Adriana brought Jackson up to speed on what she did with her spare time, stealing stolen artwork and returning it to the rightful owners. He made the comment about that being a dangerous hobby, which she blew off. Everyone said the same thing.
Then she told him about what was going on with her father. She figured Jackson to be a guy who appreciated full disclosure.
“So,” she finished up, “I have to steal this painting from Espinoza’s mansion and return it to a port in Marseille.”
“France?”
“Yes. If things go according to plan, I should make it there with a few hours to spare.”
Jackson snorted and drew in a long sip of beer. He wiped his beard and mustache clean and set the mug down. “Things never go according to plan. Especially here in Mexico.”
She grinned at his comment. “Yes, that’s why I need an expert like you.”
He squinted at the compliment. “I can get you to Ameca, though not by plane. There are some fields nearby where I could land, abandoned farms and such, but it wouldn’t go unnoticed. Or we could fly into Guadalajara. That’s as close as I can get you to Ameca by air. After that, we’d need to go by car.” He stopped for a moment and looked around again. “If this goes off like you planned, you won’t have much time to get out of there.”
“Which is why you’ll need to have the plane ready to fly. How about we do both? Land in Guadalajara, refuel the plane, and then meet me on one of those abandoned farms you’re talking about. If you show me how to get there on a map, I can manage.” She reached down to the rucksack and unzipped one of the compartments. Her fingers felt the paper she was looking for and pulled out the envelope. The package was a few inches thick, and when he saw it, Jackson wondered how she’d got all that cash in one envelope.
“Thanks. And I like the plan, so long as you can get to where I say. Timing on this will be critical. If I sit around too long, someone will see me. There are always curious eyes lingering about.”
She slid it across the table, close to the wall, making sure no one else noticed. “I’ll be there on time. Just be ready.” She tapped the burgeoning envelope. “Count it if you like.”
He waved his hand, dismissing the comment. “I trust you. Any friend of Tommy’s is all right by me. I hope you don’t think I’m being greedy for requiring this much money. Truthfully, the reason it’s so much is that if this goes like I think it might, old Sarah might need some repairs.”
“Is that the name of your plane?”
“Yes,ma’am. She’s old, but she runs good and has never let me down, unlike other women in my life.”
Adriana chose not to address the barb at his ex-wife, instead offering a smile. “I trust you when it comes to that stuff. Tommy wouldn’t have recommended you otherwise.”
Jackson’s eyes beamed. “I guess we have a good amount of trust at this table, then.” He pulled the envelope back and tucked it into a canvas messenger bag next to his feet. “When do you need to leave?”
“This afternoon, early if possible. I’m meeting someone in Ameca who’s getting me into Espinoza’s compound. She’s made this whole thing possible.”
Jackson’s eyebrows knit together. His voice hinted at concern. “That’s an awfully tricky thing you’re planning. Espinoza isn’t someone to take lightly. You won’t be able to just walk in there, take the painting, and leave. He’ll have armed guards, alarms, everything including the kitchen sink.” He stopped. “I’m sorry, I’m sure you’ve thought about all this stuff. I didn’t mean to suggest you hadn’t.”
“It’s fine. And I appreciate your concern. The whole operation isn’t one I’d normally take on. But as you can tell from my story, I don’t have a choice.”
“Yeah, that’s quite the pickle you’re in.” He leaned back and took another gulp of beer. He sighed after swallowing. “I can have Sarah ready to fly in the next two to three hours. You just come by this hangar when you’re ready, and we’ll head out.”
On the edge of her field of vision, Adriana noticed one of the three men at the bar get up and start walking toward her. Her eyes twitched in his direction, and she knew immediately that if they were on their lunch break, they did not intend to go back anytime soon. He stopped a few feet away, still holding a bottle in his hand. The other two lingered at the bar, watching him from a distance.
“Hey,” he said in slurred Mexican Spanish, making it obvious that the beer wasn’t his first. “What’s your name?”
She glared at him, her eyelids lowered. “Don’t worry about it,” she responded elegantly in her native tongue. Adriana spent most of her early life outside Madrid on her father’s land. They’d always heard that the mother tongue language in Spain was different. Whenever possible, she tried to speak it the way she’d learned as a child.
The mechanic’s eyes widened slightly, and he burped out a laugh. He took a wary step forward and started to reach for her when Jackson snatched him by the wrist and jerked him close. Jackson used his other hand to grab the man’s coveralls at the chest.
“The lady said not to worry about it. I’d suggest you leave unless you want to meet the devil.”
Jackson was no stranger to a bar fight. He’d won more than he'd lost. He didn’t use any sort of martial arts or special technique; Jackson was a brawler, plain and simple. His massive frame, a couple inches over six feet tall and easily pushing 250 pounds, made him an imposing figure.
He pushed the man away and sent him stumbling back toward his friends at the corner of the bar. Two men who’d been watching from the safety of their table decided it might be a good time to check out. They both stood and walked toward the door.
The mechanic’s two companions stood up and started toward Jackson and Adriana, causing them to stand as well.
“Now,boys,” Jackson said, putting his hands out, “we don’t want any trouble. The lady said she didn’t want anything to do with your friend here,and that’s that. It’s a free country. Or is it? I don’t really know, and I’ve lived here a while.”
“Shut up, old man.” The one Jackson had shoved spoke with growing anger. “It was none of your concern. And now it is.”
“What are you doing with an old white guy like that anyway?” one of the others, a runty-looking guy barely a few inches over five feet, asked.
“Now that’s just rude,” Jackson said. “I’m not that old. In fact, last I checked, I’m young enough for your mother.” Jackson’s Spanish was rough around the edges but clear enough that the insult landed perfectly.
Adriana knew what was coming next.
Incensed, the recipient of the joke rushed past his two comrades. He let out a yell and put his shoulder down. His plan must have been to tackle Jackson, but if that was the case, it was a miserable failure. Jackson stepped to the right, swung up and forward, and clotheslined the guy with a big forearm. The attacker’s eyes bulged for a second before he felt his body lifted off the ground and flipped over onto his back. His head struck the tile floor with a sickening smack, sending him into unconsciousness.
Seeing their amigo knocked out should have served as a warning to the remaining two instigators. If they’d apologized and carried their friend away, all would have been forgiven. Instead, seeing their buddy on the floor only fueled their anger. The one with a bottle still in his hand smacked it against the nearest table and shattered the bottom half, leaving a jagged, sharp weapon for him to wield. His eyes flared, leaving no doubt as to what his intentions were.
The other one, standing opposite of Jackson, was weaponless,but he was much larger than the one who’d run into the older man’s forearm. He was still smaller than the American, but only by three or four inches, and his muscles bulged underneath the rolled-up sleeves of his coveralls. The vapid look on his face reminded Jackson of some of the soulless creatures he’d encountered back in the 1970s in a jungle.