Spooner nodded slowly. “Well, I suppose you know what you’re talking about. I’ve heard that you’re a good man at your job.”
“I try,” Longarm said dryly.
“So do I, Mr. Long. You should remember that.”
“I will,” said Longarm. “Now, I need to tell Mr. Barton that everything’s ready downstairs.”
“I’ll do that,” Spooner volunteered. “Why don’t you inform the Mexican delegation?”
Longarm nodded. “All right.” He stepped across the hall to Don Alfredo’s door and rapped on it as Spooner went back into the American suite.
Instead of the Mexican diplomat or one of his associates, Sonia Guiterrez opened the door to Longarm’s knock. “Senor Long!” she said, her wide mouth curving in a sultry smile. “It is so good to see you again.”
Longarm didn’t point out that it had only been a little over an hour since he had left her in her room. Instead, he cleared his throat and tried not to think about the impact she made on his senses. “Senorita Guiterrez, I need to speak to your father.”
Her full lower lip extended even more than normal in a pout. “You did not come to see me?”
“Not this time,” said Longarm.
“Well, then, perhaps another time you will. Another time soon.”
Longarm swallowed and found his throat dry. “Maybe so.”
Sonia gave him another of those maddening smiles, then turned her head and called, “Papacito.”
A moment later Guiterrez appeared beside her, smiling broadly. “Yes, my dear?” He glanced at Longarm. “Ah, Senor Long. I take it that everything is in readiness down stairs.”
“Yes, sir,” said Longarm. “I reckon you and Mr. Barton can get things under way just as soon as you’re ready.”
“Excellent. Gracias, Senor Long.”
Don Alfredo didn’t seem to be in any hurry to come down and get the meetings started. Longarm hesitated a moment, then asked, “Should I tell Mr. Barton that you’ll be downstairs in a few minutes?”
“Soon, Senor Long, soon. No need to rush these things.” Longarm nodded as understanding dawned in his brain. Don Alfredo didn’t intend to go downstairs until he was sure that Franklin Barton and the other Americans were already there, waiting for him. Longarm glanced across the hall at the door of Barton’s suite. It was closed, and something about it told Longarm it would stay that way for a while. Barton would be thinking the same thing Don Alfredo was. Appearances were the only things that really mattered to these gents, and neither of them wanted to seem too eager to get started.
With a tug on the brim of his hat, Longarm nodded. “Well, then, whenever you’re ready,” he muttered, then backed away from the door. Sonia closed it, but not without another of those smoldering, heavy-lidded glances at which she was so expert.
Longarm sighed and went downstairs to wait.
“Hell, you coulda stayed in Denver and I coulda stayed in Austin,” complained Coffin as he and Longarm sat at a small table in a corner of the hotel lobby. “We’re about as much use here as tits on a boar hog.”
Longarm couldn’t find it in himself to disagree with the big Ranger. He and Coffin had been waiting all afternoon for the diplomatic meetings to begin, and so far everyone concerned was still upstairs, each side trying stubbornly to out-wait the other.
“Maybe if we went up there with our guns out,” Coffin went on, “we
could make them fellas come down here and do their jobs. Might have to
boot ‘em in the rear end a time or two on the way, but-“
“We can’t do that,” said Longarm.
“Why in blazes not? That might take ‘em down a notch or two and make ‘em a whole heap more reasonable.”
“And make them declare war on each other,” Longarm pointed out gloomily.
A broad grin spread across Coffin’s bearded face. “Well, at least that’d be somethin’ happenin’, wouldn’t it?”
Longarm just grunted and didn’t say anything. If this stalemate went on much longer, he might start giving some serious consideration to Coffin’s suggestion.
That was when, as if they had timed it, Lewis Markson and one of Don Alfredo’s assistants appeared at the second-floor landing. Longarm could see the men from where he sat. For a long moment, they sized each other up without speaking, then Markson said something that Longarm couldn’t hear. The Mexican gestured at the stairs, as if inviting the American to go first. Markson shook his head and stepped back slightly, indicating with a sweep of his own hand that the other man should precede him.
If they kept up that routine for very long, thought Longarm as he watched them, he was going to draw his gun and shoot both of them. Coffin looked as if he felt the same way.
Finally, both men came down the stairs side by side and went to the arched entrance of the dining room. Longarm and Coffin sat up straight and watched as Markson and the Mexican looked around the dining room. A few more low-voiced comments and nods were exchanged, then the men turned and went back across the lobby to the staircase.
“Wait a minute,” Longarm called in a strangled voice as he came to his feet. “Are you fellas about to get started or what?”
