She rattled off a phone number and the message ended. I dialed the number; it had an American area code, but I didn’t know which state it was for. An answering machine picked up.
“Hi, you’ve reached Peaches. Leave a message.” It was Jill’s voice; damn Reaper and his stupid stripper-name fake IDs.
“Got your message. I, uh . . .” What was I supposed to say? It wasn’t like I didn’t have more important things going on. Eddie needed to be dealt with. I had a mystery bug full of something glowing and apparently alive, and a crown prince who would have me fed to his tigers if he found out I’d been the one to steal it. My family was still in danger, and the only surviving member of my crew was healing from multiple gunshot wounds.
She had never even been a real member of my team. Like Carl said, she was just some stray that I had saved from Adar’s goons. She had even turned her back and walked away, so as not to sully herself in my gritty illegal world. I was a hardened, professional criminal. I didn’t have time for helping people out of sentimentality.
“I’m coming. Call me when you get this and let me know where to meet you.” I folded the phone and stuck it back in my pocket. “Fuck!” I shouted. The seagulls scattered, squawking at my vehemence.
Screw it. I was running out of friends. I could arrange a meeting with Big Eddie in the States just as easy as I could meet him in Egypt.
Change of plans. I was going home.
LORENZO
Santa Vasquez, Mexico
June 24
The chubby man wiped his brow as he entered the little office. Massive sweat rings had pooled in his armpits. He’d been working outside on the tiny airport’s asphalt runway, and it was over a hundred degrees. He dropped the bag containing his lunch on the desk and immediately turned on the oscillating fan, sticking his face directly in front of it. He never heard me rise from behind the filing cabinets.
I wrapped my arm around his throat, other hand clamping over his mouth, locking him right down. “Make a noise and I’ll snap your neck,” I whispered. He nodded slowly. “Good. Don’t reach for the gun in your desk. I’ve already taken it. Go for the knife in your pocket and I kill you. Comprende?” He nodded again. I removed my hand slowly but kept up the pressure so he could barely breathe.
“What do you want?” he whispered, terrified.
I slowly reached down and lifted his lunch bag from the table, bringing it up to our faces, and smelled it. Ham, eggs, bacon, guacamole, jalapeños, on fresh baked bread, oh yeah . . . I hadn’t eaten since the flight. I was starving. “I want your lunch. Dude, Lomitos Argentinos? This stuff is going to kill you. I see Juanita’s still trying to fatten you up. It’s working.” I patted his gut.
He hesitated. It had been years. “Lorenzo?”
I let go of his throat. “What’s up, Guillermo?”
He spun around, eyes widening in shock. “Pendejo! You scared the piss out of me!”
I put my finger in front of my lips, signaling the need for quiet. “I snuck in. I didn’t want anybody else in your outfit to know I was here. What’s up, man?” I grinned.
He crushed me in a hug. “You always were a scary bastard,” he said as we clapped each other on the back. Guillermo let go and studied me. “But what’re you doing here? I thought you guys were in Thailand? Where’s Death Train? Where’s Carl? The asshole still owes me money.”
Guillermo Reyes and I went way back. I shook my head. “Big Eddie killed them.”
“Oh, shit. Sorry, man,” he said. “That sucks. They were good men, honorable men. I hadn’t heard . . .” Realization dawned. “Hey, man, I don’t do nothing with Big Eddie anymore. He’s too crazy. The money’s not worth it. That man gives me nightmares.”
“I know,” I said quickly. “I don’t want you to get involved.”
It was obvious that was a relief. “Well, thanks for sneaking in. Last thing I want is being seen with somebody Big Eddie’s looking for. I like not getting my house burned down with me in it, know what I mean?”
“I need a favor.”
Guillermo scowled. He knew exactly what kind of favor somebody like me probably needed. “I’m a legitimate businessman now.”
“Legitimate my ass. That’s why this dinky airstrip has fifty flights a day taking off? Sightseeing?”
He smiled; once a crook, always a crook. “Smuggling is a legitimate business. All right, I still owe you a favor.”
Once upon a time—well, about eight years ago— Guillermo had pissed off a certain group of drug dealers. They’d decided that for his disrespect the lovely young Reyes family needed to die. But before that could happen, Carl, Train, and I had made all those bad men go quietly away forever. We’d staged our own little Dia De Los Muertos, only with real dead people, and kept their money. Good times.
“A favor? You owe me like five.” He had three kids, so he knew exactly what I was talking about. “But I’m not picky. I just need intel. It’s been a really long time, and I need to cross the border tonight.” It would have been nice to fly directly into the states, but since I had no idea what the mystery item in my possession was, I had not wanted to try to bluff my way through US Customs. Those guys were actually really good at their jobs. The officials at the Mexico City airport were a lot easier to work with once you passed over the mordida. Reaper was still in Cairo recuperating. Once I had a clue where I was going, he would just fly directly there to meet me. Travel was much simpler when you weren’t smuggling glowing beetle vials.
“Whoa. Lorenzo is going back to the States? Are you loco? You need a place to hide, I can help you. I’ve got a little place back in the mountains. Beautiful. You stay there as long as you want.”
“No. I’ve got to do this. I just need to know where it’s safe to cross.” The last time I’d been here, Mexico still had a semi-functioning government. I didn’t know what the border was like anymore. For all I knew, the Americans had actually secured it since then. “I only need to get into Arizona.”
Guillermo plopped into his seat and opened his lunch. He pulled a giant knife from his pocket, flicked it open, and sliced his messy sandwich in two. He passed me the smaller side. “So, you were thinking that with a full-on revolution south of the border, your countrymen would actually be paying attention?” He laughed. “Man, you worry too much. Paying attention would cost money and be racist. Some movie stars said so. The military is for rent in this State. You got some extra money and I’ll send you across with an army tank if you want.”
So, just as lax as usual. Figures. “No tanks.”
“Seriously, man. It’s so open that it’s getting bad for business. I’m a professional, I run a clean outfit, but now I’ve got to compete with every coked-out asshole who’s just itching to shoot up innocent bystanders. And those UN pinche faggots—gotta bribe them more often than I did the old Federales. And you won’t believe this. I’ve got rag-heads sneaking across the border to blow shit up. Hell, about once a week now I get some dude named Achmed, pretending to be Mexican, crossing the border with bombs or poison gas or some scary shit. You know me, I kill those putas on sight.”
“That’s mighty nice of you, Guillermo.”