drank the coffee. She hadn't eaten since early that morning. With Jesse. She wondered if he knew yet that she had been taken. Surely Inez would have told him. And he would have called Bode. And Bode would come for her. Soon. Not several days from now as El Diablo had said. But now. He was already on his way to her. She knew that. She also knew that when he came for her, El Diablo would kill him.
Or he would kill El Diablo.
The small jet taxied over to the private terminal in a secluded area of the airport. The door opened and a stairway dropped down. Only one man got off the plane.
The governor of Texas.
He spotted Jesse's truck and walked over with a duffel bag slung over his shoulder. He appeared much larger in person than on television. When he opened the passenger door and got into Jesse's pickup, he did not seem like the man who would be president.
Or who wanted to be.
The governor sat silent for a long moment-as if he were contemplating the final journey of his life. Jesse knew this because he had contemplated the same journey as he sat and waited for the governor's jet to arrive in Laredo. Perhaps they would take that final journey together, the governor and the man who loved the governor's wife. The governor finally stuck out a hand to Jesse.
'Bode Bonner.'
'Jesse Rincon.'
Jesse started the engine and exited the airport and drove east.
'We must wait until after midnight to cross the river.'
He took the governor to his homestead. They got out and went inside Jesse's house. The governor glanced around.
'This is where she's been living?'
'No. She lives in the guesthouse.'
Jesse led the governor to the guesthouse and unlocked the door for him.
Blanca knocked on the door at seven.
Lindsay had fallen asleep from fear and exhaustion. She had dreamed of Bode and Becca, Ramon and Chelo, Lupe and the vaqueros… and Jesse. She had woken with the vague outline of a plan. She dressed and now followed Blanca to the elevator and then to the second floor. They walked down a hallway and into an elegant dining room against a wall of windows facing the lights of Laredo. Enrique de la Garza stood by the windows, wearing a black suit and tie and checking his hair in the reflection, as if looking for gray streaks. He noticed her and turned.
' Buenas noches, Senora Bonner. My, you look beautiful.'
She wore a black dress and black heels.
'Blanca, champagne for the senora.'
He seemed oddly happy. So she decided not to upset his mood with Hector's attempted rape. She wanted him to remain happy and relaxed, to feel at ease with her. To enjoy her company. She wanted to appeal to his manhood.
Blanca returned and handed a flute filled with champagne to Lindsay.
' Gracias. ' She turned to Enrique. 'Were these your wife's clothes?'
'Yes.'
'She liked short dresses.'
'Yes, she had beautiful legs. As you do.'
His eyes went to her legs.
'Congressman Delgado said we killed her.'
Enrique nodded. 'It was a mistake.'
'I'm sorry. There's been too much killing on the border.'
'Yes. Too much.'
He stepped closer and raised his flute as if to toast the moment, but she instinctively backed away.
' Senora Bonner, I said you have nothing to fear from me. But still you fear me?'
'Yes. I do.'
'Why?'
'Because you're El Diablo. The devil. A drug lord. You've killed thousands of people.'
'Who said that?'
Like a kid on a playground whose veracity had been questioned.
'Everyone… the newspapers, the government.'
'The American government?'
'Yes.'
'And, of course, the American government would never lie.' He sighed. ' Senora Bonner, we live by a code of honor, Los Muertos. We do not kill women, children, or innocents.'
'You sell drugs.'
'Americans sell weapons to the world, but I am a bad guy because I sell marijuana to Americans?'
He shook his head.
'Your government, they are telling the American story, so Americans must be told that they are the good guys. They cannot be the bad guys. That is not allowed in the American story. God bless America. Americans must believe that God looks with special favor upon America. But if America is God's protagonist, who is the antagonist? Who is the bad guy? Every story must have a bad guy, is that not true? So your government creates bad guys for Americans to hate so they will not hate their own government. Yesterday it was Osama and the Taliban, Saddam and Gadhafi. Tomorrow it will be North Korea and Iran, although I must agree that those two guys, they do not seem right in the head. But, today it is me. Enrique de la Garza. I am the bad guy in the American story of this border. El Diablo. The devil. Your government gave that nickname to me, you see, so that I would sound like a very bad guy indeed-El Diablo, he must be a very bad hombre. And that is my role in the American tragedy. Because America must demonize its adversaries, anyone who will not submit to American rule. It is so much easier to demonize than it is to understand and acknowledge grievances against America, is it not? So, please, Senora Bonner, save the American self-righteousness for someone else. We Mexicans have heard it for one hundred and sixty-five years. Oh, here is Charles. Let us eat.'
He held a chair out for her. She sat, and the chef named Charles served soup.
'Tortilla soup,' Charles said. 'The entree tonight is grilled sea bass flown in fresh from California served with a Greek salad and snow peas. For dessert we have cheesecake with a strawberry sauce or chocolate souffle. Ma'am, would you like a glass of wine?'
'I have an extensive wine cellar,' Enrique said. 'Do you have a favorite?'
She shrugged.
'Surprise us, Charles.'
'Yes, sir.'
Charles left, and Lindsay tasted the soup.
'It's delicious.'
'Yes, Charles is an excellent chef.'
'He's not afraid to work for you?'
'Oh, no. You see, Senora Bonner, I am beloved by my people. I can walk the streets of Nuevo Laredo without fear. I employ the people and pay them well. I do not sell drugs to my people. I fund churches and schools. I love my country and my people. And they love me.'
'Congressman Delgado said you give away a billion dollars a year.'
'Yes, that is true. I tithe twenty percent. Of course, it is not as if I'm paying taxes.'
He had amused himself.
'Are your children joining us?'
'No. Charles prepared hamburgers for them. They enjoy the American food.'
'They seem like nice kids.'
'I like them.'
'Do they know what you do for a living?'
'Julio does, not Carmelita. She is a bit young, I think.'
