Bloodline Read Online Free PDF Page A

dirt drive. A solitary light burned in the kitchen. He locked the steering on the scooter, lifted his gear and trudged across the mixture of saw-grass and rock chips, his running shoes making a strange crunching noise.
    â€œHello,” he called, entering the bungalow and dumping his gear on the floor next to the front door. “I’m home. Sorry I’m late.” He kicked off his shoes and rounded the corner into the kitchen. “We had six divers who wanted to try a night—”
    He stopped in mid-sentence, his mouth open. Julie and Shiara were nowhere to be seen. Three men were in his kitchen, one of them at the table and two leaning against the counter. All three were Latinos, with dark hair and brown skin, but it was the figure sitting at his table that immediately caught his attention. The man was in his mid-thirties with longer hair swept back behind his ears, and deep brown eyes like ice. His manicured hands rested on the table.
    â€œWho the hell are you, and where is my wife?” Eugene asked.
    â€œRelax, Eugenio,” the seated man said in a soft voice. “Your wife and daughter are fine. For now.”
    Eugene started to move forward, but two guns appeared, Glock A-17s, one in the right hand of each man leaning against his counter. Eugene stopped. “Where is my wife?” His words were like acid.
    â€œSit down, Eugenio. Threatening me isn’t going to help your situation.”
    Eugene glanced at the guns, and sat at the table opposite the man. “Who are you?” he asked.
    The man smiled. “Now that’s a question I can answer. My name is Javier Rastano. I’m from Medellín. It’s a city in southern Colombia, in case you’re not familiar with it.”
    â€œI know where Medellín is,” Eugene said. “But I don’t understand why you’re here.”
    â€œYou are related to the Escobar clan, who at one time lived in Medellín. One of your cousins was Pablo Escobar.”
    â€œPablo is dead. He died violently years ago.”
    â€œDid he?” Javier asked, amused. “What makes you so sure?”
    Eugene looked puzzled. “The entire planet knows that Pablo Escobar died during a shootout in Medellín sometime in December of 1993. You should read the newspapers.”
    Javier’s smile disappeared. He leaned forward. “Don’t get sarcastic with me, Eugenio. Remember, we have two people very dear to you.” He held up his hand as Eugene began to ask again where his wife and daughter were. “Don’t keep asking about them or I’ll make a phone call and they won’t be okay.”
    Eugene settled back into his chair. “Okay. Okay. Everything’s cool here.” He swallowed, his throat dry. “What do you want from me?”
    Javier also reclined back into his chair. “We have reason to believe that your cousin isn’t as dead as he would like the world to believe. In fact, we’re sure he’s alive.”
    â€œThat’s impossible. The Colombian government ran all kinds of tests on his body. They proved beyond any doubt that it was Pablo. They verified his fingerprints and ran DNA samples of his blood and skin.”
    Javier laughed. “The Colombian government. The same men who were terrified of Pablo Escobar. The politicians and police either accepted Pablo’s bribes or he killed them. Plata o plomo, silver or lead. And these are the people who authenticated his death. Fingerprints can be changed with lasers and DNA samples can be switched. Especially in a country like Colombia.”
    â€œThe American DEA and CIA were involved.”
    â€œAt a distance. They weren’t allowed to be in direct contact with the body or any aspect of the verification. The Colombians saw the American influence as meddling in their affairs, and since Escobar was dead, they didn’t have to worry about reprisals. So the DEA and CIA had to stand back and let the