by David Archer
“Si, Señor,” he said. “I speak very good En-gleesh!”
“Good, good,” Noah said. “I want to stay at Eduardo's Tavern for three hours, tres horas, you understand?”
“Si, three hours, I understand!”
“Okay, you come back and get me in three hours, and I will give you one hundred American dollars. You come back for me then?” He held up a one-hundred-dollar bill and let the driver see it.
The man was nodding so vigorously that he could barely even speak, but Noah understood that he was promising to be back in three hours. He drove even faster the rest of the way, then slid to a stop right in front of Eduardo's. “Three hours! Three hours, I be back,” he said, as Noah handed him a twenty-dollar bill, which was about twice the fare on the meter. The man's smile looked like it was going to split his face.
“That's right, come back in three hours,” Noah said. “One hundred American dollars.” He got out of the car, and wasn't surprised when it sped away as quickly as it had come. Noah turned and looked at the door to the tavern, squared his shoulders and walked inside.
TWENTY-THREE
The man behind the bar, Noah knew from photographs he'd been shown, was Eduardo Hernandez. The two of them stood there and looked at each other for a moment, and Noah tried to give the impression that he was nervous. He walked slowly toward the bar, carefully keeping his hands in plain sight.
Eduardo spoke, in very clear English. “Can I help you, my friend?”
Noah smiled, continuing his nervous act. “Oh, good, you speak English? Man, that's a break for me, because I don't understand a whole lot of Spanish. Listen, my name is John, John Baker, and I've been—well, somebody told me this might be a good place to come to, if I wanted to maybe buy some stuff.”
Eduardo started laughing. “It's a good place to come to, if you want to buy beer or tequila, or pussy. Those we got, and lots. Whatever else you might be looking for, maybe somebody who comes in can help you, I don't know.”
Noah went with him, trying to make it look as though his nervousness was fading. “Okay, okay, I gotcha,” he said. “Listen, can I get a beer?”
Eduardo grunted, and pointed at a bar stool, so Noah climbed up on it and sat. A moment later, a small bottle of Budweiser was set in front of him, and Eduardo said, “Fifteen dollars.”
Noah's eyes jumped up to Eduardo's, in a classic double take, but then he shrugged and pulled a twenty-dollar bill out of his pocket. He handed it over and said, “Keep the change.”
Eduardo grinned, rang up the sale and pocketed his tip. He came back to where Noah was sitting, since there was only one other person in the place, an old man who had been coming around for years, and always sat on the same stool, nursing the cheapest bottle of tequila he could get.
“So what is it you are wanting to buy?” Eduardo asked.
Noah grinned, trying to look sly. “Oh, different things. Stuff I can send home, and make money on. Lots of money.”
Eduardo grunted again, but his grin stayed put. “Well, I do not know for sure what you might find here, but I will tell you this. Most of my customers, they are very careful who they might talk to. If you are in a hurry, then you will probably not get to buy much here in this place. People want to get to know you before they will talk business.”
Noah shrugged, still grinning. “Oh, hey, that just makes sense. I mean, I'm the same way; I won't talk serious business with somebody I don't know. I mean, you see how careful I'm being, even when I'm just talking to you, right?”
Eduardo nodded, and took a rag from underneath the bar and began wiping it down. “If you are not in a hurry, you might come here for a few days, and perhaps some will talk to you. Perhaps you will get to buy the things you're looking for.” He broke into a big smile. “Perhaps you will buy so much that you will be happy, and give old Eduardo another big tip.”
Noah made a silly face, one that he hoped said that further big tips might be coming up, and then sat back to nurse his beer.
Noah and Eduardo talked off and on as Noah sat on the stool. He finished his first beer, and ordered a second, throwing another twenty at the bartender and earning a big smile in return. Eduardo leaned close to him. “Do you want only American beer? I have Modelo; it is the same price, but a bigger bottle.”
Noah gave him a huge smile of his own. “That would be great,” he said. “I've had Modelo before, it's very good.”
Eduardo grinned and slapped the bar, then went to the cooler and came back with an open bottle of Modelo. He was right; this bottle was almost twice the size of the baby Budweiser he had given Noah before. Noah held it up in salute, and took a long pull before setting it down.
“That is very good,” he said. “Thank you, I really appreciate you letting me know about that.” He took another pull, then stretched, leaning back on the stool, and twisting himself as if trying to pop his back. He leaned forward, then, and as he did so he pressed the bubblegum-wad spy camera up under the bar, right beside the wall where it could get a wide-angle view of everything in front of the bar.
He smiled at Eduardo. “Gotta stretch my legs,” he said. “Which way is the bathroom?”
Eduardo pointed to a door in the back wall. “First door on the left,” he said.
Noah went through the doorway, and found the toilet. He used it, then took the sheet of sticker microphones from his pocket and, following the instructions Neil had given him, gently stuck one onto the tip of each of his fingers, except for the thumb and index finger of each hand. He went back out into the tavern, and pressed the tip of his pinky against the outside of the door. The little microphone that had been stuck there was suddenly and permanently affixed to the door.
Noah walked around the tavern, looking at different signs on the wall, decorations that had been hung up over the years, and occasionally reached out to touch something. One sign was particularly amusing, and Noah called out to Eduardo as he stuck a microphone to it. It showed a cowboy hat sitting on top of a pair of cowboy boots, and the caption underneath read: “Portrait of a Cowboy with the Shit Kicked Out of Him.”
“This is hilarious,” he yelled to Eduardo, who laughed with him. “I wish I had a copy of this to hang on my wall back home. I've got this neighbor, he's originally from Texas, and he thinks he's just the greatest thing in the world. He calls himself a cowboy, and I would love for him to see that!”
Eduardo laughed again. “That would be very funny.”
Noah went back to his seat as the front door opened and three men walked in. He glanced at them, but when one of them gave him a challenging glare, he turned his attention back to his bottle.
One of the men, and Noah thought it was the one who had glared at him, rattled off something in rapid Spanish. Eduardo grinned, and replied in English. “He is just visiting,” he said. “He is looking for some things to buy, to take home and sell to make money.”
All three of the men suddenly turned to look at Noah, and one of them walked over to stand beside him. “I am Raul,” he said. “Raul Delgado. I should tell you, we do not like new gringos who come to our town and think they can make us do business with them the way they want.”
Noah turned on his stool to look Raul in the eye. “My name is John Baker,” he said, “and the only reason I came here is because somebody I work for told me to. I'm not trying to make anybody do anything, that much I can promise you. I'm just here to buy some things, and arrange to get them shipped back home. That's all, I promise.”
Raul put his arms over his head and stretched, leaning backward so that the loose shirt he was wearing rode up in the front. The big revolver that was shoved down the front of his jeans became visible, and Noah looked down to make it clear to Raul that he had seen it. He raised his eyes back up to Raul's own, and smiled, once more trying to appear nervous.
“Listen, Raul, I'm not trying to make anybody do anything. I'm just a buyer, and I work for other people. When they tell me go here, then that's what I do, and all I'm doing is looking for source
s of the things my clients want. Now, the good part is, they give me lots and lots of money to work with. If I find what I'm looking for, and we can come to an agreement on price and make arrangements on how to get it back home, then I can make a phone call and have money sent anywhere in the world, it only takes a couple of minutes. Heck, I don't even need to know who I'm buying from, all I need to know is where to send the money, and where I get to pick up my merchandise.”
Raul grinned at him, and suddenly clapped him on the shoulder. “John Baker, perhaps we can do some business. What kind of thing is if you're looking for?”
Noah tried to keep the nervousness up, as he said, “Well, you know, I’m just sort of hanging around right now to see what might be available. But if I had to say something in particular, I'd probably say I was looking for cocaine, maybe some heroin.” He let his eyes flick from Raul to his two friends and back, trying to get the impression that he was afraid they might be federales.
Apparently, it worked, because Raul suddenly burst out laughing. “What, my friend,” Raul said, “are you afraid we may be police? I can promise you this, we are the farthest thing from police.” He looked at Eduardo. “Eduardo, tell him.”
Eduardo grinned at Noah. “They are not police,” he said. “You may be a very lucky man, because Raul is probably the best man you could meet, for what you are wanting to do. He is also probably the only one who will talk to you, because he does not fear the police, not even the American police.”
Noah grinned, then, trying to give the impression that he was relaxing. He started to speak, and then suddenly looked at Raul. “Wait a minute, were you worried that I might be…”
Raul and Eduardo both began laughing. “I did not think so,” Eduardo said, “because American agents have been here before. They never come in alone, so when I saw you walk in by yourself, I knew that you were here to buy drugs, but I also knew that you had not done this here before. If you had, you would have made sure that someone who was known here brought you in.”
“John Baker,” Raul said, “I am glad that we have met. I do not have the cocaine, but I can get you heroin. The only question is how much of it you want.”
Noah sat there and looked into Raul's eyes for a moment, then smiled. “All I can get,” he said, “as long as we can find a way to get it to Chicago.”
Moments later, Noah was sitting at the table with Raul and his friends. The man with the glare was still unfriendly, but Raul and Pedro, the other man, were laughing and happily drinking the beer that Noah was buying for them all. Three girls came in, and Raul called out to one of them. She let out a squeal, and hurried over to sit in his lap.
Another of the girls honed in on Noah. He suddenly found her leaning over his shoulder, her hands caressing his arms as she whispered into his ear. “Señor, I am Felicita. You would like some company?”
Raul leaned over and whispered, “These girls are whores, of course. That means they will do anything you want, and they know how to keep their mouths shut.” He chuckled as he sat back.
Noah turned and looked at the girl, and was surprised to see clear skin and bright eyes. Her hair was clean and long, and she was small, with an athletic build. He knew that most men would find her very attractive, and he had already decided that it would be in character for him to take advantage of the prostitutes that frequented the bar. He smiled at her, and pulled an empty chair close.
“Sure, sweetie,” he said. “My name is John. Sit down, can I buy you a drink?”
She sat quickly, and broke into a big smile, then called out to Eduardo. A moment later, he set a glass in front of her. “Ten dollars,” he said, and Noah gave him another twenty. Felicita snuggled up to him, caressing his leg under the table and making sure he knew that more than just her company was available. Noah smiled and put an arm around her, while he continued talking with Raul.
A couple of hours later, a deal had been struck that would make Raul a million dollars richer, and cause a large supply of heroin to appear at a certain loading dock in Chicago two days later. Once Noah's “client,” who would be played by a borrowed DEA agent, confirmed that the product was real, Noah would tell Neil to transfer the money.
“This is good business,” Raul said. “Is this all you're looking for? Are there other things that you wish to buy? Perhaps old Raul will know someone who has them.” Noah grinned and started to say something, but then shook his head and took a drink from his beer bottle. Raul caught it, and smiled at him. “Come now, do not be shy, my new friend. Tell me what you wish to find, and I will see what I can do.”
Noah looked up at him, and chewed on his bottom lip for a moment. Finally, he nodded. “Okay, but don't get pissed at me, okay? I've got this client, a woman, and she's wanting to buy something that's—something that's very hard to come by. Something like someone might use to make a great big bang, if you get my drift.” He watched Raul's eyes closely, and caught the instant when the man realized what he was asking for.
Raul's eyebrows were high, and he searched Noah's face for any sign that it was a joke or a trick, but the tall, blonde American seemed genuinely nervous to be asking for such material.
He leaned very close to Noah and spoke softly. “I will tell you this,” he said. “I do not know where to get such things. However, there is a man who might help you with what you seek, if he believes that you are true.” Raul flicked his eyes toward Eduardo, the bartender. “Eduardo has an uncle, Pablo Ortiz. He comes here sometimes, just to drink and to play with the girls. He is a man who can find anything, it is said, but I would not wish him to know that I told you his name.” He sat back in his chair, once again.
Noah nodded, and smiled. “Thank you,” he said. “I won't say a word, but I do appreciate it.”
“I hope you do not. Señor Ortiz might not approve of my giving out his name, and I could find myself in a bad position.” He suddenly burst into a big smile. “But you and I, John Baker, we are now friends, and friends protect each other, si?”
Noah smiled just as broadly. “They do, they sure do. Don't you worry about a thing.”
Raul nodded, as if coming to a conclusion. He leaned close again, and spoke in low tones. “You're still looking for more things to buy, besides what you asked about a few moments ago?”
“Yes, I still need some other things, too. Do you have…”
“I know people,” Raul said. “If you wish to see Señor Ortiz, then you will be spending some time here for the next few days, for no one knows when he will come in. I will tell others that I know, people that I trust with my life, that my friend John Baker has money to spend.”
“Thank you, Raul,” Noah said. “Thank you, I really mean it. Like I said, I'm new at coming to places like this, so I appreciate all the help I can get.”
Raul smiled and nodded, and began paying attention to the girl beside him. Noah was smart enough to recognize that he'd been dismissed for the moment, so he turned to Felicita and motioned for her to follow him to another table.
“Do you need another drink?” Noah asked her, and she nodded enthusiastically. He went to the bar and got another beer for himself, and watched as Eduardo poured a drink for the girl from a special bottle he kept under the counter.
“Twenty-five dollars,” Eduardo said, and Noah gave him thirty. He picked up the glass and the bottle and returned to the girl at the table.
“I'm curious,” he said. “Why is a beautiful girl like you working as a prostitute in a little dump like this?”
The girl's eyes fell to the table, and she suddenly looked as if she were about to cry. “You are disgusted by me,” she said, but Noah reached out and laid his hand on top of hers.
“No, sweetie, not a bit. I'm just wondering how you ended up here, that's all. Don't worry, I like you a lot, and I'm going to be very nice to you.”
With her face still pointed at the table, she picked up under her eyebrows to look at his eyes. “You like me?”
Noah smiled, and reached out to put a finger un
der her chin and raise her face so that he could look at it. “I do,” he said. “I think you're very pretty, and you seem very sweet. You just don't seem like the kind of girl who usually ends up in a place like this.”
She shrugged her shoulders, and gave him a weak smile. “My mother, she died when I was only eleven years old,” she said. “I did not have a father, and no other family. I lived on the street for a while, I don't know how long, until a man named Diego found me, and he—he taught me how to make money, with the sex.” She flicked her eyes toward the bar. “One day, a few months ago, Eduardo saw me, and he said I was too good to be on the streets that way, so he bought me from Diego. Now I work here, and he helps to keep me safe. He helped me get off the crack, that Diego made me use.”
Noah shook his head. It wasn't hard to figure out the proper, human response to the story he had just heard. “You poor thing,” he said. “But you're safe now, here with Eduardo?”
She smiled. “Yes, he keeps me safe, and he lets me keep some of the money I make. Diego, he took everything, but Eduardo is good to me. He is good to all his girls. I'm very lucky to be here.” She reached out and caressed the side of Noah's face. “Can I do something for you? There is a little room, in the back, where we could go.”
Noah looked at her for a moment, but kept smiling. “What if,” he began slowly, “what if I wanted you to come back to my hotel with me for the night? How much would that cost me?”
Her eyes went wide. “I would have to get permission from Eduardo,” she said. “Let me go and ask him.” She jumped up and hurried to the bar, and Noah could see her whispering furiously with the bartender. Eduardo looked over at him, and Noah gave him a big smile and a thumbs-up sign.
Eduardo winked at him, and smiled. A moment later, Felicita hurried back over to Noah. “He says it would be one hundred dollars, but you must bring me back tomorrow. I must be here by lunchtime, is that okay?”
Noah nodded. “That will be fine. Do I give Eduardo the hundred dollars?”
“Yes, or give it to me and I will give it to him now.”