Adriana decided not to comment. The less this woman knew, the better.
“When we arrive in Mexico, we will make our plans at the hotel.”
The Spaniard didn’t like the idea.
“So you’re not going to tell me who we are seeing or how I’m supposed to get into this place?”
Monique passed a wry smile. “If I tell you all that now, how do I know you won’t leave Amsterdam tonight and try to break into the compound on your own?”
“You already said it is nearly impossible to get into this man’s home. I’m going to need whatever intel you can give me. I’ll agree to go to Mexico with you, but I’m going to need a sign of good faith. I need his name.”
The Dutch woman thought about it for a minute, pondering whether she could trust her guest. “Very well, but if you double-cross me—”
“I won’t.”
“Fine.” Monique crossed her arms. “His name is Francisco Espinoza. That is all you will get out of me right now. Here…” She produced a piece of paper from a nearby table and grabbed a pen. Twenty seconds later, she’d written down a sequence of numbers with the letters MVW above them. “This is my number. Meet me back here in the morning at six o’clock. If you’re late, I will go without you.”
“And you’ll not get your painting.”
Monique’s eyes narrowed. “And neither will you. So don’t be late.”
10
Adriana walked out the front door and down the steps to the sidewalk. She looked at the phone number again and then folded the paper and stuffed it into her bra. Safer there than a pocket, she thought.
The breeze had died down,and the air along the street hung around like a stagnant soup. Off in the distance, a child screamed, playing with another of similar age. She looked down the length of the street to the right and back to the left, the way she’d come. Nothing to do now but wait until morning.
She noticed a young woman with curly blonde hair sitting on a park bench on the other side of the street. The woman propped a magazine on her lap with both hands. It looked like something produced by a local press from what Adriana could tell.
The Spaniard took a breath, sighed, and started back toward her hotel when she realized something peculiar about the woman on the bench. Adriana fired another sideways glance in the stranger’s direction and realized she’d seen correctly. The woman had an earpiece in her left ear but nothing in the right. As Adriana moved, the woman shifted the magazine to the right, as if trying to keep whatever was behind it obscured from view.
A sickening thought streaked through her mind. The other thief. Adriana froze in place and patted her pants pockets, pretending to make sure she had everything. All the while, she watched the blonde out of the corner of her eye to see what she would do. Adriana slid her phone out of her pocket and pretended to tap the buttons to look like she was texting someone.
The other woman stood up and turned away, strolling casually toward an arched stone bridge that spanned the canal. Her demeanor appeared lackadaisical,but her pace was rushed. Adriana knew the woman realized what she was doing. The Chameleon was already near the foot of the bridge. Adriana darted out onto the street. In her peripheral vision, she noticed a black, shiny mass appear out of nowhere, accompanied by the sound of a roaring engine and tires squealing on the street. Her reflexes were fast but not fast enough. She jumped into the air as the black sedan’s hood clipped her heel. Her body spun a split second before her left side struck the windshield. She rolled over the car’s top, down the back window, and over the trunk to the hard street. She landed with a thud, but her left arm took the brunt of the fall. Her head spun as she looked up to see who’d hit her, but the car sped away, turning down the next street and disappearing around the corner.
Adriana did a rapid check over her arms, legs, and torso. How she’d not hit her head was a minor miracle. Her hip was throbbing a little, either from striking the windshield or the street. Either way, she’d have time to hurt later. She pushed herself off the ground and started toward the bridge. Sprinting hard, the adrenaline coursing through her veins kept any other pain at bay for the moment.
As she crossed the crest of the bridge, she could see the other woman turn a corner and run down a side street. Adriana pumped her legs harder, motivated by the visual and by the fact that a car had just ambushed her. There was no question in her mind about that. The whole thing was planned. The Chameleon had let herself be seen. Then, knowing she would pursue, the car tried to take Adriana out. The scheme almost worked. If she’d not glimpsed the approaching vehicle, she could have been caught underneath it and dragged under the motor, a death that would have been excruciating.
The thought only served to fuel her anger, and as she rounded the bottom of the bridge and crossed the next street, her feet flew faster than ever.
The blonde ducked around another corner into an alley, probably hoping to disappear in the maze of streets and alleyways the city had to offer. Adriana started the chase about fifty yards behind the other woman,the impact with the car creating most of the space. She’d recovered, though, and had closed the gap to less than thirty. Her years of physical activity and rigorous workouts kept her strong and fit. During her high-intensity interval training, it wasn’t uncommon for her to sprint two hundred yards or more in one interval. And she did twenty of those.
She arrived at the side street and skidded around the corner into the alley, but the other woman wasn’t there. The sound of footsteps down a narrow corridor on the left told her what she needed to know, and her feet did the rest, instantly taking flight and carrying her to the next passage. Adriana was glad she’d worn comfortable shoes. Heels looked good, but this mission required something a little less glamorous. She’d closed the gap to twenty yards and knew the other woman was wearing down. Adriana still had another hundred yards or so left in her at this pace, and plenty more if she took it down a notch.
The blonde looked back and saw the Spaniard giving chase. Her expression was one of panic, something Adriana learned not to show a long time ago. Her quarry’s arms flailed, and her running form loosened, both telling signs to the fact that she’d soon be overtaken.
Then the woman made a critical mistake. She turned right on a side street Adriana knew, based on her keen sense of direction, would run right into one of the canals. Sure enough, when she rounded the corner, she found the blonde at a halt on the edge of the water.
She spun around, her eyes flashing with rage and fear, but the gun in her hand showed she meant business. The extended barrel muffled the four shots she fired. The brick wall next to Adriana’s head stopped the volley, shattering into red dust and debris.
Adriana reached down and grabbed the pistol attached to her lower back. She was relieved when her fingers touched the weapon. Part of her wondered if it had fallen out when she was struck by the car, a ridiculous notion since the weapon was buckled in as a safety precaution.
She poked her head around the corner again,and the other woman fired again, this time five shots. Based on the gun model and the type of magazine she’d glimpsed on her first and second look, Adriana knew the girl would only have three rounds left. Using her own weapon wasn’t ideal. It didn’t have a sound suppressor on the end, and firing it would draw a lot of attention. She’d brought it for emergency use only. The two knives she had strapped to the inside of her pants were her preferred method of killing. They were silent and could be used without anyone noticing — anyone except the victim.