Max and Renee froze.
The man repeated the command, louder, and stepped towards them. Max and Renee gave them their cell phones and Renee removed her computer from her bag, handing it over.
One of the gunmen frisked them both.
At least a dozen narcos entered the lobby and walked towards the ocean view restaurant in the back of the hotel. Max noticed that the concierge didn’t seem surprised or worried. Probably the one who had contacted the narcos. Everyone was on the payroll.
A British-accented voice said, “I hope you would consider having breakfast with me. I hear the menu here is excellent.”
Max turned to see a very tall white man walk in.
The mystery man. Blanco.
He wore a tailored two-button blue suit, sans tie. A bright white well-starched collar. Polished brown wingtips. Sunken cheeks and piercing gray eyes.
He held out his hand. “Ian Williams. I suppose you can provide that to everyone who must be trying to find out my name right now. And you are Max Fend. Maxwell? Maximus?”
Max shook his hand, keeping his face impassive. “Just Max.”
“And you must be Renee LaFrancois? Your beauty precedes you.”
The cartel gunmen spread out around the restaurant, collecting cell phones from startled patrons who were eating their breakfast. Two of the narcos headed back into the kitchen. Max recognized what was going on. Their protectee was a high-value target. They only intended to stay here for a moment and didn’t want anyone giving away the location of Ian Williams.
“We were actually just leaving,” said Max.
“No, you weren’t.” Williams’s reply was thick with authority. “You were about to have breakfast with me.”
His eyes darted between Max and the rest of the room. He licked his lips and scrunched his face when he talked. Some sort of nervous tic. Something’s wrong with this guy’s circuit board. Beware. Max cursed himself for bringing Renee to Mexico.
Ian Williams led them over to a spot in the covered open-air hotel restaurant with a view of the ocean. The waiter appeared at once, looking jumpy. Williams ordered in Spanish, and the waiter left with an expression of relief.
Max and Renee sat completely still. Max re-counted the number of sicarios in the room — twelve. They each carried black semiautomatic rifles and watched the crowd for any sign of a problem, with special attention given to Max. The frightened-looking patrons kept their eyes on their plates. Max could hear the distant sound of the waves crashing against the shore, tropical birds chirping outside, and light music playing over the restaurant speakers.
But no conversation. Everyone was probably too scared they might be slaughtered by whoever this cartel madman was. They knew what happened to those who showed anything but the utmost deference to the cartel kings and knights who traveled the countryside in their armed convoys.
Williams began, “You know I was made aware of your arrival a few days ago. One of my many reports — notables traveling through our territory.” He smiled, his gaze darting again with the wild eyes, and a pop came from his lips.
“We’ve been on vacation.”
Williams began shaking his head with short bursts of motion, his pointer finger slicing Max’s proclamation into shreds. “People don’t vacation here. Not people like you. But I said to myself, Max Fend is a fellow traveler. Let him enjoy the sweet offerings of the Sinaloa beaches. Sip a few piña coladas. Dip his feet in the water. But then last night happens… ”
He paused, peering into both Max and Renee’s eyes, waiting for a reaction. A deafening, uncomfortable silence. But no reaction. Williams said, “It stank of American haughtiness. So, I did what any good investigator does. I thoroughly evaluated all of the information available to me, paying close attention to the details. The devil is in the details, you know, Mr. Fend. We’ve had very little unusual activity in this area, but for your arrival. That, as I said before, was notable. Not exactly what you and I, being from civilized countries, would say meets the burden of proof, if I were to accuse you of a crime. But, Max… Max… I hesitate to inform you and your lovely companion, lest I scare the royal shit out of you both, but my business associates here cut off limbs for much less than the coincidence of timing.”
Ian Williams paused again, cocking his head. Getting no response, he continued, “So then, the proximity of your arrival to last night’s horrific violence — what am I to make of it?”
The restaurant was deathly quiet. Ian Williams was the Cheshire cat, licking his lips and in need of a psychological evaluation.
“Mr. Williams, I’m sorry, but we’re only here on vaca—”
Williams slammed his fists down on the table, the silverware rattling. Then he whispered, “Where were you last night?”
“We went for dinner and drinks,” Max answered calmly. He turned to Renee. “What was the name of the—”
Williams clicked his tongue, his head moving side to side again in rapid tiny shakes, an ugly frown forming on his face. “No. Please. Just stop.”
Max kept still as an uncomfortable silence resumed. Ian Williams’s gray eyes studying his prey. He took a deep breath. “This would go much better for you if you don’t play dumb. Do you know who I am?”
Max answered truthfully, “No. Should I?”
“I know who you are. I know all about you, Max Fend. And you, Miss LaFrancois. Not a ‘Mrs.’ yet? Tsk tsk, Max. Where’s the ring?”
Max had to admit that while he was prepared for just about anything Williams might say to throw him off balance, he wasn’t expecting that to be a topic of conversation.
Williams smiled for the first time, revealing a crooked and discolored set of teeth. “Never mind. Excuse the poor manners. But, Renee, should you grow tired of his antics, feel free to come visit. I’ll show you some proper appreciation.”
Renee’s face went crimson.
Max shook his head. “Sorry, buddy, but she’d eat you alive. Trust me.”
Williams laughed, an awkward-sounding guffaw that revealed more bad teeth. “Let’s cut to the chase. An interesting night it was, eh? I must admit that I don’t quite yet know what to make of it. I show up and pay a visit to a colleague, Mr. Rojas… ”
He paused to gauge the facial reactions of Max and Renee at the mention of Rojas.
“And I happen to find a woman with him who I now know was working as an informant against my employer.”
He paused again, watching their expressions. Max was confident in his own poker face. He wasn’t so sure about Renee’s.
“Now, several events occurred after I removed Miss Sanchez from the premises, resulting in death, dismemberment, and what I suspect to be Hector Rojas’s kidnapping by you Americans. Perhaps the DEA, but I doubt it. The CIA? Now why would they be involved? And how warm might I be, Max?”
Max shrugged. “I wouldn’t know.”
Ian Williams said, “But now you tell me that you were out eating and drinking and enjoying this shithole of a country. Okay. Okay. Ah. Here we are. Let us pause… ”
Williams’s eyes lit up as their food came. Hot plates of tortillas, beans, a red ranchero sauce, limes, and two fried eggs, sunny-side up.
Renee was silent, but Max could feel her unease. She stared at her plate, not wanting to look up.
Max couldn’t help himself. “I presume that if you plan to kill me, you’ll shoot me, not poison me, right?”
Renee slowly turned to him, horrified.
Williams lifted a glass of juice in a toast and winked in response. “Right you are, Max. Right you are. Eat up.”
Max nodded. Then he took one of the tortillas and made it into a sandwich.
Renee looked back down to her plate and closed her eyes.