CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
Pete Von Karmenn was in good spirits. He was up $300 on Harry Kincaid playing Gin on a shaky boarding house table at a shabby little place in Mexico. It had been a good diversion; a good way to pass the time until Kincaid’s meeting with a pair of notorious arms merchants who had, in all likelihood, seen their last sunrise.
Just as Pete played the last card in his hand, winning another $25, his cell phone began to vibrate. He glanced down at it. “Sanchez,” he said.
“Hola, Miguel,” he answered. “Como estas?”
“Bueno, mi amigo,” Sanchez said. He was speaking in a low, subdued voice. “I have the information that you wanted.”
“Okay. What is it?” Pete asked.
“Señor Aziz is seeing my Capitán and el Lobo this evening for dinner,” he said. “They are to meet at a small café called Los Magos Cena. The Dinner Magician. I have learned it is a favorite of Aziz. He will be there at eight o’clock to meet my Capitán.”
“Good work, Miguel,” said Pete. “Where is this place?”
“It is off of Boulevard Paseo Rio,” he said. “On the south side of town. It is behind a bank building… very private.”
“Okay, I’ll find it.”
“Don Pedro?” asked Sanchez.
“Yes?”
“Did you mean what you say?” asked Miguel. His voice was plaintive. “About my family? In America?”
“I did, Miguel” Pete answered. “Let us get our business out of the way and we will talk.”
“Oh, gracias, Don Pedro. I can’t tell you what it would mean to us. It would be a dream come true,” he said.
“I understand, Miguel. We will make it happen for you.” Pete ended the call and looked at Kincaid. “We really don’t know how lucky we are.”
“You got that right, pal,” he answered. He stood. “Let me go get this little meeting out of the way. Then we’ll work out the details for tonight.”
Pete stood too. “Good. I’ll scope out this Los Magos Cena for tonight. Meet you back here a little later?”
“Yup.” Harry checked the time and thought it would work out just about right for his meeting at La Hacienda. He reached into his overnight bag and retrieved a small satchel that looked like something a businessman might carry documents in. He placed the MX21 that Sluggo had given him into the satchel along with a legal pad and several other random sheets of paper that happened to be in his bag. He put two magazines of 9 mm ammo in the back pocket of his jeans.
“Those won’t do you any good in your jeans, ole buddy,” Pete said.
Harry looked back at him with a wry grin on his face. “This ain’t my first rodeo, Bucko. I’ll know where they are if I need them.” He smiled broadly and said, “Besides, this is just a sales call.”
He moved to the door.
“Hey, Kincaid?” Pete said.
“Yeah?”
“Take care of yourself.”
“I will.”
“You owe me $325.”
The Prosecution of General Hastings Page 39