‘Your price is acceptable,’ Slack said. ‘But don’t let me down, Carlos. If your operative doesn’t live up to my expectations then it could be very damaging to our relationship.’

‘Have no fear, my friend,’ Carlos said. ‘I have chosen well. The person I’m sending has been working exclusively for the cartel for about eight years, and in that time has carried out over fifty hits on our behalf.’

‘That’s mightily impressive,’ Slack said.

‘I’m glad you think so. You’ll need to make all the arrangements at your end including accommodation, transport and weapons.’

‘I’ll sort it. So how soon can your man be here?’

‘Late tomorrow should be possible.’

‘Then I’ll have him picked up at the airport.’

‘That’s great, but there’s one thing you need to be aware of.’

‘What’s that?’

‘The person whose services you are acquiring is a woman, not a man. She’s the best in the business and goes by the name of Rosa Lopez, but the Mexican media have labelled her La Asesina, which in English means The Slayer.’

7

Rosa

Acapulco used to be one of Mexico’s most popular tourist destinations, with its spectacular beaches and bustling nightlife.

Its heyday was in the 50s and 60s when it epitomised tropical glamour and became a playground for the rich and famous.

But over the last decade or so the glitter had turned to blood and it had become one of the most violent towns on the planet.

Rosa Lopez reflected on this as she prepared to leave her hotel room overlooking the bay.

She’d first come here twenty-two years ago when she was just six. It was the last vacation she ever had with her parents before they were slaughtered in their sleep.

The memories hadn’t faded, and she still remembered how busy the beaches were then and how rare it was to see police officers on the streets. These days the beaches were often empty and the tourist areas were patrolled by heavily armed cops and soldiers.

But heightened levels of security had failed to stop the drug cartels from fighting each other for control of the smuggling routes along the Guerrero coast.

And it was this conflict that had brought Rosa back to the Pacific town.

She had arrived earlier by plane from Mexico City, and after checking in she’d had time for a short nap and a hot eucalyptus bubble bath.

Now she was ready to go to work. But before leaving the room she checked herself in the full-length mirror and nodded approvingly.

She was dressed to kill and that was deliberate because after the job was done she planned to visit one of the town’s famous nightclubs.

She was wearing her tightest designer jeans, faded and low-slung on the hips, and a V-neck T-shirt that revealed most of her ample cleavage.