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Monday, May 30
Austin, Texas
José left Pilar’s motel room and she heard him enter the room next door.
She went into the bathroom, used the toilet, and washed her face and hands. She felt like she was washing off a year’s worth of dirt. Maybe twenty years’ worth.
When she returned to the room, José was back with a hot pizza and a six-pack of bottled water. Until that moment, Pilar hadn’t realized how hungry she was. She fell on the pizza like a starving cannibal. José grinned at her display of ravenous appetite, but she didn’t care.
He opened a bottle of water, handed her an electronic tablet, and began the briefing. “That woman is your target. Her name is Emily Brandon. Do you know who she is?”
As she chewed, wiping the grease from her chin, Pilar looked at the image on the screen. A typical American gringo. Pale skin. Symmetrical features. The kind of gringo she’d seen in old movies all her life. They all looked the same to her.
This woman was about fifty, Pilar guessed. She might be older if she had a good plastic surgeon on retainer. Which she probably did.
Shoulder length brown hair brushed straight back from her face. A slight dusting of freckles covered the bridge of her straight nose and her sculptured cheekbones.
She was artificially thin. Bony arms and skinny legs. Dressed simply in casual clothes She wore no jewelry and very little makeup.
Pilar studied her carefully, committing the image to memory. She finished her exercise and the slice of pizza at the same time.
“I’ve never seen her before. Should I know who she is?” Pilar asked as she took another slice of the pizza and a long swig of the water.
“Her husband is Kevin Brandon. He owns a big manufacturing operation. Global scope. Billions of dollars,” José said between bites.
“How nice for them,” Pilar replied coldly. She had no frame of reference for a wealthy couple like Kevin and Emily Brandon. They had more money than ten entire villages where she came from. “Why should we care?”
“We don’t. I’m just giving you background.”
“Okay. She’s the target. Is he the one paying the bill?”
José gave her a narrow stare. “Not your business. You have a target. You eliminate her. That’s all you need to know.”
Pilar shrugged. “Got it. How do I do that?”
José continued to stare at her, as if she’d already failed somehow. She ate the pizza while he made up his mind.
“Baez says you can do the job. I’m not so sure,” he said frankly.
“Doesn’t matter what you think, does it? You got someone else who can do this job tonight?” she replied between bites and swallows. She hadn’t realized how famished she was. “Call Baez. Maybe he’s got another option.”
He shook his head slowly, displeased by her impertinence no doubt.
“That’s what I thought. We don’t have unlimited time. So again, how do I kill her?” Pilar asked, reaching for a third slice while he continued to disapprove. She had no idea when she’d be able to eat again.
“She’ll be attending a fundraiser at a private home tonight. You’ll pose as one of the servers. You’ve worked as a waitress before, haven’t you?”
Pilar nodded. “Yes. Since I was sixteen. In our local café.”
“You carried food on a tray? Offered it to patrons?”
“Yes. Thousands of times.”
“Good,” José nodded. “You’ll carry a small tray. You’ll offer her an appetizer filled with poison.”
“An appetizer?”
He nodded. “A goat cheese-stuffed date. Apparently, it’s a secret recipe that she loves and can’t duplicate. She’ll eat it and death is almost instantaneous. She’ll collapse. That’s it.”
Pilar thought about it, running the logistics through her mind. She imagined a dozen things that could go wrong. The plan was more complicated than he said, but she could do it.
“How do I get away?”
“It’ll be chaos when she goes down. Screaming guests. People crowding in trying to help. Things like that. You slip out the back door during the pandemonium.”
Pilar nodded again. “And go where?”
“You can drive, right?”
“Yes.” Pilar had learned to drive years ago. But she didn’t own a car and she hadn’t driven much. Old trucks and rusty scooters, mostly. The basics weren’t that hard to master.
“You’ll have a car. You’re driving it there and you’ll park it yourself. You’ll simply get back to the vehicle and drive away,” José said.
“Sounds too simple. Why do you think this will work?” Pilar asked after she’d swallowed the last bite.
“Because we have confidence in your ability to do the job,” José replied.
Pilar nodded because she possessed such certainty herself. There were easier, more efficient ways to kill than with a piece of poisoned fruit. But those choices were not hers to make.
“What if this doesn’t work? I just walk away?” Pilar asked.
José shook his head. “We need Emily Brandon to die tonight. And she will. If you do the job you’re being paid to do.”
“And if she doesn’t die?” Pilar asked, cocking her head and narrowing her eyes. She wanted to be clear on this point. Would Baez keep his word if the assassination failed?
“She will die. You’ll see to it,” José said with flat finality.
Pilar nodded. She understood. She was expected to kill Emily Brandon. No excuses. Which was exactly what she would do.
After a few moments of silence, José said, “Let’s get into the details.”
He flipped to another screen on the tablet showing the private mansion where the fundraiser would take place and began to explain exactly how Pilar would accomplish her mission.
The details were extensive.
José explained everything several times, painstakingly answering her questions. Finally, she was satisfied.
“Tell me more about the poison,” Pilar said.
“Carfentinal. It’s extremely dangerous. They use it to tranquillize elephants. It’s fatal to humans, even in small doses. Stops her breathing. She’ll die very quickly.”
“She doesn’t need to inject it?”
José shook his head. “Just a whiff is enough. Direct contact with her skin will also kill her. Which is why we’ve put the poison into the food as well as on the outside. Ingesting the carfentinal will work very fast. As soon as she picks up the appetizer and puts it in her mouth, get ready. She’ll go down right away. Take your proof of death photo and get the hell out.”
“What if she doesn’t go down?”
“She will. But you don’t leave until she does,” José said sternly. “Clear?”
Pilar nodded and summarized quickly. “I’m holding the tray. It’s only got one wrapped date on it. I walk up to her. I offer the last piece of fruit to her. She takes it, pops it in her mouth. That’s it?”
“Yes. She doesn’t even need to chew it. But she will. She loves this particular appetizer. She won’t refuse to eat it.”
Pilar wasn’t so sure. She chewed her lip, thinking. Skinny women like that didn’t splurge on high calorie snacks, surely. Pilar needed a backup plan.
“How much time do I have after she touches the carfentinal on the outside of the appetizer?”
“Five minutes, tops. After that, the place will be crawling with first responders. Park close to the house in this space and leave the keys in the car,” José swiped to the image of the parking lot near the kitchen again and pointed to the spot where her car would be waiting. “When you get outside, run like hell toward the sedan and speed away.”
Pilar continued to think through the steps, nodding slowly as she mentally rehearsed. “Where’s my costume?”
“A tuxedo. It’s hanging in your bathroom. Dress before you leave here. Take everything with you. Don’t come back here under any circumstances,” José said sternly.
“Why not?”
José frowned and shook his head, but said nothing.
“Where will I meet up with you after?”
“I’ve preprogrammed the GPS in your vehicle. Just turn it on and follow the route guidance,” José replied. “I’ll be waiting for you at the meetup point. We’ll ditch the sedan and I’ll take you to your plane.”
Pilar glanced at the clock. She was tired and wired, all at the same time. “Where do I get the weapon?”
“As I said, the appetizer will be on a tray in the sedan. The tray with the wrapped date is inside a plastic bag. Be very careful not to touch any of it,” José said again, for at least the tenth time. “Wear your surgical gloves under your white cotton gloves. When you get there, remove the tray from the plastic and leave the plastic in the car.”
“Won’t someone notice that I’m walking in with food?”
“No. The event will already be underway by the time you get there. Everyone will be busy. Just walk in the kitchen door and pretend to know what you’re doing.”
“How do I take the proof of death photo?” Pilar asked.
José handed her a cell phone and demonstrated how to use the camera app. Pilar stood and took several practice photos of the floor, imagining Emily Brandon’s body lying there.
When she was satisfied with the photos, she tossed the phone on the bed.
“Show me the layout of the house again,” Pilar said.
They went over the plan three more times before she was sure she thoroughly understood exactly what to do.
José asked her one last time as he was leaving. “You got this?”
“Yes.” Pilar nodded. “See you at the meetup point.”