with the engine running.
Without looking back, I duck my head inside and scurry across the seat. Adam is right behind me as Julio slams the door closed and jumps into the front passenger seat.
None of us says a word until we’ve covered at least a mile on the dirt road, and then Adam explodes: “What the hell happened? We could have been killed. Why didn’t your men stop Saldado out on the road?”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
The best that Julio’s people can figure is that Saldado returned to the trailer by a different route. Besides, they were looking for a van, not the Buick he returned in.
“Son of a bitch,” says Adam. “Why the hell do you people think I hired you? So I could get my ass shot off?”
“We thought we had it covered,” says Julio. He is looking straight ahead, out through the windshield, avoiding eye contact with Adam, who is furious. Tolt is bouncing up and down on the backseat, leaning forward, his face six inches from the back of Herman’s head.
“You thought. Did any of you think to scout the road? To see who’s in the vehicles as they go by? No. Your man up there on the other road with us. He got a good look at Saldado through the glasses. He knew what he looked like.”
“How they supposed to look in all the cars come on that road?” says Herman.
“That’s their job,” says Adam. “That’s what it means to be a professional. You can’t do the job, then you ought to find another one.”
“I do my job just fine,” says Herman.
“Don’t you talk back to me.”
Julio reaches over with one hand just above the seat and nudges Herman to shut up.
“If I wanted to get my ass shot off, I could have tied myself to a tree and let you take shots at me with that blunderbuss under your arm. Not that you could hit anything. Damn near got us shot out on the road going in, pulling that thing out.”
“Calm down, Adam. Nothing happened,” I tell him.
“Nothing happened,” he says. “Where the fuck were you? And what was that crap about Jamaile Enterprises?”
“We didn’t get a rise on Jamaile,” I tell him.
“You sure as hell got one out of me. Son of a bitch. You could have gotten us killed.”
“They would have killed us no matter what we said if it hadn’t been for the other car out on the road.”
“He’s right,” says Julio. “They wouldn’t believe us until I permitted their man to talk to my driver on the radio.”
“You screwed up,” says Tolt. “Admit it.”
“If it makes you feel better, fine,” says Julio.
“It’s not his fault,” I tell him.
“Bullshit.”
“Adam.”
“What?”
“If Julio hadn’t recognized Saldado when he did, you and I would have been sitting there sipping bourbon when the Mexican walked in and started peeing in my glass.”
“That’s true,” says Herman.
“When I want your opinion, I’ll ask for it,” Adam tells him. “And as for Julio, if he’d done his job right, we wouldn’t have had to worry about Saldado. I have a half a mind to call the office in Mexico City and have them send somebody who knows their job.”
“And as for you.” He looks at me. “How the hell did you know he’d let us go? Forcing the issue like that. He could just as easily have had that muscle-bound idiot shoot us. We could be lying back there dead right now.”
“If Saldado had come in and seen me, we would be dead,” I tell him.
I can see the chip in Herman’s tooth through tight lips in the rearview mirror as he grips the wheel with both hands and looks at me, thankful that there’s someone else to share Adam’s tongue-lashing.
“Take me to Cancun. I’m paying a fortune for these two idiots,” he says.
He sits back, quietly steaming for several seconds, arms folded, his face turned away from me, looking out the side window. Then the second rush. Adam starts doing what every angry lawyer does best, cross-examining everybody around him, demanding answers that don’t exist.
“Where did he go when he left? Tell me that.”
“Who?” Julio turns to look at him. He shouldn’t have asked.
“Who? Who the hell do you think I mean? Saldado.”
“How would we know that?” Julio turns to the front again.
“Of course not. That would be too fucking easy. Have one of your men follow him.”
“Adam, give it up. We didn’t even know he was going to be there,” I tell him.
“Why didn’t you watch him?” Adam ignores me. “What did he do, just reappear? Apparition out of thin air?” This is addressed to the back of Julio’s head as the Mexican sits there silent, his face increasingly red until it looks like a beet. The veins along the side of his neck resemble surgical tubing. “If you worked for me, I’d fire your ass.”
Adam’s executive style splashes all over the inside of the car as we drive, anger and ugly insults.
As I sit and listen, I wonder whether Nick had ever been treated to this. It is one of those watershed moments that tell you more about someone than you ever wanted to know. Julio is sitting there taking the worst of it, Herman gripping the steering wheel, looking straight ahead, gritting his teeth and trying to project himself into some other dimension.
It may be far too charitable, but Adam’s anger is motivated in large part by the afterglow of fear, the sudden realization that, but for the fates, the world could at this very moment be without one of its favorite sons: himself.
“Take us back to Cancun,” he says. “Now.” Adam slams his back into the seat again and folds his arms across his chest, his steely gaze again out the side window.
The trip back is like a ride in a deep freeze. Herman and Julio sit up front like two stone idols, trying not to breathe so Adam won’t notice them.
By the time we pull up in front of the Casa Turquesa, it’s dark. It seems Adam has gotten over his rage. “I want to freshen up a bit. How about some dinner, say half an hour in the restaurant downstairs?”
“Good.”
“Julio. You and Herman can join us as well.” Adam gets out of the car and heads inside.
“What’s that, a fuckin’ imperial command?” says Herman.
“Quiet. The man’s going to hear you,” says Julio.
“What the fuck do I care? Hope he does.” Herman leans over the steering wheel. “Who’s he think he’s talkin’ to like that?”
“He was scared. So was I.”
“Yeah, but you didn’t act like that,” says Herman. “That don’t give him the right to show us that kinda disrespect. I mean, I’d tear somebody’s tongue out for less than that. I’m a professional,” he says. “I’ve taken bullets for people worth more than that shithead.”
“Calm down,” says Julio. “You don’t need this job. I do. I cannot afford to be fired because you can’t keep you mouth shut. Take a swim in the pool, watch a movie on the cable. Cool off.”
“Can’t. Gotta be at supper half an hour. You heard the man.”
“Then go take a cold shower.” Julio gets out of the car, slams the door, and walks toward the hotel, leaving Herman and me sitting there.
“Ain’t worth it,” says Herman.
It was an ugly incident, but I’m not going to pour fuel on the flames with Herman. Instead I get out of the
