Read An Acceptable Sacrifice for Free Online

life of a man at his most vulnerable, doing something he loved and found comfort in: reading a book.

     
    An hour later Cuchillo was sitting in his den, blinds closed over the bulletproof windows. And despite the attack, he was feeling relieved.
    Actually, because of the attack, he was feeling relieved.
    He had thought that the rumors they’d heard for the past few days, the snippets of intelligence, were referring to some kind of brilliant, insidious plan to murder him, a plan that he couldn’t anticipate. But it had turned out to be a simple shooting, which had been foiled by the bullet proof glass; the assassin was surely headed out of the area.
    Jos knocked and entered. “Sir, I think we have a lead about the attack. I heard from Carmella at Ruby’s. She spent much of last evening with an American, a businessman, he claimed. He got drunk and said some things that seemed odd to her. She heard of the shooting and called me.”
    “Carmella,” Cuchillo said, grinning. She was a beautiful if slightly unbalanced young woman who could get by on her looks for the time being, but if she didn’t hook a husband soon she’d be in trouble.
    Not that Cuchillo was in any hurry for that to happen; he’d slept with her occasionally. She was very, very talented.
    “And what about this American?”
    “He was asking her about this neighborhood. The houses in it. If there were any hotels nearby, even though earlier he’d said he was staying near the bar.”
    While there were sights to see in the sprawling city of Hermosillo, Cuchillo’s compound was in a nondescript residential area. Nothing here would draw either businessmen or tourists.
    “Hotel,” Cuchillo mused. “For a vantage point for shooting?”
    “That’s what I wondered. Now, I’ve gotten his credit card information from the bar and data-mined it. I’m waiting for more information but we know for a fact it’s an assumed identity.”
    “So he’s an operative. But who’s he working for? A drug cartel from north of the border? A hit man from Texas hired by the Sinaloans? … The American government?”
    “I hope to know more soon, sir.”
    “Thank you.”
    Cuchillo rose and, carrying the Dickens, started for the library.
    He stopped. “José?”
    “Sir?”
    “I want to change our plans with the bus.”
    “Yessir?”
    “I know I said I wanted safe haven for all bus passengers in Sonora on Friday, that nothing should happen to the passengers here.”
    “Right, I told the men to wait to attack until it crossed the border into Sinaloa.”
    “But now, tell the men to hit a bus here tomorrow morning.”
    “In Sonora?”
    “That’s right. Whoever is behind this must know that I won’t be intimidated. Any attempts on my life will be met with retribution.”
    “Yessir.”
    Cuchillo looked as his security man carefully. “You don’t think I should be doing this, do you?” He encouraged those working for him to make their opinions known, even—especially—differing opinions.
    “Frankly, sir, not a tourist bus, no. Not civilians. I think it works to our disadvantage.”
    “I disagree,” Cuchillo said calmly. “We need to take a strong stand.”
    “Of course, sir, if that’s what you want.”
    “Yes, it is.” But a moment later he frowned. “But wait. There’s something to what you say.”
    The security man looked his boss’s way.
    “When your men attack the bus, get the women and children off before you set it on fire. Only burn the men to death.”
    “Yessir.”
    Cuchillo considered his decision a weakness. But José had a point. The new reality was that, yes, sometimes you did need to take public relations into account.

     
    At eight p.m. that evening Cuchillo received a call in his library.
    He was pleased at what he learned. One of his lieutenants explained that a shooting team was in place and would assault a large bus as it headed along Highway 26 west toward Bahia de Kino tomorrow morning.
    They would stop the vehicle, leave the men