Adams shook his head and said, “Not a chance. That I am sure of. Maybe if you were to really buy three or four ton off of them they might, but there is no way any of those guys would risk showing up yet. Big Al will have to vouch for you himself and oversee things to start with. As close as he is to the top guy, it would cost him his life if things went wrong.”

“That’s good to know. So why won’t Big Al come into the U.S.?”

“We nailed his ass on a major cocaine beef four years ago. He’d be looking at a minimum of twenty-five years if we could get him deported. Unfortunately we can’t. He’s one of the untouchables over there. At the moment he’s got his nephew running things for him in El Paso.”

“El Pero?”

“Yes, that’s his nickname. His real name is Pietro Franco.”

“That’s who spoke with me.”

“I wondered if that was the fat fucker you were talking to. El Pero is halfway up the corporate ladder. Being Big Al’s nephew, I’m certain the cartel has big plans for him.”

“Sounds like everything is going good. We just have to wait. Which is fine by me for the moment. I’m running on empty when it comes to the sleep department. Think I’ll go back to my room in the city and sleep for the next twenty-four hours. You can call the guys off and I’ll give you a shout tomorrow morning when I wake up.”

Adams rolled up his window and started to back up, then stopped and said to Sherry, “I’m going to invite him home for dinner in case he changes his mind about sleeping.”

“I was thinking of asking him the same thing,” said Sherry. “He’s cute.”

“Forget it. He’s married,” replied Adams as he got out the car.

“I know, but that is still no reason for him to be all alone. Besides, back at the motel you mentioned you had already had him over for dinner so —”

“Forget it. I know what you’re thinking. He’s very married.”

“Very married?”

“You know what I mean,” replied Adams, closing the door and walking over to Jack who was about to get in his rental.

“What’s really happening?” whispered Adams.

“El Pero is picking me up tonight at seven to take me to meet Big Al. They’ve reserved an entire restaurant someplace in Juarez. I’m not allowed to take my rental or a cellphone. Big Al is paranoid you guys might use either one to try and trace him.”

“I can’t cover you over there. Our friend can’t be seen, either.”

“I know. I’ll call you when I’m done.”

“What if they want you to stay over? If you don’t have a car or a phone —”

“I’ll tell them I have to be at a certain gas station in El Paso in the morning to take a call from Damien. I’ll use it as an excuse to have someone drive me back if the party goes on for too long. I’ll call you as soon as I can.”

“So, Juarez it is …” said Adams sombrely.

“Yes.”

The muscles rippled along Adams’s jaw line as he clenched his teeth before turning on his heel and walking away. He knew he had made a mistake by befriending Jack. They were in a war … and liking someone made it all the harder when that person became a casualty.

chapter twenty-nine

At seven o’clock, El Pero arrived at the Armadillo Motel. This time he had a different driver who came to the door, as well. Jack let them both in.

The driver was a husky man who stood as tall as Jack. His hair was short and his eyes darted around the room. His face had the scars of more than one battle, but it wasn’t his face that spiked Jack’s adrenalin. The excitement he felt was because the man was missing an earlobe. He knew it had to be Eduardo Cortez, the man Rubalcava had identified as being an enforcer for the Guajardo cartel.

Jack stuck his hand out and said, “I’m Jack.”

Eduardo looked at El Pero who nodded, so he stood like he was at attention and shook Jack’s hand and said, “I’m Eduardo. Pleased to meet you, sir.”

Jack recalled Rubalcava’s comment that Eduardo had received military training. Judging by the battle scars on his face, Jack suspected his training had frequently been put to use.

“Are you ready?” asked El Pero.

“Yes,” replied Jack. “Is it okay if I take my camera? My boss would like to see who we are planning on doing business with.”

“I do not see why not,” replied El Pero, “but I will take your camera and ask permission when we arrive.”

Jack handed him his camera and he gave Jack an apologetic look. “Señor Jack, I know it is unpleasant and I am sure unnecessary, but there is something we need to do.”

Jack smiled and said, “I understand. My boss is the same way when he meets new people.” With that comment, Jack turned and placed his hands on the wall and spread his feet so Eduardo could search him.

Forty-five minutes later, Jack was in the back of the SUV as it crossed the Bridge of the Americas and stopped at Mexican Customs. He found it slightly disconcerting when the immigration officer recognized El Pero and apologized to him for the inconvenience of stopping him, while hastily waving them through.

Soon after, Eduardo double-parked on the street in front of a restaurant and the three of them got out and walked to the front door. Jack counted four burly men loitering out front. Despite the heat, they all wore light jackets. Judging by the way they studied each approaching car and person, Jack concluded they had received training as V.I.P. bodyguards.

“Parking attendants?” said Jack to El Pero, with a nod of his head to one of the four men.

“If you are parked by them, Jack, you will never move again,” replied El Pero with a grim smile.

The restaurant was large enough to hold sixty customers and had a bar at the far end. The only customers present were a group of fifteen men who were sitting at a few tables pushed together in the middle. They were all casually dressed and appeared to be enjoying themselves.

El Pero’s uncle was easy to spot. Big Al was the biggest man at the table and when their eyes met, Jack could see his face looked like an older version of El Pero’s ugly mug.

The men sitting on the same side of the table as Big Al scrambled to move their chairs out of his way as he rose and lumbered over to meet Jack. It was then that Jack noticed a huge difference between Big Al and El Pero. Big Al was muscular to the point that Jack suspected his physique was a result of weight-lifting and steroid use. Overall, he looked like he could have been a wrestler.

Jack smiled and accepted his firm handshake like they were already good friends and looked into the dark eyes studying him. “Muchas gusto, señor,” said Jack, intentionally stumbling over the words and mispronouncing them as he shook his hand.

Big Al smiled back, exposing a gold front tooth. “You speak Spanish.”

“Sorry,” said Jack, shaking his head. “It took me all day to learn to say that.”

“Well … you said it very well.” Big Al smiled. “I am Señor Alphonse Franco, but many of my gringo friends call me Big Al. It is a nickname I rather like. Come, I have saved you a seat beside me.”

“Are we going to be talking business in front of all these men?” asked Jack.

“Business? No, no, no. First we eat and get to know each other. After, I have something planned to entertain ourselves. Everything is on me. If you see something …” Big Al smiled, nudging Jack with his elbow and added, “or perhaps someone you like, let me know. Tonight I want you to have fun. Business can come later.”

Jack sat alongside Big Al and El Pero sat on the other side of him. Eduardo sat across from them. Next to Eduardo was a man whom Jack recognized. It was the same man who sneered into the apartment security camera. The man he had nicknamed as El Burla. Tonight is turning out very well.