Mauser he carried had been passed on to him from his grandfather.
As important as this was, the gift Naranjo and his men presented Guajardo with was one beyond measure. With Lefleur, Guajardo had a key that, if used properly, would give him what he wanted most: Alaman.
23
What care I for their quarrels or whether the eagle I march under has one head or two?
Sitting alone, at the end of a long table, Lefleur stared at the two Mexican soldiers at the door. Though the accommodations in the Mexican jail were far better than he had imagined, such thoughts did nothing to dispel his anger or embarrassment at having been caught by peasants. It had been such a stupid affair. A stupid and unnerving affair.
When there was a knock at the door, one of the soldiers turned and opened a small viewing window in the center of it to identify who was on the other side. Closing the viewing door, the soldier unbolted the door and opened it to allow the visitor in. As soon as the door began to open, the soldier returned to his position, but came to attention, shouting an order for the other guard to do likewise. Not having seen such a reaction from his guards before, Lefleur figured that he was about to meet someone important.
The Mexican Army colonel who entered, followed by a lieutenant, was tall and lean. Lefleur gave him the once-over. There were few ribbons on his chest, which meant that the colonel had done nothing to earn his rank, or else he was a modest man, something Lefleur doubted. It was not possible, he knew, to be a colonel and be modest. The colonel wore his hat with its brim pulled down so that his eyes were not visible. He was here, Lefleur decided, to intimidate him. He thought about that for a moment, then laughed to himself. What could a Mexican colonel possibly do to him that a good sergeant in the Legion, and half a dozen trained professionals after that, hadn't already tried?
As he was studying the colonel, Lefleur did not notice that the lieutenant who accompanied the colonel had dismissed the guards, closing and bolting the door after they left. Taking up his station at the door, he nodded to the colonel that he was ready.
Taking off his hat, Guajardo placed it on the table, then slowly walked past Lefleur so that he was now behind him. Guajardo stood there for a moment before starting, as if he were pondering his first question. When he finally spoke, it was in English. 'I already know what brings you to Mexico, Senior Lefleur, so we can dispense with many of the preliminaries.'
Lefleur, without looking at Guajardo, decided to play with the colonel.
Folding his arms in front of his chest, Lefleur protested. 'My name, senor colonel, is Perrault, Paul Perrault. I am a correspondent for the French National News Network. I have no idea why I am here and demand that I be allowed to see a member of the French embassy staff.'
Lefleur could hear the colonel heave a great sigh before he spoke again.
'Do not, Senior Lefleur, play the fool with me. Your friend the Canadian was most talkative.'
Unable to help himself, Lefleur quipped, 'Well, if the Canadian was talkative, then you do not need me.'
There was a pause. Unable to see the colonel's face, Lefleur did not know how his comment had gone over. The lieutenant at the door, still wearing his hat, betrayed no reaction. So Lefleur sat there, waiting.
'Ah, well, Senior Lefleur, as I said, your friend was most talkative.
But no more. Alas, he was not as hardy as we had thought. His physique was very deceptive. You see, your friend died an hour ago.'
For the first time, Lefleur felt a twinge of fear. Though he tried not to, he stiffened slightly at the news of the Canadian's death. For a minute, Lefleur tried to convince himself that the Mexican colonel was bluffing.
They would not beat or torture a man to death. They were professional soldiers. Yet, in the back of his mind, he knew it was true. He had no idea who this colonel was or what he wanted. But he did know that Mexico was a country in the middle of a revolution and at war with the United States. Given those circumstances, and if what the colonel said was true, Lefleur realized that anything was possible. It was time to start cooperating, a little. 'What is it, Colonel, that you want?'
Without hesitation, the colonel responded. 'I want Alaman.'
Lefleur hesitated. The Canadian had talked a lot. Still not ready to roll over, Lefleur shrugged and threw his hands out to his side. 'I am sorry, Colonel. I cannot help you. I do not know a person by the name of Alaman.'
Though he had expected the Frenchman to play games with him, Guajardo was still angered by the man's manner and arrogance. Looking over to his side, Guajardo snapped, 'Juan, your pistol.'
Marching from his post at the door, past Lefleur, Juan came up to Guajardo, unholstered his pistol, and handed it to Guajardo. The sound of the pistol's slide being pulled back and released, an action that chambered a round, caused Lefieur to flinch. Lefleur could hear the lieutenant pivot and begin to head back to the door, where he resumed his post. Lefleur noticed that there was a slight smile on his face. It was a wicked smile, a smile that increased Lefleur's apprehension. Whatever was going on, Lefleur realized, had been planned and rehearsed.
'Senior Lefleur, if you would be so kind as to place both hands on the table, palms down and fingers aprt, we can continue our conversation.'
Having no idea what was going on, Lefleur complied. He could feel the sweat begin to bead up on his forehead as he placed his hands on the table.
Without a word, without a warning, the pistol flashed past the right side of Lefleur's head. Before he could react, Guajardo placed the muzzle of the pistol on the lower knuckle of the right-hand pinkie and pulled the trigger.
Expecting a violent reaction, Guajardo pulled away and to one side as Lefleur pushed himself away from the table, howling like an injured animal. Guajardo, seeing the chair begin to slide back, stuck his foot behind its rear leg, stopping it from sliding any farther, and causing it to tip over. The chair tilted back, then toppled, sending Lefleur sprawling on the floor, blood squirting out of the nub on his right hand where a finger had once been.
Once he was able to recover from the shock and surprise of being shot, Lefleur grabbed his right wrist with his left hand and looked at the nub.
As he was studying the damage, he began panting, almost unable to breathe. Guajardo, who had taken a step back, looked down at Lefleur and smiled. 'Senior Lefleur, you may, if you choose, continue to be stubborn. But I must warn you, I will surely outlast you. You see, I have fourteen bullets left. You, only nine fingers.'
Lefleur had had enough. He was, after all, only a mercenary. There was no honor in dying for Alaman. There was nothing worth throwing his life away for. It was not in his own interest to continue with this insanity.
As soon as he had composed himself, he blurted that he didn't know where Alaman was. He was, he explained, only one of many mercenaries.
Guajardo walked over and looked down at Lefleur. 'Yes, that may be true. But you are going to take me to the man who does know where Alaman is. You will, my friend, lead me to Senior Delapos and deliver him to me. For if you do not, I will personally see that your death is a slow and painful one, the kind where the victim's voice gives out from incessant screaming days before the body dies. Do we understand each other, senor?'
The calm that Dixon tried to feign fooled no one. Though he was far from being a basket case, Big Al considered putting him on furlough for a week, maybe two. Big Al, however, appreciated that such a move would only serve to magnify Dixon's sense of loss. So long as he continued to function and perform his duties, the division commander would leave Dixon be. In his own time, in his own way, Big Al knew that Dixon would finally come to grips with the loss of Jan Fields.
It was not that anyone had given up. On the contrary, the president, under pressure from Congress and the media, and fueled by Amanda Lewis's agitation, was making every effort to find out what had happened to
