He drove toward the freeway on-ramp, looking at the fax picture. So this was the cop Meehan wanted him to find and kill. No problem, Benton thought to himself. After all, damage control was his specialty. It gave him something to look forward to. *** The painkillers the doctor had given Eddie made him woozy. He had spent the afternoon either chained to the cot or throwing up in the bathroom. Now Carlos stood over him, a clean white cook's uniform in his hand.
"So, you are going to live, Eddie," Carlos predicted. There was a hint of friendliness in his voice.
"Have you finished puking?"
"It would seem so," Eddie agreed, "although my stomach now thinks I am starving."
"There will be food for you." Carlos picked his nose with his forefinger while he pushed his upper plate into place with his thumb.
"Are you well enough to work tonight?"
"Of course. I must. I gave my word to the patron." Carlos bent over and unshackled Eddie's leg.
"Friday night is very busy. Many of Don Enrique's friends come early before leaving for their homes in the country. Clean yourself. Can you do it with one arm?"
"I can manage," Eddie answered, swinging his legs off the bed.
"And your wound?" Carlos asked. Eddie stood and wiggled the fingers that protruded from the sling around his arm.
"I must thank the doctor when I see him. The arm feels much better."
"Tomorrow he will stitch you," Carlos reminded him. "Thank him then."
"I will," Eddie replied, determined that in the morning, at the latest, he would be at the Fort Bliss military hospital being treated by an Army doctor who wasn't on De Leon pad. Carlos walked him to the dressing room and told him not to be long, as others might have need for the toilet.
He would be outside, waiting. Eddie bathed quickly, keeping the wound dry as he sponged himself, washed his hair, and used his left hand to shave with a razor Carlos gave him, nicking himself several times. He dressed in the clean clothes-a much better fit than yesterday's apparel-dried his hair, and adjusted the sling and the hump. He felt good enough to think about escaping. His plan was simple: given enough of a distraction he would run away. Carlos knocked at the door. Eddie opened it, and one of the cooks brushed by him on the way to the urinal, unbuttoning his fly as he went.
"Time for your meal, jorobado," Carlos noted, "and then to work."
"I am ready." Eddie smiled at the ugly man as he handed back the razor. *** Kerney stood inside the Little Turtle and looked around the room. The gambling house was filled with well-dressed men and women busy placing bets, socializing, and milling about the casino. It had a party atmosphere to it, and from the way people mixed, it was not a gathering of strangers. Kerney picked out a bodyguard hovering near a man with a slick-looking woman draped on his arm, and another close by an older gentleman betting at a monte table. He counted six more bodyguards in the room before switching his attention to the bar. More muscle, Kerney thought to himself, as he sized up the man standing directly behind a table at the corner of the bar. A thug with acne scars and a bushy mustache, the bodyguard carefully scanned the room with watchful eyes.
At the table the goon guarded, a man and a young woman were talking. On a bar stool to one side sat a hunchback dressed in a cook's uniform, smiling stupidly at everybody. Kerney walked toward the table, and the bodyguard cut him off.
"What do you want?" Carlos asked in heavy English, looking the gringo up and down. The man wore an expensive suit with an Italian cut that accentuated his square shoulders. He was tall and deeply tanned, with blue eyes that crinkled at the corners. He's a big son of a bitch, Carlos thought to himself. Kerney smiled.
"I have an appointment with Senor De Leon he said in Spanish.
"Your name?"
"Kevin Kerney."
"You must wait, senor," Carlos said, nodding at the table. De Leon was still talking with the girl, who wore tight designer jeans and a scoop-neck silk top that revealed remarkable breasts.
"I will tell the senor you are here." Kerney nodded, slipped onto the empty stool next to the hunchback, watched Carlos walk quickly to De Leon and whisper in his ear. De Leon looked up in irritation, glanced at Kerney, nodded to the bodyguard, and returned to his conversation.
Kerney watched De Leon for a brief time and spoke to Eddie. "Are you bringing the customers luck?" he asked in Spanish, patting the hump.
"I hope so, senor," Eddie answered, trying to mask the astonishment he felt. Dressed up, Kerney looked like a major player, not at all like a shit kicking cop from New Mexico. Kerney pointed to the sling and held out a twenty dollar bill.
"It looks like you didn't keep any luck for yourself."
"A minor accident." Eddie put the money in his pocket. "Thank you." He glanced at Carlos and decided he couldn't risk saying more.
The girl with De Leon pouted, stood up, flipped her long hair over a shoulder, kissed De Leon on the cheek, and pranced off to a monte table. De Leon gestured for Kerney to approach.
"Senor Kerney," he said, rising.
"Please join me."
"Thank you." Kerney studied De Leon as he settled in. A good-looking man with pale blue eyes and strong features, freshly shaved and dressed in a tan business suit, De Leon smiled back at him. His hands were soft and his nails manicured.
"Francisco Posada said you wished to secure the services of a broker."
"That is correct."
"What type of products do you wish to ship?"
"Artifacts." De Leon raised an eyebrow.
"That covers a wide range." Kerney handed De Leon a typed copy of Gutierrez's list and waited for a reaction. De Leon scanned the contents and smiled warmly at Kerney, his mind racing. His chartered plane, scheduled to leave Mexico City for Hong Kong in two days, would carry an identical cargo. It was an impossible duplication.
"Where did you get such treasures?" De Leon inquired.
"That's not important," Kerney countered. "Do you know anyone who specializes in such antiques?"
"A select few deal in antiques," De Leon replied, tapping his fingers together in thought.
"But all I see are items written on paper. Authentication would be necessary."
"I can provide samples," Kerney replied, "but there is some urgency to the matter."
"I understand," De Leon replied.
"Time is money, is it not? I have an associate who might be interested. May I keep the list to show him?" Kerney didn't like the idea, but he had no choice.
"Certainly." De Leon folded the papers and put them in a pocket.
"Excellent. Could you return later this evening?"
"Will your associate be joining us?"
"Yes. Come back after midnight." De Leon stood and offered Kerney his hand.
"I'm sure we can accommodate you."
"I look forward to it," Kerney said.
He shook De Leon hand and left, walking past a man at the door entering the club. The man eyed Kerney intensely. He had a weight lifter's build, gray eyes, and a small scar on his chin. Kerney nodded and kept moving. Benton pushed his way through the crowd to De Leon who whispered something to Carlos as the bodyguard leaned across the table. De Leon eyes snapped when he saw Benton.