Soto mashed his lips together, inhaled through his nose, and let it out. He took his own cup, lifting it daintily to his mouth as he leaned forward and said, "After what you did-betraying your own government to allow me my escape-in a strange way, I consider you a friend. A loco brother."
Soto raised the tiny cup toward Jose and said, "So I'll tell you what I know."
CHAPTER 68
E LIJANDRO LIFTED THE POT FROM THE STOVE AND BEGAN BANGING it with a spoon. He smiled at Isodora and said they needed to celebrate. Paquita danced around his legs wearing an indigo crepe dress and jangling silver bracelets on her arms, bracelets belonging to her dead grandmother. The banging grew louder and louder. Paquita spun faster and turned into an enormous black whirl. The bracelets spilled to the floor like spare change and Isodora began to shout at Elijandro to stop it.
Isodora yelled so loud she awoke and saw a guard banging her metal food bowl against the steel door.
"Wake up," he said, speaking Spanish. "Come with me if you want to see your little girl. Now."
Isodora felt for the dirty sheet and pulled it close like a shawl. Her feet swung from the narrow bed and she staggered toward the door barely feeling her legs. Her mouth, too, felt numb, so when she asked where Paquita was it came out in a garbled mess. She followed the guard, though, without hesitation. Nothing mattered but Paquita.
Down a long hallway, past dozens of cell doors like her own, she followed the guard, her bare feet slapping the cold and dirty concrete floor. Slime oozed from the ceiling, discoloring the walls with a moldy fur. The smell of human waste fouled the air.
Outside the door, she saw the starry sky above the haze of a halogen streetlight. A single box truck sat idling, spewing diesel fumes into the wind that carried them her way. The guard rolled up the door in the back of the truck and there, in the dark, lay Paquita, swathed in a dirty sheet like her own, sleeping fitfully. A small shriek escaped Isodora's throat and she threw herself onto the bed of the truck, scrabbling to climb in.
The guard grabbed her legs, lifted, and shoved her forward. She wrapped herself around her little girl and Paquita's eyes fluttered open, glassy and unfocused. Isodora began to cry.
"What do we do with these?" a voice outside the truck asked.
"We're getting rid of them," said another.
The door rolled down, slamming shut with a shudder that Isodora felt in the floor beneath her. She could see nothing, but it didn't matter.
She held her little girl tight.
CHAPTER 69
JOSe SLUMPED DOWN IN THE FRONT SEAT OF THE '67 FIREBIRD, peering just over the air scoop and watching the white panel van sitting across from their motel room. The van didn't belong. The faint glow from the tip of a cigarette burned in the darkness, confirming his suspicion. The man-or more likely the men-sitting in the dark van outside their motel room meant one of two things: either they already had Casey or they were waiting for him to show up and planning to take them at the same time.
"Keep going," Jose said, slumping farther down. "Just drive past and don't look at anything."
"I'm just supposed to drop you and go," the punk said, speaking English, but in a thick accent. "I'm no tour guide."
Jose dug into his pocket and peeled off a hundred-dollar bill, extending it to the kid.
"Something extra," Jose said, allowing the kid to snatch it. "Just keep going and look normal. You can drop me around the corner."
The kid did as he said, cruising right on through the motel parking lot with the car's pipes rumbling, then screeching when he pulled into the street, burning up his mag wheels until they came to an abrupt stop at the light.
Jose looked back. Nothing moved except the hair on the back of his neck. "Nice," he said sarcastically.
"You said 'look normal,' the kid said with a lazy shrug, one hand draped over the steering wheel.
"I'll give you another hundred for that shitty little.22 you got in your boot," Jose said to the kid, opening the door.
"No way," the kid said, peering up from beneath the brim of his cowboy hat. "I ain't going naked."
Jose peeled off a second bill and said, "For two hundred you can buy ten of those pieces. C'mon, I'll put in a good word with Flaco."
The kid raised his pants leg and removed the steel black.22 with a broken grip, handing it to Jose for the two hundreds.
"You got any extra shells?" Jose asked.
"Man, you ain't got to shoot more'n once if you shoot straight, old-timer."
"Right," Jose said, shutting the door and slipping the gun into the waist of his pants before he scooted into the dark.
He made his way through the shadows and around to the back of the motel. As he studied the terrain, he dialed up Casey's cell phone, listening for tension in her voice as she answered the phone.
"Everything okay?" he asked.
"Yes," she said. "Where are you?"
"Outside."
"The motel?"
"Did you park the car by that car wash around the block?" he asked.
"Yes. What's going on?"
"Just stay calm," he said. "Don't go to the window, but I think we have some visitors out front. There's a white van. I'm out back and I don't see anything, but hang tight. Throw your things and mine in our bags. I'll ease up to the bathroom window and knock twice if it's clear."
Jose hung up and crept along slowly, his eyes scanning every nook and cranny, stepping into the rotten carcass of a dead animal and nearly vomiting before wiping his boot sideways in the switchgrass beyond the broken pavement. When he reached the window to their room, he studied the shadows around him one final time before rapping his knuckles softly on the glass.
Casey swept the curtain aside and her face appeared. Quietly, she opened the window and handed their bags out before climbing through herself, Jose helping her to the ground. He mashed a finger to his lips and signaled for her to follow and stay close. When they reached the far corner of the building he paused in the shadows and took a pair of night-vision goggles from his bag, peering around the corner and directing them at the van.
Inside the vehicle, he could make out three men in what looked like bulletproof vests carrying assault rifles and waiting, still as mannequins.
"What do you see?" Casey asked, her hand on his shoulder and her lips whispering into his ear.
"They aren't here to kidnap us," he said.
"Then why?" she asked.
"They're here to kill us. Come on."
Casey had dozed off and Jose let her sleep while he drove them back toward home. When she woke they were at a gas station and he was outside the Mercedes, adding fuel under the halogen lights. The sky showed no sign of the coming dawn and although no rain fell, the blacktop still bore the slick puddles and stains of earlier weather. Casey stretched, yawned, and got out, putting her hands on his shoulders and her face against the muscles in his back, absorbing his heat in the predawn chill.
"Want to use the facilities?" he asked.
"Where are we?" she asked.
"About an hour south of Dallas," he said. "Almost to the Lucky Star Ranch. I'm going in for a coffee with about three shots of espresso for a booster. Want one? Can you believe they have espresso in a gas station?"
She yawned and said she'd take a coffee and hit the restroom. When she returned, he fired up the car and pulled around the side of the truck stop.
" Sharon called twice," he said, glancing her way. "And a couple numbers that didn't have a name. I wanted to let you sleep."
"Did you talk to her?" Casey asked.
"I did," Jose said, nodding. "I also got a call from Soto, the kingpin I went to see. The information he's getting is in line with what Sharon thinks is happening. I had Sharon send the important stuff to my e-mail. If we can get a signal, I've got Verizon Wireless and you can download it."