“This jeep has been on digs all over the country, in all sorts of wilderness, and never got a scratch on it. Look what happens to it in the fanciest part of Mexico City!” She glared at him for a second and then said, “Come on.”
The man who answered her knock stood tall, straight, and broad-shouldered and didn’t appear old at first glance. Then Gabriel saw how his face had been darkened to the color of old saddle leather by years of exposure to sun and wind and how hundreds of tiny wrinkles had seamed and gullied his skin. The man’s voice boomed out, though, as he said in Spanish, “Cierra! Little one! How are you?”
He threw his arms around her and gave her such an energetic hug that her feet came up off the porch for a second. She laughed as she returned the hug.
“I’m fine, Pancho, but…I need help.”
The old man let go of her and turned toward Gabriel, his hands clenching into big, knobby-knuckled fists. “Is this gringo bothering you?” he asked in an ominous voice.
“No! No, not at all. This man is a friend. Gabriel Hunt, meet Pancho Guzman.”
Gabriel realized now that Pancho had only one eye; the right socket was empty and sunk deep in the weathered face. But the man’s left eye glittered with life and intelligence. He stuck out a big right hand and shook with Gabriel.
“Señor Hunt, welcome to my home,” Pancho said, switching to English. He looked at Cierra and quirked an eyebrow. “You and this hombre…?”
“We just met tonight, Pancho,” she said. “It’s not like that. We’re…business associates, I suppose you could say.”
Pancho nodded. “Ah.”
“And we need help.”
“You said that, little one. Tell me, what can Pancho do?”
“We need a place to stay for the night. Some bad men are after us.”
“Bandits?” Pancho growled. “Like in Chiapas?”
“You could almost say that,” Gabriel said. “But the less you know about it, the better for you and your family, Señor Guzman. Cierra and I are leaving on an expedition tomorrow, but first we need some sleep and some supplies, and a place to get the doctor’s jeep off the street and out of sight, just in case anyone comes looking for it.”
Pancho nodded. “I can provide all these things, and I ask for no explanations. The word of this niña is good enough for me.”
“Thank you, Pancho,” Cierra said as she laid a hand on the old man’s arm. “I knew I could count on you.”
“Always,” Pancho vowed. “Your father was a good man, and your mother was a saint. I should have been there to protect them from the evil that came to the plantation.”
“Then you would have died, too,” Cierra pointed out.
“Yes, but it would have been a good death, fighting those bastardos!”
Gabriel hoped that Pancho wouldn’t get a chance to die fighting the bastards who were stalking him and Cierra now.
Chapter 11
The next morning, the pickup rattled and bounced along the expressway leading southeast from Mexico City to Puebla. The road was fairly good, but the pickup’s suspension was in bad shape. Pancho had told them that he’d intended to get it repaired; he just hadn’t gotten around to it yet.
“But the engine, she runs perfect,” the old man had claimed, and so far, it seemed to be true. Gabriel felt plenty of power under the dented hood when he pressed down on the gas. The pickup might not be much to look at, but it would get them where they were going.
Gabriel wished he knew exactly where that was.
Trading vehicles with Pancho Guzman had been his idea. Cierra hadn’t liked it, but she had to admit it might be safer to take Pancho’s pickup and leave her jeep stashed safely out of sight in the shed behind the old foreman’s house. Esparza might have men watching all the roads leading out of Mexico City, especially the ones on the southeastern side of the city.
Gabriel was at the wheel, a battered straw Stetson belonging to one of Pancho’s sons on his head. He hadn’t shaved, and he wore one of Pancho’s faded work shirts. Cierra sat beside him, her hair pulled back in a tight bun behind her head. Gabriel thought she looked good in a white, off-the-shoulder blouse and a long skirt. Their appearance was different enough from the night before that he hoped they would escape notice if Esparza did have men watching the highway.
The pickup’s bed was filled with supplies that Pancho’s wife had brought back from the market this morning. A tied-down tarp covered the boxes and bags. Pancho had also insisted that they take a lever-action Winchester and a double-barreled shotgun that belonged to him, and his wife had packed ammunition for the weapons, too.
“I don’t know what sort of trouble is chasing you, and I don’t want to know,” the old man had said. “But if it catches up to you, you might need those guns.”
Gabriel couldn’t argue with that.
They had left before sunrise. To all appearances, they were a young couple, a farmer and his wife, who had come to Mexico City and were now on their way home. If that masquerade was successful, they would be well out of the city before Esparza ever found out that they were gone. With any luck, he might not find out at all.
Gabriel didn’t think they would be that lucky. Even if they slipped through the cordon that Esparza was bound to have thrown around the city, the man knew more about what was going on than they did. He had to figure that they would head for Chiapas to pick up the trail of General Fargo. He had gone to a lot of trouble to try to stop Gabriel from interfering with his plans, what ever they were, and he wouldn’t stop now.
But maybe they could gain a few days’ advantage. Gabriel hoped to, anyway.
Cierra told him where to turn and which roads to take. He knew Mexico fairly well, but she was the native here, not him, so he trusted her directions.
“It’s eight hundred kilometers to the old plantation,” she told him as they left Mexico City behind. “Not so far that it can’t be driven in a day, but not all the roads will be as good as this one.”
“I don’t want to push this old pickup too hard, either,” Gabriel said. “I know what Pancho told us about how well it runs, but we can’t afford to break down.”
“It was good to see him and his family again.” Cierra leaned back against the seat’s tattered upholstery and sighed. “I swear, if Vladimir bothers them, I’ll come back and…and claw his eyes out myself.”
Gabriel laughed. “I believe it. But you shouldn’t have to do that. It was just one night. It’s pretty unlikely that Esparza will ever connect us with them.”
They had hidden the jeep in the shed the night before and pulled the pickup around back to pack the supplies in it this morning. No one in the neighborhood should have been able to get a good look at Gabriel or Cierra, and the chances of Esparza’s men even looking for them there were slim.
Pancho and his wife had insisted on giving up their bed for Cierra. Gabriel had slept on a sofa. The house was full of children, but they had all been asleep when the two visitors arrived the night before. That hadn’t been the case this morning, when Gabriel had awakened to find four solemn-faced youngsters under the age of five standing beside the sofa and staring at him. He had grinned at them, and that sent them scampering off in search of their madres.
The chance to get some rest had helped, and so had the hearty breakfast washed down by several cups of strong black coffee. When they were ready to go, Cierra had hugged Pancho and Pancho’s wife and each of their grandchildren and great-grandchildren.
“Why don’t you let me come with you?” Pancho had asked. “I know I’m an old man, but I know those jungles down there as well as anyone.”
“I’m sorry, Pancho,” Cierra had told him. “I couldn’t take you away from your family. They need you more than we do.”