He would mow them down like weeds.
Angel’s men had gathered on the southeastern corner of El Castillo. If it had been up to them, they would have launched their search for Tiffany several minutes earlier — as soon as Edgar’s death had confirmed her location in the market. Instead, they had been forced to wait for an injured Angel to hobble all the way from the site’s entrance to the staging area on the opposite side of the Great North Platform. With his arm in the elaborate sling, it would have been quicker if his bodyguards had picked him up and carried him across the plaza. Of course, no one had the cojones to tell him that, but everyone was thinking it.
Upon his arrival, their attitudes quickly changed.
Angel sat on the bottom step of the pyramid, his face flushed from the long walk. Blood had soaked through the patch on his shoulder, staining his shirt bright red. No longer annoyed, his men stared at him with a combination of fear and respect. Most of them had never met Angel. He and Hector had rarely made it to this part of Mexico. They had allowed their lieutenants from Yucatán and Quintana Roo to handle the kidnappings in this part of the country. Local troops had heard stories about Angel, but this was the first time they had ever seen his face. To see him like this was inspiring. He looked like he could pass out at any moment, yet here he was leading them onto the battlefield. Whatever the Devil had done, they would make her pay.
Nevertheless, Angel did his best to motivate them.
‘Yesterday afternoon,’ he claimed, ‘the Red Devil tried to kill Hector Garcia’s family by blowing up his truck at Zócalo. I managed to pull his children from the fiery wreckage, risking my life to save theirs. In the process, I took a bullet in the shoulder. Doctors wanted to remove my limb, but I wouldn’t let them because I need both arms to fight the Devil. And that’s what I intend to do until one of us is dead.’
Payne and Jones had no knowledge of the kidnapping plot, the medallion, or anything else that had happened in Mexico City. All they knew was what Tiffany had told them: that she had tried to kill Angel the day before and he was gunning for revenge. Combining that information with everything they’d learned on their own, they had come up with the best plan possible.
Now all they had to do was execute it.
Once Jones was in position near the southern end of the ball field, he told Maria what to say and how to say it. He needed her to pretend to be Tiffany, who she had met earlier that day. Maria didn’t have to mimic the tone of her voice, she just needed to capture the cockiness Tiffany had displayed at the Old Chichén campsite. In addition to being Tiffany’s defining characteristic, Jones knew it would generate an emotional response from Angel. Ultimately, that’s what they were hoping for. They wanted Angel to become so angry that he did something careless. And the moment that happened, they would be ready to pounce.
Jones stared at her. ‘You can do this.’
‘I know I can,’ she assured him.
He smiled at her confidence. ‘Keep that swagger, and you’ll be fine. The more you taunt, the more unhinged he’ll become. Trust me, I’ve dealt with plenty of men like him before. Pride plays a major role in their lives. Getting beaten by a woman will drive him crazy.’
Maria nodded in understanding. She was an expert on the topic. Her father’s pride had destroyed many lives and torn her family apart. After all this time, she was still coming to grips with everything he had done, including killing his wife — her mother — in order to protect a family secret. The anger she felt towards him was still a major part of her life. She didn’t want it to be. She truly didn’t. She wanted to let it go. But it was still there, lurking under the surface, ready to bubble up at the worst possible moment.
For once, she could use the anger to her advantage.
She would use it to taunt Angel.
Angel’s men were ready to charge towards the market when they heard a female voice in their earpieces. Angel ordered them to shut up so he could hear what she was saying.
Maria drew out his name in a mocking way. ‘Annnnnnnnngel! Can you hear me, Angel?’
‘Who is this?’ he demanded.
She ignored his question. ‘Listen to me, Angel, because I am not going to repeat myself. I’m going to give you one chance to go away — one chance to forget about me. If you choose to ignore this offer, you and your men will regret it.’
Angel struggled to regain his feet. ‘I’ll kill you, puta! Show your face and I’ll kill you! Letting me live was the biggest mistake you ever made!’
‘You can’t kill what you can’t find.’
Angel climbed three steps of the pyramid to see over his men. He stared into the trees, looking for any sign of the Devil. ‘Trust me, puta! I’ll find you — and I’ll kill you.’
‘Sounds like fun,’ she taunted. ‘Unfortunately, I’m a little pressed for time. To speed things up, why don’t I tell you where I am?’
‘Don’t bother. I never trust a whore!’
‘You never trusted your mother? How sad!’
Physically injured and emotionally exhausted, Angel’s anger continued to build. He unleashed a string of profanity she could barely comprehend. When he paused to catch his breath, she went in for the kill.
‘I’ll tell you what, maricón. Why don’t I give you a hint that you can trust?’
Angel bubbled with rage. In Mexico, ‘maricón’ is a powerful word. Literally, it means ‘homosexual’, but in the criminal world it means something different. It means something stronger. It means you are less than a man. ‘What kind of hint?’
She nodded at Jones, who fired a single bullet into the ground. The gunshot roared like thunder. Angel and his men turned their heads towards the west, trying to pinpoint the exact location of the sound. But it was tough to gauge on one shot alone.
‘Did you hear that, maricón? Or do you need another hint?’
Jones fired a few more rounds, just to make sure.
Angel pointed towards the southern end of the ball court. There was no doubt in his mind that the shots had come from there. By this time, his men were raring to go, like pit bulls that had smelled blood and were ready to attack. All Angel had to do was open their cage.
She cooed at him. ‘I’m waiting, maricón. Do you have the balls to come and get me?’
Angel stared at his men and growled. ‘Kill the bitch.’
The real Tiffany listened to the taunts through her earpiece, the one she’d stolen from her first victim. She laughed the entire time. Within seconds, she had figured out what Payne and Jones were attempting to do. They were hoping to lure Angel’s men to a certain part of the site, where they would be lying in wait. She wasn’t sure if Angel would be stupid enough to fall for the trick, but if he did, she would be ready to take advantage.
Angel’s men charged forward en masse, riding a wave of passion and inexperience to their impending demise. Had Angel taken a moment to think things through, he would have come up with a better plan than a frontal assault in such an enclosed space. Instead, he let his emotions cloud his judgment. It would prove to be a fatal mistake. On the battlefield, guts can only do so much. At some point brains are more important — especially when the enemy is using theirs.
Less than a minute later, Angel’s men arrived on the southern edge of the playing field. They were keyed up and hungry for vengeance. They were also susceptible to deception. To complete the charade, Jones had asked Maria to wait for them at the northern end of the field, where she would taunt them upon their arrival. As soon as they spotted her, she turned and ran up the temple steps. The colour of her hair didn’t matter. Not from 500 feet away. The only thing that mattered was catching the bitch who’d tried to kill Hector’s family.