turned his attention back to Zak. ‘I want you to be our Trojan Horse,’ he said.
Zak glanced back towards the image on the whiteboard. Calaca gazed back at him.
‘Are you saying you want me to kill Martinez?’ he asked.
Michael shook his head. ‘No. You’re not an assassin, Zak. And in any case, we want Martinez alive. Nobody in the world knows more about the cartels waiting in the wings to take over if and when he dies or gets brought to justice. If we’re to stop someone just as bad from replacing him, we need that information. And we need it now. The British government want Martinez brought to book and they’re prepared to risk a war with the Mexicans to do it. They’re already making their preparations. If we can get our hands on him first, we can stop that.’
‘This should be the Americans’ job,’ Gabs interrupted. ‘Mexico’s on their doorstep.’
‘The Americans aren’t willing to risk it,’ Michaelsaid. ‘A major diplomatic incident on their southern border is the last thing they need, and in any case they know how clever Martinez is. Evidence of his activities is impossible to find. He’s a skilled operator who keeps himself totally separate from anything that would incriminate him. No, the only thing that can bring Martinez down is us. And the only way we can get close to him is if we have somebody on the inside. We plan to insert an agent into his compound in the hope that they can get proof of his activities. Once they’ve done that, they’ll need to direct a special forces team into the compound to abduct him. If we have Martinez in custody
and
evidence of his drug trafficking, the Mexican authorities will hardly be in a position to complain. Do you understand everything I’ve said so far?’
Zak nodded. He didn’t quite trust himself to speak and not sound terrified.
‘Martinez is a very careful man. We’ve known for some time that he employs body doubles, much like Saddam Hussein used to in Iraq. Martinez’s body doubles are better than Saddam’s ever were. Our intelligence suggests that there are five of them, and they’ve all undergone extensive plastic surgery to make them indistinguishable from their master. Plus, they’ve studied his gait and his mannerisms. Our understanding is that it’s extremely difficult to tell which is thereal Martinez, but we’re hoping that if somebody gets close enough, they’ll be able to do it.’
Zak frowned. ‘But . . . you can’t expect me to break in to Martinez’s compound without anybody knowing—’
‘Zak,’ Michael interrupted, ‘you haven’t been listening. Think of the Trojan Horse. The Greeks didn’t have to send it into the city covertly – the Trojans brought it in themselves.’ He pressed his keypad yet again and Calaca disappeared. A new face replaced him. It was a boy, about Zak’s age, maybe a little older. With his black hair and dark eyes he looked very like Martinez himself. But there were differences. While Martinez’s face had been emotionless, this one was more expressive. There was something sad about him. Something wary.
‘This,’ Michael said, ‘is Cruz, Martinez’s son. Look at his picture closely, Zak, because Cruz Martinez is about to become your new best friend.’
11
DECISION TIME
Zak stared at the picture.
‘When I say that Cruz is to become
your
best friend,’ Michael continued, ‘what I mean is that he’s to become Harry Gold’s best friend. It’s very important – and I can’t stress this enough – that the moment we take you away from this island, you leave Zak Darke behind. You’re fully familiar with Harry Gold’s past, so you must be aware of his great-uncle Frank?’
It was like flicking a switch as Zak started to spout everything he knew. ‘Frank Gold,’ he said. ‘Born 1931 in Blackburn, brother of Harry’s paternal grandfather John. Never married, no children. Worked as a structural engineer until emigrating to Mexico in 1995.’ His eyes narrowed.
Zak glanced back towards the image on the whiteboard. Calaca gazed back at him.
‘Are you saying you want me to kill Martinez?’ he asked.
Michael shook his head. ‘No. You’re not an assassin, Zak. And in any case, we want Martinez alive. Nobody in the world knows more about the cartels waiting in the wings to take over if and when he dies or gets brought to justice. If we’re to stop someone just as bad from replacing him, we need that information. And we need it now. The British government want Martinez brought to book and they’re prepared to risk a war with the Mexicans to do it. They’re already making their preparations. If we can get our hands on him first, we can stop that.’
‘This should be the Americans’ job,’ Gabs interrupted. ‘Mexico’s on their doorstep.’
‘The Americans aren’t willing to risk it,’ Michaelsaid. ‘A major diplomatic incident on their southern border is the last thing they need, and in any case they know how clever Martinez is. Evidence of his activities is impossible to find. He’s a skilled operator who keeps himself totally separate from anything that would incriminate him. No, the only thing that can bring Martinez down is us. And the only way we can get close to him is if we have somebody on the inside. We plan to insert an agent into his compound in the hope that they can get proof of his activities. Once they’ve done that, they’ll need to direct a special forces team into the compound to abduct him. If we have Martinez in custody
and
evidence of his drug trafficking, the Mexican authorities will hardly be in a position to complain. Do you understand everything I’ve said so far?’
Zak nodded. He didn’t quite trust himself to speak and not sound terrified.
‘Martinez is a very careful man. We’ve known for some time that he employs body doubles, much like Saddam Hussein used to in Iraq. Martinez’s body doubles are better than Saddam’s ever were. Our intelligence suggests that there are five of them, and they’ve all undergone extensive plastic surgery to make them indistinguishable from their master. Plus, they’ve studied his gait and his mannerisms. Our understanding is that it’s extremely difficult to tell which is thereal Martinez, but we’re hoping that if somebody gets close enough, they’ll be able to do it.’
Zak frowned. ‘But . . . you can’t expect me to break in to Martinez’s compound without anybody knowing—’
‘Zak,’ Michael interrupted, ‘you haven’t been listening. Think of the Trojan Horse. The Greeks didn’t have to send it into the city covertly – the Trojans brought it in themselves.’ He pressed his keypad yet again and Calaca disappeared. A new face replaced him. It was a boy, about Zak’s age, maybe a little older. With his black hair and dark eyes he looked very like Martinez himself. But there were differences. While Martinez’s face had been emotionless, this one was more expressive. There was something sad about him. Something wary.
‘This,’ Michael said, ‘is Cruz, Martinez’s son. Look at his picture closely, Zak, because Cruz Martinez is about to become your new best friend.’
11
DECISION TIME
Zak stared at the picture.
‘When I say that Cruz is to become
your
best friend,’ Michael continued, ‘what I mean is that he’s to become Harry Gold’s best friend. It’s very important – and I can’t stress this enough – that the moment we take you away from this island, you leave Zak Darke behind. You’re fully familiar with Harry Gold’s past, so you must be aware of his great-uncle Frank?’
It was like flicking a switch as Zak started to spout everything he knew. ‘Frank Gold,’ he said. ‘Born 1931 in Blackburn, brother of Harry’s paternal grandfather John. Never married, no children. Worked as a structural engineer until emigrating to Mexico in 1995.’ His eyes narrowed.
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