsend had made dozens, maybe hundreds of enemies in his brief career with the Justice Department. Whenever anyone had a sudden rise to power there always seemed to be resentment from legions of others who thought they’d have been better suited for promotion. As someone who was tasked with upholding the law, he’d seen his fair share of bad guys but never actually arrested anyone. Faces ran through his mind while he sipped on a glass of vodka and cranberry juice. His nerves had settled down for the most part. Yet, while he sat in a low-back, leather chair, his Glock .40 rested nearby on an end table. There was only one light on in his Georgetown townhome, giving the impression that no one was there. He had spent the rest of the day double backing through the streets and metro stations of D.C., making sure that no one else was following him. But whoever had arranged the attack would surely know where he lived.
What had occurred previously in the day had been sloppy. He doubted those who would attempt to clean up the mess would be so careless. Then he thought of the charred body of the homeless man to whom he’d given his car key. That would help cover his tracks for a short time. It could be weeks before dental records revealed the man’s identity. Plenty of time for him to disappear and figure some things out. Still, something told him he wasn’t out of the woods just yet.
The waning glow of twilight had given way to evening and the yellowish tinge of streetlights radiated outside his parlor window. He took another sip from the pinkish-red liquid and placed the glass back on the end table. A sudden knock on the door startled him. Sam grabbed his gun and stood quietly. Visitors were something he never had. But if someone was going to kill him, he doubted they would knock. He stalked quietly over to the door and took a look out the peephole. It was Eric Jennings.
“Sam, open up. It’s Jennings,” the voice echoed the visual confirmation.
Townsend lowered his weapon and unlocked the deadbolt and main lock to the door. He opened it cautiously and looked around outside.
“Were you followed?” Sam asked suspiciously.
Eric shook his head. “No, I wasn’t followed.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes I’m sure. Now open the friggin’ door and let me in.” Jennings’ coastal Maryland accent was thicker than usual.
Townsend obeyed and Jennings crossed the threshold into the younger man’s home. Inside was fairly plain. The bare walls were colored with a neutral beige. No photos or artwork adorned a single inch. The only thing that stood out was a simple clock on the wall with black numbers and hands. There were a few leather chairs and matching couch that faced towards a high definition television along with a simple glass coffee table. It was as if he’d just moved in and hadn’t unpacked all his things yet.
“So, what happened?” Jennings asked as Sam locked the door again and took another peek outside. Eric walked casually into the living room and helped himself to the seat in which Sam had previously been sitting.
The surprised host didn’t push the issue; relieved to see someone he believed to be an ally, albeit a scumbag. Townsend grabbed his glass walked casually over to a small wet bar near one of the opposite windows where he refilled his nearly empty rocks glass. “What have you heard?” He asked Jennings as he raised an empty glass, offering his unexpected guest a drink.
“Not much. Just that someone blew up your car today. They found a body in there. No ID on it yet. That will probably take a few weeks.”
“The cops have already been by here. I told them my car must have been stolen. When you’re connected they will believe anything.”
Eric nodded. “So who was the corpse?”
Sam took a big sip of the brown liquid and swallowed hard. “I don’t know. Some homeless guy. A goon came after me so I took him out. When I ran back to my car, something told me whoever was after me would have taken precautions. Jennings laughed loudly. “Well, well, well. I never figured you for much of a field agent. That was good thinking.”
After another long sip, Townsend sat down across from Jennings and set the glass on the table.
“What do you want Eric? Why are you here?”
Eric put his hands out as if proclaiming his innocence. “I’m here to check on you. When I heard what happened I headed here immediately to see if you were ok.”
Sam was unconvinced, eyeing his guest suspiciously.
“What’s your next move?” he continued.
“I’m leaving the country tonight. Gonna lay low for a while until I can figure out what is going on.”
Jennings nodded. “Probably a good idea. You can never be too careful. Do you have any idea who came after you?”