The Minoan Cipher

CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE

Chad stared at his ruined face in the mirror. He had come to think of the pale mass of scar tissue as a fleshy version of the blank canvas a portrait artist would put up on an easel. But this was different. The identity he was about to assume belonged to Salazar, the man he most hated in the world.

He began to mold Salazar’s face over his own, improving on the hastily-assembled features that had got him past Auroch security. Tinted contact lenses took care of the eye color. Make-up hid the edge of the skullcap covering his hair. He evened out the flesh he’d added to his cheeks and chin. When he finished the transformation, he tried to replicate the distinctive voice.

Salazar said Chad had the tone and the inflections, but his impersonation lacked depth. Chad was soft-spoken, a holdover from his Army days. Special Ops were trained to speak quietly on a mission. Chad still spoke in his drowsy, half-stoned surfer’s voice, but his acting school voice lessons had come in handy. He had a wide range and he could fit the tone to the disguise of the moment.

He went through a series of vocal exercises that raised his speaking voice to a mellow tenor. His dry enunciation was impeccable. Although his impression lacked the brilliance that was part of Salazar’s natural speech patterns, he came close. He could elevate his voice a few octaves without sounding too feminine. His speech was penetrating but not loud.

“Is this some sort of joke?” he asked himself, painting his question with amused scorn.

Not bad. It was as far as he could go without putting himself through the same surgical procedure that had turned Salazar into a freak. He could never replicate the large bones of the rib cage that gave Salazar the added lung capacity to squeeze his powerful voice through vocal cords the size of a child’s. Nor would he want it.

Chad would make his move at the rendezvous with Salazar. When the Mercedes pulled up at the log house, he would get out of the SUV and draw his pistol from its sock holster. He would shoot Salazar first, then tend to his men. Chad had practiced the attack in his hotel room. Four quick pulls of the trigger. Bang-bang-bang-bang.

Salazar’s men were pros. They wouldn’t stand there with Shoot Me signs around their necks. They would fight back. He might die. He didn’t care. Maybe it was the loss of his girlfriend. Or maybe he had come to terms with the destructive uselessness of his life. A peaceful feeling had come over his mind since his decision to kill Salazar. He would do so no matter the cost.

Chad’s phone chirped. Speak of the devil.

“The time has come,” Salazar said. “We’ll pick you up at your hotel in thirty minutes.”

Chad took a deep breath and expelled the words through his constricted larynx. “I’ll be ready, Mr. Salazar.”

There was silence at the other end of the line, then Salazar said, “You’ve been working at it, I see.”

“You told me I had the tone and inflections. Now do I have the depth?”

“That would never be possible, but it’s close enough for our purposes. Thirty minutes.”

Chad hung up. Being in Salazar’s skin was creepy enough. Speaking in his voice was even worse. He got into his black running suit and tucked his pistol into the sock holster. He pulled the baseball cap low over his face and laced up his sneakers. He used the stairs to get to the ground floor and crossed the busy lobby with his head down. Anyone giving him a second look would see only a man dressed as if he’d been using the hotel’s fitness center.

The Mercedes SUV picked him up at the curb exactly on time. Salazar wasn’t in the vehicle. The rear door opened, a man emerged and motioned for Chad to get inside next to another of Salazar’s thugs. The first man got in after Chad, sandwiching him between two sets of wide shoulders and hard thighs.

The driver was the man called Bruno. No one spoke on the ride out of the city and into the countryside along the same route they had taken on the earlier trip. When the SUV stopped in front of the log cabin, his seat companions muscled him out between them. As soon as Chad’s feet hit the ground, one man enveloped him from behind in a bear hug. His companion bent over and plucked the pistol from its holster.

He jabbed Chad between the shoulder blades with the gun.

“Get moving,” he growled.

Salazar’s gorillas dragged him up the stairs and into the log cabin. Salazar was waiting in the living room. His man handed him the pistol. Salazar glanced at the gun, then tossed it into the cold fireplace.

“You won’t need your little toy for this mission,” Salazar said. There was derision rather than anger in his manner.

Chad decided to bluff it out. “No one said I couldn’t bring along some insurance.”

“True, but it would simply complicate matters.”

“You’re the boss, Mr. Salazar.” He turned to Bruno and gave him a lop-sided grin. “Must be getting careless. How’d you make me?”

“No-brainer. Your piece got picked up by a metal detector built into the framework of the front door. It’s got a link to my cell phone.”

Chad remembered the call Bruno had taken on the first visit to the cabin.

Forcing a chuckle, he said, “Guess things have changed a lot since my Special Ops days.”

“Guess they have,” Bruno said with a sneer lacing his voice.

Salazar raised his hand to signal an end to the discussion, then moved closer to Chad, examining him from a foot away like an entomologist studying a rare insect.

“Not bad at all,” he murmured. “The hairline is barely discernible. The eye color is almost right. What do you think, Bruno?”

“Dead ringer,” Bruno said.

Salazar stretched his lips in a wide smile. “Give me another demonstration of your vocal talents.”

Chad barked, “Why did you come here? Did you think I’d be amused by your antics?”

Salazar wrapped his arm around the shoulders of his body double and guided him to the door. “Now let’s put your skills to a real test.”