Page 28

When my call goes to voicemail, I hang up in frustration. What the hell happened to you, Juan?
“Sir, would you like to speak to the crowd?” Jesus stands in the doorway of my makeshift underground office. I’ll forever be grateful for all the help him and his boys have provided me—they were integral in getting Catalina out of Dante’s limo in the first place—but we’re not done yet.
After our failed rescue attempt, those of us left reconvened on the outskirts of the city. There we decided that we should set up shop in the tunnels that Juan had shown us. That way, we’d be closer to the revolution.
That’s right. A revolution.
That’s the plan. At least, that’s what Juan and I came up with.
The people of this city—hell, of this country—are sick of the cruel corruption that Dante has openly flaunted during his short reign—they want an end to it, to him, and to all the politicians and generals who’ve allowed him to grow so powerful.
I pat Jesus on the shoulder as I brush by him. “I probably should. Where are they waiting?”
“Just on the surface, sir.”
“Do we have an escape route planned out, in case things go south?”
“Yes sir, this area is perfect to disappear in. There are three nearby escape hatches that lead back underground.”
“And you’ve made sure they’re all open?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Very well.”
It’s time to address the first of my revolutionaries.
We called on a few of them earlier, to start a fire on the street where we knew Dante’s men would be driving Catalina down, and then we called on those few to spread the word of my return.
Jesus follows me down the main tunnel until we get to a crossroads, then he leads
the rest of the way. A few hundred yards down a winding path, we’re greeted by a ladder that leads up to the surface. Jesus checks to make sure that his gun is fully loaded and primed before he starts climbing. I follow close behind, weaponless.
If I’m going to be a messiah to these people, I’m going to have to play the part. That means no violence from me, not yet. I’ll lead by example eventually, but right now, it’s my words that are most important.
All of those board meetings and business calls I took before my empire crumbled may actually be of some use, if they prepared me for this in any way.
I step out into the daylight and warm sunshine blinds me for a slow moment. When I blink back into focus, I see the crowd waiting for me.
There must be two hundred people packed into the cobblestone terrace hidden away in the far corner of this hillside slum. All eyes are directed on me. I puff out my chest and step up onto the boulder that will be my podium.
“The coast is clear,” Jesus whispers into my ear. He sits on a residential window sill behind, along with another bodyguard. I gaze out onto the silent crowd and notice that even more are watching from their own windows.
I have quite the audience. Good. I’ll need this entire town at my back if we’re going to defeat Dante.
“Introducing, Mr. Angel Montoya!” Jesus booms from behind me. In a split second, the crowd goes from reverentially quiet, to raucously loud.
My first instinct is to flex my fists, ready for a fight, but the tone of the event becomes instantly clear.
They’re cheering.
I let them shout and clap and wave for a moment, before I raise my palm to the sky and they quiet back down. It’s hard for me to believe how well this is already working, but I also know that it hasn’t truly been an easy or quick task.
While I was away, Juan was hard at work, secretly sowing the seeds of my return.
“Some of you may have read about me,” I start, as a hushed stillness comes over the crowd. My voice echoes through the terrace and down the alleyways. “Some of you may have heard your neighbours whisper my name. I am here to tell you who I truly am. I am here to tell you what I stand for.”
Without turning from the crowd, I reach back towards Jesus and he hands me a newspaper. It’s opened up to a page that has that same picture of me and Catalina that I found in the alley behind Stefan Mendoza’s building. I read the headline out loud. “Where has the mysterious billionaire gone? Could he save this city’s soul?”