“No?”
“No. La americana has focused national attention on our struggle. She is a symbol of all that is hated in the regime. Her ‘trial’ . . . a collection of military swine wearing black hoods to hide their cowardly faces. She did nothing for us while she was free in our country. Just another rich gringa. A tourist. But the regime made an error. They assumed she was part of an international movement. A scout for what was to come. So they used what they always use: pain and fear. And we are called the terrorists,” he said softly.
“The guards,” Cross probed gently, “they can’t all be so loyal? Or so well paid that . . . ?”
“None is truly loyal to the regime,” the Mayan said. “You should understand this. Our country, it is not like most others. Our people, they can be blond or black; we are all the children of our former conquerors, in some way. Except, perhaps, for my tribe . . . what remains of it. But we are not like those lunatics in Rwanda or Yugoslavia, killing for such reasons. Tribe means nothing to us. And we are not like your country either—we have no class structure based on race. On our streets, you might see an Indian, an African, and a European. And we are all one. All quitasolanos. The regime has no tribal loyalties to keep it in power—it rules by fear.”
“That just makes it—”
“Of course,” the Indian continued, as if Cross has not spoken, “there are bribes possible for . . . privileges. Some decent food, a smuggled-in letter from a loved one. But escape? No. The penalty would be death. Anyone who assisted us in such a fashion would be forced to join us. Forever. There could be no return. And the sheep never believe the wolf can be defeated.”
“And . . . ?”
“And we would never trust a puta. A man who sells himself for money is no man.”
“Sure,” Cross said, neutral-voiced, ignoring the clear insult, “but there are real men inside that joint, right? Your men. And you want them out, yes?”
“Of course we would want them out. But that place is a fortress, in a remote area. We would have to commit too many of our forces.”
“And . . . ?”
“Why do you say it like that?”
“Because there has to be more. You are . . . united, right? All as one. For honor, as you say. So, if it took a hundred men to rescue one, you would do it except for something else. I just want to know what that is.”
“Ah. Very well, hombre, I will tell you. As you said, the guards, they are for sale . . . in little pieces. And one thing we have learned from them is this: Should there be any attempt to storm the prison, their orders are to execute every single inmate. Each guard has a sector. Before he is even to return fire, he must kill all the inmates assigned to him.”
“All right. Then the woman would not survive the escape attempt either. But what would it be worth if the entire place disappeared?”
“Your meaning is not clear to me.”
“La Casa de Dolor is a symbol, not just a prison.”
“Sí.”
“And the death of a symbol is a powerful thing.”
“That is true. But how would the people know of this . . . death? Most have never seen the prison. For them, it exists only in rumor, the frightened words of terrified children, passed along in whispers. Occasionally, someone is released. And we know the purpose of that. It is not mercy. It is to spread the word of fear among us.”
“So what you might trade for is . . . that, right?”
“I do not follow—”
“The word. Fear is a weapon, just like a gun. It can be pointed, just like a gun. It can be fired, just like a gun. What would the radio transmitter be worth to you?”
“You mean the—?”
“Yes. Not for long . . . maybe fifteen minutes or so. But . . . enough, if you have a message for the whole country, yes?”
The Mayan hesitated, but even his impassive face could not disguise the possibilities that raged behind his eyes. “Yes,” he finally said. “But how could you guarantee—?”
“Guarantee? We can’t do that. But we can make it COD.”
“I do not understand.”
“I think you do. Your English is too perfect to have been learned from books. But never mind. You get your fifteen minutes in the broadcaster’s booth and then, when your troops hear it on their own radios, then you join the assault.”
“You are paid for such things?”
“Sure.”
“What I do, I do for love of my country. You . . .”
“I don’t have a country.”
“Yes. That is what I have been told. I will return here and give you the answer.”
“I heard about it,” the sandy-haired man wearing kick-boxing gear said to Cross. He had a towel around his neck, watching various fighters work out. The sparring ring was empty except for those attending a man lying flat on his back.
“Meaning . . . ?”
“That the federales are thinking about pulling your license.”
“We don’t—”
“You don’t . . . what? Pay off the cops? I wouldn’t know about that. I know you never paid me. But I also remember you offered to, so, the way I see it, you must have done it before. Or even been used to it. That crew of yours, it’s no secret you’re not good citizens. And if anyone on the job here could have dropped you, they would, I guess.”
“You and me—”
“—aren’t friends,” McNamara cut Cross off. “There’s some things you’ve done, I’m glad you did them. And, depending on how some people looked at it, I guess it could be said that I’ve been of some . . . I don’t know . . . help to you over the years. I like Princess. Hell, everyone he hasn’t hospitalized likes Princess. He’s just a big, friendly kid. I respect Rhino. Wasn’t for you, I don’t think he’d be anywhere near crime, not with his brains. Or he could hire out as a bouncer, cover a whole arena all by himself. I know Ace is a contract hitter. That’s no secret. And it’s not my problem, unless one of the hits happens in my sector, especially since he only seems to whack guys that don’t belong on the street anyway. Buddha, he’s a miserable little bastard, but even he could earn a good living with what he knows how to do. You’re the only one, Cross. Only you. You’re a criminal in your heart. I don’t know what glue holds you guys together; but, whatever it is, the feds can break it, if that’s what they want. That Red 71 joint of yours, the Double X bar, other stuff you got, they could find a way to close it up, make you go to ground. And they could find you wherever you reassemble. Except for you, it’s easy enough to pick any one of the others out at a hundred yards.”
“You know this guy?”
“The spook? Never met him. Probably doesn’t even know his own name. But our department made it clear. Real clear. We fuck with this guy, the Senate fucks with our appropriations; it’s that big. So, if they go after you, don’t be coming around here with some lawyer whining about your civil rights. In Chicago, you don’t have any.”
“Nice.”
“Ah, gee. Next thing, you’ll be telling me you’re a taxpayer.”
“I didn’t come here for sympathy,” Cross said.
“What did you come for, then?”
“Threat assessment.”
“You tell me,” Cross said to the assembled crew. “This isn’t a tactical decision, so it’s up to everyone.”
“We’re still a . . .” Rhino couldn’t finish the sentence, letting his words drift off into the gloom.
“Here’s the way I see it, okay?” Cross said. “We have to do this job or we have to split up. Whoever this spook is, he’s got enough horsepower to make it impossible for us to operate in Chicago.”
“You sure, bro?” Ace asked.
“Got it right from Mac’s mouth,” Cross confirmed. “Looks like they could stop us from operating, period.”
“You mean—?” Buddha spoke up.
“Nah. Why kill us? We wouldn’t go easy, and it wouldn’t be quiet. They’d just bust our operation wherever we set up. We couldn’t work together.”
“
Maybe it’s time,” Rhino said quietly.
“I ain’t going nowhere. Sweet home Chicago,” Ace said.
“You wouldn’t have to,” Cross said. “It’s the crew that has to go. Understand?”
“Look, boss. You saying, if everyone left, they’d still shut down the Double X? Because, you know, I mean, I’m on the papers and—”
“Buddha, I don’t know. I can’t swear to it. My best guess is, you run it like a strip joint, the way we did, you’re going to have to bring in muscle to keep the wolves away. But if you want to try, go for it. If that’s the way it happens, we’ll all still get our cut, wherever we are, right?”
Silence from Buddha.
“Right?” Ace asked.
“How fair is that?” Buddha wanted to know. “I mean, without the rest of us here, I’ll be doing the work. I mean, all the work, isn’t that true?”
“Sure,” Cross said. “What we can do instead, we can just sell it, split the cash, and you use your piece to go into whatever you want to go into.”
“Hey, I wasn’t saying that. I was just—”
“—angling for a bigger slice, like always,” Ace said sourly.
“I thought we were about money,” Buddha replied. “What else you want to talk about?”
“I’m not doing it!” Princess shouted suddenly.
Every eye swiveled in his direction. For varying reasons, instability made every man nervous, and Princess was its volcanic personification.
“We’re all together, right? I mean, we do stuff and everything. It’s like Cross is always saying: It ain’t our country, we just live here. So, if we live somewheres else, it don’t make no difference. But we don’t have to split up, do we? I mean, how come?”
“Cross just said why,” Rhino spoke gently. “We . . . stick out too much if we’re together.”
“They started it,” Princess hissed through grated teeth. Every man’s spine went a bit colder, hearing the maniac child’s muttered war cry.
“Princess . . .” Rhino reached out and put his hand on the cable-muscled forearm of his friend.
“No!” Princess jerked his arm away. “They did start it, right, Cross? We wasn’t doing nothing to them!”
“You’re right, Princess,” Cross said, flat-voiced. “We didn’t do anything to them. And we can’t do anything to them. It’s like punching a pillow—no matter how hard we hit them, there’d always be more of them. If we want to stay here, stay together, we have to play like Uncle wants.”
“And then we get them, right?” Princess asked, his face as eager as a child’s at Christmas. A child with a family.
“I don’t know,” Cross said. “I don’t even know if we can. . . .”
“But you got a plan, right?” the huge child implored.
“I . . . might have. Just give me a few days to make some calls, think some things through. All right?
“Yes!” Princess high-fived Rhino.
“If we have to split up, and it looks like we do,” Cross said to Rhino later, “you know we got to tranq him out. No way he’s going to go quiet.”
“He doesn’t want to go,” Rhino agreed.
“I know. But nobody else really gives a damn and—”
“I don’t want to go either,” Rhino said. “And neither does Ace.”
“Ace would stay away. He—”
“I mean . . . go away from . . . us. I don’t want to break up. Except for Buddha . . .”
“Sure.”
“He probably can’t wait for it to go down like that. Him and that So Long, they could take over the bar, make some money.”
“I came up with Ace,” Cross said. “And then you. I didn’t meet Buddha or Fal until the fucking war. But there’s more to Buddha than you think.”
“Or less.”
“Maybe they’re the same,” Cross said. “But I don’t think he wants to split up either.”
“We’ll never know.”
Cross took the last of his ritual three drags from his cigarette, said, “I think we might, brother. I think I know a way to do it. And without Buddha, it won’t fly.”
The alley behind the bar was a tiny pocket of silence in an uproar. The Friday-night combination—men with paychecks eager to drink them up and those without jobs drinking to dull that pain—was always a guarantee of a diversion if one was needed. Cross spoke softly to a man of about his own height and weight. But, unlike Cross’s, this man’s face was marked with more than the roadmap of his life. He was a Chickasaw Indian, his long black hair pulled straight back from his scalp and gathered tightly behind him.
“It’s a real long shot.”
“The full thermal will give us a chance at getting her—”
“I don’t mean that. I mean getting out at all.”
“I told you how that would work.”
“Even if we could get to the area, clear the ground, and hold it, it’s still shaky.”
“Why? You know the score. Long as there’s plenty of bang, it won’t matter whether she comes out with us or not. A nice try is all they’re looking for.”
“We don’t have any recon. For all we know, we could encounter hostiles before we ever got across the border.”
“Sure. But it’s not likely. You’re going along the prospector’s route. Bandits . . . sure. But not troops.”
“The language—”
“I got it covered. At your end, anyway.”
“A million in gold?”
“Post-assay, twenty-four K guaranteed. Half in hand before we leave.”
“Sure. For everyone, right?”
“Right.”
“There’s no tontine in this, is there?”
“Who’s Tontine?”
“Tontine is a kind of trust. A legal thing. Only you don’t have to be legal to set one up. Just means the survivors get the share of anyone who doesn’t make it back.”
“What do you care? Even if we had one, it wouldn’t cover you.”
“I’ll tell you why,” Falcon said, his voice as unmenacing as a hovering butterfly. “I’m not going into anything with Buddha if he gets one dime extra for coming out alone.”
“You think any of us would?” Cross laughed. “Truth is, me, Rhino, and Ace, we got one of those—what did you call it, ‘tontine’?—things set up between us. Buddha’s not in it. Never has been. The property’s in his name, that’s enough.”
“Not Princess either?”
“What’s the point? If Rhino’s alive, he’ll take care of him. If Princess is the only one left, what difference would it make if he had money? He’d only last a few hours before—”
“I have a family,” Falcon interrupted.
“I didn’t know.”
“Not a wife. Not children. A family. A tribe. My brothers and sisters. Same as you all—”
“We’re a crew,” Cross said sharply. “Forget that ‘family’ stuff. This is about getting paid. We’re professionals. This kind of job, we get paid up front. You in or out?”
“I’m always out,” Falcon said. “My whole family is always out. So, on this one, count me in.”
Cross nodded.
“As soon as the money’s paid,” Falcon said, disappearing into the alley’s shadows.
“You said you could get some things into there,” Cross reminded the Mayan.
“I did not say it was a certainty. It is . . . possible. It has happened. But it would be carefully inspected even if we could get it in. The punishment for smuggling food to a prisoner, or a letter—anything at all—it would be severe. Still, some of the guards take the risk. Who would inform on them, anyway? Another of their same”—the Mayan made a face of pure disgust—“kind. But to smuggle in a weapon, to assist in an escape, ah, then death would be guaranteed. And a long time coming. So they would test it unless it was impossible to be a weapon or a communication device.”
“A pill. A lousy pill. A big fat vitamin pill. And they could make her swallow it right in front of them.”
“If it was a solid
pill, not a capsule. Yes. I think that could be done. But she might refuse the pill. Even if they told her it was from her father, she might not trust them.”
“So they force it down her throat,” Cross said evenly. “Odds are it wouldn’t be the first time they did that.”
“That is true,” the Mayan said. “Even among vermin, they would be despised. I will make inquiries. And I will have your answer soon.”
“Fal says he’s in, if we decide to go that way,” Cross told the crew.
“For how much?” Buddha asked instantly.
“One mil. Same as everyone.”
“That leaves one-point-five,” Buddha pointed out, his voice cold.
“With the plan I got in mind, that might not even be enough for expenses,” Cross told him. “It’s a million apiece. And we go in splits.”
“Splits?” Ace said, raising an eyebrow.
“Yeah. You, Fal, and Princess go over the border. Me, Rhino, and Tiger go into the airport.”
“What about me, boss?” Buddha asked.
“On this one, you start on your own,” Cross said. “But you don’t come back alone, Buddha. Understand?”
“No.”
“You will.”
“Tiger’s gonna be in on this, don’t she get a share?”
“Her share is getting out.”
“How come I don’t get to go with Rhino?” Princess demanded, a petulant tone in his voice.
“Because you’re working . . . undercover,” Cross told him.
“Oh, man! For real? Cool!” Princess exclaimed, beside himself with excitement.
Cross caught a hard look from Rhino.
“Princess, I mean real undercover, understand? No makeup, no earrings, no costumes, no . . . nothing, okay? You got to look like a campesino.”
“Sure. I can—”
“And you have to speak only Spanish,” Cross said, his tone final.
“I don’t know any—”
“Yes, you do,” Rhino said. Softly and sadly. “I know it’s not something you want to think about, but you heard it enough when they had you . . .”
Princess sat down against the wall of the back room and started to cry like a newly orphaned child.
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