“Your undying appreciation.”
Daniel just stared at him. De la Rocha could see from the man’s mannerisms that he was a user of some of the product in which the Black Suits dealt.
When he saw how flat his humor fell, Jerry became serious. “Honestly, nothing much. I just want the American.”
“The American? You want us to take the family, and you want the gringo to go with you.”
“Yes.”
“And what is your interest in him?”
“Apparently, he is wanted by the U.S. government. The embassy was buzzing this afternoon about some guy on the loose down here.
De la Rocha took a long sip of his wine. “Why do the
“I don’t know. Something classified. There’s a guy who showed up this afternoon hanging around the embassy, definitely a CIA spook. Apparently, this spy and the wanted gringo used to work together, and he’s hanging around waiting to ID him if he’s picked up by the
Daniel nodded thoughtfully, and caught Calvo’s eye. Both men stood and removed themselves from the table, found a quiet corner of the banquet room.
Nestor said, “If la CIA want this gringo so bad, they may be willing to deal for him.”
“I was thinking the same thing. What do they have that we want?”
“It’s the Central
DLR stroked his goatee. “They would know who his government contacts are in Peru, in Ecuador, in Colombia.”
“They certainly might know all that.”
“Would they trade that information for this gringo assassin?”
“I will begin immediately to find out. I will set up a chain of intermediaries to contact the embassy, to get us in touch with la CIA. We will judge how much passion they have for this man.”
“Either way, we need to get Jerry to lead us to Elena.”
Nestor was excited by the prospect of trading the gringo for CIA information. It would be a huge intelligence coup against his organization’s archrival.
He was less enthusiastic when his boss returned to the original mission, the killing of the police officer’s pregnant wife.
Still, Calvo agreed, and his phone was out of his pocket in seconds. Before dealing with American intelligence he would need to establish a series of cutouts, and this would take time.
Daniel addressed the banquet room full of his men. “Everyone, we leave immediately for the D.F.!”
Jerry Pfleger rose, held his wineglass up high in toast. The Mexicans in the banquet room ignored him; instead they quickly assembled on de la Rocha, so that they could file out as one unit and limit the chance of an assassination attempt against their
THIRTY-SIX
At ten o’clock both Court and Laura were awake; they sat across from one another on their twin beds; they nibbled on their tepid dinner and listened to a soft rain blow against the window of the hotel room. Laura had showered, and her wet bangs drooped in her eyes. She had dressed in her new clothes, a black polo-type shirt and blue jeans.
Her rosary hung from her neck.
Court thought it was an efficient outfit, and she looked amazing in it.
They were in for the night; Gentry had unplugged the television and pushed it and the TV stand against the door, along with an oaken chest of drawers. Anyone coming through would not only need a key but also a shoulder and several hard shoves.
There was little conversation until they finished their meal, but once the remnants were in the garbage can, Laura told stories about her family and her youth in San Blas. If she expected Court to talk about his childhood, she was disappointed.
When her stories trailed off and his did not begin, she asked him directly, “My brother. Was he like you?”
“In what way?”
“In any way? I mean . . . the way you can fight. The way you have protected us. Was Eduardo the same?”
“Eddie was a good guy. A tough guy. But when I knew him? No . . . he was not like me. He was not a killer.”
“I don’t think you are a killer,” she said.
“Then you haven’t been paying attention.”
“No. I understand you have killed people. Of course you have. But only to save us and to save yourself. You have only done what is right. What is necessary. Men around here who are killers do not do it for good reasons. Only for bad.”
Court did not respond. He just sipped water from a bottle.
Laura continued. “God is working through you. You should know that.”
The sound that came out of Court’s mouth was something between a chuckle and a gasp. Water dripped down his chin. “I don’t know about that.”
“I am certain. He sent you to watch over us.”
“You make it sound so simple.”
She considered that comment for a long time, looking into his eyes so intently that he was forced to look away from her. “No . . . maybe it is not that simple. But I believe . . . I believe you were sent to us when we needed you.”
“There were about a dozen of you who needed me, and now there are four. What about the others?”
Laura began to cry.
Gentry looked up at the ceiling.
Her sobs softened, and she stood, crossed over to his bed, and sat next to him. Facing him with her legs crossed Indian style. “Do you believe in good and evil?”
Gentry could feel his heart rate increase with her nearness. He looked across the room. “I believe in what I have seen with my own eyes.”
“Which means?”
“I believe in evil.”
“You have seen no good in this world?”
Court looked at her again. Felt blood coursing through his body and warming his face and hands. “I’ve seen good, sure. Just not enough.”
“Well, I believe what I see with
“I think we should try and sleep. We will be on the road all day tom—”
Laura moved closer. Interrupted Court. “Do you have someone?”
“Wha—what?”
“A wife. A girlfriend?”
“No.”
“You cannot be alone forever.”
He smiled. Looked away. “I won’t live forever.”
“I mean . . . on this earth. God doesn’t want man to live alone.”
