One of the bullets smashes into the bottles behind the bar and the other one smashes the bone in Morales’s right thigh. I know this because I can see shards of it sticking out through his shredded uniform pants.
Rolf is huddled behind a table made out of an old tequila barrel. It looks sturdy and might actually stop or deflect some bullets. I knock over a card table with a thin sheet metal top emblazoned with a Sol advertisement, and hope nobody shoots any spitballs at me. I can hear Morales screaming high and shrill and Candito trying to quiet him.
– Tranquilo. Tranquilo. Tranquilo. Tranquilo.
The screams soften until there is just a constant, strangled keening coming from deep in Morales’s throat. I peek out from behind my useless barricade. Candito, kneeling next to Morales, has taken off his belt and turned it into a tourniquet much like the one the macheted Cuban had. I look over at Rolf and see that he is starting to edge around his barrel, gun first.
– Rolf!
He ignores me, positioning himself to take a shot, but at the sound of my voice Candito stands, pulls his service piece, points it at Leo, and yells something in our direction. Rolf ducks back down.
– Fuck!
Candito yells again, but I still don’t catch all of it. Rolf yells something back.
– What does he want?
– He wants me to throw out my gun, dude, what the fuck do you think he wants? Keep quiet next time, I almost had him.
Candito yells again.
– So throw your gun out.
– No fucking way.
– He’s gonna kill Leo.
– Bullshit. That hick cop has never shot anyone in his life. He’s pissing his pants right now. Besides, dude knows that if he kills Leo I’ll fucking blast him.
– How does he know that?
– Because I told him.
Candito yells again and this time I get the word
– He says he just wants the money.
– Yeah, that figures.
I open my shirt, lift my tank top up, rip the Velcro seal, and tug the money belt from around my waist. I take five grand and the John Carlyle ID and stuff them in my pockets.
– Tell him I’m gonna stand up.
– Dude, don’t do that.
– Rolf, I’m hiding behind a beer can, I might as well stand up.
– No, dude, I mean don’t give him your fucking money.
– Just tell him I’m standing up and not to shoot.
– OK, but I’m telling you we can get out of this, no problem.
He shouts at Candito and Candito shouts back.
– He says do it slowly. Hands up and all that.
– Right.
I hang the money belt over my shoulder, put my hands on my head, and slowly stand up. Morales is sprawled in a large pool of his own blood, still making that hurt animal noise, his right hand clutching the tourniquet, his left clawing and scratching at the floor. Candito is standing, blood stains on the knees of his pants, pointing his gun at Leo’s head. Leo is still crumpled and motionless, unconscious for all I can tell. I take my right hand from my head and lift the money belt from my shoulder. Candito yells and I freeze.
– Rolf?
– Yeah?
– What was that?
– Just the usual. Don’t fuck around with him or he’ll fucking kill Leo and then you. That kind of stuff.
– OK.
I hold the money belt out in Candito’s direction, nodding my head.
– Tranquilo, amigo.
The gun pointed at Leo’s head is shaking, sweat is pouring down Candito’s twitching face, and I realize that Rolf is right. This guy is scared pissless. I know the feeling.
– Tranquilo, OK?
I swing the money belt once and toss it to him. It lands neatly at his feet. He keeps the shaking gun pointed at Leo as he squats down. The fingers of his left hand fumble one of the compartments open and he pries out a thick sheaf of bills. His eyes flick to the money. He lets it and the belt fall into the edge of the puddle of Morales’s blood, then he stands back up and starts screaming at me, the gun vibrating.
– What the fuck, Rolf?
– That’s what
– What?
– He wants to know what that shit is, how much?
– It’s about seventy-five thou.
Rolf looks at me.
– No shit?
– Yeah.
– Dude.
Candito yells at us. I take my right hand from my head and point at the money belt.
– Tranquilo, amigo. Setenta cinco mil.
He tilts his head, shakes it.
– Setenta cinco mil?
– Si.
Then he’s screaming again, too fast for me to follow.
– Rolf?
Nothing.
– Rolf?
Nothing. I look at Rolf. He’s staring at me.
– He says fuck your mother and fuck your seventy-five grand. He wants to know where the
– Tell him that’s all there is and he can take it or leave it.
– What’s he talking about?
– Fucked if I know. Just tell him that’s all there is.
Rolf tells him, and Candito sprays curses and bends over to press the gun against Leo’s head.
– He doesn’t believe you, dude. He says give him the money or he’ll shoot Leo.
I look at Leo heaped on the floor. I can’t tell if he’s breathing. And it’s not like I can run out, call Tim, and have him ship the money back to me.
– Tell him there is no fucking way in heaven or earth that he is ever going to have more than what he has right now. That’s all there is. Tell him if he leaves now, he can keep the money and probably still work it out so he keeps his job and keeps his partner alive. Tell him if he wants to shoot me he might as well do it because I’m about to walk over there and see if Leo is OK.
– Cool.
Rolf tells him. Candito looks from Leo to the money to me as I walk out from behind the table and start to cross the room toward him. Then he bends, scoops up the money belt, points the gun at me, and backs away shouting. I hold my hands out in front of me.
– Tranquilo.
– He says tranquilo yourself. He says he’s gonna take the money and go get the doctor and when he gets
