Félix hung up the phone. "He was pretty helpful."
Duarte watched him, the dark eyes set in the angular face, the skin pitted with craters from a youth spent with acne.
Félix said, "Rocket? You telepathic? Is that why you never say anything?"
Duarte kept a straight face and just stared at him.
"Funny," said Félix. "I heard you had no sense of humor."
"Most people aren't funny." Duarte cracked a smile mainly to let Félix know he could move on with a summary of the call.
The DEA man looked at his notes. "Our office says we can work with this dude and they'll back us up on anything we need."
"What's his name?"
"Colonel Lázaro Staub."
"That's an odd Latin name."
Félix shrugged. "Who knows where these Central Americans's come from. Panama attracts all kinds."
"Is he aware of this Mr. Ortíz?"
"Oh yeah. He says they've been trying to identify him for years. They think he might be a Colombian. He's bought up a lot of cops and has a bunch of lower-echelon guys who insulate him from everyone."
"So Gastlin may be the only link to him?"
"Looks like."
"And this really is a big deal case?"
"Think so." Félix leaned back in his own chair. "Looks like we got a lot of paperwork to do so we can take a trip to Panama."
Duarte thought about it. "Won't we need someone here to take care of the load if you get it sent to the U.S.?"
Félix nodded. "Yeah, I guess."
"I could do that. I've been to Panama before, for training. I don't mind staying here."
"That could make things a lot easier. Why, you don't wanna leave that fine squeeze you got?"
Duarte didn't answer.
"C'mon, you can admit it."
Duarte said, "I like hanging out with her, that's all. She's funny and smart."
"And hot."
"I know. I know."
"But you can't call her your girlfriend, can you?"
"No. I don't know why."
"Because you're a dude. We avoid labels like that."
Duarte had to smile.
4
PELLY FINISHED A WHOLE ROASTED CHICKEN WITH SOME VEGETABLES at an outside table where he and the drivers could keep an eye on the vehicles. The boss was on the phone to someone in the capital and seemed preoccupied.
The older of the two drivers said, "Pelly, you ever gonna tell us what's in the crate?"
Pelly just shook his head. The man had been around long enough to know that he didn't like to answer the same question twice.
A truck with laborers pulled into the lot next to the cantina and four men piled out of the back to crowd the window of the smaller, much cheaper café next door. Three men scooted out of the truck's cab. All the men were grimy from manual labor under the unrelenting sun of Panama. The largest of the men, a giant of six-foot-three and well over three hundred pounds, stretched his thick arms, then arched his back. He had a belly, but not much of one. He glanced over at Pelly and the drivers.
In a booming voice, he slapped one of his companions on the back and said, "José, look at that guy. He looks like a monkey."
Pelly felt his stomach tighten. Why did a man he didn't even know have to make a comment? Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the two drivers sitting with him slowly creep back. They had seen confrontations like this before.
The giant man yelled to one of the men at the café's window, "Get an extra banana for this boy. He looks hungry." He laughed, then watched Pelly stand to his full five-feet-eight, which made him only laugh some more, the others joining in.
Pelly's head started to spin. He had an H &K MP-5 in the car but didn't see a need for the submachine gun. A firearm was overkill.
The giant looked at him and said, "Hey, Monkey Boy, you forget to comb your face this morning?"
Pelly slowly advanced on the big man. His friends must've thought he didn't need any help against someone so much smaller, but Pelly noted who was laughing.
"Sir," Pelly said slowly, "you like to make fun of people you don't know?"
"Look, it can speak!" The friends' laughter had slowed. They realized this was dangerous country and that taunting the wrong man could result in gunfire.
Pelly thought about explaining hypertrichosis and its genetic origins, but doubted it would enlighten any of these bullies. He gave a good glare to the others and saw that all but two were backing away. He approached the three remaining men slowly, keeping his eyes on the big man in the middle but aware of exactly how the other two were standing. He stopped about three feet from them, just outside the long reach of the big man, looked up into his face and set his left leg back as if he were going to kick him.
Now the man looked a little uneasy, like most bullies when their bluff is called.
Pelly said, "I don't like people making fun of me." He let his eyes slip to the right to check the man there, and then to the left. "I think you owe me…" But he didn't finish the sentence. Instead, he launched a vicious front kick with his poised left leg to the man on the left side, connecting directly on his hip girder and feeling the man's leg pop out of its socket. Before the man could collapse to the ground, screaming, Pelly had his left foot planted and his right twisting into a round kick, shattering the other man's ribs. He waited until both men were clearly down and out of the fight and the others had moved back even farther.
Then he stood silently and watched as the giant started to tremble slightly. Pelly balled his fist.
The big man said, "Look, I think you misunderstood me."
"I thought you said I looked like a monkey."
"No, no, that wasn't what I meant."
Pelly didn't answer. Instead he lifted his fist, drawing the man's hands up to block the punch and instead delivered a crushing round kick to the man's knee. He tumbled like a redwood.
As the giant sprawled on the ground, Pelly stomped on the man's outstretched good leg, crushing that kneecap from another angle.
The man started to cry for his friends to help, but no one was anxious to defend the loudmouth.
Pelly stepped around and grabbed the man's hand, then bent it back and fell on his arm so that his elbow snapped. He repeated the action on the other arm.
The hairy young man stood up, looking down at the man whose limbs now all seemed to be pointing in the wrong direction. He glanced around at the others, who shrank back from his stare.
He heard his name and looked toward the Cadillac.
His boss said, "Pelly, let's go."
As Pelly stomped back toward the car, he saw the look on the men's faces in the truck. He knew they'd never make fun of him and neither would all the men they would tell.